At the Whitechapel Lee Krasner's show at the Whitechapel Gallery
looks assured, independent----and cheerful. What is strange, and touching, is that this obviously gifted artist should have had to wait so long for a large exhibition in depth, and outside America. She is of course the widow of Jackson Pollock; but long before that tragic death she had retired into the background as a painter—though making her mark as an artist long before they met, in the late 'thirties. Now staying at the Ritz, shame- lessly and with infeetious enjoyment, she is ex- ploring London with equal relish and only seems to want to talk to other artists (and examine the newly-cleaned Uccello in the National Gallery), Miss Krasner's conversation combines disconcert- ing candour with an unusual impatience with the Past, though she seems to know the score. It must have been vexing to be an artist, and then have another identity imposed over you.
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