Gloucester County Democrat. (Woodbury, N.J.) 1878-1932, 1896-05-07
A NEW ROSA B0NHEUR
LUCY CLEVELAND'S VIVID WORD PIC
TURE OF A BRILLIANT ARTIST.

is making New York city her temporary
art home. In her down town studio l
have seen the noble canvases, the result
Of her work in Europe-in Paris, Flor
ence and London.
Mrs. Lakey is pupil Of Van Marcke
Tin fact, the only private pupil he ever
had). She has followed his example
rather than his examples and created
for herself, or rather evolved from her
self, her own style Her verve and orig
inality impressed her master, accus-
toned as he was to servile imitation,
and he advised her to seek no more tut
tion from teachers, however named, but
to give all her heart to nature, the only
teacher she needed. Thus LIE recognized
her great talent
AS a girl Mrs. Lakey scarcely sus-
pected the natural bent Of her own tai
ent. Her early efforts in art We're exclu-
siyely idyllic, Claudeike studies. In
those early days it is doubtful if she
painted COW at all, save us an appro-
pirate feature of landscape, not in the
least as a masterful motif.
AS a child Mrs Lakey longed for
nothing SO much as to paint, only to
paint When she was years old, her
childish geography, her spelling manual
were painted to the full Margins to
pages there were nonel 1t was all a story
Of the artist. red. white and blue. But
her father had determined to make
mathematician of her. Woe to the
friend who should encourage what he
considered profitless pastime-the old
story of Jacob, whose ambition for his
son was sheep shearing, while Gods
goal for the boy was to walk among the
stars. So the paints were borne away
from her.
Now the question came up, How to
get them? II had plenty Of writing
paper" says Mrs. Lakey, "but the
paints l stole over to a neighboring
farmer one day and begged him to buy
some paints for me at the distant town.
The farmer refused. Hah, he little knew
the thrill that went through my childish
heart as I walked home, slowly, across
the fields. I would manufacture my
paints | skipped and danced the rest
Of the way. | had piece of gamboge.
There was my yellow. There was an
old bottle Of blue ink in the house. I'd
mix them and get green. / stole out
into our garden, gathered an apronful Of
red four o'clocks, squeezed, and pound
ed them in a handkerchief, and behold,
l had tablespoonful Of gorgeous red
liquid had palette now. Yes, and
l kept my childish ears open and heard
Mr.. Henry, a friend of my father, say
that if you take unbrowned coffee and
break the white Of an egg over it and
let it stand 12 hours you will get a
brilliant green. | stole away to coffee
and the hennery, and got green.
"Now | was equipped. MY school
friends received numberless mementos
wonder if they have them today.
81 believe, says Mrs. Lakey. II can
never be thankful enough for the free,
open air life On horseback my father al
lowed me, roaming along the great
plains where our great herds of cattle
were feeding. watched and watched
the foreground, the middle distance, the
grand perspective. / believe ! felt the
first dawning desire to paint cattle
then
Gradually Mrs. Lakey felt her domi-
nant virile power quicken in tie dark
Her first large canvas, Landscape With
Cattle" betrayed instantly "a subtle
grasping of the secret of bovine charac-
ter and expression, putting her well ON
in the ranks of American cattle paint
ers. " Then followed the years abroad
and their patient, exhausting and ex-
haustive study. Ii was III her studio in
Surrey, England-nay, it was in the
meadows Of England's best (that idyl
Of the "Open") that tile two great pic
lures were painted, 'The Right Of Way"
and Leader and Herd, +" exhibited at
Goupil's, in New Bond street, London.
They have wrung from chary and eau
tious critics wide and open praise and
adjectiyes two hands high. 1.-The Right
of Way" is a heroic canvas by l 4 feet.
1t depicts proud. big creature, bull
Of fine race, with the herd coming on
through a cool meadow land. He has
the fright Of way" If you are wise,
you will not contest it with him after
one glance at his eye.
have had the pleasure Of a private
view of her pictures now in New York
city. "Just IN Bloom" is canvas 16
by IS inches only, but it is crowded
with the whole of May morning, that
evanescent moment coming but once,
that tender, pathetic blossom time that
almost before you can breathe it is yes
terday This woman paints with such
an ont Of doors The breeze is across
her work. You blink il her sun. You
stand with wide opened eyes Of startled
JOY and queer working in your throat
in her meadows mad with May, just in
bloom A young heifer is crossing a
pool. She is waiting a moment as if
hsteniDg-these dear, dumb, simple
creatures are nearer to natures great
heart than our complex humanity-lis-
tening to the creak of the little door that
lets the little blossoms out. The apple
blossoms are a disordered delight Of
color glassed in the pool in which the
blue May sky finds mirror
This woman. SO powerful in her han
ding Of animal life, is great landscap
ist as well.
In "Alone" how she can dip her
brushes in dreamsl 1t is a picture of an
unfenced meadow, lonely meadow,
with little streams crawling into the
night shadows that are deepening
across the lone expanse. One tree on
the edge Of the pools-alone. The night
will be down in a moment, and it will
be black midnight. The picture il one
to which Daubigny might proudly have
signed his name.
"The Young Mother" is simple
designedly so. Youth is frank.
ingenious, sincere. There is nothing to
hide. A wide meadow, distant fringe
Of trees, June sun overhead, with
bright scuIrying rainclouds-the young
mother will have drop or two on her
head in a minute if she doesn't look out.
She is lying in the meadow with her
first calf close TO her dear nose. She has
just stopped licking its car. There j. an
anxious little look in her head bent for
ward to listen for a step. Note how
splendidly the foreshortening is done.
But it is in my Judgment in the PIC
ture called From Pasture to Pool
that her genius most fully declares it.
self not only in the yalueS not only in.