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43& all round it, fading & falling, low, desolate grey like with sand dunes &green with gr wild flowing grasses which even across the water seemedto be running away into silence, into wildness, into some eternaleternalcommunion of their own, withsilent unimparted, with thesky & the sea.It was this view that her husband loved;she said&now, she said, artists had come, & there indeed, only a few pacesMr. Archer?off, for they had reached the harbour, sat stood the usual painterin panama hat & red tennis shoes, painting seriouslyflickeringmerrimentwhich wasalso wild& heartlesssoftly, absorbedly, with an air of profound intent on his roundweather beaten face, dipping - gazing, & then when he had gazed,dipping;His picture, like almost all that painted there inthe island; was a little spectral. Since the visit of Mr. Pauncefortthree years ago, was a little green & grey with a lemon coloured boat & adistantpink lady; but Mrs. Ramsay who was at a remove from pictures,whoshe criticised art almost entirely from the point of vas she supposed her grandmother's friends would have criticised it, &the tipimbuing hisbrush with inin some soft ?moundpink or greynowhad imposed amethod, or point of view,could tell yo many a tale of the difficulty these great menhad had in keeping their colours damp.First, she told Mr. Tansley, there was the business of grinding thepaints: next they had to be soaked in salad oil.Foramong her grandmothers friends, there were many whomixed their own colours,It was a fact that seemed, tofirst ground them, then soaked them in salad oil; & it was thisattitude which had, was not very critical of this school, &Mr. Tansley was impressed by the extreme ?derision/?decision with which shepronounced against Mr. ?Beasley's lighthouse, directly they were outof hearing.