Motion Picture Story Magazine (Aug 1911-Jan 1912)

108 TEE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE John listened to the recountal of this great event, and its probable consequences, with illy concealed pride. ''Poor little girl," he thought, "this triumph will repaj^ her some for the, lost 'Battle.' When the impression has sunk home, I will take up the matter of her non-artistic future, with her." So, under the sun that was going down on her defeat, and would come up again serene on his victory, the door stood open to the rich relation of pity, love, to enter at her pleasure. How prosperous and friendly the world seemed, as their little party, piloted by John and Ethel, walked down Fifth Avenue to the art gallery! How his constituents in art were prepared to center round the "Sun-bath," and drink of its deep subleties ! A functionary, in livery of broadcloth and silk, unfastened the crimson cords that guarded the entrance to the gallery, and sternly bowed them into its precincts. A hurried walk around the place did not discover John's masterpiece. In vain they explored the treasured walls for its evidence. Each group of visitors brought our friends hurrying to their side, lest they should not be the first discoverers of its qualities. Alas, poor discoverers ! the picture was not there. You, as you are walking sadly homeward, must be content with its creator 's second-hand description, and try to catch some of his untamable spirit, if not the art therein contained. They had separated at the lips, or entrance, to their huge dwelling, and Ethel had gone in ahead, leaving John on the steps with his few new disciples. As he left the elevator and neared his room, Ethel stood by his door with a tall gentleman, and a small black boy holding a picture. The elegant stranger was the master of the conversation, which he carried on in a voice high-pitched with impatience. ' ' When I consented to exhibit your friend's picture," he resumed, in John 's hearing, ' ' I was under the impression that it was the work of a young person who had seriously studied art — at least, you gave me to understand this. ' ■ "Yes, he has been very serious about it," Ethel ventured. ' ' He can consider himself very fortunate that it has not passed in review before genuine brushmen," he continued. ' ' What seems to be the matter with it?" she asked, pitilessly. ' ' Everything : defective drawing, poor foreshortening, little or no chiaroscuro. But this is not the worst — his color scheme is a mess. If I had hung this picture on my walls I would have been mobbed by insulted artists. ' ' ' ' Dont you like even its title ? ' ' she queried, innocently. ' ' What ? ' Bath-tub of the Woods, ' or some such rubbish. No, to tell you frankly, it did not even hint of the effect he was trying to convey. ' ' "And what would you advise the artist to do with it?" "It has only one possibility, in my estimation — cover it over with a thick, opaque lampblack and ultramarine, and call it ' Night in the Lumberlost, ' or something like that. ' ' Ethel laughed merrily. "I must not forget to thank you," she said, "for your frankness, and trust that you will remember that I stood ready to buy it in, in the face of collectors. ' ' "Collectors of what?" he said, smiling and turning away. "It can hardly be classified except as raw material." John saw Ethel's door shut discreetly and the ?-' Sun-bath of the Woods" leaning dejectedly against his door-frame. He took it into his room with him, and set it up carefully, -as if it had feelings which were as deeply hurt as his own. For a long time, from Ethel's room there was silence, tho she longed so to run over the score of "The Battle," and hear what was the matter with it. When it had grown quite late, she walked with it in her hands, to John's door, and gently rapped for admission. It was a little tapping done with finger-tips, that they had