London at the End of the Century:A Book of Gossip
a Beckett, Arthur William
1900
THE LION ARTISTIC.
If a man is an artist, and he wishes to become a I fancy that his best course is to go in for I frankly admit that I have never learned drawing, still recent compositions on the hoardings and elsewhere have induced me to believe that I might readily secure fame if I were to adopt Out Whistler and out Snooks Snooks. Years ago was said to get his effect by slopping a canvas with a paint mop. Nowadays, impressionists of the new school seem to sprinkle whitewash on preparations of Indian ink. After sprinkling they appear to look at their handiwork with a view to selecting the title. If there are three little spots in the centre of the | |
206 | paper, then the sketch can be called if only a blotch appears in the right-hand corner, it may mean or or In fact, the title doesn't matter in the least-one is as good and as appropriate as another. The last few lines may be accepted as a proof that I have and consequently am an incapable critic. Such an expression of opinion (if largely circulated) would be most valuable. If I could but establish my right to the title of I should become a lion and get asked out everywhere. As an artist I feel sure I should command instantaneous success. A monthly periodical called recently attracted considerable attention. It was full of weird drawings, that encouraged me to hope that some day I shall be in the first rank of living artists. I dropped some ink on a piece of paper a day or so ago, and the shape the pigment took was not unsuggestive of a spider or a "daddy long legs." Rightly understood, I have not a doubt that my composition accurately depicts or |