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Should any of his old fellow-pupils in the Louvre school of painting speak to him of some rare or eminent artist, "I'd a hundred times rather," he would reply, "have the Verdurins." And, with a solemnity of diction which was new in him: "They are magnanimous creatures, and magnanimity is, after all, the one thing that matters, the one thing that gives us distinction here on earth.
Along with this commission Titian was appointed in 1516 to the office of la Sanseria, which gave him the duty and privilege of painting the portraits of the Doges as long as he held the office; coupled with the office was a salary of one hundred and twenty crowns a year. Titian lived to paint five Doges; two others, his age, equal to that of Gian Bellini, prevented him from painting.
"There are tracks all through the trees there," he explained. "We're no distance from civilisation yet." He scrutinised his wife's painting. Too polite to praise it openly, he contented himself with cutting off one half of the picture with one hand, and giving a flourish in the air with the other. "God!" Hirst exclaimed, staring straight ahead. "Don't you think it's amazingly beautiful?"
And of each new novel that he bought he said, "It's a perfectly wonderful book! Of course I haven't the head to understand it, so I didn't finish it, but it's simply thrilling." Similarly with painting, "It's one of the most marvellous pictures I ever saw," he would say. "Of course I've no eye for pictures, and I couldn't see anything in it, but it's wonderful!" The career of Mr.
The next important utterance was at Manchester, February 22nd, 1859, where he spoke on the "Unity of Art," by which he meant not the fraternity of handicrafts with painting, as the term is used nowadays but that, in whatever branch of Art, the spirit of Truth or Sincerity is the same.
I'm Jack Morrison, Marguerite's cousin. I met you twice at Newport while you were painting her portrait." "Marguerite Morrison. 'M. M., the grateful model who gave him the refrigerator basket!" thought I. And Sir S. proceeded to give the cousin a refrigerator glance; but it didn't discourage him. He went on as cordially as ever.
I said, ``There is a picture nearly finished. Menzel answered, ``No; it is not finished and never will be. I asked, ``Why not? He said, ``I don't deny that there is some good painting in it.
In landscape painting the great artist does not give you a literal copy of a country, but he invents and composes one. Nature, in her natural aspect, does not furnish him with such existing scenes as he requires.
"Sometimes she seems to be drawing and painting, and talks to her father about pictures; and once she said: 'Hush! hush mother is ill. She must not know I died, because I promised her I would bear everything. She made me promise'." At this moment the keen wail of a young child, summoned the warden's wife to her own apartment, and Mr. Dunbar sat down in the rocking-chair beside the iron cot.
But wonderful as this picture is, as a "tour de force," like his Venus of the same period in the National Gallery, it is a painter's picture, and makes but a cold impression on those not interested in the technique of painting.
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