ABSTRACT
Almost the last time I saw Aldous Huxley was at the Kokoschka exhibition. A tall, thin man paled by Califomian sun, who had cleverly mastered the calamity of extremely bad sight, he bent to look at small areas of the pictures, his eyes hardly more than a couple of inches from the surface. But not with the despair of those who see little. On the contrary, with the alertness of one who sees much, who is making new discoveries of texture under a microscope. Art and science-the socalled 'two cultures'—were the pursuit. He had the passion of the two kinds of seeing.
