John Duncan Fergusson

Foreword:

Fortunately, John Duncan Fergusson is in Europe, which makes his introduction to America a rather simple matter. There is no telling how it would be accomplished with Fergusson around. He is one of those dour, wind-bitten Scots—at least three parts granite. As well shakes hands with Ben Lomond.

Such as Fergusson despise the gab and grimaces so necessary to further acquaintance. I’m sure that he is glowering at these restrained remarks of mine. For he is as blunt and straightforward as his work, and the only person who can tell him anything is a man named Fergusson.

A famous London critic once said of him: “I know of no living painter with a more profound feeling for the music that is in color. The joy of life and the joy of stating it is everywhere in his work.” Yet Fergusson’s work represents a very high boiling point. He is not the one to faint at every sunset. But when he does respond it is thrilling.

This is his first comprehensive American showing. Characteristically, it has been a long time getting here. Fergusson is around fifty-two years old and his exhibitions in Paris, London and Glasgow have been important events for a long while now. His recognition is fairly ancient…

Charles MacArthur