There is a quality about his work in this medium which gives it
a peculiar distinction. Always instinct with the most subtle and
delicate feeling, there are occasions when his expressive line
does more than satisfy. It arrests: revealing in its simple
transcription of pose or expression a significance which had previously
escaped our shallow observation, but of which the truth is forced
upon us. By comparison, one feels that, despite the fine finish
of his pencil work, in the latter medium he loses, to a certain
extent, the opportunities for that incisive sureness--so suited
to his own unerring vision--which pure line affords him. Consider
the drawing (on page 32) of the girl singing in a Paris _cafe_.
There is no dependence on aught extraneous for the achievement of
the effect sought. Yet here, if ever, a human soul is laid bare
in all its naked tragedy.
[Illustration: WORKING PARIS AT LUNCHEON.
_From "Paris and some Parisians"_]
For sheer power in the art of drawing, Frank Reynolds has few equals
and no betters. As a draughtsman pure and simple, he seems to me
well-nigh perfect, whether he has pen, pencil, or stump of charcoal
in his hand. It is the great merit of his work, as it appears to
me, that it depends for the achievement of its intention solely
on its own intrinsic qualities. It has no tricks, no mannerisms,
no "fakements" to distract the attention and conceal weaknesses.
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