One of the finest, cagiest and laziest painters is André Derain. His Por of Catherine Hessling, in the Chicago Institute, and his landscape. Southern ‘in. the Phillips Memorial Gallery Washington, are perhaps the two most jobs of their kind owned in the S. A big, bland Frenchman with a love of fast automobiles (he owned five), a facile mastery of tech and a cold Norman disinclination to commit himself to artistic movements, 58-year-old Derain is France’s particular among the moderns because he car on the glories of French tradition.
Last week Manhattan hopefuls crowded into the Marie Harriman Gallery to see Derain’s two latest and largest works. Both were surprises, though only one was so entitled. In each, somewhat creasy and abundant nudes in classical attitudes were disposed on emerald greensward against a lush mysterious background. La Surprise, even more than Dans la Clalrière, suggested a Titianesque tableau in the golden lighting on the figures, a tracing of Rubens in the figures themselves. Though the smooth crispness of painting, the linked, rounding volumes of the design were the work of a major talent, serious visitors came away with a moderate suspicion that this $18,000 show piece would look its best over some very, very beautiful bar.
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