ART
THE 123 modern British paintings now on view at the Tate, whither they have returned from the capitals of Europe, form an interesting gloss to the exhibition at Burlington House. More than four-fifths of the painters represented have remained outside the Academy fold.' Nevertheless, though we may seize upon gaps and inclusions which appear arbitrary, it must be admitted that the collection is, on the whole, a very fair and reasonable distillation of half a century's work. And since it has been seen by more people, probably, than any similar collection to leave the country, I tried to view it through the other end of the telescope, as it were, with the fresh and unencum- bered eyes of our friends across the Channel. Against such an inter- national background the impression received is one of respectable talent, a general level of sensibility without authority, punctuated by spasmodic and self-contained brilliance. For eyes other than British it is not an impressive period, for we spent most of it drifting in the backwaters of streams already grown stagnant at their source ; but at least some hint is given of the resurgence of our national genius in the work of the younger painters. Sutherland dominates these as clearly as Sickert dominated the staid revolutionaries of the New English and the Camden Town Group. (It is good to see again his astonishing portrait of George Moore.) In between it is the isolated and individual figures who provide the peaks—Spenser, Nash, David Jones and half-a-dozen more. Of some, however, it would be hard to judge on the evidence offered. The single canvas by Christopher Wood scarcely gives the measure of his stature, and Frances Hodgkins is but a pale shadow of her finest. self. While the Tate is clearly eliminating the worst gaps in its representation by means of its new purchase grants, it seems a pity that so important an exhibition as this one could not have been made fully characteristic, if necessary by means of loans. As a sort of coda to the collection, work by the new generation may be seen at the St. George's Gallery. Most of these pictures might have been included in the British Council's tour with advan- tage ; in other words, it is an excellent show. . . . I should perhaps add, lest anyone be tempted to spend a morning searching Burlington House for three portraits of a study-head by Rodrigo Moynihan, that my handwriting resulted in the substitution last week of "of " for
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