The Fine Arts in 1999.
The art of Color-photography perfected in 1920. The world's
great artists witness the death-knell of art. The doom of cheap
chromos. Nature paints her own matchless pictures. The sculptor's
art remains supreme in 1999. No machine can ever chisel a Venus
de Milo. No substitute found for the human voice.
Painting, in 1999, had become a lost art, doomed, alas, never to
revive. The glorious canvases of the old masters were still highly
treasured. There still existed artists who threw their entire souls
into beautiful paintings, superb creations of their artistic minds,
true in every detail to nature. Although painting as a high art
still existed in 1999, yet, as a profession and a means of obtaining
a livelihood, it died very much after the manner of wood engraving,
when the half tone process was perfected and had come into general use.
In the year 1912, after many struggles and disappointments,
Prof. Deweyton, of the Montpelier, (Vt.) University, perfected the
process of color-photography. This coveted secret, at last, had been
wrested from nature. For centuries her beauties had been admired
but never had she consented to transfer her own original colors on
photographic plates and canvas.
When the art of color photography was perfected, the world then had
little use for [The Passing of the Artist.] easels, palettes and
painters. Nature became the Artist of the world and none dared to
dispute her sway. At first it was with a feeling of sadness that
the world parted with the art profession and its devotees, men and
women who had imparted to canvas the world's historic scenes, the
portraits of the world's great men, enchanting, noble women. The
works of these great artists had delighted the children of men for
many centuries. Raphael, Titian, Michael Angelo, Correggio, Guido,
and other famous artists, had bequeathed their glorious treasures
of art to a grateful world, and even color photographic pictures
done by nature's own hand cannot rob these eminent artists of an
iota of their fame. It was sad to think that after the discovery of
color-photography great artists would lose their prestige, for none
can rival nature in her own art.
This new process of Nature painting rendered to the world an invaluable
service by [The Chromo Affliction Subsides.] driving out of the
market a flood of cheap pictures and chromos of the most inferior
class; pictures that had crept into many homes simply because they
were cheap. These afflictions, too often paraded with flash moulding
on the walls of our homes, were driven out by color-photography. In
1950 the old-style chromos were rare; they quickly disappeared from
the habitations of men.
Through the specially constructed cameras of Prof. Deweyton, life
size pictures [Glorious Sunset Views.] were secured, large landscape
scenes, magnificent marine views, were reproduced with the exact
colors of nature. Superb sunset views, in a matchless wealth of color,
a revelry of gold and crimson, were transferred to canvas by natural
process in 1920. This process became the great art triumph of the
twentieth century. No human hand had ever attempted with any hope
of success to reproduce on canvas the bewitching and mystic effects
of the gloaming. Nature with her master hand, dared to reproduce, on
canvas, this most difficult of all artistic studies. Michael Angelo,
the supreme chief of all living or dead artists, never attempted to
reproduce on canvas Vesuvius in active eruption. No human power could
do the faintest justice to such a scene and no master of the art ever
cared to risk his reputation in the attempt. But in color-photographs
Nature reproduced the exact colors of the seething flames as they
belched forth from the quivering crater. In 1930 a magnificent picture
of Vesuvius, Ætna or Stramboli in active eruption could be purchased
for the pitiable sum of $50. So perfectly natural were the volcanic
flames that the effect was startling. The lava [Could Almost Smell
the Sulphur.] running down the mountain side apparently threatened
to set fire to the very walls of the room. A picture of this kind,
a feeble representation painted by some eminent artist, would cost
over $10,000.
The process of color-photography proved invaluable in reproducing
human features and expression. Nothing could exceed the perfection the
art attained in 1935. Photographic studios were crowded with work. No
skill of man had ever transferred to canvas the maiden's blush, that
emblem of purity, a shade Divine which mantles the brow of innocence
only. The cameras of 1935 proved equal to that delicate task. The maid
caught blushing in color photography blushed on, alas, forever. In
detecting criminals, the new art proved invaluable. The Rogues'
Gallery was soon filled with studies in life and deviltry, so natural
that one's first impulse was to reach out for a pair of handcuffs.
Although painting, in 1999, and long before that date, had received
a severe blow, the sculptor's art remained unchanged. The sculptor
was still supreme in his domain. No machine had yet been found that
could take a block of pure Parian marble and carve out a Venus de
Milo. Nature had invaded the artist's studio and robbed him of an
honored profession, but nature, great and mighty as she certainly
is, had not yet, in 1999, found a way to fashion a block of cold
marble into a thing of beauty, an exact image of life. Statuary was
still regarded in the twentieth century as the acme of true art. The
sculptor had not yet been dethroned; it is doubtful if he ever will
be. The new and most ingenious machines of the twentieth century met
their Manila on statuary. No machine can ever [Limits to Inventive
Genius.] be built that will reason or think. It requires thought,
judgment and artistic taste to create a statue. As the artist beholds
a perfect model, he becomes thrilled with the love of his art. His
heart and hands are guided by fires of ambition and his work excites
admiration. The human brain is often duplicated by machinery, but the
equal of the human heart, with its subtle emotions, must ever remain
a Sealed Book to cold, unfeeling mechanism.
The same might be said of the human voice. In 1999, that peerless gift
of God to man, that wonderful channel through which all emotions
are expressed, had not been uprooted by mechanism. The Pattis,
Nordicas and Melbas of the twentieth century were still held in high
esteem, commanding princely stipends. The domain of all mechanical
music, however, had been invaded to a large extent. Pianos, organs,
orchestral and metallic instruments, which had attained a high degree
of perfection in the nineteenth century, were generally discarded
in the twentieth century. The tendency of the age favored mechanical
music. The automatic musical instruments, which in 1889 had already
attained a certain degree of perfection, were greatly improved. In the
navy cornet bands were discarded and were substituted by large musical
machines that played operas, marches, quicksteps, waltzes and patriotic
airs with wonderful accuracy, with a volume of sound surpassing the
best efforts of efficient brass bands. In the army, the brass band
always held its own. The men who composed the band could march and
fight, while no automatic substitute could be made to do this.