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THE CRISIS

I have come to see you."

He appeared surprised and non-plussed. After a pause, he said, "Please come in," and then, "Won't you sit down?"

I sat down, nervously, in a chair and he took one facing me. He broke the silence by asking in quick succession—"How did you find me, and what do you want to see me about? Why didn't you write to me before coming?"

"I did write, several times," I replied. "But I never received a response. I'm an art student, one who has always admired your work. I guess I just wanted to meet you and for a long time I've looked forward to this possibility. I decided to trust my luck and to come anyway."

"Well," he said, "There are many American tourists coming to Paris these days and many Negoes are among them. Some were always dropping in on me when I was in Paris. This was, for the most part, time-consuming for me and pointless, since some of these people had little interest in, or knowledge of, what I was doing. These interruptions were too much so I came out here where I now spend most of my time. I live alone, my wife having passed away some years ago. We have a son, a civil engineer, now on assignment in Persia. I'm expecting his return in the near future."

Then, smilingly, he continued. "I must tell you that when I met you at the door I was somewhat reluctant to receive you. I asked myself: 'What! A tourist out here and at this time of year!' But you looked too innocent and too young for that so I relented, out of curiosity, I guess."

After a chuckle Mr. Tanner got up to put some coal in the small stove which stood in the center of the room, then proceeded to busy himself at a table, rearranging some books and papers. I took this occasion to study him more closely. His color seemed a swarthy yellow; he was normal in height and build, a bit on the slender side; his hair was sort of tousled and of a salt-and-pepper gray, the Van Dyke beard just about pure white.

He wore a shirt of flannel (so it seemed) of an ochre-brownish color. His trousers were dark blue—grayish blue, perhaps—and his shoes appeared a bit heavy yet elegant in style.

He returned to his chair and laid the books and papers he had brought with him from the table, on the floor.

"So you tell me you are an art student and have come here evidently to continue your work. But before we talk about that, I would like very much to know what's happening in America in the world of art. Who are the painters of importance, what are the trends?" (I was certain he already knew!)

"Well, there are two major trends I can mention although there seem to be various ones. I am thinking of Impressionism, two examples of which are found in the work of painters Childe Hassam and Alden Weir. They all seem to be Paris-influenced. I suppose you could call painters like John Sloan, Robert Henri, and George Luks as belonging to an older tradition, but they are very active and are among some of the better known leaders in art circles."

"It sounds like Paris today," he remarked, "Although the moderns here are rising in importance in spite of the older fellows. So if what you say is true, America hasn't changed much—still following the parade."

"But they seem to be searching..."

"Very good, but one can search and find even in tradition."

"In the old tradition?"

"Possibly, but if a painter has something sound to offer, he can be a radical innovator and still remain in the tradition. Mind you, I did not say 'Academy'."

I remained momentarily silent, speculating on the difference.

"Well, now, tell me just where are you studying art?"

"At the Academie Moderne and at a small school called the Academie Scandinave."

"Making progress?"

"Not too much. They seem to be doing the same things I did back in Indianapolis."

"Such as?"

"Drawing from the model."

"The old Julian Academy used to be a fine art school but I hear it has changed along with the others."

"Perhaps it has, but I wasn't impressed when I visited it in the hope that I might attend its classes."

"I SEE YOU HAVE a folio there. Want to let me see what you have inside?"

"I would, indeed, if you have the time and the patience."

"Let's see it."

Nervously I untied the strings, removed several sketches from the folio, and, with trembling hands gingerly laid them out on the floor. He leaned

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