Word: paints
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...million-dollar-a-year business, but he was 65, and knew that he was too sick to run it any longer. So Brooklynite Morris Hirshfield gave up the E. Z. Walk Mfg. Co. (boudoir slippers), as he had once given up his cloak & suit business. He was free to paint at last...
...ever taught him how to paint, but in the remaining nine years of his ailing life Morris Hirshfield turned out 72 painfully detailed paintings, mostly sexless nudes and gaudy peacocks and quail. Before he died last summer, he had been given two one-man shows. Last week, posthumously, he had a third. It gave Amateur Hirshfield the distinction, rare among painters, of having exhibited every picture he had ever painted...
...stock was going up. Bought from a Manhattan dealer by the Detroit Institute of Arts was the waspish Victorian dandy's famed Nocturne in Black and Gold: The Falling Rocket-the splattery nightscape that moved John Ruskin to a crack about "a coxcomb flinging a pot of paint in the public's face." (Bad Boy Whistler sued Ruskin for libel, won a farthing's damages.) Asking price for Nocturne that year (1875) was $1,000. Price reportedly paid by Detroit...
Critic Jewell was far beyond the swooning stage. "A few of us," he warned, "incline to rate the new Picassos as little better than disastrous. . . . Picasso, in his recent oil work, may be said to paint vigorously-which isn't being really very explicit, I know. In my opinion his sense of color has grown steadily worse. . . . There remains the matter of distortion, and in that department he moves with the utmost freedom...
...Goddammit," says Odets, "we're living in an age of learn-it-quick. Everyone wants to learn all the tricks of everything he does, all the angles. Every professional writer feels the pressure this vicious, evil society imposes. But in watercolor painting I don't feel that. I can relax. I am an amateur, and I can damn well produce something on which $100,000 doesn't hinge. I paint for two reasons: to cultivate my innocence and to cultivate my ignorance...