DOI Heft:
Nr. 191 (February 1909)
DOI Artikel:Hind, Charles Lewis: Charles H. Shannon, artist and connoisseur
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.20966#0026
Charles Shannon
his works. Either way there is loss and gain. I
know Mr. Shannon personally, and knowing him
it is almost impossible to dissociate the artist from
the connoisseur and collector. There are all kinds
of collectors ; he is a collector of rare taste and
discernment, competent to choose the best—from
a Tanagra figure to the last fancy of Mr. Wells,
from a Piero di Cosimo to a Daumier. In each of
the rooms that surround the studios, and on the
walls of the studios, are spoils of the climes. I
see, as I write, the Watteau drawings in the dining-
room, the case of Greek figurines in the drawing-
room, the Japanese prints in the hall—ah ! that
hall. I linger there when I enter the flat, I linger
there when midnight has struck, and I should be
departing: and there is always an addition to the
collection. Sometimes during the evening when
we sit in playful or fierce converse—always on art
— this question is addressed — “Any new ex-
travagance ? ” and for answer there is always a dip
into a recess, and the bringing to light of a new
treasure. On the last occasion it was a Rubens
drawing—a head, full of character, delicate yet
incisive. How was it obtained ? That would be
betraying a secret. Not in the ordinary way, you
may be sure, not picked from the priced exhibits
in a picture gallery. That is not the way of your
true collector; his way is to ransack portfolios, to
turn the sheets feverishly, to peep and peer, and>
perhaps, at last swiftly to withdraw the rarity from
the rest.
Here I must pause, for on this subject of col-
lecting which fills Mr. Shannon’s leisure hours
with excitement, joy, and sometimes with despair,
the name of his companion in art and connoisseur-
ship, Mr. Charles Ricketts, claims immediate
attention. The two are inseparable ; they live
together; they collect together; they work in ad-
joining studios, and in any account of the life,
aims, and appreciations of Mr. Shannon, the name
of Mr. Ricketts runs to the tongue as dutifully as
that of Sullivan to Gilbert, or Fletcher to Beau-
mont. As the versatility of Mr. Ricketts is to form
the subject of a future paper in this magazine, I
may, for the present, not without difficulty, attempt
to avoid his name.
But let me first indulge in an impression of these
inseparables seen years ago, long before I knew
4
his works. Either way there is loss and gain. I
know Mr. Shannon personally, and knowing him
it is almost impossible to dissociate the artist from
the connoisseur and collector. There are all kinds
of collectors ; he is a collector of rare taste and
discernment, competent to choose the best—from
a Tanagra figure to the last fancy of Mr. Wells,
from a Piero di Cosimo to a Daumier. In each of
the rooms that surround the studios, and on the
walls of the studios, are spoils of the climes. I
see, as I write, the Watteau drawings in the dining-
room, the case of Greek figurines in the drawing-
room, the Japanese prints in the hall—ah ! that
hall. I linger there when I enter the flat, I linger
there when midnight has struck, and I should be
departing: and there is always an addition to the
collection. Sometimes during the evening when
we sit in playful or fierce converse—always on art
— this question is addressed — “Any new ex-
travagance ? ” and for answer there is always a dip
into a recess, and the bringing to light of a new
treasure. On the last occasion it was a Rubens
drawing—a head, full of character, delicate yet
incisive. How was it obtained ? That would be
betraying a secret. Not in the ordinary way, you
may be sure, not picked from the priced exhibits
in a picture gallery. That is not the way of your
true collector; his way is to ransack portfolios, to
turn the sheets feverishly, to peep and peer, and>
perhaps, at last swiftly to withdraw the rarity from
the rest.
Here I must pause, for on this subject of col-
lecting which fills Mr. Shannon’s leisure hours
with excitement, joy, and sometimes with despair,
the name of his companion in art and connoisseur-
ship, Mr. Charles Ricketts, claims immediate
attention. The two are inseparable ; they live
together; they collect together; they work in ad-
joining studios, and in any account of the life,
aims, and appreciations of Mr. Shannon, the name
of Mr. Ricketts runs to the tongue as dutifully as
that of Sullivan to Gilbert, or Fletcher to Beau-
mont. As the versatility of Mr. Ricketts is to form
the subject of a future paper in this magazine, I
may, for the present, not without difficulty, attempt
to avoid his name.
But let me first indulge in an impression of these
inseparables seen years ago, long before I knew
4