1 MAY 1915, Page 16

ART.

THE ACADEMY.

Tura' is a strange irony in the fact that a picture which may go a long way to reconcile some of the most modern develop- ments of painting to unrevolutionary minds should be the work of a member of the Academy. This is, however, the case, though admirers of Mr. Clausen will not be surprised that his open mind and great ability should have borne this fruit. The firm ground under the feet of the generation who look to Okanne for guidance might be briefly described as the belief that a picture is not a copy of Nature, but an act of creative imagination. But this must not be confused with the imagination which is only poetic. It is not the literary beets and label of a picture, but the creation of form, colour, and rhythmic composition, which, apart from associated ideas, stimulates and inspires the aesthetic faculty. But to give these qualities full play the painter meet be at liberty to deal with Nature freely. He must be untrammelled by the thought, "Is this tree to fact?" To record what he sees is of no importance; to succeed in painting what he feels is for him the conquest of his world. There are no doubt many artiste who can assent to this formula, and yet their work is not different from the ordinary fashion of their day. In what, therefore, does the particular outlook of the reformers of the present time consist ? This question can best be answered here by study of Mr. Clausen's picture, Renaissance (No. 143). The first thing that strikes us is that, whether it is aeon from close by or afar off, it retains perfect clearness. There is no confusion, and at any distance there is complete lucidity of design. Look around and ask yourself what other picture is like it in this respect. This result is arrived at by simplification. Nothing but what is essential is represented, nothing that would impede the rhythmic structure is retained, nothing is put in for the sake of making an illusion of reality. The elaborate structure raised by the science of a generation of impressionist painters for the sake of representing Nature more closely is overthrown at a blow, and a purely aesthetic spirit prevail'. We do not admire the picture because it reminds us of something we have seen, because it stimulates the memory of pleasant experiences, but because it arouses that special sense which we call aesthetic, and which is as distinctive as taste or hearing. The picture is an allegorical one, and is inspired by the catastrophe of Belgium. Under the great dome of the blue sky the ground is strewn with the ruins of a house. Lying on the ground is a woman, and near her a man dressed in black with an Order in his buttonhole. Sitting behind him is seen an old peasant. On one side is a willow-tree, shell-splintered. No harp is hung on it—for these people the tragedy is too great for even the remembrance of a song. But rising amidst the desolation is an undraped figure pointing to the ground, where in every space between the ruins spring np crocuses, some of which she triumphantly holds on high. It is the genius of the race, that race which in many fields of human activity led Europe in times past. But the noble spirit of the picture would have been ineffectual if the purely artistic inspiration had not gone band in band with it. Another thing should be noticed. It is that by departing from naturalistic methods it has been possible to make us feel. If we turn our hacks to Mr. Clausen's work and look at Mr. Lavery's on the opposite wall, we shall realize this. He too wants to impress no with the tragedy of the war, and to do so has painted The London Hospital, 1915 (No. 181). This picture no doubt represents the thing seen exactly. There is nothing here that might not be found on the focussing screen of a camera, but the result is strangely unimpressive. So it would be in life. The hospital ward, represented as it actually is, would in paint be no more emotional than it is in reality. The outward appearance of a great event is generally quite commonplace; paint it as it is and nothing will result. The fact is that the more perfectly Mr. Lavery has realized the visual impression, the less be succeeds in moving us; and Mr. Lavery'' technical power of painting what he sees is very great. Realism has been a deadening influence upon art; it is loosing its hold. If we are not to sink into formalism or prettiness, we must advance by some such path as Mr. Clausen points out. It is a path which has been trodden by some of the greatest of painters. Giotto first discovered it, and Piero della Francesca widened and smoothed it. We shall be wise if we walk in it again. To do so is not to lose our freedom, for by this road we can scale new heights.

Some of the same qualities which have been found in Mr. Clausen's work appear in a beautiful landsmtpe by Mr. Adrian Stokes, an Idyll (No. 416). He has conveyed the rapture of the sunny sky and the feeling that heaven has descended upon earth for a space. How has be done this ? The birch-trees against the sky, the distant Alps, snowy and blue, the yellow withered grass, the deer, and the little child all partake of the rapture. Perhaps the secret is this. By their rhythmic) arrangement and the reaction one on another the trees are no longer senseless things, but become Like the personages in some early Italian Bain contersasione. It is tempting to work out this idea, and to see in the delicate birch-trees the gracious presences of the saints, while the solid mass of cypress on one side fills the part of the kneeling donor. At any rate,

Mr. Stokes has done something a great deal more than represent a bit of Nature, and has done it by purely creative means.

Mr. Sims is as perplexing and as (Reappointing as usuaL He never seems quite to know what he wants. If only his power of creating beautiful things, such as his children. his skies, and hielittle glimpses of landscape, could be concentrated by some power of the spirit, how good the result would be ! The sparks fly about, but the central fire is wanting. Mr. Hughes-Stanton is beet in some of hie small landscapes this year. The material of his large picture, Eskelate (No. 631), in spite of elaborate pains taken with it, has defied him, and remains a slice of Nature, not a picture. But among so many things that are gaudy and shunt to attract notice, such a work as Noonday, Eguilen, Prance (No. 376) makes an effect by its distinction and sobriety. The same may also be said of Mr. Oliver Hall's Ode Trees on ilk Edge of Coats Common aCo. 4821, and of Mr. D. Y. Cameron's The Ochile (No. 836) Mr. Meanings shows a diverting power of portraying character, coupled with real artistic sense. In his Gipsy Grasp (No. 508) the characterization is not only in the figures, but in the pattern. of the whole picture ; and though more involved, and therefore lees striking, his Country Races (No. 727) has in it a charm- ing piece of painting in the bead and neck of the white horse. Miss Clausen has painted a small portrait of distinction is No. 673; and it is a pleasure to share Little Red Riding Hood's surprise at the wolf in bed as Mrs. Adrian Stokes has enabled us to do.

It is difficult to speak of the sculpture and the water-colours, they both seem so very unenterprising. When we think of what the New English Art Club can show in the way of water- colour, it ought to be possible to find something better than what we have here. Mr. Watson's Allegory of the Imagination (No. 939), Mr. Ishibashi's Sea Bream (No. 1,136), Mr. Sidney Moss's Rochester Castle (No. 1,182), and Miss Olive Smyth'S The Two Bose of Zinghis Khan (No. 1,134) all claim attention, especially the last, which has a legendary feeling about it