In Dublin, they have tongues in their heads, and use them. Last week Art Critic Arthur Power, after looking at Jack Yeats's latest show, spoke up: "His figures look at their worst as though eaten by some hideous disease, or at their best as if they had had an unfortunate encounter with a bacon cutter. . . . His success is tempting young painters to copy his careless methods and so robbing them of all integrity."
Unlike his late, great brother, Poet William Butler Yeats, Jack Yeats suffers such attacks in dignified silence. After all,...
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