In which I post the fourth part of the book Great Cartoons of the World, Series 7 from 1972.
Editor John Bailey, writing about the cartoonists are really like, continues with doublespeak in his introduction from last week, fulfilling his obligation to fill a few pages:
One would assume from Rouault's rich, luscious pigment that he was a big extrovert, but he was tiny and monklike. From his expressions of evil on the motion-picture screen, one would expect to be seized and strapped to a table by Boris Karloff, but he was a mind, kind, gentle, and wonderful person.
On the other hand, sometimes the talent and the person are identical, as is the case of Caruso. Leonardo was a logical genius, and the delicacy, the aristocratic expression of his thought, and the feeling of elegance in his work were all to be found in his person, if we can trust the remark of a friend who described him as being “as beautiful as an angel”.
Picasso was the full embodiment of his work. He was the bull. Hemingway personified what he wanted to be. No matter how hidden it is in the work, the subconscious is being expressed. Sometimes the relation is uncomplicated and “what you sees is what you gets.” Sometimes both the man and his work are as many-layered as Nabokov.
John Glashan for those who didn't get enough last week.
Mischa Richter in the New Yorker. The editor writes of him in the introduction:
I am certain that the picture formed in the public mind of Richter is that of a tall, swarthy, sinister figure, such as might be lurking around an embassy. He is not big, but when he talks one feels his strength.He has a strong mind, strong opinions, and a skeptical eye on the world, all reflected in the vigor of his line.