Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1883-05-09
Didn't Make A Sale.

A tall, artistic woman with schol-
arly taste and linseed oil painting
came into the Office of the morgue
editor of the Boomerang yesterday
and tried to sell the artistic gem to
him for SO.
ut is a European scene, is it not?'
queried the cemetery biographer as
he took his feet out off the only spare
chair and kicked it toward the artist.
"No, sir" said the vision, as it slid
into the chair, took wad of rubber
gum from its finely chiseledmouth and
put it on the dictionary. at is just
scene from Dead Mans canon at the
close of day"
"Well, Pm no critic; but don't you
think that you have overloaded that
mountain pine with Paris green and
sperm oil? Don't you think, too,
that you have painted twelve ton
boulder up there OH the side of the
canon where its going to fall down
and kill somebody"
"Well, perhaps SO. can change
it, though"
"Wish you would. Wish you
would. I'd feel easier if you would
just take that big rock and put it
where it will not endanger human
life, and if you would remove some of
the superfuous linseed oil and yellow
ochre, and burnt umber and sellac
from your foliage, it would add very
very much to the public avidity for
your work.
"Now, that washout in the fore
ground is true to nature. 1t is tri-
umph of art and shows that you know
what you are about A washout is a
hard thing to paint, think"
THAT isn't washout, sir" said
the maid, as the tears came into her
eyes. "It's little meadow in among
the mountains"
ooh, it's little grassy mead above
which in solemn grandeur, like grim
sentinels stand the mighty mountains
or words to that effect. Well, all
right. | might easily be misled.-
Any man might be fooled on that
meadow, but the trained student read
lily tumbles to the other beauties Of
the view which you have portrayed
with such mastery skill. Now, there
is an emigrant train coming down the
gulch with the mules champing the
bit and charging madly adown the
steep, uncertain road as though they
wanted to break their goll blamed
necks in two. Now, you see you
ought to learn something from that
and not charge so madly for your
work. See ?"
"That is no emigrant train, sir, it's
cataract"
ooh, yes ! see now. ! can see the
moisture plain enough underneath the
white paint and castor oil. At first I
did not get on it, but now it is plain
enough. In fancy I hear the mellow
tinkle of the pure waters as they gur-
gle along down the canon and stop
and sink into the ground there at the
base of the lime kiln. Now, if you
will take some lessons in perspective,
darling, listen to the advice Of an old
man and make the chipmunk in left
hand background triAe smaller than
the jackass rabbit seen in the fore
ground. Do not try to make cot
tonwood leaf, two miles away, show
as plainly as it would if placed in
front.
another thing that strikes me as
unnatural and which you will, l know,
pardon me for calling your attention
to, is the long-legged mud-hen that is
trying to fly across Venetian-red
cloud. The mud hen, of course, has
its place in the great pathological
world, but it does not strike the art
critic as an attractive feature of a
scene like this.
"Your painting might do to fill a
hole in broken window somewhere,
and would look better, of course, in
that place than an old pair of gray
pants, but as a work of art 1t lacks
depth and tone and expression. Keep
up your lick, however. Do not be