Even the Irish have never made much of their own art; James Joyce once called it the cracked looking glass of a servant. The fashions of London, Rome and Paris were often reflected, secondhand and second-rate, in Irish painting. This week a Manhattan gallery exhibited the work of twelve Irish painters, who reflected not Europe but Dublin, the ragged hills of Connemara and the midlands around Tullamore.
Most of the twelve had found their own styles during the war years, when neutral Ireland was left to stew in its own juices. They shared a liking for landscape, and misty Irish lightlike Patrick...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
