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Show Artists of Bohemia Revealed In New Light Writer Tells of Men and Women Either Not Sufficiently Suf-ficiently Bright Or Too Bright for This Particular Period (Bohemia is an unexplored land to most of iih. We have read of Bo-hernlam Bo-hernlam or heard of tliein nnd laughed .it those represented by "long haired men and short haired women " Qeorge A. Scott has written the following from I x t n I r, 1 1 nf the Reh' tnin he knows there.! Bj .l 34 IRGE 5M TT I The average person knows imio or nothing of the lives of unknown ar,-I ar,-I ists. An artist is generall) unknown for two reasons lie is either not suffl-l Iclently brllllanl or too brilliant for his I period He cbyetS BUCCeSS as much aSj i most people, but success nn only! bring him happiness when the making I o f It has been a joj . not a labor, to him. It la a great thin: to earn one's dally bread through the medium of a natural voatlon. Such success brings I ;with it the happiness enjoyed of a, navvy after -i hard day's work Such, happiness Is Ideal. I LIFE'S TR w.l DIES. There Is only one reall) great trag-! edy In life a tragedy infinitely more painful than the pangs of hunger and that is ihe tragedy of people who I have never hod the courage to burn their boats. The tubes, omnibuses and' tramcars are alive with them. They' are dreadful to look upon, for they. ;are all trying, inside. This whlte-fanged spring of ours, which lures the daffodil to beauty. 1 lonly to shrivel It u In a M of spies..' a moment later, h.s caught many a proud struggler napping. It Is dlffi- cult to work with congealed exlreml-: ties. Coffee houses and cabmen's rests do not produce the right kind of fug for fuliginous expression Atmosphere jis everything. It is quite easy to work' iln a room full of noisy Strangers, Suclv in a i rnospbei . is -ln.-il t , that which pervades the splendid isolation of one's own gorret Mift coffee houses and taverns are Invariably full of friends; the kind who will willing make one drunk, yet are Insulted at the Idea of lending half B dollar. Heaven preserve the artist from hi friends! STORY, There is always hope for a man who has succeeded tn placing himself on a pedestal of profound, not lofty, idealism. Unfortunately. h,s wretched stomach, the wolf of the body. Intervenes, Inter-venes, crying out for its dally prey. Often, against his will, with his mission mis-sion ln life unfulfilled, he d!e6. His la an ignoble death. It Is easy to imagine what does not exist. The difficulty Is to Imagine What does exist. This Is the highest form of art and engenders the spirit of true bohemlanism. An illustration' The poor old weather seems to be entirely under (he thumb of our m -teorological experts Thene on' e drove a couple of reel people Into a d-'i ed hut. A cat followed them in. and the wind like an angr - ladj's truln. swepl the dead Leaves in after them Thej shared their bread with the cat The hut became colder and colder 'a8 they crouched o .-r i ii empty grata I Presently there Appeared glow a? (from two green-hot coals, and they warmed their hands I fame dawn, and the cat purred up al them from the deserted hearth, its eyes looked quite normal by day. It's an old story. They were real bohemlans Nothing like the velvet: coated varletv who Infest the more fashionable suburbs, and. In their III-Kolten III-Kolten studios, prostitute n art they do not possess. Their earnings amount to a private Income, so often tc downfall of artists who have never been compelled to COaS comfort from the granite of lit"" with bare knuckle The velvet i bats are pitiable, Th y catch handi and dance round a Per- slun riiK laden wiih sc, , , : k. s i n i in sipid, polsonously diluted claret. And they shout with the world, and to each other 'We are Bohemians ! We write dog gerel and paint ofnOCOlate bOXeS Wh.-n people get tired of rhymes and i hoco-j lutes we shall Starve. Won't that b Jolly?" the i.i an mo And when they walk down the street i or Sit with their colored concoctions ln some West End cme their vers clothes shriek the same sorrj refrain: "Can't you see that we are bbhem-lans, bbhem-lans, and th'- ugat of ihe earth? Ixiok j well, ye ,'hiiistines: Such pigmies never starve The haven't th irage. The old studio, with its broken roof. Is rarely exchanged for a ti iii ii -Mon In Slay fair. 1 know such o on well. The coal bucket has b uncom fo'i table to sit upon, for i' 'H full; so full thut the beautiful vagabond vaga-bond Illy woman who formerly graced . has fled Because she was a real person she chose a stockbroker. Luxury. In n dilapidated studio, broke her heart, so she elected the other extreme goose-feather goose-feather beds, geysers and sundry other oth-er dangerous horrors. And there the story' begins. Success ean be sucn i tragedy. It Is forever threatening '! poverty-stricken great, like a gilded chimera 1 found the deserted one apparent ly unmoved He was merely crylnn Inside. Her vicious little black cat scratched him. and he had not the heart to retaliate. In spite of the coal, the studio air stabhtd me like a dagger. dag-ger. One's heart breaks at least once every day. How could one laugh otherwise oth-erwise ? |