International studio (27.1905/1906(1906))

IV. Graham Robertson

the fact remains that the highest art can as often
be inspired by art as by nature. It is conceivable
that music may lead a poet deeper into the way
of dreams than nature. Listening to it he can
hear the sea and the wind. So old songs may
well give the artist grace to remember beautiful
things in the old world, or to see modern things
in the glamour of old association.
That criticism which takes the line which we
may well call artistic positivism requests that an
artist sball not concern himself with old things.
But why limit art ? Certain Creations do come best
under the pressure of realism: outward things
touching the artist’s senses acutely show him that
which he cannot otherwise know; yet though he
lose these qualities, the artist who says he will
picture only those places which his imagination has
peopled because they are the only places that have
a part in him, is right in seeking for every side of
himself artistic expression.
Mr. Robertson’s art touches another point in his
sympathy with children. In nothing more than its
deference towards the thoughts of children is the
present age characterised. A tenderness which
finds mystic expression in art, and that has no part

in sentimentality, represents as distinctly one phase
of modern art and literature as the poetics of an
uninspired martialism represent another. Steven-
son, the author of “ The Golden Age,” and others
were called by the love of beauty to this kind
religion, with its ritual of flowers and its interest in
defenceless things.
Mr. Robertson’s Mask of May Morning is dedi-
cated tothe sovereignty of children, the courtiership
of flowers.
In the illustrations called Flower of the Wind,
Dead Dreams, The Garden of Weeds, we see
the height of Mr. Robertson’s art. He seems in
these to give back to his subjects an inspiration
which he receives only from such subjects. In
Dead Dreams the child’s gesture touches something
perhaps that is of grief that does not belong to
children, and yet the child-spirit reigns, meeting
regrets with the half welcome that childhood ex-
tends to everything that quickens poignant and
momentary feeling. In Flower of the Wind the
incense of imprisoned flowers is thrown upon the
wind, the child has sent her thoughts to the remote
place where the wind goes.
Our coloured Supplement cannot be made more
complete by words ; the
artist drew it especially
for readers of The Studio,
and it is a happy example
of his charming art in its
cultivated simplicity. It
has a finished, simple and
interesting quality of
colour conveying the night
of fairyland—the pale blue
night that hangs as a
curtain behind the trees
where the roses are dark-
ened but do not sleep.
It may be suggested
that we are insisting upon
literary motives, and not
dealing fairly with art. We
have to remember that art
— let us say, for instance,
such an art as Whistler’s—
may apparently be built
up on the sense of out-
ward things alone, quite
independently of their
meaning ; but, as a matter
of fact, no one can look
at anything or any paint-
ing of a thing and exclude


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