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Renting at $2.50 per reel for domestic projectors, or $5 for commercial machines, forthcoming Metropolitan movies will exhibit Painter Frank Weston Benson, smoking a pipe, and Painter Lawrence Saint, making a stained glass window for the Washington Cathedral. First of the series, released last week, exhibited Painter Hassam beginning his day as befits a rich, successful and not yet superannuated artist, by dictating letters to his pretty secretary, Virginia Rook, who is also his grandniece. Later Painter Hassam is seen showing some sketches to his wife, swimming at Southampton's Maidstone Club, whacking at a golf ball in a sand trap, painting the kind of old sun-dappled house he likes best to put on canvas. As a climax he inspects with urbane but irrepressible enthusiasm some of his own paintings hanging in the Metropolitan.
Covarrubias in Bali
The 1,000,000 natives of the Dutch East Indian island of Bali are lazy, rich, amenable, clever. Their soil is so fertile that they can raise three crops a year with almost no effort. They divide their spare time between the practice of the arts (music, dancing, sculpture) and the practice of eccentric rites, such as building wooden statues to serve as decoys for devils. Balinese music influenced Debussy. Balinese dancers inspired that able U. S. dancer, Ruth Page (TIME, Nov. 25, 1929). Even before Hickman Powell's travel book, The Last Paradise, Bali was on its way toward becoming the latest and most approved resting spot for tired occidental esthetes. Further confirmation of the vogue for Bali was supplied last week when Mexican Caricaturist Miguel Covarrubias exhibited in Manhattan drawings which he made in Bali last winter.
The drawings of Caricaturist Covarrubias were gay and excitable footnotes in praise of the exotic. He had been impressed by the huge circular earrings affected by Balinese ladies, the costumes of dancing girls, their fans and lavish headgear. His line drawings, particularly one of two dancers called Legong, were graceful and more colorful than his paintings, which had the air of East Indian fashion plates. With pardonable bias, Muralist Diego Rivera, for whom Covarrubias once lugged water jugs in Mexico City, said: "Covarrubias has now reached the age at which a man's face occasionally becomes overcast and in which his work grows in profundity."
*The only known official copy of the original Declaration of Independence in the Library of Congress is in the possession of Dr. Rosenbach. Properly certified, it was sent to Frederick the Great of Prussia through Benjamin Franklin in 1777.
Old record: $51,000 which Dr. Rosenbach paid for a Button Gwinnet letter in 1927.
