ART.
IN THE DUDLEY GALLERY.—A HOMILY.
THESE exhibitions at the Dudley Gallery grow more and more difficult to write about every year, -unless we repeat the remarks made upon former exhibitions. One pea is not more like its companions in the pod, than is the work which most of the contributors to this exhibition do from year to year. There is, perhaps, a little increase of technical skill, a little difference in the more or less happy choice of a subject, but in the main the work is the work of repetition,—Art turned out on mechanical principles. And it is well that this should be noticed and insisted on, as this exhibition is mainly that of young artists ; and if these things are "done in the green tree," what may we expect "in the dry ?" We readily find excuses for those who, having long toiled in the public service or for the public delight, repeat themselves with somewhat less than their ancient energy. We go to see Madame Celeste in the Green Bushes, and extend a kindly toleration to the non-appearance of Mr. Sims Reeves ; but it is another matter with the work of young men. Only the gods can afford to "lie beside their nectar,"—those not yet admitted to the Olympus of Art must have many a hard struggle and long day's labour, ere they can take their ease in such fashion.
We spent a long two hours on Tuesday in this gallery, trying to discover what it was which rendered so much good work so uninteresting, for one of the great peculiarities of this exhibi- tion is that there is plenty, almost a superabundance, of good work, and work which occasionally shows rare talent ; yet, on the whole, it is, as we have said, dull. There are two chief causes, which we may just mention before noticing any of the pictures ; the first, that the aims are, as a rule, contemptibly small ; and second, that the works are very frequently variations on worked-out themes. Now, a small aim in painting, to be contemptible, must be in inverse ratio to its subject; for instance, in Dutch pictures, the aims were com- paratively low, yet rightly understood, they were by no means contemptible ; there was no disparity between the subject and its treatment. What sentiment and meaning lay hid in the facts of common life, the Dutch caught tight hold of and re- produced for us ; and the execution was, as it was, if possible, bound to be in such subjects, perfection. But now let us look at the Dudley Gallery. Here the chief work has for its subject the beauty of Nature, three-fourths of the pictures being landscapes. And here we see the tremendous disparity between the scope of the subject and the aim of the painter's works, which is, as we conceive, one of the most fatal signs in Art. There are really only two quite worthy ways of landscape painting,—the greatest of the two being ideal work, such as that of Turner ; the second, the simple naturalism of Fred Walker, who will one day be recognised as the founder of this division of landscape art. Between these lie two minor styles, both of which are faulty. These may be called the schools of the realists and the idyllic painters. And below these, again, lie the works of those who have no aim beyond pretty arrangements of colour or form, whose pictures lose in attractiveness the more they are looked at, till at last they give us no more pleasure than the varied hues of French sweetmeats.
Surely most of us feel that an artist should know more of the beauty and meaning of Nature's moods than ourselves ; we look to them, and rightly so, to preserve for UB that tradition of the supremely beautiful which, in the cares of business and the struggle for existence, we are too apt to forget. If it be true that Nature is really at all times and in all seasons possessed of some special loveliness, we look to our painter and our poet to seize hold of this fleeting beauty, and make it perceptible to our grosser eyes. And if there be "nothing in common things too mean, in common life too trivial, to be ennobled by his touch,' surely we have a real ground for our dissatisfaction and dis- appointment, if the artist's perception goes no further than our own ; if, instead of seeking the rarer and more fleeting forms of natural beauty, he is contented with tickling the fancy with plea- santly arranged colours, or showing his own dexterity in realising unworthy and vulgar subjects. "Just look here," we heard a young lady say in this gallery, "look here at this hansom cab,— isn't it wonderfully clever !" But the fact is that we do not want "wonderfully clever" hansom cabs as the subjects for pictures ; they are out of place, just as much as they are on the stage ; though if we recollect rightly, a drama ran for several months, not very long ago, owing to the introduction of one on the stage. All that we have been saying comes to this,—that these works at the Dudley, and a very large proportion of the' works at the other Water-colour Exhibitions, and at the Royal Academy are done, not in the way that the artist knows to be- the best, but in the way which he thinks to be most pleasing to the public. Such is the utterly uneducated state of English taste,. especially amongst the moneyed classes, who are, of course, the chief picture-buyers, that a work of art can hardly be sold unless it be in some way "Sensational." Thus the poor artist is generally driven from one forced interpretation- of nature- to another, till he at last discovers a blasted tree, a method of painting bricks, a peculiar effect of light, or a morbid strain of sentiment, which "hits the public taste ;" and when that is done, his career as an artist is over, and his fame is begun. Steadily, from year to year, does he repeat,. for Agnew or Vokins, his blasted. tree, his lighted wave, his mouldering bricks, or his pilling woman, till in due time he- soars into the empyrean of artists, and perhaps writes R.A. after his name. It is ludicrous enough, looked at from the out- side, and pitiable enough when we come to examine it, for is it not pitiable that a considerable majority of any profession should falsify their creed, and accept consistently lower ideals, at the bidding of those who neither understand their merits nor deficiencies ? And it is all due to the pestilent fashion, which has lately sprung up, of society pretending to a knowledge of and interest in Art. It needs to be insisted on most strongly that society does not care, and cannot care, twopence about Art of any kind ; and that its patronage is, without exception, the- worst favour it could bestow. As a matter of fact, for the last ten years or so artists have had their heads turned with popular applause and, tremendous prices, and the conse- quence is, that many of the younger generation, who have grown up in the midst of this influence, have sprung into reputation in a mushroom sort of way, before they had really passed through their days of apprenticeship ; and others, seeing or feeling that the fashion for Art was in reality only (as other fashions are) a thoroughly superficial phase of feeling, have seen no reason to hope that the higher branches of their profession, would pay them as well as -the more easily acquired ones, and have set themselves to make the best of the good time as rapidly as possible. And now the good time is past, the bad is beginning ; the inevitable revulsion is setting in, is aided by the depressed state of trade' and the precarious aspect of foreign affairs, and many of the young artists are left in the position of men who. have known what prosperity and popular reputation .are„ and are now suddenly thrown back into poverty, with nothing to rely upon but a half-learnt trade. "Your art, if good,. is always sure to sell." So, if we mistake not, Mr. Tom Taylor paraphrased in the Times the beginning of one of Mr, Ruskin's criticisms,—and this is just where the rub lies. The Art is not good, very much of it; it is only popular, and when the popular feeling changes or fades, the Art will then be held at its true value. If painters would fight successfully through the times that are coming, they must learn to do what is done by members of all other professions,—to learn their business thoroughly and sincerely, and practise it without attention to popular feeling. Above all, they must learn to be true to them- selves and their Art,—to put their work above their reward. "Work first, and fee second,"—to rather lower their prices, than spoil their pictures. So shall they have the respect of all honest men, and the reward of those whose lives bear faithful record to the faith that is in them.
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