domingo, 12 de janeiro de 2020

O Novato, Vestiário do Boston Red Sox, Boston, Estados Unidos (The Rookie, Red Sox Locker Room) - Norman Rockwell


O Novato, Vestiário do Boston Red Sox, Boston, Estados Unidos (The Rookie, Red Sox Locker Room) - Norman Rockwell
Boston - Estados Unidos
Coleção privada
OST - 104x99 - 1957

Painted in 1957 as the March 2nd cover for The Saturday Evening Post, Norman Rockwell's The Rookie (Red Sox Locker Room) is an iconic image by an artist celebrated for shaping the culture of a nation with his vision of America. As America's preeminent illustrator, Rockwell was one of the greatest mass communicators of the century. Painting a sweeping range of topics during a century of extensive technological and social change, he helped forge a sense of national identity through his art, producing more than 800 magazine covers. In doing so, Rockwell became as ubiquitous to the American public as the images he created. The Rookie (Red Sox Locker Room), which depicts America's greatest pastime, painted in a patriotic palette of predominately red, white and blue, is as quintessentially Rockwell and singularly American as the very best of his work.
The Boston Red Sox are one of America's oldest and most beloved teams in Major League Baseball. Founded in 1901 as one of the American League's eight charter franchises, Boston was a dominant team in these early years. Between their inception and 1918 they won five World Series Titles. What would follow was an 86 year losing streak. Despite their lack of titles in these intervening years, however, they remained one of the most storied and popular franchises in the industry. This was due, in large part, to their star player of 19 years, Ted Williams. Rockwell, having moved to Stockbridge, Massachusetts in 1953, would have been well indoctrinated into the cult following and phenomenon that surrounded "the greatest hitter who ever lived."
In 1939, the Red Sox contracted outfielder Ted Williams from the minor league San Diego Padres of the Pacific Coast League. Williams transformed the team and had such a tremendous impact during his 19 year reign as to have the team nicknamed the 'Ted Sox.' Williams hit for both maximum power and high average, and his batting average of .406 during the 1941 season still stands today. Despite the team's failure to recapture a World Series win, Williams generated energy and excitement for the franchise. In a new biography on Williams, The Kid: The Immortal Life of Ted Williams, biographer Ben Bradlee, Jr. writes, "I was struck by the way the atmosphere at Fenway Park changed each time he came to bat. There would be an anticipatory murmur from the crowd when Ted stepped into the box. He'd knock some real or imagined dirt from his spikes, dig in, wiggle his hips, grind his hands on the handle of the bat, and hold it tight against his body, ready to face the pitcher. People never considered leaving their seats when Williams was hitting. His at bats were events, and he himself was the main event in Boston sports from 1939 to 1960." (The Kid: The Immortal Life of Ted Williams, New York, 2013, p. 3) Williams was equally well-known for his role off the field, which contributed to his celebrity status. Williams served twice in the United States Marine Corps as a pilot and saw active duty in both World War II and the Korean War, missing at least five full seasons of baseball. He was also a big personality, often clashing with reporters, eliciting as much controversy in the press as he did fanfare on the field.
In the 1950s, Ben Hibbs, the editor of The Post, pushed Rockwell to make his covers more topical and current, so as to increase circulation of what was already the magazine with highest circulation in the nation. In the summer of 1956, Rockwell envisioned the concept for this blockbuster cover. The idea was particularly timely, given that Williams was rumored to be on the verge of retirement. As early as 1954, Williams' had threatened to hang up his bat. 1954, The Post ran his autobiography in several parts and called it This is My Last Year. Capitalizing on this interest in Williams' career, Rockwell painted The Rookie (Red Sox Locker Room). Virginia Mecklenburg writes of the present work, "Baseball images had been popular fare for cover artists since the early years of the twentieth century, but for The Rookie, Rockwell went to great effort to feature real, recognizable ballplayers. He decided to do the painting nine months or more before the image was published, in March 1957, just as spring training for the baseball season got under way...Although Rockwell had painted portraits of movie stars and presidential candidates, never before had he portrayed celebrity in such equivocal terms." (Telling Stories: Norman Rockwell from the Collections of George Lucas and Steven Speilberg, Washington, D.C. 2010, pp. 161-62).
While Williams was the inarguable stand out of the Red Sox in the late 1950s, several other players commanded the nation's attention as well. Pitcher Frank Sullivan, right fielder Jackie Jensen, catcher Sammy White and second baseman Billy Goodman were all key members of the starting line-up and had avid followings in their own right. Frank Sullivan recalled being instructed by the Red Sox management team to comply with Rockwell's request to pose for this picture. He wrote, "In the mid-50s if the front office told you to drive to Stockbridge, and bring your uniform, that's exactly what you did. On an off day in 1956, Goodman, Sam White, and Jackie Jensen [and I] were told to motor west to the western Massachusetts town. When we got there we were greeted warmly by a small, slim man, whose name meant nothing to me. He posed us and took a number of pictures, explaining that the background would be the locker room we used in Sarasota, Florida, for spring training. I remember ragging on Jackie Jensen on the way back, saying the trip was all his idea, and the photographer didn't seem to know what he was doing. The following March, I pick up The Saturday Evening Post, and there we were on the cover. The man was an illustrator, not a photographer, and if you look closely, you'll see we are wearing street shoes, not spikes. The cover was titled 'The Rookie' and the man's name turned out to be Norman Rockwell." (Frank Sullivan, Life Is More Than 9 Innings, Hawaii, 2008). Ted Williams was unable to make the trip to Stockbridge so Rockwell worked from photos the Red Sox sent him to create his likeness. For the part of The Rookie, Rockwell tapped Sherman Safford, aged 17, from Pittsfield, Vermont, to pose as the young, eager player.
Baseball was not a new subject for Rockwell and he painted several other The Post covers, as well as countless other compositions. For Rockwell, not only was baseball America's pastime, it was often another showcase to demonstrate his preferred subject matter of men and boys at leisure. Virginia Mecklenburg writes, "Unlike Rockwell's joking baseball pictures--of boys playing pickup ball or disappointed umpires calling a game for rain--the face-off between a youngster...and a veteran player--pits youth against experience. The kid is gangly and eager. His white socks, cheap suitcase, and big hands mark him as a naïve newcomer with potential. The expression on Williams's face suggests that the thirty-eight year old slugger was not yet ready to welcome a challenger." (Telling Stories: Norman Rockwell from the Collections of George Lucas and Steven Speilberg, p. 182).
As in Rockwell's best work for The Saturday Evening Post, the subject of The Rookie is not Ted Williams or even baseball, but rather the championing of the underdog. From his very first cover for The Post in 1916, Boy with Baby Carriage, Rockwell has identified with downtrodden, the meek, and the over matched. This enduring theme is what, in large part, makes Rockwell's work both so touching and so universally understood. The rookie, posed for by Sherman Safford, a tall, high school boy aged 17, can be seen as Rockwell's avatar. Rockwell, ever insecure would have identified with the rookie, having often felt small, meek and overlooked--both throughout his childhood, and by the art world. An enduring theme of his works is to champion the little guy, who is always painted in a sympathetic and endearing light. And indeed, when looking at works such as The Rookie, the viewer finds him or herself rooting for the underdog.
Rockwell hired photographers to take the images for his works, often taking over 100 photographs for a single image. He preferred the photographers to be amateur and that the images be taken in black and white, so as not to influence his color selection. Much like a movie director, he changed the figures positioning, details of the background and their clothing throughout his deliberate creative process, which usually entailed doing several small studies in oil for color followed by a very detailed charcoal study to scale. He used color to dramatic effect (as evidenced here by the bold interplay of red, white and blue). Virginia Mecklenburg writes, "It is a tribute to, not a criticism of, his highly developed intellect and social sensibilities to acknowledge that Rockwell calculated his pictures for maximum and particular impact." (Telling Stories: Norman Rockwell from the Collections of George Lucas and Steven Spielberg, p. 28)
The palm trees featured in The Rookie, locate this scene in Florida and identify the scene as spring training. Rockwell had visited the training facility down in Sarasota and taken a number of reference photos of the locker room for use in his final composition. Rockwell captured the locker room in great detail, from the carved graffiti in the wooden pole, rendered with sgraffito technique, to the items in the player's lockers. His detailed charcoal study for the finished cover reveals he decided to omit the waste and cigarette butts that were strewn across the floor. The myriad details in this composition, as in so many of Rockwell's highly finished compositions for The Post means that each viewing reveals a new detail.
Despite Rockwell's embrace of photography, he was at heart a formalist. He was deeply indebted to the Old Masters and a great admirer of Johannes Vermeer and Rembrandt van Rijn, among others. The composition of The Rookie recalls the Renaissance practice of creating a pyramidal scheme in which the focus of composition is the high point of the triangle. In The Rookie, Rockwell has carefully arranged his figures into a pyramidal form with Ted Williams at the center, not unlike in Raphael's Sant'Antonio di Padova Altarpiece (Colonna Altarpiece), which also features seven figures carefully posed at staggered heights. In The Rookie, he has altered the traditional arrangement, however, with the addition of the figure of the rookie. While the rookie is off to the right of center, the height added by his hat makes him the literal high point of the composition, above Williams. All of the characters maintain visual focus on the rookie, also heightening the sense that he is, in fact, the center of the image, and our imagination. This is the compositional manifestation of Rockwell's fascination with the underdog, and a clever way to subtly displace Williams from his perch.
Rockwell has been oft criticized by the art world for being too literal, too illustrative in his work, perhaps as a result of his open reliance on photography. Yet while his methods and imagery may have differed from other artists of his time trying to capture America following the devastation of World War II and its subsequent boom, some of his contemporaries, including Edward Hopper, were focused on the same sort of everydayness that Rockwell championed in his work. It was the technique, more than the chosen subject, that created the sense of a vast divide. Karal Ann Marling discusses this aesthetic gulf, noting "When Edward Hopper painted studies of private emotions on display in public places, he stripped interiors bare of complexity to reveal the inner dilemma of the sitter: his windows looked out upon obdurate sheets of color. Rockwell, on the other hand, used windows to locate his scenes in the geography of a real story. " (K.A. Marling, Norman Rockwell, New York, 1997, p. 132)
Norman Rockwell's work has always been characterized as a reflection of our better selves, capturing America as it ought to be. His work is often also viewed as both of a moment and simultaneously timeless, in its communication of the universal truths of human nature. "In the twentieth century, visual imagery permeated American culture, ultimately becoming the primary means of communication. Rockwell's images have become part of a collective American memory. We remember selective bits and pieces of information and often reassemble them in ways that mingle fantasy with reality. We formulate memory to serve our own needs and purposes. Rockwell knew this instinctively: 'Everything I have ever seen or done has gone into my pictures in one way or another...Memory doesn't lie, though it may distort a bit here and there.'" (M.H. Hennessey, A. Knutson, Norman Rockwell: Pictures for the American People, exhibition catalogue, Atlanta, Georgia, 1999, p. 64) Laurie Norton Moffatt, Executive Director of The Norman Rockwell Museum writes, "His images convey our human shortcomings as well as our national ideals of freedom, democracy, equality, tolerance and common decency in ways that nobody could understand. He has become an American institution. Steven Spielberg recently said, 'Aside from being an astonishingly good storyteller, Rockwell spoke volumes about a certain kind of American morality.' It is a morality based on popular values and patriotism, a morality that yearns above all for goodness to trump evil." (Norman Rockwell: Pictures for the American People, New York, 1999, p. 26) As in all of Rockwell's greatest works, The Rookie (Red Sox Locker Room) depicts a distinctly American cultural phenomenon while also reflecting universal values. Today, it remains as appealing and heartwarming to contemporary viewers as it did when it was first painted.

Estudo Para Novos Garotos e Garotas que se Comportaram (Study for Extra Good Boys and Girls) - Norman Rockwell


Estudo Para Novos Garotos e Garotas que se Comportaram (Study for Extra Good Boys and Girls) - Norman Rockwell
Coleção privada
Óleo e lápis sobre cartão - 40x33 - 1939


The present work is a study for the December 16th, 1939 cover of The Saturday Evening Post (L.N. Moffatt, Norman Rockwell: A Definitive Catalogue, vol. 1, Stockbridge, Massachusetts, 1986, p. 143, no. C380) and is included as an addendum work in the Project Norman database created by the Norman Rockwell Museum, Stockbridge, Massachusetts.
Study for 'Extra Good Boys and Girls' manifests why "Norman Rockwell is generally credited with the invention of the modern American Christmas and the tender sentiments attached to it." (M.H. Hennessey, A. Knutson, Norman Rockwell: Pictures for the American People, exhibition catalogue, Atlanta, Georgia, 1999, p. 155) The largely secular vision of Christmas in 1930s America was almost entirely a result of mass media, and the character of Santa Claus satisfied a nation that was becoming increasingly focused on consumerism. Rockwell produced numerous holiday covers featuring Santa to satisfy the public's demand and, in so doing, helped to construct the modern American concept of Christmas. Indeed, "In many American homes Christmas and Thanksgiving weren't quite official until the Post arrived with a Norman Rockwell holiday cover." (S. Marker, Norman Rockwell, North Dighton, Massachusetts, 2004, p. 12)
Please note the present lot includes a copy of the cover of the December 16th, 1939 issue of The Saturday Evening Post.

A Carruagem de Natal (The Christmas Coach) - Norman Rockwell


A Carruagem de Natal (The Christmas Coach) - Norman Rockwell
Coleção privada
OST - 72x61 - 1930


The present painting was gifted by Norman Rockwell to his friend, fellow illustrator and studio mate, Clyde Forsythe. The lot includes a copy of a 1972 letter from Rockwell to Forsythe's family about the present work.
Charles Dickens wrote of Christmas, "Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childish days; that can recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth; that can transport the sailor and the traveler, thousands of miles away, back to his own fire-side and his quiet home!" (The Pickwick Papers, 1836) As exemplified by The Christmas Coach, published in the December 1930 issue of Ladies’ Home Journal, Norman Rockwell's art is much the same, capturing nostalgic moments that strike pleasant remembrances and recall a bygone era in America's history.
Ever since his first paying commission--received from Mrs. Arnold Constable in 1911 to produce Christmas cards--Rockwell has been inextricably linked to Christmas in America. He produced numerous magazine covers, illustrations and advertisements for the holiday, painted Christmas cards for Hallmark and designed holiday calendars for Brown and Bigelow. "So identified with this one season did Rockwell become that a number of his canvases which contain no explicit references whatever to Christmas--various generic winter scenes, for example, and even some scenes that lack any seasonal signature--are nevertheless thought of by enough people as being 'typical' Rockwell Christmas paintings so that they continue to be reproduced at Yuletide year after year." (J. Kirk, Christmas with Norman Rockwell, North Dighton, Massachusetts, 1990, p. 8)
While the present work lacks the most obvious of Christmas references, such as Santa Claus or a Christmas tree, the composition of travelers and goods bundled on an old-fashioned coach, driving through the snowy landscape, derives from Rockwell’s particular fascination with the Dickensian depiction of the holiday season. Karal Ann Marling explains, "One of the artist's favorite childhood memories was of his own father, sitting in a pool of lamplight at the dining room table at the turn of the century, reading Dickens aloud to his children. 'I would draw pictures of the different characters,' Rockwell remembered. 'Mr. Pickwick...Uriah Heep...I was very deeply impressed and moved by Dickens...The variety, sadness, horror, happiness, treachery;...the sharp impressions of dirt, food, inns, horses, streets; and people...' In 1945, Rockwell told the New Yorker that his parents had agreed to send him to art school after seeing a drawing of Ebenezer Scrooge that Norman had made while listening to his father read A Christmas Carol. His most effective Christmas covers drew upon his love for the world of Dickens and the pungent scent of realism Rockwell associate with the Olde England of his childhood memories. Rockwell did eight Dickens covers for the Post...between 1921 and 1938. Most of the holiday designs took as their theme the coach, its driver, the passengers, or the heart-warming trials involved in going home again for Christmas." (Merry Christmas!: Celebrating America's Greatest Holiday, Cambridge, Massachusetts, 2009, p. 132)
Indeed, the present work’s composition closely recalls London Stagecoach, the December 5th, 1925 cover of The Saturday Evening Post, as well as The Christmas Coach (Dover Coach), published in the December 28th, 1935 issue of the Post and now in the collection of the Society of Illustrators’ Museum of American Illustration, New York. Here, Rockwell depicts a vibrantly-attired woman wrapped warmly for her ride home for the holidays on the U.S. Mail coach. Positioned next to the driver with his classic greatcoat and top hat, complete with a decorative sprig of holly, she is surrounded by a bounty of holiday gifts, from the patterned box on her lap to the plump goose hanging off the side of the seat.
With his classic attention to detail, Rockwell fully transports the viewer into this scene from a simpler, idealized yesteryear--an appealing escape for viewers, both then and now. Marling expounds, “In keeping with the home-and-hearth character of revivalism, many of Norman Rockwell’s most fully developed colonial works were executed not for the Post but for the Ladies’ Home Journal…often Rockwell’s pictures seem to have been painted simply because the artist wanted to. Full of romance and precise delineation of furniture, costume, carpets, and accessories, these independent compositions reflected his own interest in the accoutrements of the Colonial Revival…All created between 1930 and 1932, these early efforts matched the tone and content of the Ladies’ Home Journal. They were the kind of pictures readers clipped and framed for their bedroom walls, where they hung among the silhouettes of colonial worthies that were a decorating ‘must’ of the period.” (Norman Rockwell, New York, 1997, pp. 52-53)
Moreover, the optimism of these images provided a boost of good cheer during the holiday season in years of national uncertainty. “In the 1930s, with the onset of the Great Depression, the Colonial Revival also became a spiritual anchor in the stormy seas of despair—a ‘usable past.’…With doomsayers predicting the end of the republic, history offered a kind of reassurance.” (Norman Rockwell, p. 50) With The Christmas Coach, Rockwell succeeds not only in evoking the spirit of Dickens' stories and Colonial times, but also in capturing the nostalgia associated with Christmas and bringing the joy of the holiday to houses across America.

Fofocas (Gossips) - William Roberts


Fofocas (Gossips) - William Roberts
Coleção privada
OST - 70x61 - 1968


Modern life in all its varying forms had inspired the London-born Roberts from the very beginning of his career. Following his return to London after serving in France in the First World War, Roberts increasingly turned to the streets of the city as his artistic stimulus, capturing and celebrating the everyday life of London’s inhabitants. Bustling bus stops, crowded cafés, parks, boxing matches, street performers and a host of other settings and activities served as the subjects for the artist’s multi-figural compositions as he depicted life in the capital with what has been described as an unflinching Hogarthian eye. For Roberts, this was the central aim of painting, as he stated later in his life: ‘the artist who tells no more of his life and times, than a collection of abstract designs, might as well never have been born’ (W. Roberts, quoted in A. Gibbon Williams, William Roberts: An English Cubist, Aldershot & Burlington, Vermont, 2004, p. 82).
In Gossips, Roberts demonstrates his ability to ‘seize upon a familiar yet distinctly anti-picturesque form and transform it into a telling pictorial component’ (A.G. Williams, William Roberts: An English Cubist, Aldershot, 2004, p. 130). The distinctive composition, drawing upon his Cubist aesthetic, imbues an otherwise mundane scene of street gossip with a seemingly ritualistic mystery; conversation is crystallised amidst a scene of sideward glances, intriguing poses and exotic clothing.

Moinho de Salvador 1959, Atual J. Mâcedo Alimentos, Salvador, Bahia, Brasil



Moinho de Salvador 1959, Atual J. Mâcedo Alimentos, Salvador, Bahia, Brasil
Salvador - BA
Fotografia

Moinho de Salvador, Atual J. Mâcedo Alimentos, Salvador, Bahia, Brasil








Moinho de Salvador, Atual J. Mâcedo Alimentos, Salvador, Bahia, Brasil
Salvador - BA
Fotografia

O Moinho, Pendlebury, Inglaterra (The Mill, Pendlebury) - Laurence Stephen Lowry


O Moinho, Pendlebury, Inglaterra (The Mill, Pendlebury) - Laurence Stephen Lowry
Pendlebury - Inglaterra
Coleção privada
OST - 44x54 - 1943


Conceived in 1943, The Mill, Pendlebury is a powerful example of the industrial landscapes that dominated the artist’s oeuvre throughout his career. The present work depicts one of Lowry’s most important views. The large square building at the end of the row of terraces is the Acme Spinning Company Mill, which, in 1916, inspired Lowry to paint his first industrial scene. Having missed a train from Pendlebury, Lowry recalled how ‘… as I got to the top of the station steps I saw the Acme Spinning Company’s Mill, the huge black framework of rows of yellow-lit windows stood up against the sad, damp-charged afternoon sky. The mill was turning out hundreds of little pinched, black figures, heads bent down, as though to offer the smallest surface to the swirling particles of sodden grit, hurrying across the asphalt, along the mean streets with inexplicable derelict gaps in the rows of houses, past the telegraph poles, homewards to high tea or pubwards, away from the mill and without a backward glance. I watched this scene – which I’d looked at many times without seeing – with rapture’. (Lowry quoted in J. Spalding and M. Leber, Lowry’s City, A Painter and His Locale, Salford, 2000, p. 17). The Acme Spinning Company Mill was the first mill in the country to be powered completely by electricity. The building was later demolished in 1984.
The modernist society of the mid-20th century was perhaps defined largely by the disproportionate influence of the urban and industrial. Despite Lowry’s chosen subject material, exemplified in the present work, he remains aloof from the activities of modernism, which was constantly transforming. The Mill, Pendlebury demonstrates Lowry’s reluctance to conform to the wave of technological development that was reshaping the first half of the twentieth century. The figures that populate the painting show no evidence of changing fashions. In fact, the drawing, Industrial Scene, conceived by Lowry in 1936 and owned by Eric Newton, displays figures in very similar placements and wearing identical clothing as the inhabitants of the present work which was painted seven years later. When compared, the two works convey an idea of time stood still. However, whilst Lowry seemingly neglected notions of ‘progress’ and ‘modernity’, the alienated sensibility, the self-aware simplicity and indiscriminate colouration of his work are qualities more frequently associated with 20th century avant-garde art. At the same time, the absence of a truly specific modernist timeframe allowed the artist to revisit the same scenes and compositions time and time again. The Mill, Pendlebury demonstrates how Lowry managed to preserve industrial traditions and heritage, thereby creating his own nostalgic urban culture from an exhaustive bank of memories, honed in the early years of the century.
The depiction of the people in the bustling streets surrounding the mill, is testament to Lowry’s almost compulsive preoccupation with using the figure to help portray his industrial surroundings. In this case, there is a joyful aspect to the painting, clearly the subject depicts the day of rest, the figures are moving about without urgency, from the children playing cricket in the middle of composition to the fathers pushing their prams in the forground, to the small groups of people milling about and chatting, all demonstrating the acute level of observation that Lowry acquired from the regularity of his sketching. Under close inspection, however, the figures are reduced to Lowry’s unique painterly language of direct brushstrokes and shorthand. ‘Natural figures would have broken the spell of it, so I made my figures half unreal. Some critics have said that I turned my figures into puppets, as if my aim were to hint at the hard economic necessities that drove them. To say the truth, I was not thinking very much about the people. I did not care for them the way a social reformer does. They are part of a private beauty that haunted me. I loved them and the houses in the same way: as part of a vision.’ (Lowry quoted in M. Howard, Lowry, A Visionary Artist, Salford, 2000, p. 123). It is, however, undeniable that the reduction of these figures to a plastic interpretation serves as a powerful metaphor for the de-humanising effects of the industrial process, and contribute to the vivid portrayal of the industrial landscape for which the artist is justifiably renowned.
‘We went to Pendlebury in 1909 from a residential side of Manchester, and we didn’t like it. My father wanted to go to get near a friend for business reasons. We lived next door, and for a long time my mother never got to like it, and at first I disliked it, and then after about a year or so I got used to it, and then I got absorbed in it, then I got infatuated with it. Then I began to wonder if anyone had ever done it. Seriously, not one or two, but seriously; and it seemed to me by that time that it was a very fine industrial subject matter. And I couldn’t see anybody at that time who had done it – and nobody had done it, it seemed’ (Lowry quoted from an interview with Hugh Maitland, in J. Spalding and M. Leber, Lowry’s City, A Painter and His Locale, Salford, 2000, p. 14).

Fiat 518 Ardita, Itália


Fiat 518 Ardita, Itália
Fotografia

Cartaz de Propaganda "Ardita Fiat", 1933, Itália - Alberto Bianchi


Cartaz de Propaganda "Ardita Fiat", 1933, Itália - Alberto Bianchi
Cartaz - Poster

Cartaz de Propaganda "Fiat La Nuova Balilla Per Tutti, Eleganza Della Signora", 1934, Itália - Marcello Dudovich


Cartaz de Propaganda "Fiat La Nuova Balilla Per Tutti, Eleganza Della Signora", 1934, Itália - Marcello Dudovich
Cartaz - Poster