EVEN the most casual of visitors to the London galleries
can hardly have failed to notice, during recent months, the ubiquitous little grey and white folders which confront one at every turn. But while it seems unlikely that anyone with more than a passing interest in painting can now be unaware that the Contemporary Art Society is conducting a vigorous new drive for increased membership, or still be ignorant of the Society's aims and objects it may be that some have wondered just how far those aims and objects have in fact been realised during the thirty-six years of the Society's exis- tence. If for this reason alone, the remarkable exhibition at the Tate, which provides visible proof of the Society's activities over this period, is to be welcomed. It comprises three galleries of these works—a selection only, mark you—which have been purchased by the Society and presented to the nation's art galleries. One or two, perhaps, have not worn well ; some, purchased adventurously (and very properly) before the painter reached the summit of his powers, seem now, in retrospect, a little thin and dowdy. Their number is very small. It would be hard, on the other hand, to find at any rate an English painter of importance in this century, who is not here represented by at least one, and usually more than one, example of his very finest work—and it must be remembered that many of the Society's most important purchases are on loan elsewhere, and were not, therefore, available for the recent exhibition. The courageous policy of allowing buyers to make their purchases completely un- hampered by committees, is seen to have been completely justified. Although the Tate itself has this year received from the Treasury, for the first time, a small sum to be spent on purchases, most provincial galleries are even less fortunate. The leavening of our art collection which is made possible by the gifts of the Contemporary Art Society is therefore as invaluable to the public everywhere as is the tonic and moral effect upon the artists themselves. It would be hard to think of a more useful way in which those who receive solace, pleasure or excitement from the visual arts could show their gratitude than by becoming members of the Society. If it can achieve its aim of a membership at least equivalent to that of its rich relation, the National Art Collections Fund, then its influence will become profound indeed.
Messrs. Wildenstein are exhibiting a selection of paintings from the collection of Sir Harold Wernher—only about one-third of which have previously been shown publicly, and these never, I believe, as a group. Private collections of this quality are increasingly rare and we should be grateful for the opportunity of studying so many masterpieces known to us only by reproduction or repute. The exhibition includes, for example, a large Botticelli " Tondo " of the Virgin and Child • full scale portraits by Titian and Goya ; ex- quisite pictures by Meling, Rembrandt, Metsu ; an unusually tender head by Franz Hals and a curious picture of great interest by Altdorfer. Those which gave me, personally, the greatest pleasure included a Guardi, a Crartaoh portrait and two small panels attributed to Corneille de Lyon. But there—see them and enjoy them for yourself. The proceeds resulting from your visit will be devoted to King Edward VII's Hospital Fund.
It is pleasant to be able to record another example of the growing vitality and initiative to be found outside London. The Graves Art Gallery, Sheffield, have organised a comprehensive exhibition—the first anywhere—of the work of Alexander Cozens. I cannot comment, for I have not yet been able to see the show, but I can congratulate those fortunate enough to live near Sheffield and perhaps express a hope that there will in future be a two-way traffic between the capital and the provinces—that not only may London's exhibitions go more frequently.on tour, but that we in London may be allowed to see shows of as lively an interest as this.
The death of C. R. W. Nevinson removes another link with those days of* artistic ferment a quarter of a century ago, which now, in- evitably, appear for the time being unfashionable. There is little doubt, I imagine, that in time to come Nevinson will be remembered by the war paintings of 1914-18, in which he seized upon the methods of cubism—or, more accurately, its power-worshipping Italian variant, Futurism—and used with the utmost tact and skill its more superficial aspects. Latterly he devoted himself more fre- quently to landscape. The expedient of Futurism was dropped when the mood and the subject no longer seemed to him to require it, and many of these landscapes convey a nostalgic peace. At the same time, the intensity of the war pictures had gone. One returns again to the spiky, angular visions of no-man's-land, the columns of human automatons, the searchlights, for Nevinson's real contribution to
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