ART AND A CRITIC.

Waikato Times, Volume 98, Issue 16152, 29 November 1924, Page 11 (Supplement)

ART AND A CRITIC.

EXECUTION AFTER HANGING.

(By Darius.)

The new manager of the Elam School of Art, Mr Fisher, has been speaking unwisely and not well, concerning the Auckland Art Gallery. It is (jncstionable if, cither in regard to mi.sic or painting, it is wise or helpful to ciiticise in such a way as to cause hitter resentment in the hearts and minds of the criticised and their friends. Much of what the critic said concerning the gallery may be true. It cannot escape, the observation of the ordinary visitor that many of the paintings are not the wort of artists of the higher order. Auckland represents a small proportion of a small Dominion population, and we have not the work of the centuries and the masters to choose from. A start had to be made by selecting material according to our means, and purchasing more and better paintings as means allowed. Certainly, in regard to purchases that have been made, a great deal that is uncomplimentary might be said, and I have often wondered why purchases could not have been made in the sister Dominion, which is far ahead of us in all the arts. Some of the Australian artists are doing remarkably line work, and yet I cannot call to mind at present one really good representative picture in the gallery. There is of course Steele’s skeleton, with the love-token, and the famine-wasted explorer of Burke and Wills renown. The gentle old artist is dead. He painted as he saw—Ruthless Nature—as Tennyson saw it, “red in tooth and claw.”

It is certain we cannot denude the walls of all but the four pictures reputed good, but it is equally certain Time will see to it that there are eliminations and classification.

Genius Is Rsre. We must face the fact that a large number of canvasses do not, from an artistic point of view, pay for their places on the walls. I can never read into New Zealand subjects the artistry of other lands. I have never been ahle to read into any New Zealand scene a great part of the beauty X see in Nature here, and yet the scenes appear to be painted faithfully enough. All the same many of them are as uninteresting as a painted cartwheel. They are too confined to be able to breathe. They have air but not atmosphere; they have water but it is not fluent. They have wind, as you may see by a bending or swaying branch, but you cannot see the ripple in the wind, nor can you feel the vibrations of the sunlight, which leaves you unwarmed. There is a vast difference between the New Zealand landscapes and any one of the several English landscapes that seem 1 to tower and widen into infinity. They are spacious—they have colour and vitality. The frames do not seem to confine them as they do our own rather colourless landscapes. We lack a little of the tropical glow in Nature and in Art. Perhaps the new and only partly inhabited country has not the “spirit that gives life.” Still, amongst the tinsel and the tawdry, there are some noble pictures. . I think the fault with some artists is that they are merely faithful copyists with only the artistry of draughtsmen. Nothing tut genius can convey the subtle suggestion that places one in the landscape, and does not leave one a mere spectator, and genius is very rare. Genius, however, can afford to bear with criticism. Its own good sense will tell it what is of value and what is merely spurious or pretentious. A general condemnation is, of course, valueless, and sheer effrontery, which may, even if not pardonable, be ignored.

Goldie's Work. There Is reason why Goldie's work with other work of a like nature, which has a distinct anthropological value, should be separated. The separation would really be to the advantage of such .work and students of it. There can be no doubt concerning the value of Goldie’s work. The artist has, as the rocks record in fossil the various geological ages, depicted and embalmed a racial period in his paintings. I have met him in far secluded places where he was hunting a human head with all the patience and perseverance of a naturalist striving to obtain a rare specimen. The man was enthusiastic through all his slight body to his finger tips. Our scenery remains and may be painted from Nature any day. Goldie’s work is the anthropological classic. He chose It knowing its artistic limitations, but he chose it knowing also its value as none other saw it. I take off my hat to Goldie, whenever a head bared in honour can cheer his heart, or ease my own of some part of its weight of obligation. He had no radiant beauty to pourtray on glowing canvasses, nothing of the classic Greek of the unveiled Isis—only the stark savage with his morose and immobile face, masklike because of the nerves driven from the surface by the tattooing needles. He painted him alive. He got character, and even captured Sleep nodding on the edge of oblivion. I regret, but with no sad feeling for the artist, that anyone should have seemed to speak disparagingly of his work, for it has a distinct and separate greatness, which, however, makes for aloofness.

• The following, which is from the Australian Bookfellow, might have been written for the occasion, and at the last it is good for each one of us, inclined to criticism, to remember those words of R. L. Stevenson, “The best teachers climb beyond teaching to the plane of art. It is themselves, and what is best in themselves, that they communicate.”

Art In N. 3. Wales. ZeaJandian painters and students of painting, catching across the Tasman glints and echoes of the tumult called art in Australia, may sigh to be tilting in the livelier lists of the larger country. If they are or would be artists, let them console themselves: it is an excitement less of art in Australia than of advertising art in Australia. As always, as everywhere, the artist., having gained his craft, must look into his soul and paint. Either he has art, or be has it not,. And the true quest, is made quietly. The comparative retirement of Zealandia better enables men to learn to rely on themselves, to learn to stand alone. That is the greater half of wisdom. The lesser half, in most cases scarcely less important, is that full knowledge of object and methods is necessary to a painter; and, in order not to waste time in re-discovering science and re-

inventing standards, one must see and understand the work of others, masters and contemporary students. A writer is in better case. Books bring the whole array of classics to the inquiring mind. For pictures one must travel far and wide. Benefactors of Zcalandia should establish more travelling scholarships for students of art. £OOO a year for three years, multiplied by half a dozen worthy students annually, would bring national merit and credit. The young men and women have to learn their job. Another qualification is that wavering youth needs, as it desires, the spur of professional intercourse and friendly rivalry. The club and the common studio, in the right atmosphere, are tonic and encouraging. But these countries are still so far from an authoritative tradition of art that the right, atmosphere is hard to obtain, 'there is often lack of skilled critical appreciation; and 'the contact of coequal ignorance, however exciting, brings no aid. In Australia the blind are continually leading the blind into a ditrh of wasted efforts and fulile aspirations.