with many of the youthful artists it is a sort of diathesis. Their formula is: o
"Colour is form, form colour—that is all
Ye know of art and all ye need to know."
Pure colour may serve two purposes, either as flat decoration, as in Gaugin, or to intensify form, as in Cezanne. Brangwyn, whose mind is not speculative, has not investigated recent pigmental developments nor explored their intricacies, and judged by old or new methods, he cannot be called a colourist. His travels in the East and in Spain and his tendency toward tropical splendour have instilled in him a love for barbaric contrasts. His colour is brilliant and harsh, never rich and harmonious; it is theatrical and thin—laid on as costumes for his figures—never to strengthen tissue or to increase palpability and depth. One of his most characteristic pictures, The Brass Shop, is a dazzling array of hot and shining textures. The pots and pans glisten like mirrors but the colour is superficial—it ends in reflection and not in volume. Compare it with Renoir's handling of still-life, or with Cezanne's, and you will see the difference between illustration of the highest type and art, between the metallic luster of swaggering talent and the luminous strength of genius. Some of his earlier water-colours, done in a grey palette under the influence of Whistler, are free from his usual fiery style; the colour is charming and the drawing good, and we find none of the tricks of the professional decorator of town halls.
Brangwyn is frequently linked with Rubens, a painter with whom he shares not one aesthetic quality. He resembles the Flemish master in his zeal for large canvases and in his fine enthusiasm, but the resemblance goes no farther. Rubens is the greatest composer the world has ever seen. His knowledge of the nude in action, his inexhaustible variety in types of composition, and his colossal command of plastic drawing make the work of most of his successors seem paltering and effeminate. Now bring in "Brangwyn at his best" (Mr. Walter Shaw Sparrow's familiar phrase), and he remains the big boy of the art school. Brangwyn's academic draughtsmanship is generally disguised by the garb of the navvy, the buccaneer, and the soldier. Let us divest it of the trappings that lend a documentary interest and approach it from the ruthless standard of formal order. He has rarely painted the undraped animal, but
