Along Paris' grim Rue Hippolyte Maindron stands a squat concrete building half hidden by a rickety gate. A casual passerby might think it a garage, but one peek through the window would probably give him a jolting surprise. The small. 12-by-15-ft. room is the private world of one of the world's most original sculptors: wiry, bushy-haired Alberto Giacometti. 53. In 28 years, a good deal of Giacometti has rubbed off onto the floors and walls of his bare, grey studio. The workbench is encrusted with old paint drippings and scabs of plaster. Cigarette butts cover the cement floor. The walls are...
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