Word: painterly
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...French Painter Ghislain ("Jicky") Dussart has been faithful to Film Star Brigitte Bardot in his fashion; during the past 15 years he has taken some 60,000 photographs of her. A hundred of them are now on exhibition in Paris at the Left Bank Nikon Gallery, and BB herself -false freckles and all-turned up for the opening, urging the press to take plenty more pictures ("What do you think I came here for?"). Anyone would have been a fool not to. "The only way you can mess up a picture of Brigitte," says Dussart modestly, "is to forget...
...characteristics of Hopper's art was his unwavering consistency." The reproductions are embarrassingly over glossy. Still this is the first book to present all Hopper's work in a large format, and that at least is a service to the memory of a spare, quiet and lucid painter of the American scene...
There is little need to say who painted them. At 62, Francis Bacon is one of the most immediately recognizable painters in the world. For the past 25 years, critics have predicted the collapse of his reputation. Yet by now it seems that Bacon is one of the very few living artists whose work can (but does not always) exhibit the mysterious denseness of meaning, the grip on experience, which are the conditions of a masterpiece. "Who ever heard," he once sarcastically asked, "of anyone buying one of my pictures because he liked it?" But the tributes fall heavy...
Edouard Vuillard was not a simple painter, and his subtle, qualified vision endeared him to some of the most complex minds in France. "Too fastidious for plain statement, he proceeds by insinuation," André Gide wrote of him in 1905. "There is nothing sentimental or highfalutin about the discreet melancholy which pervades his work. Its dress is that of everyday. It is tender and caressing, and if it were not for the mastery that already marks it, I should call it timid. For all his success, I can sense in Vuillard the charm of anxiety and doubt...
...ambiguity recurs in each of Ivan's moments of passion. Every prisoner is responsible for keeping the large white letters on his uniform legible. Ivan shuffles through the snow to the old painter who traces the outline of "S 854" on his cloth cap. An expression of grief passes over Ivan's face. But Wrede cannot decide if this is the expression of the naive and crafty peasant or the existential hero locked in an unjustified fate...