Oswell Blakeston
In attempting to pay tribute to Edwin Smith, I am faced with an unusual problem - I do not know which of his virtues to praise first. Edwin was artist, architect, toy-maker, photographer; and, in each creative sphere, he cast a light which illuminated some aspect of imagination, fantasy or tenderness.
The miraculous way he could produce endless original drawings of untiring invention and ingenuity was in itself amazing; but this superb facility was only part of his genius, for these thousands of little drawings were backed by a world view. Walpole wrote that the world is a comedy to those who think and a tragedy to those who feel: Edwin both thought and felt, and the world for him was simultaneously tragedy and comedy. For instance, he could love a rogue, a fool or a genius for playing his part, for being so ridiculously a rogue, so sadly a fool, so nobly a genius. It was this comprehension which gives all his work another dimension apart from the instant appeal. It is both wit and wisdom.
He was always a fine craftsman. He never believed
that the shoddier and less co-ordinated a work of art, the more "life" :
He knew life at a profounder level. So, in life, he could deal with
almost anyone : rationalise the drunk in a pub, soothe the bogus medium,
entertain the pundit, because he had so much to give and was not afraid
of giving, a giving which indeed contributed to his own spirit.
I suppose
I am, among the survivors, one of his oldest friends. For me this is
a matter of great pride.
From the catalogue produced
to accompany the exhibition
'Aspects of the Art of Edwin Smith' at The
Minories,
Colchester in 1974.
