be left out of account as its effects have been considerable in many
directions and may be said to have had an enormous influence upon the
art of Whistler. Despite, however, the marvellous skill of Japanese
craftsmanship, owing to the fantastic spirit of their design, and
the absence of the steadying and controlling influence of stone
construction in their architecture, their art has had more effect upon
our impressionistic school than upon our arts and craftsmen, and it is
rather by the work of the latter type and the movement it represents
that the art of the close of the last century is more distinctively
characterized.
The study of Japanese art, however, leads us back to its source in
the graver and more serious art of China, where its prototypes may be
found in nobler forms.
The opening of the twentieth century has brought great
changes--changes in the aspects of life, changes in the temper of the
nation. Action and reaction which govern the world, also influence the
world of thought and of art. The pendulum of taste swings between the
classic and the romantic moods and modes. It has of late swung
again towards the classical side and manifests itself, as regards
decoration, in the vogue of plain white walls, classical columns and
pilasters and cornices, and an almost puritan fear of any other kind
of ornament. When colour and pattern _are_ indulged in they mostly
show a reversion to the fashions of the early Victorian age of French
origin or pre-Morrisian types. What was once denounced as hideous has
now become old fashioned enough to be found historically interesting.
In painting, what might be termed a cult of the ugly, indeed, seems to
have fascinated many of our vigorous artists. This may be the result
of a reaction against early Victorian prettiness, and quasi-classical
elegance. There has also been a decadent influence at work in our
latter-day art. This also manifested itself in that strange decorative
disease known as "L'Art Nouveau," which some writers have actually
asserted was the offspring of what properly considered was really
its antithesis--the Morris school of decoration. Some of the forms
of "L'Art Nouveau" may have been the result of the translation into
continental modes of some kinds of British, or rather Scottish,
design, initiated by certain designers of the Glasgow school, and
it is in this direction, I think, that we should be more likely to
discover its true genesis. To father it on the Morris school is much
as if one were to say that impressionism was a development of the
pre-Raphaelite movement, whereas it was a reaction. The followers of
both schools, no doubt, sought to restate natural fact or phase, but
on totally different principles and in absolutely opposed terms of
art.
With the passing of the impressionist masters, again, we see a counter
movement in what are called the "post impressionists." Here, again,
principles, methods of conception, observation, selection,
and execution are totally different. There are many different
individualities, and their works are so diverse that it can hardly
be considered a concerted movement in painting, though, regarded
collectively, it appears to be a reaction against previously accepted
canons or standards in art. Yet curiously enough there are suggestions
of the influence of early Byzantine work and of Roman mosaic in the
work of some of these painters, the mosaic method of producing form
and colour by the juxtaposition of small tesserae or cubes, being
actually followed as closely as possible in some instances, by laying
on paint in small squares or parallelograms. By such means a
certain effect of vibrating light is obtained, but it seems rather a
misapplication of the method, and would be more satisfactory to work
in actual mosaic and for the artist to avail himself of the decorative
beauty which the conditions of working in that material would give.
The movement, so far as it is sincere, appears to be a reflex in
art of the feeling which is apt to possess members of a civilized
community occasionally--the feeling which urges a man to break away
from the restraints and formalities, as well as the comforts and
luxuries of modern life, and seek a return to nature or the bed-rock
of existence in the backwoods, or some primitive country, where a
simple life is possible.
It also reflects a view which has a certain influence among
educationalists--a desire to realize and to possess the unprejudiced
unprepossessed attitude of a child's mind and its outlook and vision
of nature and life. There is a charm in the _naïveté_ of primitive art
of all kinds which is akin to the charm we often find in children's
drawings. In seeking to cultivate artificially such a mental
attitude and its expression in art, however, there is the danger of
affectation, and even the sincerest efforts in that direction may give
the impression of being affected; also, when, as is nearly always the
case in our time, the question of art becomes hopelessly mixed up with
the question of commercialism, and personal interests, and crossed by
waves of fashionable caprice, like the wind blowing where it listeth,
it becomes exceedingly difficult to discover the proverbial "hair"
which "perhaps divides the false and the true."
Another point to be noted is this, that whereas the trend of
impressionism in art has been towards the opposite pole to conscious
and formal design, among some of the painters of the newer school
there appears to be a feeling towards its recovery to some extent,
at least, there is evidence of the desire to regard a picture as a
pattern of colour which necessarily involves some sort of arrangement.
This may be some indication of a return to sanity and a desire to
restore the art of painting as an art of design.
But over and above all these movements and varieties the desire for
something antique seems to be dominant. The old masters eclipse the
moderns in painting; and in decoration and furniture, if genuine old
work is not to be had, the closest imitation is in demand, and the
tone of time must, if possible, be anticipated in counterfeit. Mr.
Hardcastle, in "She Stoops to Conquer," would be quite in fashion with
his old house and everything old in it.
Apart from the trade interests no doubt concerned, this love of
antiquity growing side by side with the most rapid development of
mechanical invention and the consequent transformation of the aspects
and habits of life, is a curious fact and seems to show, so far as it
is genuine, the growth of an unsatisfied historic sense or feeling
for romance, which at one time seemed threatened with extinction in a
utilitarian world.
This taste for antiquity in all things, however, is often very
artificial in its manifestations, and does not lead to any keener
appreciation of good contemporary art, but rather encourages the
simulation of past styles than original invention, which does not seem
quite healthy.
Another recent development is the taste for pageantry. This is in
itself another indication of the revival of the love of romance and
antiquity, perhaps, and may to some extent have also encouraged that
revival.
Certainly in pageantry we have a popular and picturesque means of
vivifying past history, and encouraging a knowledge of and pride in
the story of their own country among our people which could hardly be
gained from the study of books or pictures alone. Historic episodes
arranged in dramatic form enacted by living men and women, with all
the vivid effect of life and movement, and heightened by all the
resources of costume and heraldry and accessories proper to each
period, the scenes, too, taking place in the open air, with green
swards, noble trees, and the wide sky for proscenium leave an
ineffaceable impression upon the eyes and minds of the spectators.
But what is wanted is a wider appeal. We might make the pageant a
means of centralizing and unifying national life. We should not be
content to limit such shows to a means of raising money for charitable
objects, or as an expensive amusement for the few; we should aim
at making our pageants free public spectacles in which the people
themselves should co-operate. Mr. Frank Henson and Mr. Frank Lascelles
have done and are doing excellent work in this direction. Every town
might have its commemorative processions in celebration of certain
important local historic events, especially such as illustrate the
growth of the great structure of English Freedom.
If we consider the amount of artistic and archaeological knowledge,
the training and discipline involved, the opportunities for personal
distinction, and the cultivation of the sense of beauty in the
externals of life, we have in the pageant a very important educational
factor of far-reaching influence, and a powerful means of unifying
public sentiment and public spirit, and fostering the national
character.
ART AND THE COMMONWEAL
AN ADDRESS DELIVERED AT ARMSTRONG COLLEGE TO THE STUDENTS OF THE
SCHOOL OF ART
[Illustration]
ART AND THE COMMONWEAL
AN ADDRESS DELIVERED AT ARMSTRONG COLLEGE, NEWCASTLE, TO THE STUDENTS
OF THE SCHOOL OF ART
Art in our time is regarded from many different points of view--for
instance, (1) as an accessory in general education--generally some
way after the fact; or (2) as the servant or slave of commerce and
industry; or (3) as a polite amusement for persons of leisure; or
(4) as a profession or means of livelihood; (5) as a luxury only for
persons of wealth and leisure; or (6) as an investment or speculation;
or (7) as a necessity of life and its indispensable accompaniment and
means of record and expression.
Art may be, and indeed actually is, each and all of these at the
present moment, but, apart from economic and other considerations,
the latter is the larger and truer view of the function of art, and
it necessarily, too, includes the first, or educational value, which
cannot be over estimated.
The education of the eye is second to none in importance if we
consider it fully in all its bearings, but this is far from being
generally sufficiently realized (or ugliness might come to
be considered a crime), and as the first avenue of human
intelligence--though the mouth perhaps might make out a case for
priority, its interests are singularly neglected. It is true we have
the words "unsightly" and "eyesore," which seem to recognize that the
eye is capable of being affronted or distressed or even wounded by
hideous objects; this perhaps is something, but for all that the eye
has to be a very tolerant organ in these days.
The best test of power or accuracy of observation is drawing, and
power of drawing is the basis of all art, which might in all its
varieties be described as different kinds or degrees of drawing; what
is painting but drawing in colour and tone? What is modelling but
drawing in relief or in three dimensions? What is weaving pattern but
drawing in textile? And so with each artistic craft by means of which
beautiful form and colour is created, each after its manner is a
method of drawing, and, as a matter of fact, each is actually based on
a drawing as a preliminary stage of its existence.
Great, then, is drawing. It has now taken a place in our ordinary
educational course as a "compulsory subject" although it must be said
that amid the innumerable subjects with which the modern student is
expected to be crammed a very small proportion of time is generally
allowed for its pursuit--a pursuit indeed which generally ends in
catching it like a mouse, by the tail, for it appears that about
two hours a week is the time spent in the drawing classes of some
colleges. This does not seem to give much chance to either teacher or
student of drawing! Nevertheless, as one who has examined the results
of such drawing, a certain power of simple definition of form in an
abstract way appears to be acquired,--the capacity, varying a good
deal, to give in simple bold chalk outline the salient characteristics
of some common object, or living form, such as a piece of pottery,
a flower, a bird, a fish. Even regarded merely as an aid to the
comprehension of an object or subject, drawing is obviously of the
greatest practical use. In the newer methods of teaching to read the
word is accompanied by the pictured object, for mere brain-puzzling
has no place in any national educational system.
It has been said that the _worst_ drawing of an object gives a clearer
idea of it than the best verbal description. That seems rather rough
on literature! But there is a good deal of truth in it. It is just
this definiteness of statement in a drawing which makes it so
valuable an exponent of form and detail, whereby its services
become indispensable in demonstration and description, and therefore
invaluable to all teachers. If anyone can draw an object in
ground-plan, in elevation, in longitudinal and transverse section, and
give its appearance in silhouette and in light and shade, he will
not only learn all about the form, character and construction of the
thing, but will be able to impart his knowledge to others.
To begin with, then, from the purely practical point of view and
regarded as an aid in education, the chief aim in the study of drawing
is to acquire knowledge of form and fact and the power of describing
or demonstrating them. We cannot therefore be too definite and need
not be afraid of being hard, even from the art-student's point of
view. Studies should be studies, thorough and searching. But drawing,
pursued as an introduction to the world of art, may lead the student
on through a course of practically endless evolution and development,
as he perceives that it is indeed a language of a most sensitive and
varied kind, of many styles and methods, which, though beginning with
simple statements of fact and form, may become in gifted hands an
instrument of the most powerful or delicate feeling and an exponent of
character and a vehicle of the imagination, having a rhythm and
beauty peculiar to itself. Consider the amount of beauty that has been
expressed by means of outline alone, from early Egyptian work to the
exquisite figures of the Greek vase painter, or to the flowers and
birds of Japanese artists. In these instances, as in all the best,
drawing is united with design,--only another kind of drawing. We
happen to have the words Drawing and Design in our language, and they
signify distinct things, because of course there is drawing which
may be simply copying or transcript, and there is drawing allied to
invention and imagination, drawing with the mind, with ideas as well
as with the eye and hand, which becomes design. I heard of an artist
endeavouring to define design the other day, and he said. "Well, you
make _a think_, and then you draw a line round it." It is certainly
thought that makes the difference.
When we come to composition we perceive that line has a further
function and significance, and it becomes an important factor in that
harmonizing, unifying process which is involved in making a design of
any kind. This is not merely an indulgence in idle or aimless fancy,
but is the outcome, over and above its imaginative quality, of meeting
certain conditions, such as the object and purpose of the work, its
material, and the necessities of its production. There is a certain
logic, too, in the language of line which the designer is bound to
observe, and he soon sees that in committing himself to a particular
form or system of line in his design of composition that form cannot
stand alone but has to be counterbalanced, led up to, and allied with
corresponding lines and forms, or perhaps emphasized by contrasts.
Now in pictorial composition or anything of that nature, a design
is complete in itself, the plain surface-panel canvas, or paper it
covers, determines its proportions and definite limits and the
only necessary technical considerations resolve themselves into
the necessity of unity with itself and suitability to the process
employed. But whereas the pictorial artist or picture painter carries
his own work through to completion, is designer and craftsman in one;
in short, the designer for some industrial purpose, unless he is his
own craftsman, must make his design also a working drawing to conform
to certain strict technical conditions, such as the nature of the
material and the method of reproduction, certain limits of size and
number of colours to be used and so forth. His work is not complete in
itself, but is a draft for a process of manufacture, and depends for
its ultimate success, beyond what beauty it may possess, upon the
completeness with which the technical requirements have been met and
upon the co-operative labour of perhaps a multitude of craftsmen.
With the establishment of modern competitive capitalistic commerce
and industry, the factory system, division of labour, and machinery,
designer and craftsman have been widely separated, to the detriment of
both. Shops are no longer workshops, but only _dépôts_ for the display
of the finished products of industry, so that the public remain
largely in ignorance of how and where and under what conditions things
are made. Even building, which was said to be the only craft carried
on under the public eye, is now largely a mysterious process developed
behind hoardings and posters. As to machinery, I do not deny that it
has its uses or that wonderful (and sometimes fearful) things have
been produced; the commercial output is prodigious, in fact, modern
existence has come to depend upon machinery in nearly every direction,
but the machines themselves remain as a rule far more wonderful things
than the things they produce, and the less machinery has to do with
art the better. Machinery has been called "labour-saving," but the
immediate result of its introduction has been to throw people out of
work--labour-saving in the sense of taking their work from them, or
the bread out of their mouths. Profit-making being the real object of
modern manufacture, the cheapening of the cost of production becomes
more important than human lives. Everything appears to be sacrificed
to the Moloch of Trade, which, according to our public men, is the
_one_ object of a nation's life. Yet trade on the competitive system
is devouring itself--or being devoured by monopoly, which again
devours the people. There seems some danger of humanity being
considered to exist for trade and not trade for the service of
humanity.
The old idea of a self-supporting country producing the necessities of
life for its own use seems only appreciated by Socialists.
These thoughts bring one to that aspect of art I spoke of at the
outset, as the servant or slave of commerce and industry.
Until the revival of design and handicraft in this country during the
last twenty-five or thirty years, decorative design, despite a few
distinguished artists, such as Alfred Stevens, might certainly be
described as the slave of commerce, and even now the revivers of
design and handicraft are not altogether free from the danger of being
devoured by commercial methods.
However, a protest has been made, the hand and the brain have asserted
themselves; a new standard in the decorative arts has been set up,
and since the time of William Morris and his group of pioneers, many
English artists and craftsmen have shown that they have successfully
revived and can do beautiful work in many forgotten crafts.
In founding the Arts and Crafts Exhibition Society we desired to give
opportunities of personal distinction for artistic work in design and
craftsmanship, to put designers and craftsmen in the same position as
other artists, such as painters and sculptors, before the public in
this respect by giving the names of all responsible executants of a
work. Here, again, trade interests and competitive commerce have been
against us, although commerce has not been slow to imitate or adapt
some of the ideas in taste and design discovered in our exhibitions.
However, the movement has spread all over the country, Arts and Crafts
Societies and Exhibitions flourish everywhere, and the art schools
of the country have been largely reorganized and craft classes
established in connection with design. After many years' work some
of us think that so remarkable a movement might attain something like
national recognition, and its progress or permanence not be left
to depend upon the efforts of a few hard-working artists, with
ever-diminishing opportunities for exhibition, in the absence of a
suitable building. Painting and sculpture, and in a lesser degree
architecture, are officially recognized and housed rent free at
Burlington House. Why should the decorative arts have nowhere to lay
their heads?
After all, it is these arts, intimately connected as they are with a
people's daily life and well-being, that may be said to be really of
more immediate consequence than what are called the Fine Arts. Though,
personally, I do not admit the justice of the distinction usually
accepted between _Fine_ and Decorative or Industrial Art.
Art is a language--of many dialects it may be, but its greatness must
not be measured by inches, or the power or beauty of its thoughts and
conceptions determined by the material or method of their expression.
The spirit of art, imagination, romance, and the sense of beauty may
inspire the smaller accessories of life as they may the larger. It is
not a question of size or quantity, it is a question of quality.
As regards the art schools of the country, both state-aided and
municipal, whatever their shortcomings, it is only fair to say that
they have been from their establishment the only means, outside the
efforts of individual artists, of maintaining a standard of artistic
taste and accomplishment in decorative art, as distinct from the
influences of trade and fashion.
It has often been made a reproach that they have not been in closer
touch and association with the industries of the country, but schools
of art and technology cannot be turned into factories with the sole
object of supplying the immediate demands of ephemeral fashion--often
trivial and vulgar. This would only end in the raising of a crop
of narrow specialists, incapable of producing more than one sort of
thing, to be exploited by commerce, and unemployed when the boom was
over. The business of a school of art is to train capable designers
and craftsmen, competent both to practise and to teach. The progress,
both in taste and accomplishment, shown by the works exhibited every
year in the national competition under the auspices, first of the old
Science and Art Department and now of the Board of Education at South
Kensington, is most remarkable and striking, especially to one who can
look back twenty or thirty years. Yet we are still without a proper
building in which to show these works, which are generally housed in
temporary sheds in an out-of-the-way corner, and consequently attract
little public attention.
Turning now to the more theoretical side of art, and regarding its
general purport and social influence, it would appear as though
every age--one might almost say each generation--demanded a different
interpretation of life and nature, being inspired by different ideals;
for the forms of art depend upon the aims and ideals in the mind of
artists, who are but children of their age and reflect its thought and
sentiment. Pictorial art being the most popular because more intimate,
direct, and immediately concerned with the aspects of life, is perhaps
more sensitive to such changes of thought and sentiment than
other forms of art. This accounts in a great measure for the
constantly-shifting point of view of the painter in dealing with the
aspects of nature, for instance, if we compare the work of one age,
or one school with another, or examine the differences of treatment by
different individual artists.
Whereas religion, and the beauty and splendour of life have of old
largely inspired painters, nowadays it seems as if the interest was
centred upon the wonder and dramatic variety of the world, the aspects
of life in different countries, vivid and instantaneous presentment,
individual impressions, snap-shots of nature. No doubt the photograph
has had a great influence both upon painters and the public. The
public eye must be largely influenced by the photograph, but the
photograph in the hands of some of its professors has lately taken
to imitate the effects and methods of artists. So that it is turn and
turn about.