Manhattan's waning art season put forth a bright, belated bloom last weeka 57th Street show of sophisticated, slaphappy paintings by Writer-Illustrator Ludwig Bemelmans, 53. Done mostly with gouache, "because it comes in charming little French jars and doesn't smell," they spoofed and also celebrated the drifting, uppercrust, good-time world that Bemelmans inhabits. Their style mingled childlike cheer and simplicity with penknife stabs of caricature.
A blocky, bubbly ex-Tyrolean, Bemelmans has turned out a score of illustrated books, has won a snug niche in current popular art. His firmly funny India ink lines are...
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