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Since the Contemporary 'So- ciety first startled Sydney art lovers, there have been several breakaways and, without offend ing ,.any one, the Sydney Group could probably be styled as one of them. The showing at David Jones' represents the Inaugural exhibition. The 'modern' Idiom, of course, has already produced its own crop of pot-boilers: in fact, it Is for
the most part no longer modern. 'There is certainly every danger that the artist who relaxes for a moment will find himself resorting to recipes; there are signs that this has already happened here. David Strachen is the most ob vious example, nor is Justin O'Brien's 'Husband and Wife' particularly fortunate. Jean Bell ette's classical figures, too, have become a trifle monotonous. On the credit side, mention should be made of two French landscapes by Eric Wilson, which possess definite quality; probably only Mr. Wilson knows why he should have turned from them to abstracts — or is it vice versa? These pictures show in a mark ed degree what is preoccupying most young painters to-day; an interest in surface texture. -In itself, it matters little, but the re sults are not always as happy as in this case. Technical tricks are the first and worst signs of the academician. Probably the most attractive ex hibits are four small sculptures by G. F. Lowers. A fairly regular contributor to Sydney shows, one thoroughly enjoys meeting each of his now animal and Insect characterisations. The Chris. Brennan memorial, while vast ly better than anything of a similar nature that has been done here previously, does not, . per haps, entirely convey the deep psychological intensity of that ex traordinary poetic mind. It has rather a Walt Whitman flavor.