MARTIN STAINFORTH : AN APPRECIATION 



By W. J. STEWART McKAY. 



NEXT to a fine picture of a lovely woman there is nothing perhaps 

 which more strongly appeals to the aesthetic sense than a picture of 

 a splendid thoroughbred horse. This accounts, probably, for the 

 vogue for pictures of racehorses by Herring and artists of lesser 

 note, which existed in England during the last century. 



These pictures, however, when scrutinised with the critical eye of to-day, 

 are found to be full of inaccuracies and exaggerations. For example, many 

 of us are more or less familiar with the style of picture frequently displayed 

 in old English inns, and, more rarely, in our own country. The horse is 

 almost invariably depicted as standing in a stable with a small feed-box in one 

 corner, his muscles bulging out and his contour greatly accentuated by the 

 aid of unaccountable lights and shades. Every animal was shown with a 

 ridiculously small head, tapering legs and tiny feet. Again, the horse may be 

 shown in action, galloping, his ears well back, legs stretched out to their 

 fullest extent, and the animal a foot or more clear of the ground, while in 

 the background a few spectators in top hats appear watching "The Devil 

 doing his gallop." 



Still another phase in these sporting pictures was the introduction of the 

 owner and trainer as in Hobbs' painting of "Eclipse," and Herring's picture 

 of "The Flying Dutchman," or a number of horses racing in the familiar 

 stretched-out attitude, the jockeys sitting bolt upright with arms fully extended. 

 In the background are seen the winning post and a long line of excited 

 spectators. 



The greater skill of present-day artists, coupled with the advent of 

 the cinematograph (which has provided them with the means of study- 

 ing the horse in motion), has been responsible for some wonderfully 

 accurate and lifelike portrayals of the more prominent of our equine 

 celebrities, it may be said with little fear of contradiction, that among latter- 

 day artists, few, if any, have been more successful in horse portraiture than 

 Martin Stainforth. His pictures usually represent a horse as possessed of 

 irreproachable manners, standing quite still, and of exemplary docility. But 

 when he leaves this favourite pose and gives us the racehorse in action his art 

 achieves supreme heights. 



An Englishman by birth, Stainforth came to this country in 1909 

 and now claims to have served a sufficient period of probation to entitle him 

 to be an Australian by adoption. A year or so of station life with his cousin 

 in North Queensland inspired him with such enthusiasm for the outdoor life 

 and our genial climate that a return to London was out of the question, so he 

 decided to come to Sydney, there to indulge a long-cherished ambition to 

 paint Australia's thoroughbreds for which he had conceived so warm an 

 admiration. 



I am the fortunate possessor of Stainforth's picture of "Artilleryman" 

 finishing in his memorable Melbourne Cup. The horse is shown going at top 

 speed, quite off the ground, with his legs well under him. The drawing is 

 absolutely correct, and shows that there is at least one phase of the gallop 

 which is graceful and sightly. But his finest interpretation of the moving horse 

 is to be seen in his great picture of the most exciting finish in a classic race 

 ever seen at Randwick. It was a memorable meeting of four champions in 

 the Craven Plate of 1918, v/hen the faithful Cetigne, ridden by Albert Wood, 

 forced his way through a chance opening at the last moment and snatched 



