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...Communists claimed that the farmers' pastures had been very dry. The farmers growled that the Communists' planning had been all wet. Somehow or other, so much of Poland's livestock had been shipped to market last season that the country was fresh out of meat. Such belated measures as rationing meat and importing 20,000 tons of Soviet beef had not ended the meat shortage (TIME, Oct. 12), and last week, as the crisis got worse, Communist Boss Wladyslaw Gomulka and his ministers were trying every desperate trick. They convicted 101 official state slaughterers of black-marketing...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: POLAND: The Glories of Horse Meat | 12/28/1959 | See Source »

...Italy's globetrotting Count Leonardo Bonzi (Green Magic, Lost Continent). At times the DeLuxe color photography by Pierludovico Pavoni and Alesandro d'Eva is magnificent. (Best scene: a mistily magical sequence in which the fishermen of the Kwei valley, winged like big birds in their bright wet coats of bark, glide out upon the morning waters on their slender rafts and dance them on the current to attract the fish.) But the film as a whole has no shape, makes only a cursory attempt to describe the vast revolution that lies before its lens...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Cinema: A Sock in the Nose | 12/21/1959 | See Source »

...unfeeling to do more than slap the patients into line. The wards are the circles of a neo-Dantean inferno. In Stationary, the patients are strapped into chairs to groan, curse and soil themselves through the day. In Hydro, a patient is wrapped mummy-fashion in icy wet sheets for 72 hours at a stretch. In the "untidy" wards the bedridden turn their heads obsessively from side to side, rubbing off the hair and even the skin from their scalps. Such weekly rituals as Bath Day, when the patients are divested of rubber bands, bits of tobacco and the last...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Books: Snake or Passion Pit? | 12/14/1959 | See Source »

...adventure! It's destroying what I've done before!" At the easel, he swirls, smears and stabs with tubes in mid-squeeze, a palette knife, his hands and, occasionally, a brush, grunting as he works. In a few hours, the picture is done: a wet, gaudy mass of color violently heaped and stirred. Sometimes it is a brutally simple likeness of man, woman, or beast; more often it resembles nothing at all. Typical Appels invariably shock the stuffy and are treated as sacred objects by the faithful, who call him the greatest Dutch artist since Van Gogh...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Art: The Big Appel | 12/7/1959 | See Source »

Because most of them are still wet, the pictures in Appel's latest Amsterdam show hang high out of reach of inquiring fingers. To demonstrate their wetness last week, the museum curator, who admires the artist, thrust one thumb into an inch-thick gob of red. "Appel doesn't mind," he reassured his visitor, smiling...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Art: The Big Appel | 12/7/1959 | See Source »

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