Word: sketchbooks
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...sketchbook was found with Marc's body, and in the sketchbook were 35 exquisite drawings no bigger than his hand. The drawings were sent to Marc's widow, who kept them until her death last year. Last week, in Munich's Graphische Sammlung, they were shown publicly for the first time...
...French generals as well as Spanish. He also portrayed the triumphant Wellington, and finally, though with obvious distaste, the returned King Ferdinand VII. Vacillating and bad-tempered though Goya was, no ruler thought of dispensing with his talents. Meanwhile he was recording the horrors of the war in a sketchbook that had no heroes at all, only villains and victims. The etchings he made from the drawings were considered too violent to publish until long after his death...
...other people's notes on political theory, the one roommate for whom I have hope leaped to his feet. He announced to the scandalized grinds that he was off to photograph Debbie Reynolds, movie star and all that. Entranced, I slipped into an Oxford button-down, seized my sketchbook, and raced off to the Hasty Pudding, where they had the red carpet rolled all the way up to the Hayes-Bickford trash cans. Presently a thirty-foot Harvard limousine with flying bridge and machine guns drew unobtrusively to the curb, and a crowd of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer publicity agents piled...
They need everything they have in Tickets Please!. At times even their own material deserts them, and little else is ever on their side. Jack Albertson has an engagingly easy manner; and Roger Price, a recurrent monologuist with a sketchbook, says some funny things, but by no means often enough. For the rest, a number of colorless young people romp around in various wobbly sketches and sing some tormentingly vapid love songs. Since the Hartmans are the whole show, it's too bad they aren...
...early cowpunching days, before the turn of the century, Clayton S. ("C.S.") Price kept a sketchbook in his saddlebag and tried earnestly to draw what he saw around him. But the Price paintings on display in a Manhattan gallery last week bore little or no relation to his early sketches. C.S. Price, 75, had long ago given up "just painting pictures" to translate his own emotions into thick dull smears of paint...