Word: tussaud
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...states will gather at Helsinki, including spokesmen for the Vatican and every European country except myopic, Maoist Albania. Everyone seemed to be groping for a phrase that would sum up the spectacle. Departing slightly from theatrical images, a European delegate murmured: "Helsinki will be a living Madame Tussaud's, the greatest show of living waxworks on earth...
Busily at work on a series of drawings and lithographs based on Stonehenge, Henry Moore, 75, was summering at his house in Italy. Back home in England, Mme. Tussaud's Wax Museum was getting ready to unveil a likeness of Moore leaning against a pillar, on the other side of which is a wax figure of Pablo Picasso. Moore had already donated a navy blue suit, shirt, tie and handkerchief for his effigy and had been photographed and measured by Jean Fraser, the museum's chief sculptor. But after recording the last statistic, she confessed to Moore that...
Busily at work on a series of drawings and lithographs based on Stonehenge, Henry Moore, 75, was summering at his house in Italy. Back home in England, Mme. Tussaud's Wax Museum was getting ready to unveil a likeness of Moore leaning against a pillar, on the other side of which is a wax figure of Pablo Picasso. Moore had already donated a navy blue suit, shirt, tie and handkerchief for his efRgy and had been photographed and measured by Jean Fraser, the museum's chief sculptor. But after recording the last statistic, she confessed to Moore that...
...course, as the Los Angeles Times said in an editorial, "Neither will they know the seasons, or incline to the breeze, and neither will they delight the eye with their variety. Probably next we will have plastic birds and plastic butterflies, a sort of Madame Tussaud's of nature that recalls what once was, before progress triumphed...
...gaggle of catatonic turkety buzzards watching a tennis match; the penitents approached their shrine with all the fervor of the champagne cooled Boston Pops crowd. It's not that rock concerts aren't interesting anymore, there's something perversely fascinating in contemplating these ambulating escapes from Madame Tussaud's. The music, with few exception, fulfilled the audience's craving for a thousand decibel dry hump. And Howard Wales' sterile charade delivers: drum solos with all the pulse of a seconal addict; keyboard work with all the sensuousness and imagination of a computer print out; treacly singing; the stage presence...