ABSTRACT
Maurice Sterne, who died in 1957, was a painter and sculptor whose work was exhibited in the principal cities of Europe and America, including the Metropolitan Museum, the Museum of Modern Art and the Tate Gallery of London. His memoirs were to be published within the next several years. To be misunderstood and ridiculed was the common lot of the masters of the nineteenth-century French Renaissance, but only Cezanne aroused hatred. Now, almost half a century since his death, a mighty chorus of adulation has replaced the one of condemnation. Painting, unless executed in frenzy, has become boring. Anyone can behold a bush on a lawn. To see it burst into flickering, crackling flames at the touch of a magic brush like Van Gogh's is a sight not beheld since Genesis. The painter must have judgment and perception in his approach to the art of others.
