Henderson daily dispatch., 1938-04-30

, lures are beautifully varied, crepe de
chine of blossoms, waxy shine on
leaves, flat dullness of bark.
Today 1 bought a collard. It was
one of the new crinkly ones, gor-
geous rosette. No rose was ever more
beautiful in form, no iris petal more
handsomely veined, no petunia more
crisply ruffled. It's texture was
smooth and waxy, with silver sheen
OVERLAPPING it srich greenness. 1t made
one little sad to cut it up, but
cooked it with piece of the best
/ ham instead of plain salt pork. And
l wondered how many people who
grew them see how beautiful Cney are.
For beauty is in the eye of the be-.
holder, and the eye sometimes fails
to see beauty in things which are so
familiar that they seem common
place. 1t is here that the artist does
great service. He paints the common
place and then those who see his
painting look with new eyes at what
they had never seen before in terms
of beauty. Some day an artist may
make a fine painting of a collard as
Van Gogh painted sunflowers,. and
then, every one will see that a col
lard can be a thing of grace and
beauty.
One thing which hinders our appre-
citation of beauty in the things we
have, is the feeling that we must own
something as fine or as much as Our
neighbor. 1 learned from two wo-
men at opposite extremes in the eco
nomic scare that pleasure 81 creating
beauty has nothing to do with the
extent of possessions. Julia, our
washwoman, gave such glowing week
ly reports of the wonderful things in
her flower yard that 1 went up to see
for myself. It was a little spot no
bigger than a room in which flowers
pushed through the fence that kept
the pigs out. More dahlias than you
could snake stick at" turned ouu 10
be four or five plants. The chry-
santhemum as big as my head turn
ed out to be as big as my fist, and
Julia gave it to me with pride and
pleasure.
The other woman was John D.
Rockefellers daughter who has an
estate in Williamstown, Massachu-
sets. Every day with a card index,
she drives over her place making the
rounds of her far flung paintings
Five thousand Madonna lilies here,
six hundred peOnieS there, a mile of
perfectly groomed shrubbery along
the highway. Her pride in her place
was not a bit greater than Julias
pride and pleasure in her place. For
me- and for most of you, one perfect
lily watched intimately from day to
low &c &C.
sand glanced at from a parked car.
No artist ever said, Because I can
not afford the finest canvas and paints
and brushes, because I haven't a
huge studio, 1 will not paint" No
homemaker will say Because 1 can
not have the best I will not make the
best of what 1 have" Nor will an in
telIgent parent say my child will
never know anything about art be-
cause I can't give him Art Lessons"
Beauty is not monopolized by Artists.
1t is everywhere, free for the seeing.
In the home where one finds order
and simplicity, things perfectly suited
to their use, genuine simple things
rather than cheap limitations of eie-
gance, one finds place where chill
dren grow up with a feeling for
beauty. Ruskin said this, "The en-
tire object of education is to make
people not merely do the right things
but to enjoy the right things What
we like determines what we are, and
to teach taste is inevitably to teach
character" And so the woman who
cuts up worn garments and hook a
rug, does more for her child than the
one who buys cheap imitation of an
oriental rug. The woman whose home
! exemplifies the dignity and beauty Of
crCcr and simplicity, the woman who