International studio (56.1915)

American Painting at the Panama-Pacific Exposition

world. A few institutions, such as the Brooklyn
Museum, the Albright Gallery, Buffalo, the Car-
negie Institute, Pittsburgh, and the Corcoran Gal-
lery, Washington, have made notable advances
during the past few seasons, yet even so, the essen-
tial principles of appropriate installation are with
us but imperfectly appreciated and ineffectually
practised.
Assiduous readers of The International
Studio, than whom no single body is better in-
formed upon the subject of contemporary paint-
ing, will encounter little that is novel in the Ameri-
can section of this same classico-romantic Palace
of Fine Arts. We shall not, in the circumstance,
attempt an inventory of the several rooms, but
rather, if possible, summarize the salient features
of the exhibition as a whole. The task is a simple
one. It is primarily a question as to whether the
general public does or does not leave the building
having experienced that great aesthetic adventure
so eagerly and earnestly looked forward to. Have
they discovered something new, or has their cus-
tomary attitude toward art been merely amplified
and diversified? In brief, does the director in his
selection and disposal of these thousands of works
pictorial and plastic enforce, or does he enfeeble,
the fine emotional fervour, the thrill of expectancy
created by the architect? In deference to our
readers in particular, and to the community at
large, the question is one which demands a specific
answer.
After studying the public as well as the paint-
ings during some six weeks’ sojourn, the represen-
tative of The International Studio is face to
face with the conclusion that there must be some-
thing amiss with what may be generically termed
the San Francisco system. Despite a presumable
predisposition for the production of their country-
men and the personality of the various artists, our
good people from West or East do not appear to
be experiencing the requisite reaction from the
American section. The reason is not far to seek.
Whatever be the extenuating circumstances, and
in every exhibition there are extenuating circum-
stances, the collective impression is inconclusive.
Starting with the magnanimous, not to say merci-
ful, assumption that all which meets the eye is
worthy of inclusion in such an exhibition, there is
still much to be desired. The methods employed
fail to disclose the decorative significance of a
given canvas. We are shown what a picture is,
but not what a picture is for. Suspended in dual,

sometimes even triple, alignment, the effect is
stupefying rather than stimulating. Save in a
few instances the backgrounds are dull, grimy
and unprepossessing, and it is hence impossible
for many of the works to appear to advantage.
The situation would seem to resolve itself into a
question of imperfect sympathy. A painting
either is or is not an expression of creative emo-
tion, something into which the artist has put his
version of the visible world or his vague aspiration
toward that great, beckoning beauty which is the
heritage of all people in all ages. To distribute
canvases about the walls like so many unrelated
specimens is not to accord painting its requisite
spiritual or social, not to speak of aesthetic, consid-
eration. It is true that the practice is a venerable
one, yet it is also true that it is being modified and
rectified in virtually every country from Scandi-
navia to South America. There seems, however,
a certain fatality attached to us when we appear
beside theToreigners on the occasion of important
international exhibitions. One recalls with pathos
the moribund American room at the Venice Expo-
sition of Agog, and the more pretentious fiasco at
the Roman Esposizione Internazionale two years
later. We do not realize the importance of proper
spacing or proper setting for our vast and varied
pictorial output. Our exposition and museum
directors are doing little along these lines to bridge
the ever-widening abyss between the producing
artist and the aspiring public. They continue
to employ methods that are obsolete. They fail,
above all, to appreciate the fundamental affinity
between beauty and utility.
As may be inferred from the foregoing, the best
features of the American section are to be found
not in the galleries devoted to miscellaneous work,
but in those dedicated to individual masters, of
which there are, fortunately, not a few. Of the
deceased painters, separate rooms or walls have
been allotted to Whistler, Edwin A. Abbey, Win-
slow Homer, John La Farge, Theodore Robinson,
John H. Twachtman and others, while prominent
among the living thus to be honoured are Frank
Duveneck, William M. Chase, John S. Sargent,
Gari Melchers, J. Alden Weir, Edmund C. Tar-
bell, Childe Hassam, and Edward W. Redfield.
The super-sensitive art of Whistler, so exacting, so
persistent in its search for preciosity, is seen to
special advantage in the full-length likeness of
Mrs. Huth and a series of panels from the collec-
tion of Charles L. Freer, Esq. The room is small,

XXVIII