Word: sorting
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1940-1949
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...gallerygoers would find anything "classic" in Arp's latest sculptures, but hose who looked at them long enough might be willing to grant his carvings a calm, impersonal sort of beauty like that of odd-shaped pebbles on a beach. In On My Way, Arp had hit upon a deceptively simple justification for his own work and for abstract art in general. Art, said he, should be as natural as the fruits of the earth, "but whereas the fruit of a plant never resembles a balloon or a president in a cutaway suit, the artistic fruit...
...Cole Porter first night is, in fact, a sort of ceremonial meeting of the two sides of Porter's life-show business and the high-living, high-gloss international society that lionized him long before his songs caught the public's ear. Between opening nights, Porter shuttles back & forth on a more or less rigid timetable between the greasepainted world of Ethel Merman and the gilded, brittle world of Elsa Maxwell...
...song score for the new musical gleams with the gilt-edged Porter signet. The author of You're the Top-which inspired a sort of national cult of memorizers and parodists in 1934-always turns out lyrics that are distinctly his own. They brim with stylish grace and colloquial impudence, real comic invention, multisyllabic rhymes, innuendoes about I'amour, digs at social foibles, and easy allusions to famous people and far-off places...
Porter's way of life probably equipped him for surmounting the blow that abruptly cut short his pursuit of fun. There had always been method of a sort in his sportiveness. Porter himself once said: "I am spending my life escaping boredom, not because I'm bored, but because I don't want to be." He has always arranged his days with a whim of iron, and he refuses to be bored for as long as 15 minutes at a time. Such a schedule requires a certain ruthlessness, and Porter's Broadway associates and friends have...
Leaf and Bough (by Joseph Hayes; produced by Charles P. Heidt) was the worst sort of drivel-the pretentious sort. Dredging up everything stark, fleshly and Freudian in the theater from early O'Neill to Tennessee Williams, it became a kind of Carryall Named Desire. Without taste or talent, ear for speech or eye for character, Playwright Hayes showed how a city boy's dissolute family and a country girl's disapproving one worked to prevent their marrying. Seldom has the course of true love run rougher-among souses and trollops, past theft and rape. Love eventually...