Camera Work: A Photographic Quarterly (1909 (Heft 27))

JOHN MARIN
John Marin is one of the younger Americans in Paris, who are more intent on self-expression
than on pursuing the well-trod path which leads to official honors. He is a part of that fermen-
tation which, started by Cezanne and stirred by Matisse, has given new impulse to the artist’s old
recipe of seeing the world for himself. It is the latest product of the influence that oriental art
began to have upon the occidental in the sixties; briefly stated, a more abstract way of receiving
and of rendering the impression of the scene. It is not so much a visual as a spiritual impression,
eliminating as far as possible the consciousness of the concrete; the rendering in consequence
being not a representation of the original but an interpretation. Shall we describe it as the principle
of a Whistler nocturne, extended to include all kinds of daylight ?
The water-colors of this exhibition vary in the degree to which they suggest the actuality of
the scene. In some the impression of locality and of enlivening figures is vivid; in more, however,
the consciousness of facts disappears in a spiritualized vision of form and color, that I can best
explain to myself by the way in which a composer will expand a motif into an elaborated harmony.
But in whichever way the motif of the locality is treated—whether rather directly or by interpre-
tation—there is a creativeness displayed in the color scheme. The ordinary eye would look in
vain for these color harmonies in the actual scene, but will recognize both their truth and their
extraordinary fascination in these imagined visions. For the most part they are harmonies of
indescribably delicate tonalities; wrought on the Japanese principle of the Notan, a balance of
dark and light, of the intimate relationship of contrasted values. Though subtle in the ensemble,
they are constructed vigorously, in free, broad washes of color, applied with an admirable direct-
ness that seldom misses or overpasses the impression which is sought to be conveyed. There are,
it is true, occasional instances, for example, in some of the skies, where the tact of omission might
better have been employed, but for the most part this fine instinct of feeling what to leave out is a
notable characteristic of these pictures.
Marin also works in oils, pastel and etching. In the first, while there is evidence of the same
independent vision and beautiful sense of color, he had not, when I saw his work last summer, as
yet found himself so decisively as in his water-colors. His etchings of Venice, Amsterdam and Paris,
excellent as they are, show less independence of vision, being somewhat reminiscent of Whistler;
but the pastels, delicate morsels of suggestiveness, once more reveal not only Marin’s refined
imagination, but also his essential individuality. He was born at Rutherford, New Jersey, in 1875.
Charles H. Caffin.
Mr. James Huneker in the Sun, April 7, 1909 writes:

At the Photo-Secession Gallery, 291 Fifth
avenue, Alfred Maurer, a whilom Chase pupil,
is showing fifteen sketches in oil. A profound
peace will overspread the exacerbated souls of
them that display threatening grinders when the
names of Sorolla and Zuloaga are mentioned.
Here is this young Maurer, who went abroad in
full possession apparently of his color sense,
suddenly become a chromatic fantasy. The
catalogue notes that the influence of Henri
Matisse shows itself in these extraordinary
efforts. Matisse, yes, and also Gauguin, whose
strained symbolism has evidently affected the
ambitions of the American. He is after some-
thing, that is certain, but whether it is a Catha-
rine wheel at full tilt on a Fourth of July night
or an ordinary apoplectic aura we can’t say.
We know that Prendergast of Boston can succeed
in making clear his vision while working in the
same bloodshot optical region. Perhaps Maurer

will some day. It is a cruel Eastern garden of
writhing arabesques that he puts before us.
And yet—but let us wait; such attacks pass.
Besides, this chap has talent as well as boldness.
John Marin, another American in Paris, has
twenty-five water-colors in the same gallery,
delicious in tonalities, subtly evocative. There
is the poet in this young man; he has a creative
touch. He displaces the line to achieve move-
ment; often his cityscapes are mere wraiths. A
harmonist in an attenuated scale, a symbolist,
above all else. While Maurer could be called
“The Knight of the Burning Pestle,” Marin is
the master of mists. He can give you the dis-
embodied soul of Paris. We recall both Claude
Debussy and the prose poet Francis Poictevin
when looking at his studies. Altogether an
interesting duet in fire and shadow, this little
exhibition.

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