DOI Heft:
No. 277 (April 1916)
DOI Artikel:Water-colour drawings by the late E. M. Synge, A. R.E.
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.21261#0153
Water-Colours by E. M. Synge
since the days when they were first built in their
mountain fastnesses as refuges from the Moorish
pirates.
Of all Synge’s water-colours The Thaw, Etaples,
is most representative of his attainment of style,
that mysterious entity so impossible to define.
The pale yellow sky, purple hills, dull red roof,
grey and purple roadway, all obscured by patches
of half-melted snow, combined with the sure brush-
work in fore-ground and trees, form a perfect
harmony, satisfying alike in its colour scheme and
sense of values. The old road, beloved by artists of
many nations, has seen some changes lately. It is
deeper in slush and mud perhaps than even on
the unspeakably dirty day Synge trudged along it,
and went home to paint its beauties, for like
some of his best work in etching and dry-point
The Thaw is entirely a
memory sketch. Unable
to work out of doors
except on warm days, he
often painted under
difficulties, but what
seemed such a galling
handicap to him was
perhaps a gain, for on
days when he sat long
at his work it often lost
its freshness and charm.
Quick painting and
quick etching are ever
the best, and though
Synge could put in
weeks of work on a
plate after its first biting,
improving it steadily, it
was not so with his paint-
ing. It was good for him
to be forced to paint
quickly, for it did not
come naturally to a man
of his temperament;
all forms of hustling
were an abomination
to him. Fastidious,
very, about his choice of
subject and the placing
of it, that once settled,
he worked quickly and
surely. He became
completely absorbed in
his work and never
paused,except to re-light “the thaw, etaples”
his pipe, which was out
148
again and forgotten a few moments afterwards.
He would not even stop to pour out clean water,
yet it was wonderful what clear, fresh colours he
managed to evolve out of a dirty palette and the
dregs of his water-can. Never was an artist more
independent of his materials. Provided Synge had
any sort of brushes and paper, a black glass, and
a piece of paint-stained rag in which he carried
about innumerable old tubes of paint, mostly
dried up, he was perfectly happy and could
produce charming work.
Like his cousin the Irish poet, with whom he had
much in common, he was born with the gift of seeing
beautifully his every-day surroundings, and also with
the power to record his vision for the benefit of
those who possess the artistic temperament yet lack,
unfortunately, the great gift of expression. F. M.
WATER-COLOUR BY E. M. SYNGE
(The Property of Mrs. E. M. Synge)
since the days when they were first built in their
mountain fastnesses as refuges from the Moorish
pirates.
Of all Synge’s water-colours The Thaw, Etaples,
is most representative of his attainment of style,
that mysterious entity so impossible to define.
The pale yellow sky, purple hills, dull red roof,
grey and purple roadway, all obscured by patches
of half-melted snow, combined with the sure brush-
work in fore-ground and trees, form a perfect
harmony, satisfying alike in its colour scheme and
sense of values. The old road, beloved by artists of
many nations, has seen some changes lately. It is
deeper in slush and mud perhaps than even on
the unspeakably dirty day Synge trudged along it,
and went home to paint its beauties, for like
some of his best work in etching and dry-point
The Thaw is entirely a
memory sketch. Unable
to work out of doors
except on warm days, he
often painted under
difficulties, but what
seemed such a galling
handicap to him was
perhaps a gain, for on
days when he sat long
at his work it often lost
its freshness and charm.
Quick painting and
quick etching are ever
the best, and though
Synge could put in
weeks of work on a
plate after its first biting,
improving it steadily, it
was not so with his paint-
ing. It was good for him
to be forced to paint
quickly, for it did not
come naturally to a man
of his temperament;
all forms of hustling
were an abomination
to him. Fastidious,
very, about his choice of
subject and the placing
of it, that once settled,
he worked quickly and
surely. He became
completely absorbed in
his work and never
paused,except to re-light “the thaw, etaples”
his pipe, which was out
148
again and forgotten a few moments afterwards.
He would not even stop to pour out clean water,
yet it was wonderful what clear, fresh colours he
managed to evolve out of a dirty palette and the
dregs of his water-can. Never was an artist more
independent of his materials. Provided Synge had
any sort of brushes and paper, a black glass, and
a piece of paint-stained rag in which he carried
about innumerable old tubes of paint, mostly
dried up, he was perfectly happy and could
produce charming work.
Like his cousin the Irish poet, with whom he had
much in common, he was born with the gift of seeing
beautifully his every-day surroundings, and also with
the power to record his vision for the benefit of
those who possess the artistic temperament yet lack,
unfortunately, the great gift of expression. F. M.
WATER-COLOUR BY E. M. SYNGE
(The Property of Mrs. E. M. Synge)