In general, though, nobody loafs on the job. Nobody makes rugs or fine cabinetwork, or carves ladles out of whalebone. The exhibit takes no account anywhere of those occupations that border on the arts. Things quiet down with schooling, a field where there seem to be neither recalcitrant pupils nor querulous parents, but Nat Farbman's picture of a Bechuanaland bard and his laughing audience is lively, great fun and, like all Farbman's work, beautiful to look at. The exhibition now spirals into a large room where it is impossible to decide on the order in which things are to be viewed.
Music gets short shrift, and the determination to cover the globe seems to have lapsed.
Singing is represented as a pastoral, amateur diversion. There is no attempt to indicate that practice or intelligence may underlie music or dancing. Eating and drinking, by comparison, fare very well and at much greater length. The vacant or ambiguous faces common in other sections of the exhibit are not to be seen here. These subjects really have their hearts in their occupation.