The exhibition of the British Columbia Society of Fine Arts held
recently in Vancouver might well prove a revelation to many a one who had visited it for
the first time, and who had never dreamed that so much serious work in art was being
produced by local talent in the Province. Not only its high quality but the wide range
which it covered was such as to prove a source of pleasurable surprise. One felt that it
was truly representative of British Columbia, from the delightfully humorous coloured
cartoons of Fitzmaurice, capturing from the comic viewpoint
swift convincing impressions of typical groups from the everyday life about us, to
Marega's two fine pieces of sculpture, also typical and
representative of that life, but treating of it in its more noble and serious aspects;
from Fripp's bold and striking mountain scenes conveying
skilfully the effect of the loneliness and majesty of these snowclad giants upon the
beholder to the graceful bits of woodland or water about the coast district of such
artists as Miss Grace Judge or Mrs. Edith
Killam, or such views of industrial Vancouver limned with true artistic instinct so as
to bring out all the beauty and soften all the harshness of outine as in
Norman H. Hawkins' "Hastings Mill," or W.P.
Weston's "The Burner." The aboriginal inhabitants are not forgotten either, being
represented by works by Miss Margaret Wake and
John Kyle, although not so generously by the latter as in former
years. If one were to suggest a lack at all, it would be that in so much of the work shown
the human element is not prominent enough, especially the human element from the dramatic
or historical side. What are the artists of British Columbia doing to interpret to us the
picturesqueness of its pioneer stages so swiftly passing away? If only someone would give
us say a series of pictures representing the old life on the Cariboo road or paint us a
picture on a subject such as "Payday at Yale in Construction Days." There is plenty of
material in the way of historical and pictorial references, we imagine, in the archives
at Victoria for anyone who would be bold enough to undertake such an enterprise; and to
judge by the work shown at the recent exhibition, the talent and technical skill need
not be lacking.
One must remark, too, that there was little or nothing of the fanciful or imaginative
in the subject matter covered by the exhibition; and in glancing through the catalogue
one is struck by the somewhat prosaic run of the titles. Are we too far West for fauns
or nymphs or dryads, for we do not recall seeing one; nor even a jovial Bacchus with his
attendant throng to gladden the hearts of those who mourn the advent of prohibition. Do
fairies never dance in our grassy groves and glades? There is so much that is dull and
prosy in existence these days, so much that is sordid that we can well do with a real
riot of fancy as an antidote when we recreate our minds in the enjoyment of art. So, you
painters, whose keener eyes must teach us to see, give us next year more that will stimulate
our thought and enrich our fancy. Even if we don't always understand you, we will think the
more of you for it; and even if you should reach a little further than you can well grasp,
you will only be following in the footsteps of the old masters.
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