ART.

WHISTLER AT THE NEW G A TiLERY.

THE impression produced by the Exhibition of paintings, pastels, etchings, and lithographs of Whistler is not only

great but homogeneous. In whatever medium the master expressed himself, and whether the subject were landscape or figure, the impulse is the Barite. Although it is easy to recognise this impulse, it is difficult, perhaps impossible, to express it in words. In the most completely realised painting, or in the merest suggestion, there is everywhere the search after a certain quality, not of form, colour, or tone individually, but the result of all three working together for the attain- ment of the desired effect. Whistler seems always trying to refine his vision to the utmost, refining the form till he extracts from Nature the desired elegance and vitality.

The colour, too, is treated to the same refining process till harmonies the most subtle and delicate emerge out of delicate films of grey and blue, or are conjured up from blacks and sombre browns. But perhaps it is in the balancing of the tones of the picture—the passing from light to dark apart from form or colour—that the art of Whistler is most remarkable and individual.

A fine instance of the refining of all the constituents of the picture to the uttermost is to be found in the West Room,

called Whistler in his Studio (No. 13). The light that fills

this picture makes the three figures it contains look almost diaphanous, but so refined is the drawing that there is no want of solidity. The colour• is in harmony with this refine- ment. Excepting the central figure in the pale salmon- coloured dress, and the mahogany of the artist's palette, it is hard to name any of the hues in the picture. Not that there is any absence of colours, but that they elude words in their subtlety. In much of his painting at this period Whistler seems to have begun with a pale cool grey undeipainting, and over this films of warm transparent colour were passed, the final colour being gradually arrived at. In later work

like Lillie in Our Alley (No. 18) the method is more direct ;

but to gain more vivacity of touch some of the mysterious beauty found in the former system is Jost. There is another version of this interior of the artist's studio, but the darker picture (No. 15) is not as beautiful as the one just described. As to which is the original form of the work the catalogue gives no hint.

It used to be a cry among the Philistines that Whistler's pictures were unfinished; but this was merely the result of a

misunderstanding. An artist sets out to realise a certain effect; and if he specially aims, as Whistler did, at great delicacy and lightness of touch, he knows how easily these qualities can be lost after having been found. Often the painter may be confronted with the problem,—Which is it better to do, leave the picture incomplete from the conventional point of view, or by laborious finishing destroy the thing the

painter set out to find P Painting pictures is not like plaster- ing walls ; and if the effect of the whole is attained, and the delicate balance of tones and colours achieved, what does it matter if a few holes are left unstopped ? Take, for instance, the Portrait of the Artist (No. 30). Had the coat been elaborated more, the face would have required alteration to restore the balance. But the artist was satisfied with his statement of the construction of the head ; and it is not certain in work of this kind that added finish improves the result. Therefore the painting of the coat is not really unfinished in the ordinary meaning of the word ; it was only carried to the point which was right in relation to the head.

To see how far Whistler could carry his work when be wished, it is only necessary to look at the portrait of Miss Alexander (No. 32). Here every fold of the muslin dress, with its varying opacity, caused by the different thicknesses of the material, and the differences of colour arising from what is underneath, are all realised in the greatest completeness. A close examination of this masterpiece will reveal how the artist laboured to produce infinite variety in his paint surface, how sometimes he laid on the paint in full paste, and sometimes when it had been laid scraped the surface so that the canvas showed through. Sometimes, as in the feathers of the hat the child is bolding, the touch is long and caressing. In fact, no resource of a most dexterous hand is neglected that might make the surface of the painting beautiful and interesting. Nor are the other elements less perfect. The pose of the child is beautiful, with the feet apart, and the body in profile as if she were walking past, while the face is turned round to look at us. Another picture of great perfection and repose is the Portrait of My Mother (No. 23). There is, perhaps, nothing finer in the Exhibition than the head of this portrait, with its golden colour. Very delightful, too, is the entire absence of virtuosity. There are no clever passages and no obviously brilliant pieces of brush-work to become tiresome through use, as in so much of the portrait work of the present day. Instead of exclaiming at the last invented technical device, we look with satisfied eyes at inscrutable workmanship. Through the sober colour and subtle tones comes to us the perfectly clear presentment of a personality. The impression of this picture is as distinct as that of a real person ; there is the separate existence of an individual. The same qualities are to be found in the Carlyle (No. 5), though here, as the subject demands, the characterisation is more marked and vigorous. The ingenuity of the arrangement is astonishing ; the hat and the coat over the knees make the whole group into a wonderful pattern of dark against the light wall. The skill with which unim- portant objects are subdued is enormous. While we look at the bead the chair is quite unobtrusive, but it is most interesting to note by what curious and elaborate process this is brought about. Some portions of the chair are defined, others evanesce into the surroundings. This is, after all, just what happens when we look at the face of some one. The chair the person is sitting. in is felt to be there, and we are dimly conscious of its structural existence, but its details vanish. The difficulty of the artist is to place on the canvas something which will produce this effect without being a shapeless mass marring the decorative beauty of the picture. It was in this power of suggestion that Whistler was so great an innovator. Another of these supreme portraits here is the Sarasate (No. 19). Could a face be more alive than this one with its wonderful eyes P And how mysteriously the thin, gracefully poised body melts into the blackness of the background, in the recesses of which floats the signet butterfly, appropriately turned into a vampire bat.

The Piano Picture (No. 75) is one of those earlier paintings of the master in which ho made use of a full brush and a certain richness of texture. The balance of the composition is so perfect that the effect of the spaces and positions of the figures has in it something of the harmony of music. Whistler never painted a more graceful figure than that of the child, so beautiful in pose and colour, with the warm white dress and the cool shadow over the face. Among the single heads of girls and children one must be mentioned, the Girl with a Red Feather (No.4). It is so living and fascinating, and has that touch of sentiment which seems to belong to forty years ago. Might not this be the real, the authentic, the original "Jane Lamb that we danced with at Vichy " P

To treat the Nocturnes at anything like adequate length would require a whole article ; for it was in these fascinating pictures that Whistler showed how fresh and new was his outlook upon Nature. These works depend of necessity upon the most subtle gradation of tones, and here Whistler was in his element. No modern artist had such power of distin- guishing so clearly and so well between tones little removed from one another. Added to this power was a retentive memory. Thus, the observation made at night under the glamour of the starry sky, or the illuminated window, could be recorded in the light of day next morning. The Nocturne in Blue and Silver (No. 12) is one of the loveliest to be seen in the New Gallery. The gradation of the dome of the sky and the beautiful greenish-blue colour make this picture stand out among the beauties of the Exhibition. It is interesting to know that this fine work of art produced succes de scandale in the case of " Whistler v. Ruskin."

Another fine work is the Trafalgar Square, Chelsea (No. 33). In this the effects are more complicated and the painting more elaborate. As a realisation of the beauty of the late evening light that transforms and transfigures, it is difficult to imagine anything finer. Quite different is the Valparaiso Nocturne (No. 16), with its deep- blue colour. It is impossible to translate such a work into words, and to give any idea of the forms of ship or mountain veiled in the blue night. Blue seems to have been a favourite colour with the painter, and one which he used with less modification than any other.

To attempt to give any proper account of the etchings and lithographs at the end of this article is obviously absurd. All that can be done is to point out how the same qualities of restraint and love of refinement of form are present as in the paintings. One cannot but be astonished at the marvellous fineness of the gossamer lines of some of the plates and of the power of abstracting a subject to its simplest expression. It is hard to imagine a more refined statement than that of the Thames Warehouse (No. 28) (in the Central Hall). How great, too, is the power of suggestion in the Bunting (No. 134) (in the Balcony). Here with a few scratches we are made to hear the flapping of the flags and feel the wind that blows out the bluejacket's collar.

All the mediums Whistler used he was master of. Thus in the lithographs and litho tints we find endless beautiful things, as we do among the pastels and the water-colours. The work collected here is astonishing when we consider the gulf there is between some tiny etching and a life- sized portrait in oil. Everywhere there is variety, but everywhere the differences are the outcome of one ruling idea,—the search for perfection on given lines. The thanks of all lovers of art must be accorded to those who have made the Exhibition possible, for it must have been a difficult task to bring together these widely scattered works. Special gratitude is due to the President of the French Republic, who permitted the portrait of the painter's mother— a picture whose absence would have been greatly felt—to be lent by the Museum of the Luxembourg.

H. S.