Great Artists and Their Works: By Great Authors

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Marshall Jones Company, 1919 - 267 Seiten
The prime purpose of this book is to present, in small compass, clearly reasoned opinions of men who have treated the philosophy of art not less with simplicity of language than depth of understanding -- novelist and essayist not less than professed critic. A further purpose is to present a brief series of most brilliant descriptions of specific and famous works of art, architecture, sculpture, and painting, by men whose names are synonyms for all that is brilliant. Considered as a whole the collection centres upon a single point, namely, increase of appreciation and love of art behind which, said Rossetti, lies "passionate emotion," and the condition of which is "fundamental brain work." It is a book about men who live, eternal, in their buildings, pictures, sculptures. It is a book by men who have, for the most part, already eternalized themselves in their writings. - Foreword
 

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Seite 17 - Nature contains the elements, in colour and form, of all pictures, as the keyboard contains the notes of all music. But the artist is born to pick, and choose, and group with science, these elements, that the result may be beautiful — as the musician gathers his notes, and forms his chords, until he bring forth from chaos glorious harmony. To say to the painter, that Nature is to be taken as she is, is to say to the player, that he may sit on the piano.
Seite 183 - Here Reynolds is laid, and, to tell you my mind, He has not left a wiser or better behind ; His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand ; His manners were gentle, complying, and bland ; Still born to improve us in every part, His pencil our faces, his manners our heart...
Seite 243 - And Adah bare Jabal: he was the father of such as dwell in tents, and of such as have cattle.
Seite 167 - The presence that thus rose so strangely beside the waters, is expressive of what in the ways of a thousand years men had come to desire. Here is the head upon which all "the ends of the world are come," and the eyelids are a little weary.
Seite 107 - ... sculpture fantastic and involved, of palm leaves and lilies, and grapes and pomegranates, and birds clinging and fluttering among the branches, all twined together into an endless network of buds and plumes; and in the midst of it the solemn forms of angels, sceptred, and robed to the feet, and leaning to each other across the gates, their figures indistinct among the gleaming of the golden ground through the leaves beside them, — interrupted and dim, like the morning light as it faded back...
Seite 115 - FORGET six counties overhung with smoke, Forget the snorting steam and piston stroke, Forget the spreading of the hideous town; Think rather of the pack-horse on the down, And dream of London, small and white and clean, The clear Thames bordered by its gardens green...
Seite 107 - Piazza," and then we forget them all; for between those pillars there opens a great light, and, in the midst of it, as we advance slowly, the vast tower of St. Mark seems to lift itself visibly forth from the level field of chequered stones ; and, on each side, the countless arches prolong themselves into ranged symmetry, as if the rugged and irregular houses that pressed together above us in the dark alley had been struck back into sudden obedience and lovely order, and all their rude casements...
Seite 129 - A picture, however admirable the painter's art, and wonderful his power, requires of the spectator a surrender of himself, in due proportion with the miracle which has been wrought. Let the canvas glow as it may, you must look with the eye of faith, or its highest excellence escapes you. There is always the necessity of helping out the painter's art with your own resources of sensibility and imagination.
Seite 103 - ... nests in the height of them, and that bright, smooth, sunny surface of glowing jasper, those spiral shafts and fairy traceries, so white, so faint, so crystalline, that their slight shapes are hardly traced in darkness on the pallor of the Eastern sky, that serene height of mountain alabaster, coloured like a morning cloud, and chased like a sea-shell.
Seite 174 - Rembrandt is popular,* but nobody cares much at heart about Titian ; only there is a strange undercurrent of everlasting murmur about his name, which means the deep consent of all great men that he is greater than they — the consent of those who, having sat long enough at his feet, have found in that restrained harmony of his strength there are indeed depths of each balanced power more wonderful than all those separate...

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