The Continental Monthly, Vol III, Issue VI, June, 1863, page 149 by Various Authors
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reth speech, and night to night showeth knowledge. * * * He hath set his tabernacle in the sun; and he * * * hath rejoiced as a giant to run the way: His going out is from the end of heaven, and his circuit even to the end thereof: and there is no one that can hide himself from his heat.' This artist seems literally to have dipped his brush in light, pure light. We remember a juvenile book, entitled, 'A Trap to catch a Sunbeam;' such a trap must Gifford possess; he surely keeps tubes filled with real rays wherewith to flood the canvas and transfigure the simplest subject. Here we have a mountain, a lake, some sky, clouds, and a setting sun--but what an admirable combination! The picture seems fairly to illumine that part of the gallery in which it is placed. Had the artist lived in the olden time, he might have been feloniously made way with for his secret, but the present age seems more generous, and his fellow workers delight to praise and honor his genius. We find from the same hand 'Kauterskill Clove' (No. 15)--a flood of golden beams poured upon a mountain glen, with rifted sides, autumn foliage, and a tiny stream; a coming storm obscures but does not hide the distant hills. A bold delineation--but very beautiful, and true to the character of the scenery it represents. There are also a reminiscence of the present war ('Baltimore, 1862--Twilight,' No. 409), and one of foreign travel ('Como,' No. 385), equally suggestive of--not paint--but real, palpitating atmosphere.
No. 49. 'Mount Tahawas, Adirondacs'--J. McEntee, N. A. A picture of great simplicity and grandeur, and one we should never weary of looking into, waiting for the opaline lights of dawn to deepen into the full glory of day. This, like all the works of McEntee we have had the good fortune to see, bears the impress of a poet-soul. A vague stretching forth toward the regions of the infinite, a melancholy remembrance of some enduring sorrow, a tender reminiscence of scenes peculiar to certain heartfelt seasons of the year, a hazy foreshadowing