Judge — November 14, 1931 — page 30: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

—eapnoene Bi LEG-o-maTIC BRIDGE SETS FOR THE MODERN Automatic table... All legs op close with one .. Compact, comfortable folding chairs have the appear- ance of real chairs. RIGID «:- SIMPLE BEAUTIFUL Seid At Leatng Drpetmrnt Sees LORRAINE METAL MG CO, 252 FOVETN AVE, MEW FOR, HE The Handiest Light in the World Amiga. Two. fy stonds, hangs on the wall, or clomos onywhere LONG ISLAND'S FOREMOST HOT OPEN ALL YEAR 40 MINUTES FROM NEW YO! COLE -TEMMIS MODERATE RATES: city JAM BLAM THE GARDEN CITY HO CABDTM ¢ my 283 The New Note (Continued from page 9) But I'll try. To begin with, I believe that all art is Relative. Do you follow " T sat down gi chair. Relative to what?” I said, Aunt Carrie looked proudly at the young man, who also lit a cigarette and | began to stride up and down, frown- ing. gerly on a quiv- “ uy, Relative to itself, of course. By that I mean that every ob- ject is cither Mass, or Line, or Spirit. You know—the old Dauphinot idea. But he never developed it, and that’s what I’m doing.” “It's never been done before, Hu- bert.” said Aunt Carrie, noddi “For instance,” said Mr. de Bris- sac, around his toothpic you look at that table th me exactly what you se “A pile of papers that look like bills,” I said, donning 1 “suppose e and tell glasses. » no, no.” He strode over, swept the papers into a wastebasket with an impatient hand. “I> mean those other objects.” “A glass,” I said. “A woman's shoe. A paint-box, A can of salmon.” “No,” he cried triumphantly. “No, There,” echoed Aunt Carrie. “You see, Hubert, you don't get it at all.” he devil I don’t,” I retor bok at 'em yourself. A glass. A- it’s the old way of looking. You must remember: everythir Relative. Now: J look at the sa things, and what do J sec? I se bottle of wine, A sunset. A “A pink whale, maybe a school of barracud He looked hurt, then tolerant. He turned to my aunt. “You sce, dear —it is quite hopeless, with a lay- It is another language.” “Please, Hubert, try to understand. This is Real. Revolutionary.” Her eight hundred shares of Tel. rolled providentially glasses. A woman's red lips. * I said acidly. “Or y before my I calmed myself. Mr. de Brissac regarded my efforts through his prominent, rather gummy eyes. He smiled at Aunt Carrie. If he starts to kiss her hand again, I thought, I'll stuff that shoe down his thro . “What I am trying to have you see,” he said, “is that everything is Relative to its common denominator. That there must be an attempt to de pict Mass as Spirit, and Spirit as Line. Surely that much is simple.” “It sounds so to me,” I admitted. “Have you any illustrations? “Surely.” He fished out a canvas that had the general appearance of a Spanish omelette. In its center, where the slice of tomato normally nestles, comicbooks.com