Judge, 1917-05-05 · page 11 of 30
Judge — May 5, 1917 — page 11: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This story satirizes artistic vanity and self-delusion. Henry Arbuthnot Pickens, a young painter, completes a portrait of an idealized woman that he considers his masterwork. He becomes so protective of it—refusing to show it to the critical Harkness—that he treats it with quasi-religious reverence, tiptoing away "as one who departs from the presence of Divinity." The title alludes to the biblical phrase "feet of clay," meaning hidden weakness beneath an impressive exterior. The satire targets Pickens's inflated ego and his need to shield his work from any scrutiny or criticism. His obsessive behavior—leaving the painting shrouded, dining distractedly afterward—suggests he's more in love with his own idealized vision than with reality. The waiter's final comment hints that Pickens's emotional turmoil stems from romantic disappointment ("some dam girl"), suggesting his artistic "creation" is really just wish-fulfillment—a projection of his own desires rather than genuine artistic achievement.
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THE HANDWRITING ON THE WALL , Peea O F Cc LA Y ca might come to life and be his; and 7 And so Py hat which By F. GREGORY WARTSWICK prayed to Zeus that his statue of G: athing, before him alatea stood liv took on the rosy hues of flesh, and ENRY ARBUTHNOT PICKENS, the rising young “Tl show her to Harkni * he said to himself.“ Hark- H painter, ed upon his finished work. He had put his ness couldn’t do a thing like that to save his life! I'll call soul into that painting, and the result was worthy of his | him——” he sed, He knew how the coldly critical Hark, efforts. Henry Arbuthnot Pickens admitted as much to his ness would look at the picture, and he was sensitive about inner Cosmos as he looked at the girl who glowed upon the can- displaying his ideal to that gaze. The idea of Harkness’ glance vas. He let his eye run luxuriously roving over that beauty and pointing out minute flaws in the over the details of the vision he — work angered him like a profanation. “I'll be hanged if I had created; he noted the perfect. Jet that human refrigerator.approach her!” he snorted. “I lips, the clear blue ey the — know just what he'll say—‘H’m-m-m! Not so bad—but why glory of the hair—that magnif- did you do this, and why didn’t you do that—’ Gr-r-r!” icent crown of reddish-gold that With a snarl he ceased his derisive mimicking and drew a had puzzled him for so long. till cloth reverently across the face of the canvas. ‘No one but he had achieved his desire almost myself shall see you,” sighed Henry Arbuthnot Pickens. “The as the result of happy accident others are not worthy. Goodbye—for this evening!” in mingling his colors. With He tiptoed to the door as one who departs from the presence no guide save his imagination of Divinity. One last glance back at the shrouded form in the he had brought out of the dim — center of the studio floor, and he softly closed the door behind land of dreams and fixed forever the spirit and the body that him and went out into the twilight had haunted his sleep for weeks past. Henry Arbuthnot He dined lightly and abstractedly. Somehow food was not Pickens restrained a desire to fall upon his knees before his what his soul craved. He left the restaurant with the meal own work. unfinished, tipping the waiter half the amount of his check. “TI didn’t think I could do it!” he breathed. My vision— That individual jingled the coins and remarked to the chef out my girl o’ dreams!” of that deep knowledge of human nature which is vouchsafed For Henry Arbuthnot Pickens was not only the rising young to waiters and ambassadors in high places. “That guy’s been painter; he was the rising very young painte bit bad. Some dam girl, I'll bet a cooky.”