ect, to
hearing his work called "mechanical" and "lifeless," and, in a sense, it
is both. That is the price an artist must pay who sets himself to
achieve the end that Lewis has in view. He who is working by formula
towards the realization of a minutely definite intellectual plan must
be willing, on occasions, to sacrifice the really valuable qualities of
sensibility and handwriting as well as the adventitious charms that
spring from happy flukes. Besides, I am not sure that Lewis has been
blest with uncommon sensibility.

The peculiar merits of _Kermesse_ will become obvious to any one who,
after contemplating that picture, turns sharp round and glances at the
big canvas by Delaunay. Delaunay, according to Mr. Rutter, is "the
protagonist" of what is known in Paris as "Orfeism"; his picture, _The
Cardiff Football Team_, is what used to be known in Paris as _tres
artiste_. It is well made, but it is not made to wear. It is not what
Cezanne would have called "quelque chose de solide et de durable comme
l'art des musees." It is a brighter, gayer, more attractive thing than
_Kermesse_, but in construction it is less subtle and less solid: by
comparison, it looks like a poster, and a poster, I believe, is what it
is.

It would be tedious to write at length about the French masters,
considering how much has been written during the last twelve months in
praise or blame of finer and more characteristic examples of their art.
More profitably they may be used as a peg on which to hang a short
sermon to their English imitators. Amongst these I do not reckon the
painters of the Camden Town group, of whose work there is plenty in
this exhibition. Walter Sickert, the chief of that school, was in
possession of a style and a reputation when Picasso was still making
figures on a slate. Spencer Gore has taken from the new movement just so
much as was suited to his temperament, and, without submitting his
personal gift to any formula, has added immensely to the significance
and charm of his work. The majority, however, remain essentially what
they have always been--realistic impressionists. They have been very
conscientiously twisting their hurdy-gurdies while Rome was a-burning.

But, as this exhibition shows, there is a school of English
Post-Impressionists. It is not completely represented here; indeed, the
gaps are as conspicuous as they are unfortunate. Here we have only a
heterogeneous collection of young painters, diverse in tal