Yale University Press, 139 pp., $24.95
At times in his letters Thomas Eakins sounds as cranky and ingenuously Yankee as Ezra Pound. Writing to his father from Paris in 1868, the twenty-three-year-old art student proclaimed, 'The big artist does not sit down monkey like & copy a coal scuttle or an ugly old woman like some Dutch painters have done nor a dungpile, but he keeps a sharp eye on Nature & steals her tools. He learns what she does with light the big tool & then color then form and appropriates them to his own use.' Perhaps 'light the big tool & then color then form' is more like Hemingway. Eakins has the reformist impatience, in any case, of an American determined to make things new, to clear out the antique clutter. If he went to Greece to live, he goes on to his father,
Review, 3325 words
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