CHAPTER VIII
Swank's popularity on the island. Whinney's jealousy. An artistic duel. Whinney's deplorable condition. An assembly of the Archipelago. Water-sports on the reef. The Judgment.
Whinney and I were surprised to find that the islanders took Swank more seriously than they did either of us. Of course, since the Kawa's forcible entry into the atoll premier honors were Triplett's, but Swank was easily second.
The curious reason was that his pictures appealed. I think I have indicated that Swank was ultramodern in his tendencies. "Artless art," was his formula, often expressed by his slogan—"A bas l'objectif! Vive le subjonctif." Whatever that means, he scored with the Filbertines who would gather in immense numbers wherever he set up his easel.
This was due in part to his habit of standing with his back to the scene which he proposed to paint and, bending over until his head almost touched the ground, peering at the landscape between his outspread legs.
"It intensifies the color," he explained. "Try it."
Baahaabaa bestowed a title on our artist—"Maimaue Ahiiahi"—"Tattooer of Rainbows"—by which he was loudly acclaimed. Whinney and I used to sing, "He's always tattooing rainbows!" but artistic vanity was proof against such bourgeoisie.
Baahaabaa was tireless in suggesting new subjects for him to paint. One day it would be a performance of the Ataboi, the languorously sensuous dance which we had first seen in the women's compound; again he would stage a scene of feasting, at which the men passed foaming shells of hoopa from hand to hand. A difficulty was that of preventing the artist from quitting work and joining his models which Swank always justified by saying that the greatest art resulted from submerging oneself with one's subject.
"Look at Gaugin!" he used to say.
"But I don't like to look at Gaugin," I remonstrated.