One of the enduring myths concerning Seurat is that he was a scientist in his use of colored dots. No one did more to advance this view than Fénéon, a clerk at the War Office who moonlighted (in art historian T. J. Clark's words) as "the best art critic after Baudelaire." Fénéon greeted La Grande Jatte as a "scientific" advance over the merely slap-dash and "improvised" successes of Impressionism, and praised Seurat's cool, impersonal application of paint. "No brag in his brush," he wrote in his own telegraphic prose: "Whether it be on an ostrich plume, a bunch of straw, a wave, or a rock, the handling of the brush remains the same." Fénéon, who interviewed Seurat at length, borrowed the prestige of modern science in his description of the young artist's methods, which he dubbed "Neo-Impressionism." Ignoring similar effects of juxtaposed color in Delacroix, for example, he claimed that Seurat had drawn on modern color theory to create something altogether new. Seurat's intermingled dots of green and orange, while "isolated on the canvas, recombine on the retina," according to Fénéon, and "express the scarcely felt action of the sun" on grass. Signac spelled out a shared allegiance to color theory in this psychedelic portrait of Fénéon as top-hatted impresario, offering a make-love-not-war lily to the future.