Word: silk
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...country's original cult of sorcery and spirit worship. There is little in them to distinguish today from yesterday. Works are not dated; subject matter is part of a continuous tradition handed down from monk to monk, generation to generation. Often the meaning of the centuries-old silk tapestries is obscure. The Mystic Spiral, intended for monastic meditation, is a vision whose precise symbolism is known only to a few learned lamas. To the Western viewer, its concentric circles, drawing him into a dizzying infinity, are startlingly like contemporary op and psychedelic art. The God of 1,000 Eyes...
Corman is unlucky, as usual, with his cast. Jason Robards shouldn't have played Capone even if he were the only available brunette in Hollywood. He looks like a fine man who tumbled into the murder business by accident; he isn't crass enough for silk scarves and tophats to look appropriately ridiculous on him. Ralph Meeker, his Irish contender, is more like a gangster. His grubby soul shines right through his lovely suit. George Segal, another Irishman, has Robards handicap-elemental elegance. On top of that, he bears such an incredible resemblance to Robards that when...
...Every state will get a piece of the action-a dam, a federal office building, a harbor-improvement project or some other goody that a Congressman can mention to his constituents. "Somebody ought to oppose the pork barrel," cried New York Republican Theodore Kupferman. Aside from Kupferman, whose Manhattan silk-stocking district got nothing...
...India in 1952, and Menuhin persuaded Shankar to play last summer at the Bath Festival in England. In what both performers termed "an experiment," Menuhin practiced his violin for two days under Shankar's coaching so that he could sit in on a raga. Clad in a raw-silk tunic and sitting cross-legged amid a haze of incense, Menuhin might indeed have passed for a native fidllist, except that he did not rest the head of his fiddle on his toe in the traditional Indian manner...
Satins & Smiles. It was an age of spectacular superficiality, of fetes and fireworks, of lords and ladies alike bedecked in paints, powders and silk. La Tour portrayed his clients as they wished to see themselves, studiously recording their brilliant satins and laces, ignoring the facial lines of aging noblemen and their mistresses. But he was enough of an ironist not to ignore their unreal smiles and bored, malicious eyes...