Life
MacColl was born in Glasgow and educated at the University of London and the University of Oxford between 1876 and 1884. He also studied at the Westminster School of Art and the Slade School under Alphonse Legros between 1884 and 1892. Although an accomplished watercolourist, he is best remembered as a writer and lecturer on art. From 1890 to 1895 he was art critic for The Spectator, and for Saturday Review from 1896 to 1906. MacColl became a member of the New English Art Club in 1896, and edited the Architectural Review from 1901 to 1905.
He published the authoritative book, Nineteenth Century Art, in 1902 and his biography Philip Wilson Steer was awarded the 1945 James Tait Black Memorial Prize. In his journalism and books he was a major advocate of the French Impressionists, and was influential in spreading their ideas and shaping public attitudes in Britain towards favouring Impressionism. From 1906 to 1911 he was keeper of the Tate Gallery and, after the retirement of Sir Claude Phillips, the Wallace Collection from 1911 to 1924.
Dugald Sutherland MacColl died in 1948 in London. A Memorial Exhibition of his work was held at the Tate Gallery in 1950.
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Famous quotes containing the word life:
“After us they’ll fly in hot air balloons, coat styles will change, perhaps they’ll discover a sixth sense and cultivate it, but life will remain the same, a hard life full of secrets, but happy. And a thousand years from now man will still be sighing, “Oh! Life is so hard!” and will still, like now, be afraid of death and not want to die.”
—Anton Pavlovich Chekhov (1860–1904)
“The symbol of perpetual youth, the grass-blade, like a long green ribbon, streams from the sod into the summer, checked indeed by the frost, but anon pushing on again, lifting its spear of last year’s hay with the fresh life below. It grows as steadily as the rill oozes out of the ground.... So our human life but dies down to its root, and still puts forth its green blade to eternity.”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)
“Toiling,—rejoicing,—sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees its close;
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night’s repose.”
—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1809–1882)