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Show A GREAT WORK. The Reaiitifnl Work of Art Which Commemorates Com-memorates a Hiblieal Incident. ' The Morning of the Crucifixion," a painting from the brush of Mr. Astley D. M. Cooper, one of the foremostof America's young artists, is on exhibition at the K. of P. Castle on Main street, and a Times reporter re-porter called there yesterday to see it. The tirst impression one receives is of the magnitude of the work; and the next feature to rivet the attention is, of course, the figure and face of Christ. In his head of Christ Mr. Cooper has departed de-parted iu a marked degree from the well-known well-known and stereotyped ideals. In thisjfaee there is a most remarkable blending of sublime sub-lime resignation, patience, pity and infinite sadness, with a suble, but none the less strongly sensed expression of horror without fear, of agony devoid of physicai suffering, which makes this artist's conception as striking, as powerful and as impressive as it is original. From any distance there is no sense of crude ness in the work, and only the face varies, not in its kind, but in intensity inten-sity of expression. The pose of the figure is superb, the action is life itself. To the left in the near background stands one of the guards, his face swolleu with sullen rage, while on the right in the foreground fore-ground his companions face expresses an eager intensity of hate that is startling in its realism, and the effect is emphasized by the hand impatiently stretched forth to tear the garments from the victim's form. The mounted ccnturian, his hard, stern face set in a savage scowl as lie watches every detail of the preparations, is alone a study, while his horse seems alive to the hand upon the bridle rein. Again the mother Mary, faint-ins faint-ins with the grief and agony so clearly depicted de-picted on her face, is supported by Mary Magdalen whose eyes are on the divine form, her face full of horror and tender, pleading pity. Martha, too, is there, her pose, with the hair falling over her shoulders and averted face, suggesting, rather than betraying, the abandon of sorrow. And with it all, not a detail is lacking, from the grain of the wood in the Cross at Christ's feet to the crown of thorns and the nails so soon to pierce the flesh of the Marty:- of Calvary. And all through this artistic maze of perfect per-fect detail, form and color, light and shades, stands out in clear and bold relief the grand tigure and sublime, impressive, glorious face of Christ, the crowning effort of the artist's art. And it is more than a picture. It is a sermon ser-mon ia itself; the living, glowing embodiment embodi-ment of all that has been written or sung of the diviuity of Christ through all the ages that have come and gone since then. It is a story as well. A story of self sacrifice, of the one great victory of soul over body ; the story of that awful day on Calvary two thousand years ago, written in characters more memorable, more imperishable and more eloquent than tongue or pen can tell. |