# The Arts/Volume 1/Issue 1/Current Art Exhibitions

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CURRENT ART EXHIBITIONS
By the Editor
EACH fall as I return to New York there is a feeling of excitement, I might almost say of apprehension. What will have happened to the section which is devoted to art? This year the changes were marked. At Forty-sixth Street and Fifth Avenue the portion of the Windsor Arcade which housed the Reinhardt, the Harlow and the Ralston Galleries has gone. On June first the three galleries were given ninety days to find new quarters. A little farther down the avenue the old building which was, so to speak, the cradle of ultra-modern art, Number "291," is gone, and already a skyscraper filling the entire frontage of the block is taking its place. The Holland House, where Stieglitz and the radicals used to lunch, is an office-building. So pass away the glories of this earth!
The Reinhardts found temporary quarters at 574, previous to moving into their new building, 606 Fifth Avenue; the Harlow Gallery is at Number 712; the Ralston has gone into a side street and is at 12 East 48th Street. Another gallery which has left the avenue is the Folsom, which has the ground floor of 104 West 57th Street. The Florence Gallery and the Kevorkian are ​gone and the only newcomer in the field would seem to be the Société Anonyme, 19 West 47th Street, which is run along ultramodern lines. Mrs. Powell, the widow of the color-merchant on Sixth Avenue, is now devoting all her energies to exhibiting works of art in her new gallery, 117 West 57th Street. The MacDowell Club is to have exhibitions, emasculated exhibitions, conducted by committees of club members. Its influence from now on will be negligible. It is too bad, for once upon a time the MacDowell Club stood for something.
The Fine Arts Building in West 57th Street has been reconstructed sufficiently to house the next exhibition of the Academy. The last Academy was held at the Brooklyn Museum and attracted much larger crowds than previous exhibitions in Manhattan. Now that the Interborough Subway has a station at the Museum door, the Brooklyn Museum has become an ideal place to hold the Academy show.
The season opened with memorial exhibitions of the etchings by Anders Zorn, who had died during the summer. Harlow and Keppel each had an exhibition, and both shows were rich in examples of his art. It is my firm conviction that Zorn is overrated as an etcher. As a craftsman he had great freedom, but that is not enough to make a man a great artist. Rembrandt, Caneletto, Piranesi, Meryon and Whistler seem to me to have done work which is far greater than anything which Zorn accomplished.
AT Knoedler's there had been on exhibition all summer paintings chosen from Duncan Phillips' admirable collection. On one wall, in what would be considered the place of honor, was Fantin-Latour's portrait of his niece, "Sonia," and, opposite, George Luks' equally impressive "Theologian." The Century Association is now showing the Duncan Phillips' collection in the clubhouse in West 43d Street. In October there was opened at Knoedler's an exhibition of woodcuts by Auguste Lepere. Technically Lepere is surely the greatest master of wood engraving who has ever lived. He stands unrivaled in the subtlety of his gradations of tone. No artist has ever combined utmost subtlety with that mysterious sense of power which we feel in the simplicity of Giotto's painting and in the woodcuts of Moronobu. A woodcut by Moronobu has but two tones—black and white. A wood engraving by Lepere has a hundred gradations of tone. The Moronobu has more force, the Lepere is more subtle.
The innovations which Lepere brought to the technique of wood engraving are especially those which enabled him to give variations of tonal values far more subtle than those of any previous wood engraver. Lithography as an art ran through all its evolution in the first few years of its discovery. The elder Isabey was a master of subtle tones, of silvery grays, of deep, rich blacks. Until Lepere, although the art of wood engraving had been practised for almost 500 years, it was not known that an equal delicacy was possible with the woodcut.
IN many ways the most interesting exhibition of the fall is that of work by Vincent Van Gogh at the Montross Galleries. At the Armory Show in 1913 there were more paintings by Van Gogh which would be numbered among his masterpieces, but the Montross exhibition, in showing work of his earliest period and that of each successive step in the development of his art, has rendered a great service to modern art. There have been three articles on the Montross show in magazines, two of which are very appreciative, one by Walter Pach in the International Studio, the other by Horace Brodzky in Rainbow. The third by Guy Pene Du Bois in Arts and Decoration is quite misleading. In it he sneers contemptuously at the romanticism of Van Gogh's biographers and at those who persist in reading into Van Gogh's art his life. Now Van Gogh's life was one of rare intensity and the man who does not feel that intensity in his art, as, ​for instance, in the self-portrait, is singularly insensible to the emotion back of painting. Last July, I was talking with Duret, Van Gogh's biographer, and he said: "It is the biographer's first duty to give the whole man, not to idealize him in any way, not to give an air of romance to that which was commonplace. I blame Joseph Pennell in making of Whistler a sort of hero instead of giving the entire man and letting time make of the man a hero if it will." That Duret has given us a romantic version of Van Gogh's life I do not believe.
Let me now quote from Horace Brodzky's appreciation of his art:
"The first impression on visiting this exhibition is Van Gogh's blonde and joyous color, then his leaning toward the decorative is evident. Later you realize his drawing-painting. Throughout these later paintings, the fact is continually impressed upon one that Van Gogh was all the time drawing in paint. He was not 'modeling,' or 'brushing-in' color in the ordinary way with his brush. One might say that he was writing with his brush, and I think that this correctly describes him.
"Look at his landscapes and some of his portraits. He used broken color mostly, but not in the manner of the Impressionist. Instead of their staccato technique, he uses something more wiry and calligraphic. He is writing in color. And all his paintings, except his early suavely painted and sombre colored ones, may be called writing-paintings,
"Then there is the impression of an energetic mind flowing out through his brush. His paintings show that in his short life Van Gogh epitomized the whole of the development of modern painting to reach a stage admirably expressed in the following passage in one of his letters: 'One begins by plaguing one's self to no purpose in order to be true to Nature, and one concludes by working quietly from one's palette alone, and there Nature is the result.'
"Yes, Van Gogh recreated, and it was like nature. No visitor to this exhibition can say 'Nature is not like that!' On the contrary, nature is very much like him. True, he has exaggerated, but this exaggeration of Van Gogh's is consistent, which makes it a truth."
MR. MONTROSS had a happy inspiration in providing as a foil to the Van Gogh exhibition a show of American etchings. We have a large number of etchers but we have few whose work is distinctively American. The Americanism of Whistler, of which he was ashamed, is not very evident in his art. John Sloan is closer to our people and in his etchings the life of lower Manhattan is brought very close to us. He has a large group at the Montross Show, an admirable series. Less even than the work of Sloan is that of Walter Pach, in which the desire outruns his grasp. In the "Shot Tower" he has been more successful perhaps than in any other. Charles A. Platt has a far surer grasp on his technique and in etching the artist needs far more training than in most of the other graphic arts. His vision is somewhat commonplace, the same old scenes etched in the same old way, yet with it all there is a sense of fulfillment in his art which is not apparent in the work of most of the younger men. This sense of fulfillment does not characterize our age and Walt Kuhn and Arthur B. Davies in their incompleteness are closer to the spirit of the times.
AT the Milch Galleries there have been two exhibitions and now the third is on. The first was a group exhibition, paintings by Eliot Clark, Hobart Nichols, Ivan Olinsky, E. H. Potthast, H. B. Snell and E. C. Volkert. Of all the paintings shown the one which made the greatest appeal to me was the landscape entitled "The North-Easter," by Henry B. Snell. It is Whistlerian in its delicacy, in its subtle harmonies of color. The other members of the group exhibiting are all doing stronger work than a few years back, with the exception of Potthast, who repeats his past successes as if there were nothing else in the world to paint but children in a park.
The second show was of work by Childe Hassam. It was one of the best exhibitions of his art that has ever been held in New York. Childe Hassam has his limitations. He could never work out a character study such as the "Pope Innocent" of Velasquez. He is at his best when his touch is the lightest. His larger canvases are usually not so good as the smaller ones. His water-colors are more sensitive than his oils. If I were to ​characterize his best work I would say that it is supremely sensitive. Among the water-colors shown at the Milch Galleries, and the show was largely one of water-colors, was an upright composition, an old Colonial door at Portsmouth, N.H. It has the fluency of Sargent but it has little of his superficiality. The arrangement is simple. A white doorway, with paneled door, occupies the center of the upright panel. On either side is the red of a brick house and at the bottom is the red of the brick sidewalk. A harmony in soft reds and white, with the olive green of branches in full leaf cutting across the red lest the harmony become monotonous. It is done with skill and with what is much more rare—with taste and feeling.
IT is as difficult for officialdom to give a representative exhibition of modern art as for a prima donna to be fair to the voice of her under-study. The exhibition which has just opened at the Muscum of French Art is an official exhibition. It gives no insight into the forces which are now making the art of to-morrow. Let us open the catalogue and take the list of names of the painters as they appear in alphabetic order and the years in which they received their various honors (medals and mentions). Jules Adler, 1893, 1895, 1898, 1900; Joseph Bail, 1885, 1886, 1887, 1889, 1900, 1902, 1910; Léon Béraud, 1883, 1889, 1900; Maurice Bompard, 1880, 1882, 1889, 1890, 1898. That is the sort of thing officialdom declares is contemporary art.
Put aside all prejudices against the art of the Second Empire and you'll find the show a good one. Cottet, Dauchez, Flameng, Ernest Laurent, Le Sidaner, Ménard, Prinet Simon, are good artists. The work they have sent over is thoroughly representative work of their generation. It is not, however, of these men that Paris is talking to-day.
I sometimes wonder whether the reason that the exhibitions sent to us by our friends across the sea are so provincial may not be that our European friends utterly misunderstand America. The comments of the New York press on the exhibition at the Museum of French Art should have opened their eyes somewhat. Let the next exhibition sent to us be one in which the radicals have a share. That will silence those who are now saying that in the arts France has ceased to lead the world.
MILTON MAYER had the honor of having the first exhibition at the Touchstone Galleries this season.
He has talent, an instinctive feeling for composition, a good sense of color, but his artistic training has been very slight. The galleries open for the earnest young artist are very few. It seems unfortunate that a man like Milton Mayer, who at best is but an echo of other men, should have the hearing denied to many a searcher after truth.
Mayer's exhibition was followed by one which was more interesting because it was more personal. Miss Adele W. Getty has individuality, not the blatant screaming of the "ego" but a quiet expression of her feelings which carries weight because it is so reserved. Her portraits are full of character. They live. They are work of art, but her worst enemy would not say they were "artistic."
There was shown also a group of her snow landscapes. The snow gives you the feeling of intense cold, it blows into drifts, if the door is not kept tightly closed it will sift into the house. Adele Getty has been successful in her snow pictures because she didn't look at Bellows' snow, at Henri's snow, or even at Lawson's (and Lawson paints snow very well), but she looked at nature's snow and watched it as it was blown about by the wind.
In the other room was shown the work of Flora Lauter, a woman who has apparently studied under Henri and who has absorbed from those about her what we call the modern spirit in art, not to be confused with the ultra-modern, please! She is capable, very capable, but her work is not sufficiently a revelation of her own inner life. It is rather a composite of the art work she has seen.
THE SUN GODBy Ray Boynton
WE owe the exhibition of work by Ray Boynton which was recently held at the Mussman Gallery to Ernest Haskell, who, as they say, "discovered" him in California. Haskell is a gourmet in matters of art, and Ray Boynton should be most happy that his work has had Haskell's approval.
Boynton's work may be divided chronologically by the date, January first, 1920. All work done previous to that date shows promise; that done since shows fulfillment, fruition. It is quite amazing the progress he has made in the last two or three years. The earlier work is largely inspired by California landscape which reminds one of the landscape of Greece. The mountains, with soft, flowing lines; the wide valleys, the clear; translucent coloring; all these bring back the classic beauty of the country about Argos. Pastel, as a medium, would have been almost too fragile for the subject-matter if Boynton had not outlined the mountains in black. These outlines give the earth the necessary solidity. Beautiful as his California landscapes are, they are surpassed in fancy, color, and delicacy by the Oriental phantasies in which nude women enjoy life seated on the backs of gorgeously attired bulls. In Persian miniature the most prosaic of us are not disturbed when we see depicted scenes as improbable as these. Why should we not allow as much freedom to the artist of these States as we do to the old Persian miniaturist?
AMONG the more interesting exhibitions was one of the work of two etchers at the Kraushaar Gallery, M. A. J. Bauer and W. Witsen. They are both accomplished craftsmen, men with much taste and a fine appreciation for the picturesque. The exhibition was spoiled for me because I went into the farther gallery first. There I saw a drawing, Fantin-Latour, by himself. There is a history attached to it. Fantin was my master. I revered him as every student should revere a master worth the having. There was in Paris over twenty years ago a sale of Fantin-Latour's drawings, and as I entered the room I noticed a portrait which my master had made of himself. I asked the price and was concluding the purchase when Arsène Alexandre entered, saw me buying the drawing, beckoned to the attendant and said: "That drawing is mine." My protest availed nothing. As the attendant said, the great Arsène could make or break an exhibition, and therefore must be humored. The next day I went to see Fantin, and there sat Arsène Alexandre. With all his assurance, he passed an unpleasant quarter of an hour. When he had gone I told Fantin the story. "Well, don't worry about it," he said. "I'll make up for it. I shall give you some lithographs which even Mr. Avery, with all his wealth, could not buy." They are among my most precious possessions; his early lithographs; in one case, I understood him to say, a unique piece. The drawing is going to the Duncan Phillips collection. What was my loss is now his gain—it will be in good hands.
THE Taos Society of Artists has been having its annual exhibition this year at the Kingore Galleries. Victor Higgins has the place of honor with "Periphlebitis." Now what, you will ask, is "Periphlebitis"? Three days ago I would have said it was a disease of the lower limbs. But I would have ​been quite wrong. It is (let me whisper it in your ear) the impressions which the war made upon Mr. Victor Higgins, and, judging from those impressions, Mr. Victor Higgins must have been dangerously close to the firing line, if not in "No Man's Land." Mr. Higgins evidently had his doubts as to the capacity of the critic to understand "Periphlebitis," and so he wrote a little explanation of it. His explanation involved the transference of the center of gravity of the earth to a plane passing through the South Pole. "Periphlebitis" is a decorative bit of color with no more significance than Mr. Higgins "The Gray Gate." That Mr. Higgins feels it needs an explanation shows he feels his painting cannot stand on its own value as a work of art—a weakness. When the transference of the center of gravity takes place I trust I shall not be in Brooklyn.
The "Eagle Dance—Tesuque," by B. J. O. Nordfeldt, needs no explanation. Here is lightness of touch, joyfulness of color, the same note which Roger Fry struck some years ago in his charming illustration to Robert Trevelyan's "Swallow Mask Song of Rhodian Children."
Walter Ufer showed nothing as important as his contribution to last year's show. The same earnestness of purpose is still apparent and that is the best omen for the future. His three paintings were up to anything in the exhibition.
E. L. Blumenschein has two decorative canvases, "New Mexico" and "Cottonwoods." His larger paintings give me the feeling of emptiness, but these are full and rich, almost opulent in color. "Desolation Canyon," by A. L. Groll, is a note quite apart from those struck by the other artists. It is a note of gloomy romance like a heavy bass chord amidst a host of high, clear tones. The painting has resonance.
Within the memory of men now living a masterpiece by El Greco was brought from Spain by Zacharie Astruc and sold to the painter Millet for 20 francs. That was its commercial value. Now I have chosen it for the frontispiece for the first issue of The ARts. There is in the art of Greco a chord which touches the man of our time, whether he be French, American or Japanese. All moderners, whatever their nationality, are akin. There is a "Zeitgeist" spirit of the times which gives to an epoch a peculiar tone. Those who are born of the spirit of our time are moderners. Today the "Zeitgeist" is stronger than feelings of race or of nationality. Its strength is an earnest for future peace.
And this leads us to the work of Edwin Booth Grossman, a lover of Greco, whose work was shown in an adjoining room at the Kingore Galleries. Grossman comes by his culture naturally for he is a grandson of Edwin Booth, the actor. Strange to say Grossman never saw his grandfather act. I presume that Booth preferred that the boy should remember him as he appeared in his home life, the delicate, sensitive, gentle man he ever was. Although Grossman is an admirer of the art of El Greco, he has not wholly digested its spirit. His work is, therefore, related to that of Greco superficially. Outwardly it looks it looks like that of Greco, but it has not the inner life of Greco's art. Grossman is a man of great appreciation. Such men are ever late in reaching their goal in art. This resemblance to the art of Greco will grow stronger, I believe, but the resemblance will become a resemblance of spirit, not of outward appearance. Then his art will look far less like that of his master. You will cease to see the resemblance; you will feel it. ​ AMONG the shows of prints held this Fall none revealed a finer nature than the lithographs by Fantin-Latour exhibited at the new Harlow Gallery. As it is my intention to write an article on his lithographs for The Arts, I shall refrain from comment on them now.
ANOTHER show of prints of the greatest interest was one held at Keppel's. The prints were all of the "old masters," Rembrandt being the most modern artist represented. The exhibition was a memorable one because it gave so strong an impression of the creative power of the older men. The quality of the prints themselves left nothing to be desired.
There has now followed an exhibition of modern prints which is simply amazing in its beauty. The value of life is enhanced from our living in a world where such things are to be seen.
SUCH food as Mantegna, Rembrandt and Degas is too rich perhaps for our daily fare. That is why exhibitions of the minor men are needed. At Kennedy's there have been print-exhibitions of the work of minor men, of Louis Orr, of Troy Kinney, of Frank Benson. They are all men of talent else they would not have been showing at Kennedy's. To the lover of the modern dance the etchings of Troy Kinney have a special fascination, for Mr. Kinney has watched the dancers until he has made their every movement his own.
THE SCOTCHMAN ABROAD By Edmond T. Quinn
IN the second week of November opened the second annual exhibition of the New Society of Artists at the Wildenstein Galleries. The show was somewhat dominated by the quality of the sculpture shown, by the monumental character of the bronze by Gaston Lachaise after the plaster shown at the Bourgeois Gallery last spring, by the lightness and beauty of the seated figure in wood which Nadelman has carved, inspired by the plaster which figured in his Knoedler exhibition. Less sculptural than these is Edmond Quinn's "The Scotchman Abroad," a study full of character, in which the attire of modern man is handled with ease and breadth. Another piece of sculpture which has beauty is Hunt Diederich's "Faun."
There is a constant shifting of position in the world of art. Smith, who ten years ago was the master, is to-day outclassed by the man whose heaviness he so despised, Jones. There has been a shifting since a year ago within the New Society. George Bellows and Leon Kroll are stronger in their work this year. The Bellows portrait group has a weight which will not allow one to overlook the painting. "Eleanor, Jean and Anna" is ​the title. There are two elderly women dressed simply in black and between them a little girl in white is seated on a child's chair. The subject matter is well chosen, the arrangement good. There is in it much that is dramatic, nothing that is theatrical. It is clumsy in execution, many of the passages in the painting are a bit wooden. Notwithstanding these defects the picture has the power of holding you. It may be a forerunner of masterpieces. There are many reasons to suppose it is. Less commanding than the portrait-group of Bellows is the "August Day" of Kroll. It has qualities which the Bellows lacks—suavity, evenness of execution, richness of color. As craftsmanship it may be better, but the Bellows has the higher aim. Kroll, in his portrait of "M. Jules Antoine Guillaume," has scored a second success.
Eugene Speicher is not at his best this year. His "Portrait of Katherine" has more charm than it has solidity. The face is very lovely. Katherine is the type of young girl whom we all love, simple, direct, natural. As the eye wanders from the face, and wander it will in time, the other objects all seem unreal. The arm-chair is unreal and poor. Katherine herself lacks form beneath her simple dress. Speicher must pull himself together. Do not fear, he will.
Paul Dougherty has changed his gods. For many years he worshiped at the same shrine. He has now drifted far from Winslow Homer and the Maine coast. For the moment his vision is somewhat of a compromise between his old ideals and the new. I like his new ideals, his new vision. He has gained in breadth. Frieseke has also gained in breadth. "Peace" is very beautiful in color, pleasing in design. Harmonious color has a force which blatant, crude color can not subdue. The "Portrait of Dr. Richard Horace Hoffman," by Albert Sterner, is not killed by the unpleasant coloring of the "Figures" beside it. They rather act as a foil.
On another page will be found an appreciation of Glacken's portrait of Walter Hampden as Hamlet. Childe Hassam had three canvases, all good. Perhaps the best of the three is an early painting, "Central Park, 1890." Time has mellowed it. There was much else of which I would like to write: sculpture by Mrs. Harry Payne Whitney and Sterling Calder; paintings by Jerome Myers, Lawson, Rockwell Kent, Halpert, George Luks, Hayley Lever, Van Perrine, Gifford Beal, Prendergast, Jonas Lie and John Sloan; drawings by Sterne, Boardman Robinson and Mahonri Young.
FOLLOWING the exhibition of Sully's work there were shown at the Ehrich Galleries "Decorative Paintings of the Eighteenth Century." It was a very good show, from which one got an impression that the "Decorative Paintings" were by artists hardly less great than the masters whom we have been taught to reverence. There was a portrait of a lady by J. Smart which, in solidity and truth, surpasses most of the portraits by George Romney. It is less clever than a Romney; it would be said to have less charm and yet it has those solid, enduring qualities which the better-known painter so often lacks: Another interesting canvas was the portrait by Francis Cotes of Mrs. Pritchard of the Theatre Royal Covent Garden. In the Cotes, as in the Smart, the likeness is living. There is in them none of the trumpery which frequently makes an eighteenth century portrait unconvincing.
AT the Daniel Galleries the opening show was one of great beauty. There were many beautiful paintings beautifully hung. No single painting stood out as being the masterpiece of the exhibition but the standard of excellence was very high. The paintings of Joseph Stella, Yasuo Kuniyoshi, Boylan, Benton, Demuth, Owen Merton, Preston Dickinson, Macdonald Wright, Marsden Hartley and Sheeler come before my eyes as I think of the exhibition. There may have been other paintings there which would impress me more should I see them ​all again. It was a show which needed to be seen more than once.
THE first exhibition of the season at the Macbeth Galleries was of paintings by Hovsep Pushman who is a sensitive colorist, There is much to admire in his arrangements, little to offend. His paintings do not thrill because Mr. Pushman in painting them was not thrilled. Emotion on the part of the artist begets emotion in those who come to admire. Van Gogh was moved when he worked and therefore his works move us, So has it ever been.
In another room were shown paintings by a group of artists: Hayley Lever, Gardner Symons, Ben Foster and Robert Henri. Of the four men I felt that the work of Hayley Lever betrayed the most emotion. Gardner Symons is always good, yet he never quite reaches the goal. He is as a golf player who plays in excellent form but who lacks the swing to get into the class with Travis, Evans or Quimet. Lever has the swing but lacks the form. Robert Henri is the slave of a technique. The men who change the course of art are those who make technique a servant and who recognize no master but the divinity within them.
TWO SISTERSBy Mary Cassatt
THE first exhibition of the season at the Durand-Ruel Galleries is of work by Mary Cassatt. Mary Cassatt, among American painters, occupies a unique position. She has the distinction of being ranked by those whose opinion I would value the most as the greatest living woman painter in the world. Like Degas, whom she so admired, she has become almost totally blind. I wonder if the blind painter can still create in his mind's eye new harmonics of tone, new visions of delight, just as Beethoven, the deaf musician, created new harmonies of sound, complicated chords which he had never heard.
Mary Cassatt's work is filled with beauty, the beauty of everyday life which she has seen with eyes of love. Maternal love is often her theme, as in her variations of that wondrous motive, mother and child. It has furnished the greatest masters with the theme which moved them the most: Cimabue, Raphael, Rodin. Miss Cassatt has less strength in her art than Manet, less abandon than Renoir in his later work, less science than Manet, and yet, without her paintings and those of Berthe Morizot the Impressionist movement would have been one-sided. Just as Raphael is the complement of Michael Angelo so Mary Cassatt completes the movement of which Manet is the other pole.
IT is a pleasure to know that the Powell Gallery is to be kept up. Mrs. Powell has opened a gallery in West 57th Street, the first floor of a dwelling. It has the advantages of seeming like a home, and that is the best setting paintings can have. The present exhibition is of work by Florence W. Gotthold. The work is very good in color, well composed, but, unfortunately, lamentably weak in drawing. When, oh, when, will budding genius learn that drawing is as essential to a work of graphic art as oxygen is to ​the air we breathe? I know what budding genius will answer and budding genius will be right. "Where, oh, where, can budding genius learn drawing without losing that most precious of all gifts, probity?"
THE second show at the Macbeth Gallery was of paintings by F. F. Benson and W. L. Metcalf.
Benson had a "first, fine careless rapture," young girls in full sunlight on cliffs, which went rambling down to the water's edge. They were prototypes of Curran's "The Top of the World," but they were thousands of times better. The rapture had gone and he has not been able to recapture its beauty or its truth. He has gone on, painting pictures rather than studies, showing off his knowledge, which is not slight but not acquiring wisdom.
Notwithstanding all this, F. W. Benson is in no way a negligible figure in American art. He has a fine sense for decorative color. It is surely not in his figure work that Benson is at his best. The interiors have far more charm and the landscapes also. The "Northwest Wind" and "Shimmering Sea" are beautiful paintings.
Willard Metcalf has fewer faults, possibly, than Benson, but he also has fewer positive qualities. His work at times is almost commonplace.
BLUE, WHITE AND GOLDBy Emil Carlsen
WHY the little exhibition rooms at 19 East 47th Street are given the French title "Société Anonyme" I do not know, but, for the benefit of my readers who do not read French I shall translate the name literally: "Anonymous Society." It is a term used in France to designate an organization which prefers not to make public its supporters. The Société Anonyme which has its headquarters at 19 East 47th Street is in every way worthy of support. It attempts to provide a setting in which can be seen chosen work from one of the most interesting movements in modern art life.
It is an excellent work. The rooms have been remodeled by Marcel Duchamp, the painter who gained momentary fame because of his painting, "The Nude Descending the Stairs," at the Armory Show in 1913. Those who were most incensed at "The Nude" could hardly fail to appreciate the harmony of the rooms of the Société Anonyme. The proportions (which show that Marcel is a master of form) are quite perfect, and the pale gray-green of walls and ceiling are a wonderful foil to the paintings. Of the paintings the Kandinsky is possibly the most suggestive of force. It has a strange rhythmic power which finds an echo in the rich "American Landscape" of Joseph Stella. Over the mantel in the first room is a Man Ray, glittering cog-wheels on an intense black. You may say that he has gone outside the limits of art. Possibly he has, but who is the arbiter in such a matter? Of the decorative value of the work I feel that I do know something. I have seldom seen a more perfect composition, whether considered from the standpoint of color or of arrangement. Marsden Hartley shows two ​superb still-lifes, most subtle in tone and design. There is also work by Mense, Walkowitz, Schwitters, Derain, Bauer and Heemskerck. Each piece plays its role in an exhibition in which the keynote is unity.
AT the Hanfstaeng Galleries is to be seen a very beautiful landscape by Giovanni Segantini. The work of this Italian-Swiss painter so rarely comes to America that few of us are familiar with his art.
Ever since the beginning of the Nineteenth. Century the destruction of picturesque Europe has been going on. Ruskin tells how Samuel Prout would sit and draw buildings as the workmen were preparing to demolish them, buildings were the heritage of the Middle Ages. Luigi Kasimir is continuing the good work of Prout. He has been etching the picturesque side of Europe in plates so filled with old romance that they are as moving as the "Carceri" scries of Piranesi. He etched whole streets just before they were destroyed. In his prints the streets live again.
Perhaps it is in his most recent plates that Kasimir's talent is shown to best advantage, in the charming colored oval etchings of Danish Rococo chateau, with their parks. They are little masterpieces.
BOLOGNABy Kasimir
THERE is much food for reflection in the criticism of Nevinson's show at the Bourgeois Galleries. Nevinson's career has been like that of a meteor. A young man, he was acclaimed as the greatest of all the artists who had found inspiration in the war. He was in New York eighteen months ago and his exhibition at Keppel's brought him honor and what we are pleased to call filthy lucre. Back he comes with a cargo of canvases inspired by the canyons of Manhattan and the critics are cold to his new work. What is the trouble? On the battle-front Nevinson had every advantage which the other artists had. The entire scene was new to them all. Some of us have lived in New York and have loved it for years. We have an advantage over Nevinson who carried away from our shores but a superficial, although very sharp-cut, impression of the metropolis. He under-rated the power of those who had interpreted New York. He surely had not seen the paintings by Gleizes and by Stella, he probably did not know the water-colors of Marin, nor the photographs of Steiglitz or Sheeler. It was but natural that Nevinson felt that he would win instant recognition in a field in which he doubtless felt that his chief competitor would be Colin Campbell Cooper. Nevinson's work, as an interpretation of the life of New York, will stand high. It is a remarkable achievement when you think of the obstacles he has had to overcome, but he must go further before he can take his place as a great interpreter of the wonder of our beloved city.
THE De Zayas Gallery opened with a show of water-colors by Cézanne which illustrate the development of his art. To the lovers of Cézanne they appeal because of their vitality and beauty. To those who have not caught the spirit of his art these ​drawings are confusing beyond measure. The earliest drawings (those of the nudes). were made for the purpose of study. They are understood relatively easily. The later drawings, there is the rub! They are Cézanne's notes, notes in his own peculiar shorthand, notes which he alone could fully understand. They are packed with meaning, therefore full of interest. Because Cézanne was an artist, because he had an extraordinary feeling for that which is vital, his shorthand notes possess beauty and life. What more should we ask for in a work of art?
NEW YORKBy Nevinson
THE new Folsom Galleries in West 57th Template:SIX are attractive. There is much that is decorative in the tall figure of the new manager whom we used to admire in his rôle of a painter of ultra-modern art. The new galleries are cheerful and the light falls on the paintings so as to bring out all the beauty of each one. The first exhibition was work by a group of artists of fairly modern tendencies, and of the paintings, the Arthur B. Davies is the one I should most like to own. The charm of it comes from the mysterious nature of Davies' spirit. Alas, the blight of a formula is falling on his art! There are in all works of art rhythmic movements of line and, in the greatest works of art, of mass. These things have been felt from the earliest times instinctively. The laws which govern them can be worked out. It is very possible that Jay Hambidge has discovered many of them. Yet, when the artist attempts to apply these laws instead of following the workings of the spirit within him, he is substituting a cold intellectual formula for the creative breath of life. Hambidge's theories are largely concerned with line. The modern mind is thinking in terms of mass. Therefore the tendency of Hambidge's present teaching is reactionary.
The exhibition is a very good show, Du Bois, Henri, Gifford Beal, Lie, Hassam, Hawthorne, Miller, Carrigan, Dearth (a very beautiful one which was crowded out from the show but which can be seen by asking), Crane, Lawson, Granville Smith, Olinsky and Linde.
The group exhibition at the Folsom Galleries was followed by one of paintings by Clark G. Voorhees whose name is a new one in the art world, but whose style of work is not new. The best of his work seems to be that done in Bermuda, where the romance of the landscape has taken him out of his natural inclination to paint in a manner which lacks accents. His painting is too much like the speech of a person who, born deaf, knows nothing of the value of modulation. There is an evenness of touch which makes for monotony. His sense of form is rudimentary. This fault is especially noticeable in his painting of a yellow farmhouse near Lyme. The old farmhouses in that section follow certain principles of proportion which they never ​break. The proportions in Mr. Voorhees' farmhouse outrage those principles. If he will look at it closely when he returns to Lyme next summer he will find faults of drawing which keep his farmhouse from being a success. After criticising Mr. Voorhees' work in this way, it would be unfair if I did not give him all the praise which is due to his Bermuda paintings, particularly that entitled "The Gilbert Courtyard."
THERE is at the Arlington Galleries an exhibition of portraits and landscapes by Ernest L. Ipsen, born in Boston, where he studied under Vinton, but apparently of Danish stock, for he completed his art education at the Royal Academy in Copenhagen. If he had not done any work besides his landscapes he would hardly have become an associate at the Academy (he is an A.N.A.), but fortunately he has a second string to his bow, and he uses that second string well. His portraits are good. You feel instinctively that they are true to life, that they give you the character of the sitters without flattery, yet never without trying to bring out that which is best in each.
ANTONEBy Wm. L'Engle
THERE is no artist who has been imitated more than Blakelock. We have come to weary of the conventional imitation. Therefore it is with the keenest joy that we feel the transcendent beauty of such a Blakelock as the larger landscape by him now on exhibition at the Dudensing Galleries. The sun, which has just set behind the old oak, has illumined the heavens as if the distant earth were ablaze. The clouds are as mysterious as the dense smoke which rises from a forest fire. The sky between the rifts of clouds has infinite depths. Here is a painter who glories in the beauty of sunset as Milton gloried in the beauty of language. But it is not alone the glory of sunset which touched Blakelock. There is another painting in the room, a low-rising moon, seen between straight trunks of trees, which shows another side of Blakelock's nature. It is as tender as the sunset is brilliant. Only two paintings in the gallery do not suffer from the presence of these Blakelocks, a very rich wood interior by Wyant and a delicate hillside by Twachtman.
In the adjoining room are paintings by foreign artists. The comparison with our native work is in a way forced upon the visitor. Wyant, Twachtman, Blakelock hold their own beside Sisley and Pissaro and surpass the other foreign masters.
AT Scott & Fowles there is an exhibition of drawings, the work of a group of English artists, and I fear that it would be most difficult for us to get up an exhibition of drawings by any group of American artists which would have an equal interest. And yet we are constantly hearing it said that the English have no art worth the having. I wonder what the youngest Britishers are doing. Interesting as the show is, it is not rich in new men. The bulk of the drawings are by men who were winning their spurs in the shows of the New England ​Art Club twenty years ago: Muirhead Bone, Augustus John, McEvoy. Others had made their name in the days of "The Yellow Book" Shannon, Rothenstein, Cameron, Sickert. Meninsky, alone of the group, shows the influence of what we call the Post-Impressionist School. Augustus John once burned incense at the shrine of Picasso, but, if Scott & Fowles are showing his latest work, he has ceased to worship at that shrine. As his drawings are undated, it is not easy to know just what is the present trend of his art.
HORSES HEADSBy John Storrs
Arthur Rackham has been delighting children and grown-ups for years. I do not know why it is that I did not take the pleasure others took in his art. It seemed to me too studied, too dependent on his peculiar technique. But in the show at Scott & Fowles there is a series of water-color drawings much more free in treatment, which suggest the silhouettes in black cut out of paper. The figures are in silhouette, but the backgrounds are not mere blank paper, for he has in them suggested distance through subtle differences of tone. There is one series which gives incidents from the story of Cinderella which has more charm than you would suppose would be obtainable by such simple means.
Augustus John has sent some important drawings, several heads, some of which are portraits, two or three full-length, showing his handling of drapery, and a nude or two. There will be differences of opinion as to the value of John's paintings and I must confess that I am one who feels that in that side of his art there is too little that is not borrowed from other sources. About his mastery of line there will be but one feeling, for his force is too evident. He is one of the world's strongest draughtsmen and we must go to France to find his equal. Rothenstein has recently made two drawings of Tagore, wonderful interpretations of that marvelous man. I have posed for Rothenstein and it is difficult for me to understand how with his methods of drawing he can get the results he does. He does not allow his sitter to move at all; there is silence except when Rothenstein impatiently reminds you that you are out of pose. He has a number of squares which he looks through in order to determine the exact proportions of your face. All such methods suggest mechanism and the resulting drawing should be hard and mechanical. Somehow a miracle takes place and the drawing becomes an interpretation of character such as Rothenstein alone can make. Among the other drawings of special interest in the show (it is hard to choose where there is so much that is good) are "The Police Station," by Muirhead Bone, watercolors by Edmund Dulac, a large landscape in charcoal by Cameron (of which the "French Dancers" a very charming bit of color will be found reproduced on page 45,) and studies of babies by Meninsky.
​ THERE is no lack of modulation in the recent paintings by William L. Lathrop which were shown through November at the Rehn Galleries in West 50th Street. Lathrop is an artist who has been advancing steadily in his work for many years. There have been no sudden spurts in his painting. The record of his progress would be dull reading, for there is in it none of the melodrama which marked the career of Massaccio who died the greatest painter of his times when still in his twenties. To talk of Lathrop and his art at all seems almost like sacrilege, for his art has the intimacy of home, and it is as if we had opened the door on the fond embrace of a husband and wife to whom the years had brought nothing but happiness. It would be the tactful thing to close the door gently and leave them to their joy. The feeling of Lathrop towards nature is the love which no longer flames up in sudden outbursts of passion. It is the love which is not less strong because it glows with a steady warmth.
TAGOREBy William Rothenstein
AT the Macbeth Galleries is being held the annual show of "intimate paintings." It is a splendid group. There are two lovely Twachtmans, a little Albert Ryder, two small paintings by Inness, a Metcalf "Winter" with charm which his larger canvases lack, an early Murphy, a still-life by Carlsen, "Blue, White and Gold" (page 34), and other paintings for every taste.
MISS PECK and Miss Edith Haworth are exhibiting at the Kraushaar Galleries. Of the two, Miss Haworth is the more spontaneous. Her color lives and glows. It is joyous, rippling sunshine expressed with purest reds and yellows. Her composition is as interesting as her color. She has the gift of painting a subject which we would have all passed by and investing it with great charm.
THERE has just opened at the John Levy Galleries an exhibition of landscapes by Aston Knight. Mr. Knight is a sort of Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde. He has a very genuine appreciation for the picturesque. His paintings from nature show how much he feels the beauty of rural life as it appears in old France, the loveliness of thatched cottage overgrown with roses, the whole placed beside a stream which reflects the wonder of it all. Although his appreciation is so keen he has yielded to the temptation of painting certain scenes over and over again as orders came in. Each replica was a little less spontaneous than the preceding, yet each had in it the thatched cottage the public loved.
THERE was a private view of mural decorations by Willy Pogany for the auditorium of People's House on Monday evening, November 22d. The decorations are good, very good, yet I regret that the symbolism is so involved that a long explanation is necessary. With the most beautiful decorations we have in America, the paintings by Puvis de Chavannes in the Boston Public Library, no explanation is needed. Pogany, like other moderners, has endeav​ored to express highly complicated ideas which can only be expressed with words, not the elemental ideas which can be equally well expressed by music, painting or sculpture. The decorations fill their spaces well. Mrs. Phillip Lewisohn was the good fairy who had the inspiration to have Pogany decorate the auditorium.
{{cDECORATIONBy Willy Pogany}}
AMONG the exhibitions which opened this week, the most important is that at Knoedler's, for the benefit of Bellevue Hospital. In the show there are three Copleys of more than ordinary interest, a Gainsborough of his best period, a superb Racburn, a Washington by Gilbert Stuart of the finest quality. If Bode is quoted correctly in the catalogue he has made a serious mistake in his description of the Rembrandt. He speaks of the "Portrait of Titus" as being of a man "aged about forty-five." The portrait is dated 1659, at which date Rembrandt was fifty-three. His son Titus would hardly have been "about forty-five" years old.
There is a still-life by Manet which will arouse the admiration of all who care for craftsmanship, so wonderfully is it done. Perhaps of all the paintings the two which appealed to me the most were the two Italian portraits loaned by Mr. J. Horace Harding. The one is a portrait of a gentleman by Francesco Salviati, a piece of design so magnificent that one can understand Vasari's enthusiasm for the artist. The other, simpler but not less impressive, is the portrait of Giulio Gilardi by Moroni.
Following the show of Lepere's wood-cuts, the Knoedlers arranged a show of Whistler's etchings and dry-points, which is one of the most satisfying ever held.
AT the Anderson Galleries there is an exhibition of portraits and landscapes by Richard Ederheimer. His landscapes have little quality. His portraits are far more interesting. A novice in painting, his "Daisy" shows remarkable observation and craft for a man who has been studying but for a few weeks. Since then he has shown ability to reproduce character in a series of portraits of men of intellectual force, William Marion Reedy, Dr. George Jay Smith and Felix Wildenstein.
AT Pratt Institute Gallery the Brooklyn Society of Artists is holding an exhibition. It is a sober show and you may think a dull one if you go there directly after seeing Miss Haworth's canvases, but wait until your eyes get accustomed to the more somber tones and you will find it a good show. There is a landscape by Benjamin Eggleston with a quiet sober beauty, the beauty of dried grass and sere autumn leaves. There are good landscapes by Debonnet, Ballou, Edmond Weill, Mrs. Clara F. Perry, Miss ​Stevenson, Boylan, Miss Whitney, Leon Dabo, Quinlan and Schwanenfluegel. Walter Farndon has a fine study of rhododendron, and Couard an interesting still-life in the most approved modern style. Hopfmiller, one of the strongest members of the society, is losing temporarily his sense of form. His work this year is nebulous.
IT was at Gloucester that I first knew the work of Frank Duveneck. My mother had taken me there because of a breakdown after overwork during my freshman year at Columbia, the School of Architecture. My mother was a great admirer of Duveneck's art and we spent much time in his studio. "The Florentine Flower Girl," now in the Cincinnati Museum, was there and the question was whether she would buy the painting. That she would have to send for funds if she did was the deciding factor. My mother felt it was so important a purchase that it should not be made without consulting my father. I am sure the flower girl would have found Brooklyn more congenial than Cincinnati.
An exhibition of the art of "Frank Duveneck and his Circle" is being held at the Ralston Galleries. It is a retrospective view of the work of those Americans who studied in Munich in the early seventies. There is work by Chase, Rolshoven, Oliver Dennet Grover, Courrier, John W. Alexander, Twachtman, A. G. Reinhart, Otto Bacher. Of the better-known members of the group only William T. Dannat is not represented. It was a period of American art when artists painted rather than theorized about art. They were not conceited, for they were careless about preserving their canvases. The things were left lying about their studios, and if a hole was punched in a canvas there were no tears shed. That is the healthful attitude to take.
They were painters enamoured of their craft. Sargent, in speaking of Duveneck, gave the opinion: "After all's said, Frank Duveneck is the greatest talent of the brush of this generation." That was said in the early nineties. "The greatest talent of the brush," that is high praise. Yet brushwork is not all there is in art. When my mother was considering the purchase of the "Flower Girl" I did not urge her to buy it. I felt then, as I feel now, the lack in Duveneck's work of that mysterious thing which makes Whistler an artist, a lack of that vitality. which makes Thomas Eakins' paintings more significant, in a way, than those of Whistler.
FRENCH DANCERSBy Edmund Dulac
THE Arts Guild of American Painters is a new name for an old group. Under the new name it seems to be doing better work. Probably Ennis is the strongest member of the "Guild." He has a rare command over his materials and paints rock and sea almost as well as Homer, shall I say? No, that would be too much praise. He does paint them, however, better than a host of men who have made a reputation for their marines. Bela Mayer is another strong painter, a lover of mountains and heavy decorative clouds. Swope is good, ​especially in his "Calm Sea," which represents a group of women folk sitting on the rocks. Others who deserve more than this passing mention are Costigan, Detwiller, Farndon and Starkweather.
ON Tuesday an exhibition of paintings by William L'Engle opened at the Kingore Galleries. He has talent but he does not quite know what he wants to do with it. He has been looking at the work of other men, when he should have been communing with his own soul. The latest influence which seems to have come into his life is that of Hawthorne. He has rediscovered Gloucester and the Portugese. He must now rediscover himself. When he does he will be surprised to find how rich his own personality is.
DAISYBy Richard Ederheimer
AT Tthe Ainslie Galleries is now on view an exhibition of portraits by Miss E. E. Rockwell. Most of them are in pastel and she is very successful, especially in the portrayal of children. The portraits by F. C. Ashford, also on view at Ainslie's, are less spontaneous. Relatively they lack vitality and simplicity. Guillermo Bolin is delightful in his fantastic use of water color. Both in subject-matter and in treatment he stands quite apart from the conventional idea of what a water colorist should be.
PAINTINGS of limited size are being shown at the Milch Galleries. The heroes of the exhibition are much the same as at the Macbeth show. Here, too, is a little Metcalf, a very beautiful French landscape which might almost be a Corot, so sensitive it is. There is a fine Twachtman, a fine Murphy, and then to give a touch of individuality to the exhibition, a Thomas Eakins of the rarest quality.
The modern element is not missing. There is a Gloucester landscape by Theresa Bernstein, and in another room etchings, some of which are in color by William Meyrowitz. An etching of an old rabbi combines a strong representation of character with much charm of color.
IN the Brooklyn Eagle of November 19th and 21st there appeared articles by the art critic of the Eagle expressing doubts as to the authenticity of certain 'Whistlers" which the critic had seen in two New York galleries. The American Art News of November 27th reprinted the facts without naming the galleries at which the "Whistlers" were found. It is unfair not to give the names of the galleries, for such a story tends to arouse suspicion of the trade at large. The three "Whistlers" criticised were owned by Morris Weston. Two of them were at the Braus Galleries, having been consigned to them that day by Mr. Weston.
Those who wish to exhibit at the Annual Exhibition of the Society of Independent Artists, to be held in February at the Waldorf-Astoria, should communicate at once with A. S. Baylinson, 1947 Broadway, New York.
BROOKLYN.
* Brooklyn Museum, Eastern Parkway.
** Open week days, 9 to 6; Sunday, 2 to 6; Thursday evenings, 7.30 to 9.45; pay days, Monday and Tuesday, 25 cents. Exhibition Brooklyn Society of Etchers.
* Pratt Institute Gallery.
** Exhibition of paintings, Brooklyn Society of Artists, to December 18th.
MANHATTAN.
(Exhibitions are listed in the order in which they would be seen by a visitor beginning at Washington Square and going north.)
* Salmagundi Club, 47 5th Ave.
** Water-colors, illustrations and etchings by members, to December 18.
* St. Mark's Hall, 133 East 10th St.
** Paintings by Stewart Reinhart and Mark Tobey.
* National Arts Club, 119 East 19th St.
** Exhibition of work by members.
* Keppel's, 4 East 19th St.
** Exhibition of Modern Prints, to December 31st.
* Arlington Galleries, 274 Madison Ave.
** Paintings by E. L. Ipsen, to December 11th.
* Macbeth Gallery, 450 5th Ave.
** Exhibition of "Intimate Paintings."
* Public Library, 5th Ave. and 42d St.
** Collection of Paintings. Exhibition of Recent Additions to the Print Collection.
* Century Association, 7 West 43d St.
** Exhibition of paintings loaned by Duncan Phillips (for members and their guests only).
* Society of American Fakirs, 11 East 44th St.
** Small Paintings by members, to December 18th, 1 to 6 P. M.
* Dudensing Galleries, 45 West 44th St.
** Special International Exhibition, to December 11th.
* De Zayas Gallery, 549 5th Ave.
** Drawings by Cezanne.
* Montross Gallery, 550 5th Ave.
** Works by Vincent Van Gogh, through Decemher. Admission 25 cents. Water Colors by living Americans.
* Knoedler's, 556 5th Ave.
** Loan Exhibition of "Old Masters" for the benefit of Bellevue Hospital, to December 18th. Admission $1. Etchings and Dry-points by Whistler.
* John Levy Galleries, 559 5th Ave.
** Landscapes by Aston Knight, to December 11th. Modern French Paintings.
* Société Anonyme, 19 East 47th St.
** Group of modern paintings, to December 15th. Admission 25 cents.
* Daniel Gallery, 2 West 47th St.
** Arrangements of American Landscape Forms by Charles Demuth.
* Touchstone Gallery, 11 West 47th St.
** Paintings by G. C. Henshaw, to December 11th. Paintings by Miss Ferral and Bernard Gussow, from December 14th to 25th.
* Ralston Galleries, 12 East 48th St.
** Paintings by Frank Duveneck and his friends.
* Scott & Fowles, 590 5th Ave.
** English Drawings, to December 15th.
* Arden Gallery, 599 5th Ave.
** Christmas Exhibition and Sale.
* Museum of Frence Art, 599 5th Ave.
** Contemporary French Paintings.
* Ferargil Galleries, 607 5th Ave.
** Paintings by J. Alden Weir and Frank Duveneck, to December 31st.
* Babcock Galleries, 19 East 49th St.
** Guild of American Painters, to December 11th.
* Ferargil Studio, 24 East 49th St.
** Thirty Pastels by Arthur B. Davies.
* Kennedy Gallery, 613 5th Ave.
** Etchings by Louis Orr and Troy Kinney.
* Ainslie Gallery, 615 5th Ave.
** Paintings by George Inness, Wyant, Martin, etc. Portraits by Miss E. E. Rockwell. Water Colors by Guillermo Bolin, to December 13th. Paintings by F. C. Ashford and Sculpture by J. M. Kratina, to December 15th.
* Rehn Gallery, 6 West 50th St.
** Paintings by W. L. Lathrop.
* Wildenstein Galleries, 647 5th Ave.
** The Arizona Desert, Paintings by Francis McComas, to December 14th.
* Bourgeois Gallery, 668 5th Ave.
** Paintings by C. R. W. Nevinson.
* Kingore Galleries, 668 5th Ave.
** Paintings by William L'Engle, to December 11th. Paintings by Roerich, from December 18th.
* Kraushaar Galleries, 680 5th Ave.
** Paintings by Julia E. Peck and Edith Hawarth, to December 18th.
* Ehrich Galleries, 707 5th Ave.
** Portrait Drawings by Frederic Theodore Weber, to December 20.
* Harlow Galleries, 712 5th Ave.
** Old Sporting Prints.
* Durand-Ruel Gallery, 12 East 57th St.
** Works by Mary Cassatt.
* Folsom Galleries, 104 West 57th St.
** Sculpture by John Storrs.
* Milch Galleries, 108 West 57th St.
** Annual Exhibition of Paintings of Limited Size. Etchings by William Meyrowitz.
* Powell Gallery, 117 West 57th St.
** Works by a group of painters.
* Mussman Gallery, 144 West 57th St.
** Etchings by H. B. Swope, to December 15th.
* Hanfstaengl Galleries, 153 West 57th St.
** Etchings by Kasimir.
* Art Students' League, 215 West 57th St.
** Early work by Max Weber, to December 8th.
* Anderson Galleries, 489 Park Ave.
** Paintings by Richard Ederheimer.
** Hotel Majestic, Central Park West & 72d St.
** Paintings of American Historical Subjects.
* Historical Society, 170 Central Park West.
** Important collection of Paintings by the old masters (open to the public, except during the month of August).
* Museum of Natural History, Columbus Ave. and 77th St.
** Permanent collection of works of art. Open weekdays, 10 to 5; Sundays, 1 to 5.
* Metropolitan Museum, Central Park at East 82d St.
** Open daily from 10 A. M. to 5 P. M.; Saturday, until 10 P. M. Sundays, 10 A. M. to S P. M. Admission, Monday and Friday, 25 cents; free other days.
* Hispanic Society, Broadway and 156th St.
** Important collection of Spanish works of art, including paintings by El Greco, Velasquez and Goya.
MONTCLAIR, N.J.