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In John La Farge's Considerations on Painting, a little book which is full of suggestiveness to the student of literature, there are many passages illustrating the conception of art as "the representation of the artist's view of the world." La Farge points out that "drawing from life is an exercise of memory.
"Just as well a certain gentleman should reckon with Peachie's real position," she said to herself "specially with that stuck-up Serena Lovegrove cat-and-mousing about on the other side of the Green. It does not take a Solomon to see what she's after!" "I am afraid the verdict is given against you, Mr. Farge. The cedar tree will remain." Mrs. Porcher rose as she spoke.
In the minor arts, he may have heard of Rookwood pottery and have a vague notion that the Americans turn out some quite original things in silver work; but of American stained glass of Tiffany and La Farge he has never heard.
His solitude was broken in November by the chance arrival of John La Farge. At that moment, contact with La Farge had a new value.
A fair number of the men who were born in the thirties had won names Phillips Brooks; Bret Harte; Henry James; H. H. Richardson; John La Farge; and the list might be made fairly long if it were worth while; but from their school had sprung others, like Augustus St.
Pupil of W. J. Linton and Timothy Cole. Miss Powell was an illustrator of the Century Magazine from 1880 to 1895. The engraving after "The Resurrection" by John La Farge, in the Church of St. Thomas, New York, is the work of this artist. She also illustrated "Engravings on Wood," by William M. Laffan, in which book her work is commended. Miss Powell is now employed by Messrs.
He had just come up from the South Seas with John La Farge, who had reluctantly crawled away towards New York to resume the grinding routine of studio-work at an age when life runs low.
That is to say, his hearers, including Adams and, as far as he knew, La Farge, agreed with it all, and mostly as a matter of course; yet La Farge was silent, and this difference of expression was a difference of art.
"Sure, Captain dear, I've left me fiddle in the " Le Farge dropped the bundle of things he was holding under his left arm, seized the old sailor and rushed him against the bulwarks, as if he meant to fling him into the sea THROUGH the bulwarks. Next moment Mr Button was in the boat.
"The thought that makes the work of art," says Mr. John La Farge in a discussion of the art of painting of singular insight and intelligence, "the thought which in its highest expression we call genius, is not reflection or reflective thought. The thought which analyses has the same deficiencies as our eyes. It can fix only one point at a time.
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