The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1891-03-12
IT WAS "A SERIOUS JOKE.
A LIFE WASTED FOR THE SAKE
OF A MOMENTS FOLLY.
The Story of an Artist and His Work
"A beginning In a Liquor Store and
an Ending in Limp Heap
3 Studio Floor.


he would become an artist-she knew
it. Soshe treasured his pencil sketches.
each one better than the last, and felt
that he would make a name for him
self when he grew up.
Paups father was Il wholesale liquor
dealer, a hard-headed man, unsenti-
mental, who measured consciences
by dollars and gagged the world by
greenbacks.' He did not believe in the
soul OF art. He did not know such a
thing existed, so when Paul left school
and talked of Paris and the studios,
and art, his father looked at him as if
he thought he were crazy.
Send you TO Paris for two years?
Not much, my boy. I've heard thing
or two about Paris, and as for art
we'll, that's as good an excuse as any
for going to Paris.'
There was where The mother came
in. She came to the defense. She
exhibited, first, the boyish sketches,
then the better drawings made by the
pencil of the growing youth, and finally
the washy sketch of dark corner of
the warehouse, done in water color.
That last bit of realism caught the
old mans fancy. The clever concep-
ton OF sunlight streaming through
the dust"laden atmosphere, and
touching the grimy barrels with a
golden light, perhaps reminded him
of their value in the same colored
metal How natural the rust on the
hoops and that cobweb over the right
hand window pane looked to him!
But what pleased him most was not
the beauty of the coloring or the
composition, but the fact that the
boy had not omitted to suggest, faint
ly, the letters on one barrel, which
read: Zine 40-year-old Kentucky
blue grass" And he straightway
offered Paul the magnificent sum of
$3.50 if he would make the letters
palmer, so he could use it as an ad-
vertisement, It would look fine in
the sample room, with a touch of
bright red or yellow in it and a. 81. so
gold frame, he thought. And ii the
firm name could be worked into that
streak of sunlight in blue letters how
well it would go!
This was the extent of the paternal
appreciation Of the artistic efforts of
his son, but it was appreciation to a
certain extent. And the picture won
the old man over.
1t was settled afterward that Paul
should go to Paris and work under
the eyes of the great artists.
"But," said the man of gin and
whisky in the bulk, IF you do not
get a picture hung up in the big
saloon over there after two years, you
mustn't expect no more money from
me for I'll give you nothing. You'll
have. to shift for yourself, and I'll
put what I've squandered on you
down to profit and loss and close
the books"
= Paul sailed away with a hopeful
heart. He studied under Benjamin
Constant and Lefebvre, and became a
faithful and conscientious student.
For a year he worked hard.
Next year." he thought. s'Only
two years to study before I offer a
picture to the Salon. But it's got to
be done, and I'll do it." And so the
pilt of studies in his studio grew
larger, and each one showed a holder
hand and clearer thought than it's
predecessor.
Early in the spring of the second
year he started for the coast OF Mala-
ga to conceive what was to be his
masterpiece--his picture for the
Salon. For month he worked few
erishly until he settled down to one
subject, then the artistic fever came
strong upon him and it was only when
he slept that his hands did not bear
the burden OF brushes and palette.
The. canvass that so enqrossed his
mind was picture of the coast of
Spain, near Malaga, which he was en-
larging and composing from faithful
sketches done on the spot. The scene
was thoroughly Mediterranean.
In the foreground was sandy dune
covered with wild laurels, cactus and
aloe, interspersed with silken spears
of burned yellow grass. The brilliant
salmon-colored sand showed in patches
here and there, while crouched behind
this bunch of vegetation were three
soldiers of the guarda costa, or coast
guard, peering through the leaves at
a felucca whose orange co!ored sail
was plainly visible off shore.
The picture was finished and he
brought it to Paris and sent it to the
Salon. Then followed the anxious
days until finally the day came when
the decision of the judges was to be
announced. Paul sat in cafe with a
dozen other artists, all waiting for
news from their pictures, when in
walked Jack Jenkins, another Yankee
artist, who shared Paul studio. He
had just had good, good news, and he
felt so 0eliphted that his mind b,a