Harry Jackson is a stocky man of 36 who sports a beatnik beard, wears a handsome pair of cowboy boots, and is just about as restless as an artist can be. Ten years ago he was hailed as one of the most promising newcomers to the New York school of abstract expressionism. But last week he had on display at Manhattan's Knoedler Gallery a series of brilliant little bronzes of cowboys and cattle, proving himself an apt pupil at an older school, that of Frederic Remington.
As a boy growing up in Chicago, Jackson had two passions: drawing and horses. A headache...
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