DOI Heft:
Nr. 191 (February 1909)
DOI Artikel:Folliott Stokes, A. G.: Mr. Algernon Talmage's London pictures
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.20966#0045
Mr. Algernon Talmage s London Pictures
MR. ALGERNON TALMAGE’S
LONDON PICTURES. BY
A. G. FOLLIOTT STOKES.
Art, as all who have wooed her know, is an
exacting mistress. She requires the best that a
man has to give. Nothing but a single-hearted
devotion throughout life’s best years will win and
retain her approval. More than mere ability is
required to do this. There must be a touch of
genius somewhere, or craft will never blossom into
Art. In other words, the facsimile-monger will
never become the creator. He must be content
to remain a skilled craftsman. He has learned a
medium of expression—no easy task in itself—but
he has nothing to say, no message to impart. This
is the final test. It is the soul that counts in
painting as in all the Arts. No mere cunning of
hand and eye—necessary as these are—will ever
win a niche in the temple of Fame. This can
only be accomplished by the higher qualities of
imagination, an unerring recognition of beauty, an
ability to choose and refuse the essential and non-
essential, commonly called good taste, together with
the faculty of realising a psychological value in all
Nature’s handiwork. Kingsley voiced this last-
named gift when he sang,
“ I cannot tell what ye say, grey rocks,
I cannot tell what ye say,
But I know that in you a spirit doth dwell
And a word in you this day.”
Judged by even this high standard the works of
Mr. Algernon Talmage, some of which are re-
produced on these pages, will not I think be found
wanting. He has the temperament of the true
artist, together with the technical accomplishment
of the trained craftsman. It is not the outward
mask only, but the soul of London that he has
tried to capture—the spirit that dwells in the stones
of her monuments and temples, her bridges, and
even her railway stations, together with her moods,
her colour, and the teeming, thronging life of her
streets. Every city has a soul. Every European
capital is an epitome of the character of the people
who built it and who dwell within its walls. The
soul of London is the most complex and compel-
ling of them all. It is perpetually revealing un-
expected contrasts and beauties. Here is to be
“the glittering stream
BY ALGERNON TALMAGE
MR. ALGERNON TALMAGE’S
LONDON PICTURES. BY
A. G. FOLLIOTT STOKES.
Art, as all who have wooed her know, is an
exacting mistress. She requires the best that a
man has to give. Nothing but a single-hearted
devotion throughout life’s best years will win and
retain her approval. More than mere ability is
required to do this. There must be a touch of
genius somewhere, or craft will never blossom into
Art. In other words, the facsimile-monger will
never become the creator. He must be content
to remain a skilled craftsman. He has learned a
medium of expression—no easy task in itself—but
he has nothing to say, no message to impart. This
is the final test. It is the soul that counts in
painting as in all the Arts. No mere cunning of
hand and eye—necessary as these are—will ever
win a niche in the temple of Fame. This can
only be accomplished by the higher qualities of
imagination, an unerring recognition of beauty, an
ability to choose and refuse the essential and non-
essential, commonly called good taste, together with
the faculty of realising a psychological value in all
Nature’s handiwork. Kingsley voiced this last-
named gift when he sang,
“ I cannot tell what ye say, grey rocks,
I cannot tell what ye say,
But I know that in you a spirit doth dwell
And a word in you this day.”
Judged by even this high standard the works of
Mr. Algernon Talmage, some of which are re-
produced on these pages, will not I think be found
wanting. He has the temperament of the true
artist, together with the technical accomplishment
of the trained craftsman. It is not the outward
mask only, but the soul of London that he has
tried to capture—the spirit that dwells in the stones
of her monuments and temples, her bridges, and
even her railway stations, together with her moods,
her colour, and the teeming, thronging life of her
streets. Every city has a soul. Every European
capital is an epitome of the character of the people
who built it and who dwell within its walls. The
soul of London is the most complex and compel-
ling of them all. It is perpetually revealing un-
expected contrasts and beauties. Here is to be
“the glittering stream
BY ALGERNON TALMAGE