Life, art, and letters of George Inness . fferent , A , slam in a thunder-cloud in the right-hand corner; and you, B , rush a battery of light down in that middle distance; and C , keep ham-mering away at the foreground. Never mind if youare out of tone, we 11 get a harmony when we put aglaze over the whole thing, and then with a little tick-ling up here and there with pigment we will have fin-ished the greatest landscape that ever was this is not all imaginary, for that was one of myfathers pet theories. He thought he could direct anyman or group of men to paint in thi
Life, art, and letters of George Inness . fferent , A , slam in a thunder-cloud in the right-hand corner; and you, B , rush a battery of light down in that middle distance; and C , keep ham-mering away at the foreground. Never mind if youare out of tone, we 11 get a harmony when we put aglaze over the whole thing, and then with a little tick-ling up here and there with pigment we will have fin-ished the greatest landscape that ever was this is not all imaginary, for that was one of myfathers pet theories. He thought he could direct anyman or group of men to paint in this way, and produceas great a picture as he could paint himself. At timeshe seemed to be obsessed with the idea that painting apicture was purely mechanical, needing only the mas-ter brain to direct. But with Pop theory and prac-tice were not always one and the same thing, althoughin some instances he did actually put this particulartheory into practice. I have seen him preach thistheory by the hour and bring forth the most logical ar- 76. FOREIGN [NFLUENCB gunients to prove that he was correct in his deduc-tions, then under the fire of inspiration throw theories,arguments, and everything to the four winds, andpaint like mat! in exact opposition to the ideas he hadexpressed, finally admitting that, after all, The fel-low who gets the bird is the fellow who holds the gun. If any one would criticize my fathers works, eventhough he did not know where the next meal or houserent was coming from, he would blow out in a passionof abuse and lose a sale. On one occasion MarshallO. Roberts, a big New York financier, came to hisstudio in Rome. Father had two canvases which heheld at five thousand dollars each, and which pleasedMr. Roberts very much. Mr. Inness, he said, if I take both of those pic-tures, what price will you make me? Ten thousand dollars, my father replied. Well, Mr. Inness, what is the price of the littleone on the easel? Two thousand dollars, answered Pop. Will you take t
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