Page 47 - Studio International - May 1965
P. 47

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                                                                                     atmosphere,  although  fairly  austere  and  one  guesses
                                                                                     behind  this  discretion  the  taste  for  slow  meditations,
                                                                                     together  with  an  attentive  silence.  He  does  not  look
                                                                                     any  more  for  a  novelty  which  can  startle,  but  lives
                                                                                     within  himself.
                                                                                      His  work  could  have  finished  there,  found  his
                                                                                     achievement  in this  serenity  more and more  detached
                                                                                     from fashions,  more and more solitary and all impreg­
                                                                                     nated by intimate poetry.  Suddenly, towards 1954, we
                                                                                     witness  a  deep  transformation,  a  phenomenon  of  a
                                                                                     new  found youth  which  is  frequent  in  great  painters.
                                                                                     Cubism was not, for him, an end within itself, a formula
                                                                                     in  which  he  would  have  wanted  to  shut  himself  in
                                                                                     and make a career of it; it was but a passage, a brilliant
                                                                                     and  profitable  exercise,  even  if  the  artist  seemed  to
                                                                                     have  pushed  it  aside  from  his  memory  during  the
                                                                                     following  years,  he  keeps-maybe  unconsciously-its
                                                                                     deep marks; he took from it the taste of simplifications,
                                                                                     the right to transfigure the 'real' to attain a reality other
                                                                                     than  that  of  photography.  The  moment  has  come  to
                                                                                     utilise both his gifts and his knowledge.
                                                                                      Hayden is  then  seventy  years old;  he thinks  that  he
                                                                                     has gone to the maximum of the 'possible'  in the road
                                                                                     which he  pursues  since he has detached himself  from
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