THERE is no lack of modulation in the recent paintings by William L. Lathrop which were shown through November at the Rehn Galleries in West 50th Street. Lathrop is an artist who has been advancing steadily in his work for many years. There have been no sudden spurts in his painting. The record of his progress would be dull reading, for there is in it none of the melodrama which marked the career of Massaccio who died the greatest painter of his times when still in his twenties. To talk of Lathrop and his art at all seems almost like sacrilege, for his art has the intimacy of home, and it is as if we had opened the door on the fond embrace of a husband and wife to whom the years had brought nothing but happiness. It would be the tactful thing to close the door gently and leave them to their joy. The feeling of Lathrop towards nature is the love which no longer flames up in sudden outbursts of passion. It is the love which is not less strong because it glows with a steady warmth.
TAGOREBy William Rothenstein
AT the Macbeth Galleries is being held the annual show of "intimate paintings." It is a splendid group. There are two lovely Twachtmans, a little Albert Ryder, two small paintings by Inness, a Metcalf "Winter" with charm which his larger canvases lack, an early Murphy, a still-life by Carlsen, "Blue, White and Gold" (page 34), and other paintings for every taste.
MISS PECK and Miss Edith Haworth are exhibiting at the Kraushaar Galleries. Of the two, Miss Haworth is the more spontaneous. Her color lives and glows. It is joyous, rippling sunshine expressed with purest reds and yellows. Her composition is as interesting as her color. She has the gift of painting a subject which we would have all passed by and investing it with great charm.
THERE has just opened at the John Levy Galleries an exhibition of landscapes by Aston Knight. Mr. Knight is a sort of Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde. He has a very genuine appreciation for the picturesque. His paintings from nature show how much he feels the beauty of rural life as it appears in old France, the loveliness of thatched cottage overgrown with roses, the whole placed beside a stream which reflects the wonder of it all. Although his appreciation is so keen he has yielded to the temptation of painting certain scenes over and over again as orders came in. Each replica was a little less spontaneous than the preceding, yet each had in it the thatched cottage the public loved.
THERE was a private view of mural decorations by Willy Pogany for the auditorium of People's House on Monday evening, November 22d. The decorations are good, very good, yet I regret that the symbolism is so involved that a long explanation is necessary. With the most beautiful decorations we have in America, the paintings by Puvis de Chavannes in the Boston Public Library, no explanation is needed. Pogany, like other moderners, has endeav-
