flecks and spots in white down were often used in sacred body decorations to break up large expanses of smooth red down. All these devices are illustrated in various paintings I have seen of the above artists. They are old aboriginal decorative motifs, which have been introduced—often with surprising effectiveness—into the new medium learnt from the white man. At times these native aritsts have been criticised for not keeping to their own art. This is very unjust as it is doubtful if the Australian aboriginal really had true art expression. Most of the art forms which this Arunta tribe possessed really belonged to their religious life and were not practised by the younger men; only the old men of the tribe made these designs, which conformed to ancestral tradition. These were largely symbolical, and were confined mainly to concentric circles and wavy lines. The young Arunta native of today is not only uninterested in the myths, songs, ritual and art of his forefathers, he generally despises these things as trash belonging to a defunct age. It is useless to expect him to work in the old art medium, except to turn out shabby, fifth rate copies for visiting white tourists. This does not mean that the old type of art could not in some form give added vigour to the designs of white Australian artists. It is even possible that in two or three generations' time—perhaps sooner—young aboriginal artists may begin to use again spirals, lines and circles in a new, geometrical form of abstract art. Recently Australian art critics have given the Hermannsburg Art Movement the gun properly. The pictures have been variously condemned for being ‘pretty’, ‘photographic’ and ‘saleable’. Complaints have also been that their remarkable sales value depended merely on their nature as anthropological curiosities. Is it an artistic crime to paint “beauty” or even “prettiness” or is an artist nowadays permitted to paint only scenes suggesting stench, ugliness, barrenness and decay when delineating the outback and never the unearthly beauty that also transfigures certain scenes in the interior? The viewing public go to an exhibition prepared for scenes of arid desert land and sandy dunes and come away pleasurably enlightened or revolted to know there is another side to the interior scene. “Photographic” is, of course, a much more frightening epithet to a painter. Fear of being labelled “photographic” however, is apt to inspire such panic in art circles that many artists would probably distort even the finest lines drawn by nature and soil, the loveliest colours of her eternal canvases, rather than risk incurring any possible censure on this score. This criticism is totally unjustified. The next sneer relates to the so called “curio value” of these pictures. Undoubtedly some people do buy these paintings for this reason; but the same criticism could be raised against many other buyers of art, ancient and modern, everywhere in the world. For instance there are many people who buy books for their private libraries purely for show, without any intention of ever reading them. Such practises are to be deplored and should reflect only on the buyers. Why victimize the artists and writers in this way? Critics of course are necessary, even indispensable for supplying to us the necessary contexts of situation relating to the artistic endeavours of people of other ages and other countries, but surely there should be no need for any intermediaries, critics included, to stand between the writers, artists, musicians and the readers and audiences of their own age. They should not be necessary to induce the regimented enjoyment of creations that have originated in our own times and in our own society. This glorified band of propagandists who are 10 to every one artist, whether it be music, writing or art, tell us in newspaper columns, books, magazines, even the church papers, what to look for and what to appreciate in the musical, literary and artistic fields, I believe this to be a severe indictment of much of the work done today in our artistic media. There was a time when art in all its forms gave joy to the community, and established between the individual members of the audience that great bond of sympathy which comes from a shared appreciation of things that are capable of moving listeners and beholders to laughter, to joy, and to tears. It is probable that the real force of art can best be felt emotionally, not explained in cold and rational abstract terms. It is one of the diseases of our age that it is becoming increasingly difficult for men and women to find relaxation and uncensored enjoyment not only in art, serious music, literature etc., but lately in sport. First night reviewers have a dreadful habit of rebuking in print uncritical people who have dared to enjoy mediocre performances by actors, orchestras and ballet companies. People who enjoy modern poetry, listen to jazz music or have contemporary paintings adorning their walls, sometimes feel uneasy in their own minds unless they can explain to themselves and their friends that their enthusiasms are justified by true aesthetic considerations. It's too bad that we have become so successfully civilized that we have lost the gift to enjoy. As for sport, well, one only has to look at the mess our present rugby football situation presents to understand what I mean. No thought of enjoyment there, only a two-sided national resentment. I seem to have wandered off the track somewhat but I think much of what I say has some bearing on the art of Rex Battarbee and the Hermannsburg School of Native Artists. Not all their pictures are good art. Many of them are not spectacular or clever exhibition pieces fit to be stored in some National Art Gallery and this is a big point in their favour.