Word: brush
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Improbable though his story seems, a Stone Age man, practically untouched by modern civilization, was alive in the U.S. only 50 years ago. When he stumbled out of the brush near Oroville in northern California one August morning in 1911, he was naked except for a scrap of canvas thrown over his shoulders. Weak and emaciated, he spoke not a word of English or any other known language. It was days before anyone could communicate with him and learn who he was. Now, half a century later, a new book, Ishi in Two Worlds, by Historian Theodora Kroeber (University...
...might have been a greater artist. But it was not in his nature to be a profound man: it was his impulses, not his thoughts, that were inspired. As his friend Wyndham Lewis said, he was "a great man of action into whose hands the fairies stuck a brush instead of a sword." Had he tried harder for greatness, he might well have lost his innocent freshness, and the gallery of portraits he left to the world would have died on their walls...
Sisley gradually moved away from this Courbet-like realism, and the work he did in the 1870s has usually been considered his best. In the Aqueduct at Marly his palette was open, his brush light and sure. Sisley never played rough with nature, nor did he like to intrude too far upon its secrets. While Monet atomized the sun, Sisley let it wash gently over his scenes, neither searing nor dazzling...
...brush for Sisley was not an instrument of attack or of dissection. What affected him in nature was not its force but its fragility. His paintings could be bright and gay, but almost never exuberant; they could portray sadness or loneliness, but never great grief. Sisley was drawn not to the powerful but to the perishable; he was moved not by stormy passion but by quiet poetry. His favorite part of any landscape, he said, was the sky: "It has the charm of things which disappear. And I love it particularly...
Franny and Zooey, by J. D. Salinger. The guru of The New Yorker abstracts the two stories from his cycle-in-progress on the Glass family; the result is a masterly double novella, strongly flavored with both eccentricity and genius, of a girl's brush with religious obsession...