Independents' 28th

Artists--388 of them--who take no back talk from art juries had a field day in Manhattan last week. They belonged to the Society of Independent Artists.

Visitors to their latest (28th) show, at American Fine Arts Society Galleries, were stunned by a blitz of colors, jostled by a rag-tag army of sculpture. Female nudes hung cheek by jowl with Biblical allegories, surrealistic enigmas, affectionate rural landscapes. There were sculptured paintings, painted sculpture. Exhibits were price-marked from $5 to $10,000. At week's end there had been seven sales.

Most literary picture was The Letter, a water color by Lucien Ribera showing a minutely realistic man's hand, whiskey glass, deck of cards, engagement ring, and a letter ending: "and so I am returning the ring. Try to understand."

Even more interesting than many of the pictures were the Independents' titles and price-tags. Samples: The Startling Discontinuity of Spatial Existence ($750), / Have Lived ($125), Death to the Fascist Snake ($150), Terror ($200), My Wife (not for sale). But there was nothing as startling this year as Alida Conover's picture of a cow on fire a dozen years ago.

The Independents exhibit the work of anybody who can put up the $5 entrance fee. This year's exhibitors included a bartender, several housewives, a cowpuncher, a brassiere manufacturer, an Internal Revenue agent. There was also solid work by such established artists as Jose de Creeft, John Sloan (Independents' President), John Taylor Arms, Walter Pach.

Independent Society members worry little about practical jokers. But last week an apocryphal tale of a joke on the Independents was causing chuckles on Manhattan's art-conscious 57th Street. According to the story, two wags put a paintbrush in the hands of an intelligent child of two, tried to enter the result in the Independent show. The painting was rejected. Reason: too academic.

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