Word: paints
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Murch's paintings, on view in a Manhattan gallery last week, had all the dim, cold calm of false dawn. They were done with dead-eye accuracy, in greenish gobs of shadow laced with silvery threads and buttons of light. He had put the paint on thickly, Murch explained, because "that helps create a thing out of the painting itself." Among his table-top subjects were a dead bird, a dead fish poised on a clinker, an ancient phonograph, and assorted eggs, lemons and potatoes...
...doors for a week at a time," Murch says. "Then I'll take a walk and look around vaguely for something to paint. The other day I found a dog's head at a taxidermist's. It was a fox terrier mounted on the wall like a moose." He generally finds what he is looking for in shop windows: "For instance that fish in the show. I'd been wanting to do a fish for years but there were practical difficulties, you might say. This one was smoked. It lasted over a week and a half...
Does he use measurements to paint by? "Oh, no. I use this eye mostly [pointing to his left one] and I hold my head in one spot, like a camera, instead of ducking it around. That may sound a bit rigid, but I think craftsmanship should be uppermost. You build the picture up, very faithfully. The less art you try to put into it the better...
Cole knew the wilderness well. His father was an Englishman who opened a wallpaper shop in the frontier town of Steubenville, Ohio, in 1820. An itinerant portraitist dropped in one day, kindly taught young Cole how to make paint brushes from pig bristles. Soon the boy was wandering from town to town, painting portraits. He lugged along a saddle he had accepted in payment for one job, but he had no horse. Resting on his saddle, in the forest between settlements, he learned to know landscape, and his landscapes later made a hit. In five years he had a Manhattan...
...seem chiefly interested in illustrating the varied arts of mayhem, they were not able to resist dragging in a little Moral Problem. Clark, the human punching bag, is getting the treatment because he wants to rescue Alexis from her sinister mate (Zachary Scott) and retire from bad fights to paint bad pictures. The catch is that the wicked husband is paralyzed from the waist down, and thinks up his villainies in a wheelchair. No hero can sock a man in a wheelchair; no heroine can divorce him. How to get rid of him? Whiplash solves the problem in characteristically brisk...