Word: cladding
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...view as one enters is the avenue, plunging down the main axis and flanked on either side by raised terraces clad in squares of soft, tan-gray Burgundian limestone. The avenue is for monumental sculpture (some very monumental indeed, like the huge stone original of Carpeaux's La Danse, a copy of which decorates the facade of the Paris Opera). It finishes in a pair of windowless double-cube towers, containing smaller galleries, set against the glass end wall. Inside the terraces, left and right, are enclosed galleries. On top of these are two smaller "streets" for sculpture...
...Crimson completed the sweeps of its red-clad foes at home in February, and then beat Colgate twice in the ECAC quarter-finals in March...
...spacious Tudor-style house in suburban Seattle. His artistic sensibility invades his home: a papier-mache python winds through the living room, and a bright green Paraguayan tree frog croaks in a terrarium. At Christmas a wreath festooned with a rubber chicken hangs on the front door. Larson, clad usually in T shirt, jeans and running shoes, carries sketchbooks wherever he goes, doodling and jotting down phrases. But the hard labor takes place at the drawing board overlooking Union Bay, where he sits and stares, and stares and sits, until the ideas flow. "A strange juxtaposing of things takes place...
...with IFB-initialed license plates. At work in a vast, white marble suite of offices above Manhattan's Fifth Avenue, Boesky stands behind his desk and punches buttons on a 300-line telephone console as he studies flickering stock-market figures on a battery of video screens. Almost always clad in a dark three-piece suit, with the vest adorned by a gold watch chain, he continuously slurps coffee and information, the two fuels he seems to crave most...
...Norman Mailer says, "Print." The day's twelve hours of shooting will not wrap until 3 a.m. Such grueling conditions might test the patience of a film veteran, let alone a neophyte director making his first major motion picture. But the white- haired auteur remains focused and remarkably relaxed. Clad in a bulky parka to ward off the oceanside chill, he comes off like a cross between a Roman senator and a retired longshoreman as he hobnobs with the crew, rehearses the cast and then stands back to watch the action, his eyes twinkling. Between takes, Mailer crosses the street...