DOI Heft:
No. 120 (February, 1907)
DOI Artikel:Studio-talk
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.28250#0370
Studio-Talk
Gamier it may be said that he once more reveals
himself the painter par excellence of sporting life.
When at the last Salon of the Societe' Nationale
des Beaux Arts Fritz Thaulow gave one his
vigorous handshake, nothing seemed less probable
than that the days of this fine artist were num-
bered. He was then more youthful and more
ardent than ever; his pictures Hiver en Norvege,
and his two Dutch landscapes, testified that the
painter, while changing his subjects, still preserved
his full mastery. For neither age nor the enormous
task he had laid upon himself of recent years had
robbed his brush of its delicacy or its charm ; his
waters still flowed with the old limpidity, reflecting
the red stones of bridges and houses; his flowering
trees still stood out in the same caressing fashion
against the blue spring sky ; and in other canvases
he had shown that he could yet amaze us by the
simple charm of his dwellings at rest in the
evening’s calm. And while he continued to
“brush” his canvases with his accustomed deli-
cacy and care and subtlety of palette, with extra-
ordinary processes of scraping and mixture of
colours — water-colour or gouache mingling with
the oils—Thaulow of recent years had “gone in
for ” engraving in colours. Last year he displayed
his recent plates, which were beginning to rid
themselves of anything like “ touching-up.” After
help — a most natural thing — from specialists,
Thaulow graduated as master of this delightful
art, and the numerous plates he engraved recently
—souvenirs of Italy, Holland and Norway—are,
with their warm tones, little works quite worthy
of ranking with his big pictures. From the first
Thaulow was one of The Studio’s friends, and
he never made a journey to London without going
to see his old friends there. As one of the firmest
of these friends, may I here salute for the last
time the name of the great man who has now at
last entered into possession of his own. H. F.
MUNICH.—The past year was a notable
one in the annals of this centre of art,
for side by side with the usual annual
exhibition in the “Glass Palace,”
organised by the Kiinstlergenossenschaft, there
was an interesting retrospective exhibition of
works executed by Bavarian artists during the first
half of the nineteenth century. For the latter the
“twilight”
356
BY MAX CLARENBACH
Gamier it may be said that he once more reveals
himself the painter par excellence of sporting life.
When at the last Salon of the Societe' Nationale
des Beaux Arts Fritz Thaulow gave one his
vigorous handshake, nothing seemed less probable
than that the days of this fine artist were num-
bered. He was then more youthful and more
ardent than ever; his pictures Hiver en Norvege,
and his two Dutch landscapes, testified that the
painter, while changing his subjects, still preserved
his full mastery. For neither age nor the enormous
task he had laid upon himself of recent years had
robbed his brush of its delicacy or its charm ; his
waters still flowed with the old limpidity, reflecting
the red stones of bridges and houses; his flowering
trees still stood out in the same caressing fashion
against the blue spring sky ; and in other canvases
he had shown that he could yet amaze us by the
simple charm of his dwellings at rest in the
evening’s calm. And while he continued to
“brush” his canvases with his accustomed deli-
cacy and care and subtlety of palette, with extra-
ordinary processes of scraping and mixture of
colours — water-colour or gouache mingling with
the oils—Thaulow of recent years had “gone in
for ” engraving in colours. Last year he displayed
his recent plates, which were beginning to rid
themselves of anything like “ touching-up.” After
help — a most natural thing — from specialists,
Thaulow graduated as master of this delightful
art, and the numerous plates he engraved recently
—souvenirs of Italy, Holland and Norway—are,
with their warm tones, little works quite worthy
of ranking with his big pictures. From the first
Thaulow was one of The Studio’s friends, and
he never made a journey to London without going
to see his old friends there. As one of the firmest
of these friends, may I here salute for the last
time the name of the great man who has now at
last entered into possession of his own. H. F.
MUNICH.—The past year was a notable
one in the annals of this centre of art,
for side by side with the usual annual
exhibition in the “Glass Palace,”
organised by the Kiinstlergenossenschaft, there
was an interesting retrospective exhibition of
works executed by Bavarian artists during the first
half of the nineteenth century. For the latter the
“twilight”
356
BY MAX CLARENBACH