. International studio. himself that once, whenhis landlady annoyed him about a certain littlematter, he didnt mince words: he was an artist, le youth ancj gne shouc| Jook for her back room ;r b. davies rent where she might find it; it could not conceivably be any concern of his. Davies is a laborer in a literal sense. He has noone around. His workshop is piled with thingsstarted and completed. He lives in his workshop gives one the impression of tre-mendous energy, filled with marble from the TajMahal, drawings from France, paintings fromItaly. When you talk with him, you discover th
. International studio. himself that once, whenhis landlady annoyed him about a certain littlematter, he didnt mince words: he was an artist, le youth ancj gne shouc| Jook for her back room ;r b. davies rent where she might find it; it could not conceivably be any concern of his. Davies is a laborer in a literal sense. He has noone around. His workshop is piled with thingsstarted and completed. He lives in his workshop gives one the impression of tre-mendous energy, filled with marble from the TajMahal, drawings from France, paintings fromItaly. When you talk with him, you discover thathis mind is very much like his studio, stored withno end of lore and ideas. He is very fond of thefable of the Unicorn, a wild and beautiful beast,with one curling pointed horn centered in hisforehead. So spirited and sensitive was this wildthing, that no one but a virgin could approachhim; others he destroyed. So in the realm of art;we color things we see with the purity of our two eighteen JUNE 1922 lnceRtiAaonAL IV. SKETCH FORBY ARTHL approach, and drink of the nectarof art or the dregs of cynicism. Pity any one who is not played upon bypaintings. To be sure they play differently on certain strata of picture lovers finds harmonyin blue; another set in red and crimson things, orgolden brown, or English portraits, or the HudsonRiver school, or giddy headed Greenwich was when art was made to reveal unde-tected beauty, as music is to be listened to forthe shading of its tone and charm of we love conversational art, the art orator,and we thank him for the stir he makes in aperhaps too placid and complacent pool. Come with Davies! Drink the drams ofdreams! One day he wandered northward IromVenice, mounting the Alps to the neighborhood ofCadore, and there he saw two Italians arguing THE ^.^ ^.^ ^^ Re stQod J, R B. DAVIES and listened, and then came themaster Giorgione, who, listening, took I nunDavies his box of pastelles, and kneeling down
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