The Truth About Lorin Jones Read Online Free PDF

of her work. And a gallery like this has a reputation to maintain, you must realize.
    It’s hard to answer that. I think what I saw was a certain confusion, a lack of control, a series of experiments that didn’t seem to be going anywhere.
    Of course, it might have been temporary, but unfortunately —
    Naturally, you have a right to your opinion. But I believe it’s generally agreed that those late paintings —
    How do I explain it? Well, I’m afraid it’s something one occasionally sees in an artist’s work. There is a brilliant debut, but no staying power. Take, for example ...
    Yes, to tell the truth, I do think that it happens more often with the women.
    No. As a matter of fact, in my honest opinion, there’s never been a woman artist of the very first rank.
    Certainly, Cassatt did some rather fine things. But even her best work is a bit derivative, isn’t it? And when you compare her to her contemporaries, her masters: Manet, Renoir. Well, now, really —
    O’Keeffe? Yes, she’s very popular just now. And of course she was a remarkable personality. But just between us, Miss Alter, isn’t there something a little forced there, a little slick? Those smooth flat surfaces, those creamy pastels; rather like the American advertising art of the thirties, I’ve always thought.
    No, I was very glad to show Lorin’s work. She had a definite talent, and her paintings were accessible. A dealer can’t always fill his gallery with masterpieces, you know.
    Well of course there are many anomalies in nature. I wouldn’t want to predict that there never will be one. But essentially I think it goes against the grain. It is the same in music and the theater. Women have been magnificent performers, oh yes. Singers, concert artists, dancers, actresses; because it is natural for the woman to display herself. But as composers, or dramatists — well, you know as well as I do —
    In literature, yes, to some extent. But then a novel or a poem is a kind of performance, is it not? And even so, the highest level of achievement is very rare. You see, it goes against the grain. A real woman, like my wife, she doesn’t have the impulse to create works of art; she is a work of art.
    Yes, I have heard that argument.
    Please, don’t mistake me. I said nothing about critics; women have excelled at criticism for centuries, unfortunately.
    If you want to believe that, of course it is your privilege.
    I really can’t answer that question, I’m afraid.
    I have no idea; and I do not sit here to listen to insults of my profession.
    All right, Miss Alter, you are sorry; very well. But excuse me, I don’t give you any more time now. I’m expecting a client.
    I suppose you could try calling my secretary next week. She may be able to set up another appointment.

2
    T WO WEEKS LATER, IN one of those West Village bistros that strive to resemble a country-house garden, with sandblasted brick walls, rough scrubbed pine chairs and tables, and rampant ivy and pink geraniums, Polly sat opposite Lorin Jones’s half brother, Professor Leonard Zimmern. It was the first time in months that she’d been alone in a restaurant with a man, and not her own idea. She had proposed interviewing Zimmern in his office at the university, but he had refused, saying that there would be too many damn interruptions. Maybe so, but it would have been more professional.
    From her dealings with him at the time of the show, “Three American Women,” Polly knew Lennie Zimmern to be a difficult person, moody and given to cutting remarks. He was tall and thin, with a short pointed gray beard like a man in an Elizabethan miniature, theatrical dark eyebrows, strongly marked features, and a sharp, ironic expression. So far today he had been agreeable enough; but why the hell shouldn’t he be? He was Lorin Jones’s nearest surviving relative, and the owner of all her unsold paintings; it was in his interest that they should become better known and therefore more and more