ART.
THE ROYAL ACADEMY.
[SECOND NOTICE.]
Li this second notice, and in our following articles upon the Exhibition at Burlington House, we shall endeavour to take the pictures, as far as possible, in the order of the catalogue, though we do not bind ourselves to adhere rigidly to that succession.
Before, however, we begin our survey, let us say a word or two upon Mr. Alfred Gilbert's life-size group in plaster, entitled "The Enchanted Chair." This work, which is still in process of com- pletion, is placed somewhat unfortunately behind a sofa in the vestibule, and escaped our attention upon our first entrance to the Exhibition. It is beyond all question the most important statue of this year ; and, indeed, is in some ways the most im- portant English sculptural work which has lately been executed. The mere fact of its being a life-sizs representation, undraped, of a woman would, just at the present time, be sufficient to render it remarkable, for it is curious to notice that none of our best- known sculptors— as, for instance, Boehm, Thorneycroft, Birch, &c.—attempt female figures, except in costume. But Mr. Gilbert's work has far greater claims upon the atten- tion than this, for it is a piece of sculpture of a kind which is not only rare in England, but rare at all times and in all countries. It is difficult to explain to those who have not seen this group its peculiar quality, which is due to an extremely refined and subtle combination of imagination and reality. Wholly ideal in conception and grouping as is the work, ideal to a degree which might almost be called fantastic, it is nevertheless, in its detail, the most faithful and literally veracious statue in the Exhibition. Seldom, indeed, did any work of Art show more clearly how firmly true imaginative work is planted in the definite facts and subjects of life, and how an ideal conception gathers force and reality in proportion as it deals honestly with the seen, before it takes flight to the unseen. world. We do not intend to commit the deplorable stupidity into which some of our contemporaries have fallen, of criticising in detail work which is manifestly unfinished ; but it is worth while to call our readers' attention to a point of which, as far as we know, no mention has yet been made, and yet which is the most notable matter in connection with this group. This is the rendering of the woman's flesh, of the actual softness and flexibility of the female body. This has been achieved by Mr. Gilbert to an extent which will only be quite realised by those unacquainted with sculpture, if they compare this group, even in its present rough, unfinished, plaster-cast state, with any of the other sculp- ture here. And it is very necessary to notice that this best kind of naturalism is not by any means an offspring of the base, realistic art of the modern Italian and (some of the) French sculptors,
but has its true ancestor in the finest works of Greece. There is no modern statue in the world which is so essentially like the human body it represents as the "Venus of Milo," and the same, in slightly different degrees, is true of all the greatest Greek work ; it was only in the later periods, and especially in the copies of Greek work by Roman sculptors, that the smooth, semi-conventionalised rendering of form came to be adopted. Well, this later work, say, the " Antinous," stands in a very similar relation to the "Venus of Milo," as does, for instance, "The Sluggard" of Sir Frederick Leighton to this group of Mr. Gilbert's,—the relation of a statue, to something which is less a statue than a bit of life itself, arrested in marble, but yet unchanged. We say "less a statue," because we place the essential fact, the fact of its perfect truth to Nature, first ; but we do not mean thereby that the qualities of ideal conception or design are therefore to be found in a less degree ; the contrary would be true in both cases, for the "Venus of Milo" is not only more natural, but in the truest sense of the words far more ideal than the " Antinons," and it is no less true of Mr. Gilbert's group, which, with all its surroundings of reality, is, both as a piece of design and in its inventive qualities, the most ideal of all the Academy sculpture.
And now, at last, to the pictures in the first room. What of the largest work, "Ruth and Naomi," by Philip H. Calderon, R.A.P It is our old friend the conventional long.robed, sacred- figure picture, with an Eastern landscape painted somewhere in the Hampstead Road, and, from its own point of view, very well painted too. It is very clean, very bright, and very inoffensive, save to those who try to think whether this is really Ruth or really Naomi, and whether these folk and their surround- ings could ever have looked like this. And for those who think of the matter from that point of view, all the pretti- ness and all the dexterity of the work go for nothing, it is essentially trivial in its main conception, and incomplete in its details; nor can one accept from a technical point of view its smooth, slab brushwork as good painting, its thin brightness as good colour, or its conventional arrangement as good composi- tion. Well drawn, from the Academic point of view, and very suitable for reproduction in some coloured-form, is the best word we can say for this picture. The unnecessarily black landscape above, by Mr. Fred Cotman, called "The Lock," deserves a word of notice for its attempt, which is rather an unusual attempt now-a-days, to make a definite picture (from the point of view of composition) of a landscape. The horse, boy, barge, big tree, and lock are all a little closely jammed up together ; but the artist has succeeded in giving a certain unity to his work,— it is somewhat more than an unmeaning bit out of Nature's kaleidoscope. The colour, however, is singularly nnpleasing.
There is a little landscape close to this, entitled "The End of the Harvest," of a tree, a brook, a threshing-machine with some figures, and an expanse of recently reaped cornfield, which deserves notice for the same reason as Mr. Cotman's, and it is much better in colour. The tree is a little deficient in delicacy of drawing, and there is a woman's red cap in the centre of the picture which is out of tone ; bat, taken as a whole, the com- position is a success, the figures are boldly introduced and well arranged, the atmosphere and the life and energy of the scene are happily rendered, and the total effect is pleasant, invigorating, and true to life. This is by a Mr. David Farquharson, not to be confounded with Mr. Joseph Farquharson, who has also several examples here. The best of these latter is a snow scene of a river in twilight, which is very effective. Mr. Far- quharson has also two Egyptian scenes here, of which we can only say that they hardly deserve the places upon the line which they have obtained. Speaking of landscape, Mr. Albert Good- win is unfortunately absent from this year's Academy.
Mr. Briton Riviere's work has been of late falling off in a most regrettable fashion, chiefly, we imagine, from the fact that he will insist upon painting sentimental subjects, for which he has in reality no vocation. Nothing, from a dramatic or emotional point of view, could be much worse than is "The Exile, 1746," a tall, weak-kneed individual, who, with two greyhounds by his side, is thoughtfully contemplating an im- possible sea, and perhaps thinking whether it is solid enough for him to walk across to Dover. Joking apart, what an absurdity it is for a painter of real ability to select these cheap catch-penny subjects, and execute them, moreover, without reference to Nature ! The drawing and painting of the sea in this work would disgrace a student, and the only goad thing in the composition is the drawing of the greyhounds. Mr. Riviere's dogs are, indeed, always good when he is content to allow them to remain canine. The unfortunate Landseer trick of endowing them with human instead of doggish emotions, is apt, however, to lead his successor astray, to the delight of the public and the detriment of his art There are two important Hooks close to this, neither of which we care to speak about in detail. The best is called "Sea-Daisies," and represents the rough sea, sunburnt children, and green cliff, for which the artist is so famous. Mr. Hook has been an Academician, and one of our best Academicians, for many years, and done much noble work. If there be some slight falling-off in the keenness of his sight and the vigour of his hand, he is still. practically speaking, the only great landscape-painter of which Burlington House can boast. " They don't think much of landscape- painters at the Academy." Just consider for a moment what that often-heard phrase (amongst artists) means, and how it affects the progress of our national art. Close to the Hooks, though, we find the art which is in great repute at the Academy just now, a scene on the canal at Venice by Mr. Henry Woods, entitled "Choosing the Wedding-Gown," and a very clever, dexterously executed picture it is, full of character and bright costumes and open-air effect. There is every reason to like a picture like this, and no reason to dislike it ; and we may hope, no doubt, in course of time, to see our Academy filled with such works. Doctor Downward, in " Armadale," defined the object of a book as "occasionally to make us laugh, and invariably to make us comfortable." No doubt that is the modern Academic definition of Art. It may be worth while, perhaps, to compare with this work of Mr. Woods a similar subject by M. De Blaas (No. 758) (also Venetian), entitled "The Flower-Merchant." This is even brighter, prettier, more shallow, and, to use an expressive Americanism, more " slick " than Mr. Woods's work. The comparison is useful, if only because it shows us how possible it is for two alien painters to realise pictorially the superficial aspects of life abroad ; and, indeed, such pictures may have their use as picture-books, though their abnegation of feeling almost prevents them from being considered seriously as works of Art. For Art is something more than an "office boy's diary ;" a record must be touched with some imagination, love, and purpose, before we give it immortality.
The largest and most striking picture in the second room is Mr. Pettie's two Highlanders holding torches above an empty chair. There are, according to the critics, certain anachronisms
about the plaids (the make of them we mean), the torches, and the roughly-shaped chair of the chieftain ; but these are, after all, unimportant. It is more to the purpose to ask whether this picture, where the red spreads everywhere, as in some affections of the retina, is a good one. For, if it be so, we must come to the conclusion that painting is a very much easier thing than men have found it for the last five hundred years. And if it be not a good picture, how is it that its author is seated high in the Academic world ? For remember this, that you cannot have both of these things, an Academy of good painters and of bad,—yon must make your choice. If the art of Messrs. Watts, and Burne Jones, and Leslie is right, this smudgy, slap-dash art must be wrong, and you have no right, if you admire the one, to even tolerate the other. English painting at the present day is struggling against many adverse influences; but the worst influence of all, the most subtly deteriorating and entirely bad, is the influence which asks us to substitute flashi- ness for strength, recklessness for care, theatrical effect for meaning, and coarseness for delicacy. We say again, meaning our words in the fullest sense, look carefully at these pictures of Mr. Pettie's, "The Chieftain's Candlesticks" and "The Musician," and consider for a moment whether you really like them or not. For if you do like them, you may be sure of this,— that all the really fine art which the world has produced is a dead-letter to you, a sealed book, and till your eyes are opened, must always remain so. Look at a Greek statue, a Ghiberti gate, a bronze by Donatello, a fresco by Michael Angelo, a water- colour by Walker,—look, in fact, at any example of really fine art, and you will find running through all diversity, as a woven thread of gold runs through the patterns of some Eastern embroideries, a resemblance which binds every kind of fine art together. Now it is slight, now strongly marked, but always there,—always marking off the work from that of the rest of the world, claiming it for Art. We use this vague word " resem- blance," for the fact is hardly one which admits of precise phraseology. Every now and then we can say, or fancy we say, it is this or it is that in which the essential quality of the work resides ; but, for the most part, we can do little more than recognise its existence. But the one thing we find invariably in all these manifestations of fine art, is the absence of certain qualities, the absence of haste, imperfection, insolence, and affectation. And, above all, we find the absence of all straining after effect; there is in all really fine art, quite independent of subject or material, a serenity and a simplicity which belong to it alone, and are, indeed, essential to its character; for effect is necessarily a thing of the moment, and Art has no life in time. To wind up a rather long digression. Be sure that when you see a picture which has aimed at producing a sensational effect, it must be bad art ; it may be good "theatre," good illustrated journalism, but it cannot be good artistic work ; and so subtly are the matters connected, that it is a hundred to one that it is even, from a technical point of view, bad painting. If you ever get to prefer a sky laid on with long, flattened smears of the palette-knife (there are a good many of them on the line in this Exhibition) to a delicately painted one, the kindest thing you could do for others, and the wisest for yourself, would be to go to no more picture galleries, to utter no further word about painting. The ignorance which misrepresents, and the insolence which despises, the delicate loveliness of Nature, are scarcely more blameable in an artist, than the shallow prattling of the picture seer, who passes with unheeding eyes, sober, true, and thoughtful work, to linger admiringly before representations of the inanities of fashion, and to endorse with shallow enthusiasm libels upon the green fields, and the grey clouds, and the troubled plain of the sea.
Previous page
