ART
HANS TISDALL has always informed his book-jackets and decora- tions with a spiky, rococo sensibility at once elegant and firm, but his paintings hitherto have disappointed. His new exhibition at the Leger Galleries, however, shows a marked step forward. The slice of life upon which he imposes unity is relatively small in com- parison with that of the greatest artists, but the best dozen of his paintings (some of the little drawings are no more than feux d'esprit) show a new depth of feeling. He loves boats and architecture—boats springing from the shelving beach, buoyant as ducks breasting the water, and the rhythmic games one can play with echoing facades.
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I find the rather orthodox colour sense of Sigmund Pollitzer's watercolours at the Redfern unimpressive, and he seems unable to capture with the softness of the loaded brush the quite extraordinary bite and intensity of his pen drawings. But what a superlative tech- nique that is—sometimes pushed to a high degree of finish some- times calligraphic with a freedom that recalls the swirling rhythms of Van Gogh's Provencal manner. His best subjects are those which allow him most to exploit these qualities of penmanship, subjects offering all the intricacies of profusion. Besides the shocks of wheat and barley, note the two still lifes, the figure compositions Nos. 10-13, and the Dead Seagull.
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The other two painters at the Redfern offer a complete contrast. Patrick Heron contrives to combine some of the qualities of Braque, of Bonnard, of Matthew Smith, of Ivor Hitchins, of Soutine. That is to say, he uses a forced Impressionist palette with a full and lively touch. These are gay and vigorous pictures even though form and structure seem insufficiently considered. Downstairs, Leon Zack's Variations on a Religious Theme shows that he is au courant. Traces of Picasso '45 and Adler and Rouault abound, save only that their bonne cuisine is not here quite so bonne.
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There are several pictures at the Mayor Gallery which warrant a visit. These include Sickerts, Matthew Smiths and, among the less representational works, a cunning little Max Ernst. M. H. MIDDLETON.
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