The Art Gallery

South Canterbury Times, Issue 2372, 23 October 1880, Page 4 (Supplement)

The Art Gallery

The desire to reproduce the objects which strike the eye or the imagination seems almost to be an inherent quality of the human race. From the rude attempts at drawing discovered in the tombs of the Pharaohs, to the masterpieces of the medieval Italian school, the impulse that guided the pencil of the artist has ever heap the same. Among the treats pf the lost'Cmh«rt?oij of the Incas, no

doubt, were to be found traces of a genuine art which required but time and opportunity to perfect. Even among the most savage tribes the love of pictorial representations is discovered in the rudelrock sketches executed with coloured clays. Bdt, while it may be considered as inherent in the human family, the artistic faculty, in its highest development, is the result and crowning glory of an (Esthetic civilisation. It is an evidence of a cultivated taste which demands, and of a cultured leisure which permits, the beauties of nature and the combinations of the poetic imagination to be perpetuated on the canvas of the artist, or enshrined in the living marble of the sculptor. “The intellect," says Emerson, “searches out the absolute order of things as they stand in the mind of God, and without the colours of affection.’’ Precisely. This.is just the position of him who undertakes art criticism, which is a judgment of an effort to understand beauty, consistency, natural harmony. We know, do we not, how mechanical a matter art criticism is of the ordinary sort and of the workshop, and we may fairly ask our readers to judge if the art exhibits"in the International Exhibition form a new departure of the views of a liberal conservative in art politics. To repeat Emerson: “ Some men are, in some degree, impressed by the face of the world; some men even to delight. This love of beauty is taste. Others have the same love in such excess that, not content with admiring, they seek to in new forms. The creation of beauty is Art.” First as to oil exhibits. In the oils department of the art gallery there are very many commendable exhibits. In some sense there are pictures shown of a unique character. Germany exhibits some fine paintings in oils. “ Sour Grapes,” by Ambere, of Berlin, will attract the most indifferent. It is most graphic of treatment. There is a wonderful picture, modestly hung, called "Holstein Landscape.” The ariist is M. Haeselich, of Hamburg, a city in which the imagery which is illustrated in this beautiful work there is little inspiration other than that of pounds, shillings, and pence. All the more, therefore, should we commend him who succeeds as this artist has in creating an oxt furore. Gutabock, of Rotterdam, shows a very expressive picture, “Erasmus at Rotterdam.” “A Love Suit,” by Harpnann, is very happily treated; so is the “ Cloister Pond,” by Hellrath, of Munich. In the British Court Mr. Brooks shows a beautiful picture. “ One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,” and “ The Rendezvous” appeals to the most powerful passions of the human heart—a beautiful girl waiting by the river for her lover. Would I were the fortunate man to cause that lovely face to wear such a wistful expression.

Robert Barrett Browning is artist as well as poet, and lie shows the “Unanswered Question,” and “A Stall in the Fish Market at Antwerp.” The kindly, shrewd face of the typical old fishwife is particularly good, and apparently must liave been a study from nature. “ What shall we say next, Dickey?” is a gem in its way. The unaccustomed task of writing to her husband probably causes the mother of the baby in the cradle before the fire to turn in herperplexity to the cage, and it is to be hoped she obtained inspiration. Alma-Tadmeda, R.A., sends some admirable achievements. You remember Miss Thackeray's “ Elizabeth,” written in the lifetime of the great novelist. Here she is, told to us by the cunning brush of this artist.

The “ Anxious Mother,” a treatment of sheep in oils, is a most emphatic exhibit. You can, so to say, pick the wool from the fleece. The expression in the anxious mother's faoejis full of pathos. It is an idyll. Bullin's picture of ;the Victor;/ cutting the Franco-Spanish lines at the Battle of Trafalgar is a grand achievement. You can see the noble old ship move in dignity. The colour here has been admirably used by the artist. Again, Mr. Armitage’s “ Pygmalion’s Galatea ”.’lis a very superior work. The classic severity of outline and colour have been well observed in this work; while the sentiment and poetry of the picture has been thoroughly preserved. “ An Interior,” representing the interior of Strasburg Cathedral, is shown by Mr. Bayless, F.S.A., a gentleman who has won a name in art circles as a wonderful reproducer of architectural work. It is absolutely impossible to do full justice! to those exhibitors who, at such great cost and trouble, have brought the results of their energy and genius to this country of yesterday, as there are not a tenth of the exhibits yet open to the public. However, such as we have been enabled to inspect, we present to our readers. Here is one by Sir John Gilbert, which, as I protest, must move the dullest. Again, there is a picture of Gilbert’s called “Louis XIV. Transacting Business in the Apartment of Madame de Maintcnon,” which, as we think, :is above criticism. The; grand monarch’s high nose and fine air are well shown. Who would think now, to look at him as he is seen in [this picture, that he owned the defect of a wen (therefore his passion for wigs) and was altogether the sorry figure which Thackeray has made him, in and out of his clothes. For that matter he was very much like our own first gentleman in Europe, Georgius. However, to proceed. The picture, which represents the death of George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, is very fine. See now how the cast of death rests upon those noble and yet ignoble features —that Villiers whom Dryden satirised, a genius and a madman, of whom, in modem times, we have had a type in Byron. Are you an artist ? Do you understand the technicalities of art ? Well, observe that thick shadow which is cast athwart the dead man’s body. The face alone is untouched. Here we see the eloquence of the brush, and yonder the maid, catching her mistress as she faints (the which I do not understand,) is graphic enough. There is a picture in oils by A. Johnson, “ In the Leafy Lanes,” which,to our thinking, is wonderfully good. The underlining, as the Germans say, is most effective. Every leaf, each shadow, the soft glint of sunshine, which passes like a silver thread through the whole picture—these elements of the picture are entrancing. There is a sweet picture—“ Farm near Fairlight, Hastings”—by T. W. Knight, which is full of rural expression. The “ Convalescents,” a picture representing a scene in the chapel of the Children’s Hospital, in Loudon, is really eloquent. One can see the gratitude and soothing content in the faces of the little ones.

A churchyard scene, by Furleylove, is full of gloomy force. Our old school comrade and fellow Ta manian, Robert Dowling, shows us some gems. The picture, " Morning in the Market Place, Cairo,” is really exquisite. The colouring, the swift glints of sunshine, the depths of shadow (never inconsistent, never of paradox) are here wonderful. Again, Mr. Dowling’s picture, “Moses Viewing the Promised Land,” is a most remarkable achievement. Here now is shown the technicalities which contribute to art; for, as Pope says, “ True ease in writing comes by art, not chance; As those move easiest who have learned to dance.” So with painting. Yonder splash of colour, you observe, brings out the enthusiasm depicted in the great prophet’s face. The glow, the passion, the God-given instinct you can see there surely in the visage of him who is the soul of Judaism. There is a pretty picture hard by, the artist of which is Mrs. Goodman. It is called, “ Will He Come,” and tells its own story. I am afraid that he will not come, my pretty one. John Houston’s “ Matchlock” is very fine. _ This artist is a master of that shadowy effect which we call colour in Turner.

“Off the Dort Holland,” by the way, is of the Turner school. It is by Webb, of London, and very good. "Afternoon Tea in the Last Century,” by Ormsby, is very cleverly depicted. The expression is admirable, quaint, formal, and truthful. There is a picture by Poole, R.A., “A Wounded Knight,” which is full of pathos. The knight is carried by his bearers; his lady walks before, her face expressing the struggle of her pride, and the agony of her sorrow. Step this way for a moment. Now this is a pretty picture, eh? "A Morning Call,” it is entitled, the artist being Henry Wallis, whom I can remember well as having poached a chub which I had captured near Wandsworth Powder Works. This work is perfect. Show me a fault of conception, colour, shade. Are they not pretty women ? And yet they are silly women, we may be sure, as all Mahomet's women must be. In the Victorian Court Von Guerard has four exquisite paintings of Victorian and New Zealand scenery. His picture of “ Mitford Sound” appeals to the imagination by its completeness and beauty. It is a poem. The towering mountains are reflected in the unfathomable depth of the water, which lies like a deep pool at their feet. A falling cascade seems to give assurance of eternal snow, and the snow itself can be seen in the distance, crowning the everlasting hills. Mr. Whitehead’s “ Pernshaw” is an exquisite picture of a scene which makes one long for a quiet ramble “ far from the haunts of men,” amidst the beauties of which this is but the counterfeit presentment. The foreground is taken up by the bright green fronds of ferns, which seem to glisten with the lingering dew of the morning, or the remains of a passing shower. To the left the ferns, clustering round the stems of giant gum trees, are in the shadow of the sylvan monarchs under which they nestle. To the right the eye rests upon the stage coach as it struggles up the track, where it will soon be lost to view. Through a rift in the tall trees the distance fades into a blue mist, with an apparent uprising of spray from a concealed river, which you can almost hear murmuring at your feet. But, come, let us come to water-colours, a department in which English artists excel. We think that this “ Bit of Wiltshire,” by Absolon, is enough to stir one’s blood. Mark how graphically he has blended every shade and shadow and spring of light. Dutchmen have infinite humour of a kind. I. Taanman, of Amsterdam, sends some pictures in proof. We think his " Conservators ” an epigram of humour. “ The Lecture," and “When Teacher Does Not Look,” are alike good. This painter is more than a painter; he is a humorist—a rather scarce article in these days. Miss Van Bosse exhibits a very pretty picture—a brook in the province of Gueedria. Of course, we Australians, who have not seen the peculiar landscape scenery of the Netherlands, can hardly appreciate this effort, but apart from these drawbacks, we contend that it is surely a good test of the excellence of the picture, when, as one gazes upon it, new interests arise. So it is with this picture of a brook. Faith! I could make love to the author on , the banks of her own imagination. Western Australia sends oil and other paintings, Mrs. Eowan’s water colours are of great merit. In the Mauritius section of the art exhibits there are some very pretty sketches from the brush and pencil of M. de Segrais. Some engravings and lithographs—a collection sent by the Mauritius Printing Company —also deserve special mention. The views of Mauritius shown in this section are remarkably good. Those who' have read and wept over the story of Paul and Virginia, may repeat their sensations by an inspection of these excellent llustrations. Especially excellent are the water colours of Absalon, who shows a picture of Sir Roger de Coverley, which should move Addison from his grave. Again, there is a “ story” told in colours

by, Bouveir called "Cherry Ripe,” and which is admirable.

Mr. Ou. Brierley,' who was the artist in the Galatea when the Duke of Edinburgh came out luffenwards, contributes some excellent sketches. His “Man Overboard in the Baltic” is wonderful. The face of the quarter-master, as he looks across his starboard shoulder, is a study of itself. Of course, the chief point with ourselves is in landscapes. English people are essentially rural; and this is shown among the sketches and the pictures in the gallery of paintings in the International Exhibition. In truth, we English are not formidable artists. We produce a Byron and a Shelley occasionally, but more as a spasm than a natural impulse. In art as in literature, we preserve mediocrity. We are quiet people, loving the simplicities of rural life, the exquisite compositions of lawn, and dell and hill. In this relation of depiction British artists stand forth prominently. But, of course, it is impossible to say all that we are inspired to think about these matters. There are the various schools, for example, the French, the Flemish, the Italian, all of which have exquisite pictures which merit especial notice, but which must stand over for want of sxmee to a future issue.