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WOMAN IN ART well, we may know that the artist understands the structure of her complicated subject—that she is a botanist as well as an artist.

The azalea, especially the wild, pink variety, has as many or more difficulties for the artist as the orchid, its blossoms being in a more clustering form, resembling somewhat the honeysuckle.

A little toddler of two and a half years was left with her grandmother on a Sunday afternoon while the parents strolled up a spur of a Vermont mountain, taking their way along the edge of an uncut wheat field. Reaching the upper edge of the field, they paused for rest and the view. Through the tall wheat there was a moving line, yet no wind to cause it. For more than half the distance the grain was parted to let a small creature pass before the father and mother discovered it was the child they had left behind. She made a bee-line for them, but assured of their company, her unbounded delight was the masses of pink azaleas along the rail fence and among the great boulders, just a long, irregular covering of the mountain side with exquisite bloom, prodigal alike of its beauty and fragrance. The child could never forget that vivid experience. It has added to the beauty of living.

Miss Key was an artist who painted most acceptably those difficult flowers. A few names will give an idea of her ability: "Iris and Tulips"; whoever loves the glories in shades would delight in "Red Phlox"; "Consider the Lilies" seems indeed a sacred flower among her flowers; "Lilies and Hydrangeas" made an effective composition, and her roses of yellow and white bespeak them queen of flowers.

Mabel Key was born in France, of American parents, in 1874. The Academy of Fine Arts of St. Paul, Minnesota, conferred honorable mention on her water colors in 1915, and the following year her flowers won the silver medal at the same academy. In 1917 the Art Institute of Milwaukee made honorable mention, and in 1919 she was granted a silver medal also.

Lucille Blanche, seemingly, throws a complexity of colors on her canvas and then picks out in strong tones flowers in the foreground that do her great credit. Not always does she use this method, as with a bunch of fluffy asters in a decorated pitcher on a checked table cover, seen against a paneled wall—her first method is far more effective.

In contrast to the above, Agnes Pelton paints flowers as she would a portrait, single blossoms in gorgeous colors and exquisite texture. It matters not how brilliant or how dainty the hues, her work is known as a truthful likeness and a lovely picture. 183