ABSTRACT
In any exhibition of nineteenth-century painting the work of Gauguin seems to emerge with a distinction for which we vainly seek the appropriate word. “Monumentality” is one label conveniently waiting to be applied, but in a sequence that stretches from David to Toulouse-Lautrec there are several artists whose work it would fit—to seek no farther there are the neighbouring canvases of Cézanne and Van Gogh. If we stand back, and as far as possible take in the whole range of the gallery, the Gauguins are immediately noticeable by the weight and brilliance of their colours, and by a significance that is easy to read at a distance. In this sense they have the characteristics of a good poster—of one of Toulouse-Lautrec’s posters, to be precise. This at once suggests a depreciation, but in the same moment the glowing colours have reminded us of another kind of poster, the medieval stained-glass window, and our respect is restored.
