Word: morandi
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...perhaps one in ten might interest future ages. Standout shows within the show were a collection of pale and wan but faultless abstractions by Britain's Ben Nicholson, the weightless, rainbow fantasies of France's Marc Chagall, and 30 dim-dusty canvases by Italy's Giorgio Morandi. Nicholson and Chagall were considered stiff contenders for the 300,000-cruzeiro ($3,780) grand prize. After the usual frenzied politicking, the 17 international jurymen settled on Italy's Morandi...
...whispered that the English and French members of the jury had oversold their favorites. Morandi, who specializes in painting bottles, was a disarmingly quiet candidate, and his countrymen are inclined to be as modest about their moderns as they are proud of their old masters. More important: no still-life painter now working has a subtler talent for arrangement, texture and tone. Morandi's still lifes carry forward the great traditions of Cézanne...
...presbyopic, white-thatched, gangling bachelor of 67, Morandi lives with two sisters in a Bologna apartment that smells, sweetly, of the 19th century. The furniture is Victorian, the neighborhood old and still. Morandi spends his bottle-watching days in a sunny little studio overlooking the garden. "I never go out," he says, barely exaggerating. He works slowly, repainting each canvas many times, and producing perhaps a dozen finished pictures a year. These he sells for less than $200 each. They are often resold for ten times his price, but says he, "I would consider it an immoral exploitation...
Bread & Butter. What all these men, including Pietro Nenni himself, apparently forgot was that 1) Red agents have had ten years of alliance in which to infiltrate Socialist ranks and 2) for most of those years Nenni left supervision of the party machinery to the late Rodolfo Morandi, an iron-fisted crypto-Communist. Besides, many influential Nenni Socialists earn their bread and butter as bureaucrats in Italy's biggest labor union, the Red-dominated CGIL...
...Stir up the fire, Lucio . . . You have the whip and the little knife? Good . . . I don't believe he's Jack-fool enough to resist." But Richard Morandi, a bastard descendant of Stuart kings, is not one to let himself be castrated in front of his sweetheart without fighting back. Since it is Venice and the 18th century, Richard has a knife of his own up his sleeve, and he knows how to use it. Many a lesser novelist would be out of climaxes after Richard dispatches his enemy, but Novelist Samuel Shellabarger has lots more...