International studio — 81.1925

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"death on a pale horse" Metropolitan Museum of Art by albert pinkham ryder

of a dreaming boy to a gloriously improvident, sea. And "Resurrection," a primitive American,
personally careless, outwardly unclean man, whose in whose glistening folds you find the tonic bles-
inward light made up to the world a heritage of sing of two thousand years. So with the "Smug-
art. Certainly, art is a jealous mistress,

demanding all sacrifice; friendly to Ry- "toilers of the sea" by albert pinkham ryder

der who gave his all.

There is no use in arguing of tech-
nique. He had tried everything. He
knew academic procedure, but cast it
aside. His pathway was not in the dry
roots of a burnt-up forest, it led to the
sun. He achieved in "The Forest of
Arden" an art as distinctive as EI Greco.
"The Temple of the Mind" breathes as
deep as Monticelli. In the "Death on a
Pale Horse" he rivals Walt Whitman
in an uncanny apostrophe to the limit
of the physical. In "Night" with a
silver shred of a cloud and lonely star
there is alchemy. As Dr. John van Dyke
said of it, "There is romance from the
Arabian Nights down to the New Testa-
ment." So with "Jonah and the Whale,"
Constable with the imagery of Blake,
deeper in quality, until you feel the
weight of fable and hear the power of the

july 1925

two eighty-seven
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