ART
WHILE the fractures in European society persist our first-hand know- ledge of foreign painting remains virtually dependent upon the activity of Governments. Admirable as such official intercourse is in itself, the fact remains that official selection committees will always play safe. Many of the smaller, many of the faster and more active, many, it may be, of the very big fish, will fail to be netted. On such lines were my thoughts turned by the Czechoslovak Ministry of Information's exhibition of modern Czechoslovak art, which has been installed for the next month under the joint auspices of the British and Arts Councils at the Whitechapel Art Gallery (next door to Aldgate East Tube Station). The " best and most typical " artists are represented, " only excluding the youngest, whose art is still in its formative stage." Excellent. Save only that to all intents and purposes anyone born since 1900 is apparently an immature youngster, and neither to be seen nor heard. By such a ruling the British Council's big exhibition of our own painting (which included Prague in its tour) would have been impoverished by the exclusion of—I pick some names at random—Bawden, Burra, Gowing, Hillier, Pasmore, Piper, Ravilious, Ceri Richards, Sutherland and Christopher Wood. Now, if we, with our relative continuity of tradition, owe so much to this generation how much more must a nation which, though claiming a cultural and literary heritage of some antiquity, has only come to painting very recently! -
Thus to criticise may seem ungenerous. One's disappointment may lie in too high an expectation. Be that as it may, the exhibition reveals neither a direct simplicity and vigour springing from roots in folk art, nor yet a refinement of sensibility on a level with the sophistication of Paris. The artists are of the main European stream, but add little to it. They are either academic or dependent upon foreign dogma. On the whole, the national thermometer is seen to be very sensitive to changes of temperature in Paris, which it records with quite startling speed. A painter like Filla, who first introduces himself admirably disguised as Picasso the Cubist, bows himself out equally admirably disguised as the Picasso of the 'thirties, bulls and double heads and all. Muzika's Surrealist canvases are neither better nor worse than most other Surrealist canvases. The Impressionist palette of Benes produces colour harmonies which are pleasant but not novel. The painters who seemed to me to be most individual were Prochazka, who combined Greek influences with peasant in mannered decorations which he embossed almost to the point of bas-relief, and Josef Capek, brother of Karel, who died in Belsen, and achieved in his painting a simple vitality ; and, of the sculptors, Gutfreund, Filla and Makovsky. It is clear that a body of sensitive, if not outstanding, work has been created. We may hope that the new generation will be granted stability to build upon these founda- tions a truly national school, owing nothing to Paris, to German
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