DOI Heft:
No. 27 (June 1895)
DOI Artikel:Baldry, Alfred Lys: The Manchester School of Art
DOI Artikel:Grier, Louis: A painters' club
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17294#0129
A Painters Club
do with the evil effects produced by South Kensing-
ton, will itself become really active and influential
among the great Art centres of the world.
PAINTERS' CLUB. BY
LOUIS GRIER.
In the autumn of 1S88 a few good
men and true met together in my studio
(commonly known as " The Foc'sle "), to discuss
the advisability of forming an Arts club in our
little fishing town, and over the pipe of peace
and a little of the dew of Bonnie Scotland, we
decided to start an institution to be called The
St. Ives Arts Club. We arranged to ' meet on
Saturday nights only, and the rendezvous chosen as
the most suitable was "The Foc'sle."
After a few meetings some judged it rather slow,
for many of the attractions usually appertaining to
a club were of necessity impossible in a room
which was devoted to the worship of a goddess of
Art during six days of the week. At the third or
fourth " club night," one member bolder than the
rest, and possibly possessing more of the.spirit of
no
the gambler, dropped a bolt from the blue by pro-
posing the introduction of lady members; and so
persuasive was his manner, that we were speedily
won over, and his motion was carried almost with-
out opposition.
The following Saturday we mustered over sixty
members of both sexes, and it was conceded by all
that we had started a going and pleasant concern.
This time we had a piano on the spot, and as we
boasted some members possessing considerable
vocal and instrumental talent, things began to
" hum" a little more. The light charade was
indulged in too (much to the detriment of The
Foc'sle draperies), and it was amusing to see a
heavy weight in the shape of one of England's
hopes in Landscape Art, chirping about on settles
and things as little Tom Tit guised in simple
drapery with a seven-foot mahlstick under it by
way of tail; while a six-foot genius from Boston
stalked him with a mighty gun.
On fine nights the large doors at the end of the
studio would be opened, and then we had a series
of nocturnes that would have merited the artistic
appreciation of Mr. Whistler. The lights of the
incoming herring boats, the rippling waves dancing
do with the evil effects produced by South Kensing-
ton, will itself become really active and influential
among the great Art centres of the world.
PAINTERS' CLUB. BY
LOUIS GRIER.
In the autumn of 1S88 a few good
men and true met together in my studio
(commonly known as " The Foc'sle "), to discuss
the advisability of forming an Arts club in our
little fishing town, and over the pipe of peace
and a little of the dew of Bonnie Scotland, we
decided to start an institution to be called The
St. Ives Arts Club. We arranged to ' meet on
Saturday nights only, and the rendezvous chosen as
the most suitable was "The Foc'sle."
After a few meetings some judged it rather slow,
for many of the attractions usually appertaining to
a club were of necessity impossible in a room
which was devoted to the worship of a goddess of
Art during six days of the week. At the third or
fourth " club night," one member bolder than the
rest, and possibly possessing more of the.spirit of
no
the gambler, dropped a bolt from the blue by pro-
posing the introduction of lady members; and so
persuasive was his manner, that we were speedily
won over, and his motion was carried almost with-
out opposition.
The following Saturday we mustered over sixty
members of both sexes, and it was conceded by all
that we had started a going and pleasant concern.
This time we had a piano on the spot, and as we
boasted some members possessing considerable
vocal and instrumental talent, things began to
" hum" a little more. The light charade was
indulged in too (much to the detriment of The
Foc'sle draperies), and it was amusing to see a
heavy weight in the shape of one of England's
hopes in Landscape Art, chirping about on settles
and things as little Tom Tit guised in simple
drapery with a seven-foot mahlstick under it by
way of tail; while a six-foot genius from Boston
stalked him with a mighty gun.
On fine nights the large doors at the end of the
studio would be opened, and then we had a series
of nocturnes that would have merited the artistic
appreciation of Mr. Whistler. The lights of the
incoming herring boats, the rippling waves dancing