Word: sensuality
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...sculpture, a Guardi, a Pol Bury kinetic, a Yaacov Agam (her newest and proudest acquisition), and some superlative samples of pop and op.*In the library of the Javitses' Park Avenue place there also hangs a striking, feline oil of Marion by Boris Chaliapin. The mouth is sensual and slightly parted, the eyes tigerish and burning bright. But why, the startled subject asked on seeing the finished portrait, why on earth the golden arrow through her head? "Normally," came Chaliapin's cryptic reply, "when you shoot someone with an arrow, he bleeds. With you, the arrow only changes to gold...
...stare back. Only last week she was simultaneously on the covers of no fewer than eight European magazines. The German Quick has put her on its cover nine times since January, and the French Lui recently ran 14 pages of her photos, and hailed her "old-fashioned, hot, sensual return to the curve...
Victor's Cry. "I saw that there could be another view," says Marini. "My riders and horses would be more dream than reality. They became something that comes down from the sky, but they were sensual." Adds Marini: "I always begin sculpting by painting-afterward the colored image remains in my mind, so then I have to add color to the sculpture." His paintings presage his excursions into solid stuff, explaining in their strong chromaticism Marini's expressionist sculpture. In pursuing his vision, Marini took his equestrians on a strange course through the steeplechase of time. At first...
...Marini sees man defeated by his own anxieties, he is still in Marini's eyes a warm-blooded and sensual being. "'I can't make a cold thing," Marini confesses. "You can't change blood. From a minestrone of impressions, a whole world, constructed and nourished, emerges. For me the great thing is humanity." Thus, in portraying man as overwhelmed in defeat, Marini by the very act of making art is uttering the cry of the victor. He has called his sculptures "fossils"; they are, in fact, living remnants of human hope...
Lean, well-muscled, with a sensual electricity, in every gesture and blazing eyes that can mesmerize a mob, Thich Tri Quang, 42, has long been South Viet Nam's mysterious High Priest of Disorder. (Thich, pronounced tick, is a title meaning "venerable"; Tri Quang is pronounced tree kwong.) Wily and ruthless, Delphic and adept, he is the best of breed of a new kind of back room bonze. In the murky world of Oriental mysticism and Saigon's immemorial intrigue, these robed and shaven men have emerged as the new Machiavellis of the Vietnamese political scene. Tri Quang is unquestionably...