DOI Heft:
Nr. 220 (July 1911)
DOI Artikel:Taylor, Ernest Archibald: The american colony of artists in Paris, [2]
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.20973#0130
American Artists in Paris
placeness, but few have given us the internal hook and the scythe. If Miss Este feels not
feeling, emotion if you will, or sentiment if you some such premonition in her work, then her land-
like, of Brittany's vast undulated landscape, with and sea-scapes belie her, for in no other artist's
its scattered villages and inherent Celtic sadness pictures of Brittany have I seen the veiled tragic
that seems to brood over the hazy low-lying hills significance revealed without the symbolical
with their sentinels of drowsy dolmens blinking at costumed figure. Miss Este is an outcome of
the momentary sun-rays, as they single out the herself, and among those who assisted her she has
spire of some humanly designed church with a the greatest praise for Miss Emily Sartain and
Calvaire at its gateway, or dreamy with the Charles Lasar. She has nothing childish in her
melancholy of echoing lullabies borne from the nature, and her first studies were made in the
fields of workers who are little concerned with the Philadelphia Academy, where she was convinced
world beyond their own—huge men and women that "construction" was of the greatest importance,
with brows furrowed and tanned by the sun and Miss Este's gospel, I should think, is hope; each
earth, and restricted minds illumined perhaps now thing she does is always better than the last, and
and again with some past glory but living still with this and her belief in solitude and never
where the implements of harvest are the reaping- thinking of the way "the great ones" paint lies her
art's salvation. She is an
Associe of the Societe
Nationale des Beaux-Arts,
and the French Government
made no mistake in pur-
chasing her large landscape
in the recent Salon of that
society.
The work too by Mary R.
Hamilton is personal and
distinct. The assertion that
women cannot do the work
of men has lost much of its
too long recognised truth, as
every day finds them ful-
filling spheres with greater
ability, making our little
arrogances less evincive, and
in art to-day we find when
women painters realise their
own God gifts that man's
greatness outsteps them
only in space and muscular
equipment. I do not say
Mrs. Hamilton sides with
me; her work is my only
proof, and with her retiring
disposition I doubt if I
should have seen much had
I not first been attracted by
a Venetian study bearing
her name in Scotland and
afterwards a group of water-
colours and oils in the Salon
of the " Independants " and
another in the Salon des
Beaux-Arts. She had a
"before the wrNDOw" by mary Hamilton few private lessons in
109
placeness, but few have given us the internal hook and the scythe. If Miss Este feels not
feeling, emotion if you will, or sentiment if you some such premonition in her work, then her land-
like, of Brittany's vast undulated landscape, with and sea-scapes belie her, for in no other artist's
its scattered villages and inherent Celtic sadness pictures of Brittany have I seen the veiled tragic
that seems to brood over the hazy low-lying hills significance revealed without the symbolical
with their sentinels of drowsy dolmens blinking at costumed figure. Miss Este is an outcome of
the momentary sun-rays, as they single out the herself, and among those who assisted her she has
spire of some humanly designed church with a the greatest praise for Miss Emily Sartain and
Calvaire at its gateway, or dreamy with the Charles Lasar. She has nothing childish in her
melancholy of echoing lullabies borne from the nature, and her first studies were made in the
fields of workers who are little concerned with the Philadelphia Academy, where she was convinced
world beyond their own—huge men and women that "construction" was of the greatest importance,
with brows furrowed and tanned by the sun and Miss Este's gospel, I should think, is hope; each
earth, and restricted minds illumined perhaps now thing she does is always better than the last, and
and again with some past glory but living still with this and her belief in solitude and never
where the implements of harvest are the reaping- thinking of the way "the great ones" paint lies her
art's salvation. She is an
Associe of the Societe
Nationale des Beaux-Arts,
and the French Government
made no mistake in pur-
chasing her large landscape
in the recent Salon of that
society.
The work too by Mary R.
Hamilton is personal and
distinct. The assertion that
women cannot do the work
of men has lost much of its
too long recognised truth, as
every day finds them ful-
filling spheres with greater
ability, making our little
arrogances less evincive, and
in art to-day we find when
women painters realise their
own God gifts that man's
greatness outsteps them
only in space and muscular
equipment. I do not say
Mrs. Hamilton sides with
me; her work is my only
proof, and with her retiring
disposition I doubt if I
should have seen much had
I not first been attracted by
a Venetian study bearing
her name in Scotland and
afterwards a group of water-
colours and oils in the Salon
of the " Independants " and
another in the Salon des
Beaux-Arts. She had a
"before the wrNDOw" by mary Hamilton few private lessons in
109