ART
I DO not know how long it is since David Jones last held an exhibition of his work, but his pictures are rare enough for a new show of recent chalk and watercolour drawings at the Redfern to be something of an event. I found that event, considered as a whole, a little disappointing. Jones is probably our most important minor lyricist —a miniaturist in the sense that he does not bring up the heavy artillery but rather bombards us with rose-petals. For me, his charm lies largely in the perfect matching of his technical means and his imaginative, poetic ends. Many of his new pictures, however, seemed a little thin ; the means were there but the ends were not sufficient to fill the sails. Nearly all these pictures date from the last three years. There are a number of heads, rather disconcerting some of them, because their big forms and surfaces are sustained neither by direct observation nor breadth of handling. (No. 31 is probably the best of these.) There is a group—by far the largest— of portraits of trees, some of which, though slight, are pleasant enough. The general effect, however, is somewhat repetitious. And then there are three or four of those pictures consisting of the gentle ordering of many different things seen simultaneously, which I believe is David Jones's especial contribution to our painting. To the gunmetal iridescence of The Lady and to the innocence and love of all natural things in Vexilla Regis, the tenuous technique comes as a support both inevitable and perfect. The latter is by far the best thing in the room.
• * * * At the same gallery Bryan Wynter holds his first important exhibition, and one which shows the value of a tradition or school
to a young or uninventive painter. There is no trick of vision or technique here which has not been previously exploited by one or other of the younger British romantics or the Parisian cubists, and originality must not be looked for. Wynter is by no means an inconsiderable technician however. The tricks are employed with understanding, with taste, with skill and assurance. At times the textures seemed to be getting out of hand in some of the smaller pictures, and some of the oils suffer from a certain deadness of surface ; but the show as a whole is very pleasing. I liked No. 71 the best of the oils, and No. 57, Landscape with Milk Churns, the best of the gouaches. I think they hold promise for the future.
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At the St. George's Gallery is an excellent little collection of designs used in various Covent Garden productions of the last year or two, including John Piper's decor for the revival of Yob. The Anglo-French Art Centre offer us some cheery paintings by Robert Braig. Mr. Zwemmer is showing Miro, Bores and Picasso. One or two of the Nliros are jolly, but the Picassos are the thing. I had not seen the Woman in an Armchair before, save in reproduction, and the double-headed Arlequin is well worth study. M. H. MIDDLETON.
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