検索キーワード： 著者 "Marine" すべてのカテゴリー

Marina Ivanovna Cvetaeva (1892-1941) - russkaja pojetessa, prozaik, perevodchica, odna iz krupnejshih pojetov XX veka. Vy uslyshite pojemy Mariny Cvetaevoj v prekrasnom ispolnenii aktrisy teatra «Lenkom» Anny Bol'shovoj.

"Тропами вереска" – фантастический роман Марины Суржевской, жанр любовное фэнтези. За гнилыми болотами, в самой чаще леса, там, где не поет птица, где не ходит дикий зверь, живет ведьма. Лицо ее — ямы и рытвины, бородавки да мерзкая слизь от дел ее греховных. Голос — воронье карканье, что ни слово скажет, то жаба соскочит.

Marina Ivanovna Cvetaeva (1892-1941) - russkaja pojetessa, prozaik, perevodchica, odna iz krupnejshih pojetov XX veka. Vy uslyshite stihotvorenija Mariny Cvetaevoj v prekrasnom ispolnenii aktrisy teatra «Lenkom» Anny Bol'shovoj, mnogie iz kotoryh zapisany i ispolnjajutsja vpervye.

Le 3 avril 2015, on diagnostique à Marine, jeune étudiante dynamique de 21 ans, une sclérose en plaques, appelée plus communément SEP. L'urgence de la situation, le besoin de prendre une décision quant à la prise d'un traitement ou non et le manque d'informations, l'amène à s'interroger. "La maladie c'est toi qui l'as, il faut donc chercher la solution en toi." Son traitement ? Réaliser un projet rêvé : le voyage.

Rick Marin is possibly the world’s most sports-challenged dad -- a guy who couldn’t tell you what channel ESPN was on, thinks the “Final Four” is a quartet of apocalyptic superheroes and hasn’t set foot in a stadium since the last Pink Floyd concert. Until his 6-year-old son utters the four most powerful words in the English language: “Dad, will you coach?”

Sergey and Marina Dyachenko mix dramatic scenes with romance, action and wit, in a style both direct and lyrical. Written with a sure artistic hand, The Scar is the story of a man driven by his own feverish demons to find redemption and the woman who just might save him. Egert is a brash, confident member of the elite guards and an egotistical philanderer. But after he kills an innocent student in a duel, a mysterious man known as “The Wanderer” challenges Egert and slashes his face with his sword, leaving Egert with a scar that comes to symbolize his cowardice.

In this audiobook, the author recalls his career and explores how to afford retiring while also coping with the existential crisis that so often goes along with leaving a job that's defined you. Drawing on his career and personal experiences preparing for retirement, he reveals how the prospect of retirement often requires us to find a new identity. Join the author as he rises up the ranks of banking and finance, helps people navigate financial challenges, and shares how to avoid the retirement-saving missteps and mistakes made by so many others in Gulag 401k.

It is an enthralling and unexpected selection, and the anthology resonates beyond this showing. It is from the Eric and Louise Franck collection, which has been donated to the Tate, and is part of the process by which the gallery has very belatedly, but with almost overwhelming enthusiasm, entered into collecting and showing photography as a medium in in its own right, with a very active patrons group supporting acquisitions. One of the benefits of Tate joining the fray is evident in the installation of this show.

One of Shakespeare's most often quoted lines, from Hamlet, simply asserts that "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in our philosophy." The current retrospective at Tate Britain of the art of Richard Long, the first in London since the Arts Council's Hayward Gallery show in 1991, has been titled Heaven and Earth by Long himself, a phrase he had earlier used for specific works of art.

EM Forster's famous dictum "Only connect!" is often quoted out of context but it is a resoundingly emotive phrase which might also be taken as the motto for the first major excursion by the National Gallery, London, into the history, portent and meaning of photography as a medium. Before Seduced by Art: Photography Past and Present, the National Gallery has only exhibited the work of a contemporary photographer on one occasion.

Marina Vaizey reviews the work of Julia Margaret Cameron, Victorian photographer, exhibited at the Victoria and Albert, and Science Museum London.

In 1946, while Rosy the Riveter was taking her shop apron off and setting down her wrench for the last time, Millie Uher got into a US Army surplus Jeep and drove up into the hills southwest of Maracaibo, Venezuela. In this biography written by her son, we learn she was much more than a working mother. She was a woman of the world and a rare trendsetter that changed the world without design and perhaps intent.

This ample exhibition - 150 or so photographs, and a small complementary display of well chosen magazines, showing a succinct number in published form - by Man Ray (1890-1976) is described as the first to concentrate exclusively on his portraits. He was born in Philadelphia as Michael Emmanuel Radnitzky, the eldest child of Russian Jewish immigrants (the father's classic occupation for someone of his ethnicity and class that of a tailor); the family moved to Brooklyn in 1897, the first of Man Ray's advantageous geographical relocations.

Alice Liddell, sweetly dignified, the inspiration for the heroine of Alice in Wonderland, is posed and identified as Pomona, goddess of abundance, in a marvelous 1872 photograph by the irrepressible Julia Margaret Cameron; appropriately she is the cover girl for this lavish standalone publication, which also acted as the catalogue accompanying the recent exhibition of the same title at the National Gallery of Art, Washington, (October 31 2010-January 30 2011), and the Museé d'Orsay Paris, March 6 - May 29, 2011).

In a 1968 photograph a US Marine pauses for thought, inadvertently echoing those renaissance paintings of meditating scholars, holding his helmet rather than a book - but this is a quiet moment in the battle for Hue. It is McCullin's photographs which helped to define the savage war in Vietnam for Britain, and beyond. Some is unbearably sad: a young North Vietnamese soldier, a casualty of Hue, stares sightlessly at the photographer, his hands outstretched to the detritus of his pockets, scattered on the earth beside the body.

Marina Vaizey and Anne Blood consider the historical impact of photography on the fine and interpretive arts, from pioneers such as Hill and Adamson, Fox Talbot and Louis Daguerre to Edward Steichen and Man Ray. The documentary power and graphic clarity of the medium challenged and persuaded artists such as Degas, Sickert, Warhol, and innumerable creative voices. In their essays Marina and Anne explore the conjunctions and variations where document and dream intermingle.

Several hundred photographs of varying scales, and most of them newly printed gelatin silver prints, in superb tones of greys, blacks, and whites, take us into a world that has been subliminally familiar to us for nearly 50 years. Stardust is the title given to this self-selected retrospective, three years in the making, the photographer his own curator, and the word neatly encapsulates the fascinating conundrum of photography itself. As Bailey himself puts it, "It's not the camera that takes the picture, it's the person," and these photographs are as much about Bailey as his subject.

Major discoveries can still be made in the field of visual art, but few perhaps are quite so surprising as the current first retrospective devoted to the French photographer Camille Silvy at the National Portrait Gallery, London (to October 24).

Once upon a time in Düsseldorf, in the 1970s, there was an astonishing art academy, the Kunstakademie, with amazing teachers, and amazing students. Düsseldorf was a very proud art city, and even published at the time, a book of photographs called Düsseldorf City of Artists. The presence of that great, messianic leader, Joseph Beuys loomed large. Gerhard Richter, (and Gotthard Graubner among others), taught painting, and an outstanding couple, Bernd and Hilla Becher, taught photography.

Linnaeus Tripe? Shades of a minor character in Dickens or Trollope, but in fact the resoundingly named Tripe (1822-1902), army officer and photographer, was the sixth son and ninth child of a professional middle-class family from Devonport, his father a surgeon in the Royal Navy. He joined, as so many of his background did - younger son, but of a certain social status - the East India Company's army (the 12th Madras Native Infantry) aged only 17, the third Tripe son to do so.