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Updated: June 12, 2025
We do not mean to assert that Brangwyn uses the dot or dash or broken dabs in his plates, for the very good reason that he is working in black and white; nevertheless a glance at his plates will show you a new way of conquering old prejudices. Whistler it was who railed at large etchings. He was not far wrong.
There is better quality in Arthur F. Mathews' "Triumph of Culture," over the entrance to the Court of Seasons. In color and force this comes nearer to the splendid standard set by Frank Brangwyn than anything else in the Exposition's mural decoration. Perhaps that is too faint praise, for this is a real picture.
It's in the animating spirit. As Brangwyn painted those fellows, he felt like a bowman. So he succeeded in putting into his canvas the strength that each bowman put into his bow. He isn't pretending to shoot, that sturdy fellow in front. He is shooting, and he's going to get what he is after."
"Brangwyn is very wonderful in his observation of children. He has a quality that is almost maternal. Observe the difference between the expression in the face of that baby and the expression in the face of that little boy to the left of the fire-makers. How intently he is looking on as he leans against the brown jar. He shows all the interest of a boy just learning how to do things."
Sunburst standards modelled in imitation of snow crystal, and resembling monstrance used in Catholic church; two at south of court; only large light sources in court; contrast with other illumination. Two fairy lanterns in each arch around court. Brangwyn murals lighted without glare by indirect diffusion from four corners.
In the hands of the majority of etchers a large plate is an abomination, diffused in interest, coarse of line; but Brangwyn is not to be considered among this majority. He is a big fellow in everything. Besides, Whistler was using the familiar argument, pro doma sua. Because Catullus and Sappho did not write epics that is no reason why Dante should not. It is the old story of the tailless fox.
As soon as it gets around that we're really trying to do something about this, everybody'll want in on it," Tom Brangwyn predicted. "And I have no doubt that the Planetary Government at Storisende will give us assistance, once we show that this is a practical and productive enterprise," Judge Ledue put in. "I have some slight influence with the President and "
As they came down the hallway from the lift, everybody had begun speaking more softly. Voices were never loud or excited in Kurt Fawzi's office. Tom Brangwyn went to the table, taking off his belt and holster and laying his pistol aside. The others, crowding into the room, added their weapons to his. That was something else Conn was seeing with new eyes.
The ivory pilasters are carried up into the ceiling in curving, transverse arches, while the band of blue, following their edges, leads to the rich blue depths between them. At the far end of every vista glows the riot of color in the mural paintings by Frank Brangwyn. The play of sunlight through the succession of rounded arches increases the sense of bright charm.
"You did find out where the Brain is, didn't you, Conn?" Brangwyn asked anxiously. That set half a dozen of them off at once. They had all sat down after the toast; now they were fidgeting in their chairs, leaning forward, looking at Conn fixedly. "What did you find out, Conn?" "It's still here on Poictesme, isn't it?" "Did you find out where it is?"
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