ART.
THE SOCIETY OF PAINTERS IN WATER-COLOURS. LOVERS of water-colours are likely to do well this winter, if we may judge from the quality of the exhibitions opened for their delight. What with the extensive series of deceased artists' work in this medium at the Grosvenor Gallery, and the excellence of the Old Society's Exhibition, 5 Pall Mall East, S.W. (the Institute we have not yet seen), there have probably never been at one time so many good drawings on view in London before. And most satisfactory is it to see how the modern work holds its own against even the greatest painters of the earlier school. It must be remembered that we are only talking of water-colours. If there does remain in London some benighted individnal, who repeats the cant so common a few years ago about the decay of water-colour paint- ing, we should like to take his arm and compel him to a leisurely walk round this winter exhibition of the Old Society, for not only is it the best winter show of sketches and studies which there has
been in our recollection, but it is particularly noticeable for the high excellence of work amongst the younger members of the Society, and those who belong more especially to the modern school of work.
It is difficult to give a great pre-eminence to one artist in such a first-rate exhibition as this, more especially as the works of many are but studies, while others are finished pictures in all but the name ; but with some deductions for the might have been, we must confess that, in our opinion, there is nothing in the gallery so fine as Alfred Hunt's " Whitby," No. 420. He sends a companion picture of "Whitby Harbour," No. 390, which is, per- haps, nearly as fine and even more elaborate in drawing, but which misses, we think, somewhat of the delicate mysteriousness of the former picture. We never remember to have before seen from any artist, still water treated with so much of Turner's feeling. Any one who will take the trouble to look at Turner's " Oberwessel," now hanging in the Grosvenor Gallery, and compare it in his own mind with the piece of still water in the foreground of Mr. Hunt's picture, will see the resemblance at once. Over Mr. Hunt's pictures there seems to be now often a forced theatrical light, as of fairy-land, but in this picture of "Whitby," lying half asleep on a misty morning, there is nothing of this kind, and the picture is alike beautiful and true. It is not nature as it appears to all of us at all times, but it is nature transposed and interpreted by the mind of an artist and poet, our work-a-day world "touched to diviner issues" by thought and skill.
For those who prefer a rock to be a rock and nothing more, the essential lovers of a primrose on the river's brim, to whom any suggestion as to the primrose's meaning is an insult, we may turn aside to the work of Mr. George Fripp. As far as it goes, this work may almost be called perfect,—certainly far more per- fect than that of Alfred Hunt, who, like all strivers after a high ideal, makes several failures for one success. We do not know that if people really admire this low key of colour, and think it to be natural, that they could wish for a greater master of it than Mr. Fripp. This glen in Skye (52), with stretch of rocky moor- land sloping up to rugged, somewhat volcanic hills, and with a turbid stream dashing down on the right hand of the picture, really leaves but little to be desired on the score of rock-drawing and general harmony of tone. It might, perhaps, have been improved were there a little less accuracy, or at least evidences of accuracy, about it, for the general effect of the picture is probably a little marred by the multiplicity of detail, from which is yet absent entirely the feeling of literal truth. It is true in a way, but there is no solidity of rock or freedom of waving grass, only excessively skilful representation in a mannered fashion. That is the great, the greatest, fault of Mr. Fripp's work,—he never carries us away beyond the impression that such and such a picture is Mr. Fripp's notion of such and such a scene.
Mr. Allingham sends no less than thirteen examples, nearly all small and beautiful, though there is no work to come up to "The Chelsea Pensioners" of last year. We cannot describe these drawings in detail, but they are all worthy of attention. If we had to name the most thoroughly true and yet imaginative work here, which was simply intended to be a sketch, and not a picture, we think that it would be No. 391, "Easton Broad," by H. Stacy Marks, a picture of water and reeds, under a dull sky, with a solitary heron standing on one leg in the foreground. Delightful as Mr. Marks's water-colour studies of deep lanes and green fields have always been, this year they are more charming than ever, though we are on the whole sorry to see that the artist is taking to very rough, almost sugar-loaf paper, and a coarser style of work. However, this may only be for hasty studies and sketches like the present ; we hope it is. On the same screen is Alma Tadema's "Flora," No. 894, on the whole the most successful figure-painting here,—a maiden in long robes gathering purple anemones in a green meadow, with a background of classic for- mation and trees. Why is it, we wonder, that in Mr. Tadema's landscapes the background is always so much more satisfactory than the nearer portions of the picture.
Samuel Palmer sends only four very small drawings, but they are, as usual, teeming with rich colour, and full of subject and interest. Boyce sends several examples, but they are hardly so good as 'usual with this painter, who is probably the greatest master of pure body-colour painting in landscape of' the whole Society. We think this year his smallest work is his best, a little picture of "The Teme at Ludlow." Lamont and J. D. Watson send, as WI_ tug: many different arrangements of the old story, but the former is losing more and more every year, of the dreamy Poetical fealiag which used to be the greatest charm of his pictures. When shall we have another set of three like that he painted to illustrate the days, when
"Bonnie Kilmony geed down the glen"?
We can see her now coming back from her seven years' stay in, fairyland, entering the old cottage at sunset, with her lap full of the magic flowers, the old father chopping faggots in the glow of the firelight, and the mother holding the door open for her,. half in fear, half in joyful surprise,—a painter who could/ do such work ought not to have settled down into such common-place as we have here in No. 53, "Sketch for Drawing. Sweethearts," a damsel in pink shoes and dress being led through a wood by an equally uninteresting man.
The figure-work here which is not decorative, is poor, though R. W. Macbeth's classical study, and Arthur Marsh's dark fish- wives may be excepted ; the latter is possessed of genuine feeling' for the dreariness and horror of the sea in bad weather, but there is a little too universal a gloom over his work. His 345, "Stony Land," is a picture of considerable merit and interest. Albert Goodwin's "Old Maidstone" is one of the most beautiful river landscapes here, perfectly true and unaffected, and hung very, undeservedly near the floor, where nine people out of ten would pass without seeing it at all. Buckman's decorative figures seem to improve steadily, and are excessively humorous and in- teresting; Thorne Waite's sketches of all sorts, and in all sorts of styles, moreover, are all worthy of attention, and seem to promise. great things, when the artist has quite made up his mind what hs. is aiming at. Basil Bradley's horse pictures are fresh and bright,, and noticeable for their very clever composition. Sir John Gil- bert's examples are better than of late they have been, and many other artists deserve mention and praise, had we more space at our disposal.
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