the shelving rocks he painted so often and with such insight and power,
when I suddenly said: “Homer, do you ever take the liberty, in painting
nature, of modifying the colour of any part?”
I recall his manner and expression perfectly. He stopped quickly and
exclaimed: “Never! Never! When I have selected the thing carefully I
paint it exactly as it appears.”
During our talk he emphasized, however, the importance of selection.
“You must not paint anything you see--you must wait and wait patiently
for a particular effect, and then when it comes, if you have sense
enough to know it when you do see it--well, that’s all there is to
that.”
At another time, referring contemptuously to the calm ocean under a
vacant sky, he said: “I take no interest in that.” There came, however,
one morning while I was at Prout’s Neck a misty and threatening sky.
Grey clouds bewitching in their silvery tones went hurrying across the
troubled sea. By noon it was blowing a gale and the waves were lashing
the coast, sending spray high into the air. Once and again great clouds
of mist drove across the deserted rocks, and the music of old ocean
rose to an ominous and resounding tone. Presently Homer hurried into
my room, clad from head to foot in rubber, and carrying in his arms a
storm coat and a pair of sailor’s boots. “Come,” he said, “quickly! It
is perfectly grand.”
For an hour we clambered over rocks, holding fast to the wiry shrubs
which grew from every crevice, while the spray dashed far overhead.
This placid, reserved, self-contained little man was in a fever of
excitement, and his delight in the beautiful and almost overpowering
expression of the ocean as it foamed and rioted was inspiring. To him
this was the supreme expression of beauty and power. The moment he had
patiently waited for had come.
Homer’s love for and appreciation of those rugged, elemental qualities
in nature resulted in the production of forceful works of great beauty.
In the selection of subjects he expressed his individual taste.
[SN: _Henry W. Ranger_]
I recall an opinion expressed by the late Henry W. Ranger to the
effect that Tolstoi’s definition of art had never been excelled. He
referred to Tolstoi’s definition of art as the power to pass on a
sensation. Ranger maintained the opinion that art is the expression
of the individual’s feeling, that the artist uses the facts of nature
to express his own sensation and that no great landscape was ever
painted directly from nature. “The technical difficulties,” he said,
“and the rapidly changing effects made it hard to paint out of doors.
He could do better by depending upon his memory.” It was his opinion
that the deeper qualities were secured in the studio; that nature only
furnishes the hooks upon which the painter hangs his work; that he
in reality expresses his own feeling, the poetry or sentiment which
is in himself. Ranger here describes a vague or not clearly defined
quality which is referred to as personal temperament. His opinion is
in direct contradiction to the almost universal testimony of painters
and sculptors, and Ranger himself in his practice failed to maintain
it. Although he did not complete his works in the presence of nature,
he made many sketches from nature and copied his larger canvases from
these.
I think Ranger at the end of a long career had the power of discovering
beautiful qualities in nature and of seeing them profoundly. I knew
him well, and many times we discussed art and artists. I found his
knowledge broad and intimate. His view that a painter simply passes
on a sensation was repeated to me many times. I think one may frankly
agree with this opinion, but I do not think a painter originates or
creates a sensation. In the presence of nature he simply receives it
and then transmits it, the result being dependent upon his natural or
acquired power of perception, his memory, and his technical ability.
Ranger’s paintings are characterized by an understanding of nature,
and this was the result of a lifetime of the most earnest, patient,
and persistent study. Probably no modern artist was more industrious,
for his studio was filled with studies in colour and many thousands
of pencil drawings. Indeed, so familiar was he with the colours and
characteristic forms of nature that he frequently reproduced these
with much delicacy, relying solely upon his memory and a few accurate
pencil notes. In discussing his method, I recall his remark that he
painted in the studio because he could get closer to nature that way
than by painting out of doors. Painters universally understand the
difficulties of painting in the open because of conflicting lights.
They also realize the more certain judgment of the experienced eye when
painting in a quiet or more subdued light; but to do this requires
great knowledge and a retentive memory.
As illustrating Ranger’s method of study and his reliance upon memory,
I recall an occasion when he studied long and patiently the union
or combination of two colour notes, the sky and water--for we were
sailing at the time. He remarked upon the beautiful harmony expressed
by these colours. He studied them intently, evidently with the thought
of reproducing them later. I also remember a painting expressive of the
charm and beauty of a moon-light night. It was painted at his Noank
home. I believe this picture was painted almost wholly in his studio. I
think it was the result of an infinite number of impressions received
as he studied, evening after evening, the ocean and the sky. By this I
mean that while Ranger in this painting was passing on a sensation, he
was only passing on the truth and beauty of nature as realized by him
night after night, and recorded in his memory.
The point here raised is one of vital importance with reference to the
subject under consideration. It is that the painter does not express
anything he has not received. He pursues one of two methods: he either
secures beautiful qualities in the presence of nature or he reproduces
qualities stored in his memory.
[SN: _John La Farge_]
John La Farge referred to these two methods, the one by which the
painter works directly from nature and the other by which he depends
upon his memory, and his opinion bears directly upon the point raised.
La Farge wrote: “He [the painter] will then go again to nature, perhaps
working directly from it, perhaps only to his memory of sight, for
remember, that in what we call working from nature--we painters--we
merely use a shorter strain of memory than when we carry back to our
studios the vision that we wish to note. And more than that, the very
way in which we draw our lines, and mix our pigments, in the hurry of
instant record, in the certainty of successful handling, implies that
our mind is filled with innumerable memories of continuous trials.”
As La Farge points out, the difference between painting in the presence
of nature and painting from memory is only a different span of memory.
One painter pursues one way, another a different method. The end sought
is the same.
[SN: _Segantini_]
Giovanni Segantini’s method was to go to nature _finally_. He began his
paintings in the studio, working from studies, and finished them in the
presence of nature. I recall a delightful visit with this able Italian
painter at his home at Maloja, and also his interesting description of
his method. His art was little known at that time, some twenty years
ago. His works are now well known to art lovers throughout the world.
I had but recently seen his “Ploughing in the Engadine” at an
exhibition in the Bavarian capital. It impressed me as possessing a
very vital quality. The technical manner seemed at that time strange
and unusual. Like worsted, the colours stretched across the sky.
The earth clods were small strands of colour, revealing, on close
examination, a rarely prodigal palette. This phase of Segantini’s art
interested me on the purely technical side. The effect of the picture
was startling. It was like a breath of fresh and fragrant air from the
mountains of Switzerland.
It was following this impression received from his painting that I
visited the painter at Maloja. Leaving Chiavenna early one morning,
the coach slowly climbed the mountainside and, presently, crossed the
apex of the range. There lay at our feet the beautiful valley of the
Engadine. I carried away from Maloja many delightful impressions,
but the two dominating all others were these: the earnestness of the
painter, and his unwavering dependence upon nature.
He showed me large drawings or cartoons of some of his well known
subjects representing the arrangement of the compositions and the
balancing of the various parts of his pictures. The drawings were
made in crayon and suggested in line the technical treatment of
his paintings. From these sketches he transferred the drawings to
canvas. In this way he saved time and labor. When a drawing was thus
transferred to a canvas he carried the canvas to the scene of his
subject, where he painted invariably directly from nature. When I asked
if he ever completed a picture in the studio, he said: “Absolutely no!
I always finish my pictures in the presence of nature.”
Segantini spoke his last word, if I may adopt this form of expression,
in the very presence of and under the influence of nature. This to him
was the supreme moment in the execution of his work.
[SN: _Anton Mauve_]
Another illustration of the method of a great painter in relying upon
his memory for the truths and facts of nature is found in Anton Mauve.
Mauve’s power is unquestioned. He was one of the great modern Dutch
painters. His pictures are always direct and forceful. His knowledge
of nature was profound. This knowledge was the result of effort and
study. Among his early drawings are found studies from nature which,
in spirit, are wholly unlike his later productions. They reveal Mauve
as a student of nature who was untiring in his effort to draw minute
details with unflinching accuracy. I recall pencil studies of sheep,
horses, cows, and plants which have rarely ever been excelled in the
delineation of detail, not even by a master draughtsman like Barque.
Mauve’s knowledge of nature acquired by this method was intimate and
deep. His later manner was based upon a solid foundation. It was
by this knowledge he was enabled to depict the more characteristic
forms with a few hastily drawn lines. He knew well how important are
broad, essential masses in art and he rendered these, eliminating
non-essentials and trivial details. His sense of design or appropriate
balance of parts was keen and sure; nearly all his pictures possess
the distinguishing quality of simplicity. Like Ranger, he preferred to
paint his pictures in the studio, but his reliance was, in the highest
sense, upon nature.
I recall a visit to Mauve’s country, a country of sand dunes and
pastures. These he loved and painted. One of Mauve’s students, an able
etcher, was probably more familiar with the artist’s method than any
other person. “His [Mauve’s] best pictures, before Laren,” he wrote me,
“were all made in his studio from memory, aided with sketches in chalk.
Then he went every day, if possible, to the spot he had sketched, to
study the effect, the ‘moment,’ and he tried to fix that impression on
his canvas when back home.”
[SN: _Rodin_]
Let us turn from the art of the painter to the art of the sculptor.
Probably no modern sculptor has taken a higher place in the estimation
of his fellow artists than has Rodin. As expressions of his art, his
“Thinker” stands at one extreme end of the scale and such graceful and
beautiful forms as “Eternal Spring” at the other. It is interesting,
therefore, to know that Rodin has acknowledged his absolute dependence
upon nature for the widely divergent expressions of character rendered
by him. He is quoted as saying: “Seeker after truth and student of
life as I am, ... I obey Nature in everything, and I never pretend to
command her. My only ambition is to be servilely faithful to her.”
“I have not changed it [nature]. Or, rather, if I have done it, it was
without suspecting it at the time. The feeling which influenced my
vision showed me nature as I have copied her.”
“If I had wished to modify what I saw and to make it more beautiful I
should have produced nothing good.”
“The only principle in Art is to copy what you see. Dealers in
aesthetics to the contrary, every other method is fatal. There is no
recipe for improving Nature.”
“The only thing is _to see_.”
“The ideal! The dream! Why, the realities of Nature surpass our most
ambitious dreams.”
_Opinions of Philosophers and Writers_
The opinions here referred to are those of masters who have produced
works of art. They seem to be supported by the opinions of able
writers and philosophers who have dealt with this subject. If the
opinions of these writers are less authoritative, they are nevertheless
important as representing the thought of profound scholars. They cover
practically the entire period of writing upon art. While diversified in
the manner of approach, they will be found to unite in a common theory.
These writers naturally deal with mental processes; with the attributes
of the mind; with the philosophy of the subject.
[SN: _Schopenhauer_]
Schopenhauer defines genius as pre-eminent capacity for contemplation
which ends in the object. “Now,” he says, “as this requires that a
man should entirely forget himself and the relations in which he
stands, genius is simply complete objectivity, i.e., the objective
tendency of the mind, as opposed to the subjective, which is directed
to one’s own self--in other words, to the will. Thus genius is the
faculty of continuing in the state of pure perception, of losing one’s
self in perception, and of enlisting in this service the knowledge
which originally existed only for the service of the will; that is
to say, genius is the power of leaving one’s own interests, wishes,
and aims entirely out of sight, and thus of entirely renouncing one’s
own personality for a time, so as to remain pure knowing subject,
clear vision of the world--and this not merely at moments, but for a
sufficient length of time and with sufficient consciousness to enable
one to reproduce by deliberate art what has thus been apprehended, and
‘to fix in lasting thoughts the wavering images that float before the
mind.’”
Schopenhauer’s definition of genius is probably more accurate and more
logical than that of any other writer. In his opinion, genius is the
power of pre-eminent perception. The artist only exceeds his fellows in
that his perception is keener; that he is able to see and understand
more perfectly than others. When an able painter approaches nature in
this spirit, forgetting all else, as Schopenhauer suggests, the result
is usually a masterpiece. To such a painter is attributed the quality
known as genius.
[SN: _Taine_]
Taine defines art as the power of perceiving the essential character
of an object. Taine says: “The character of an object strikes him
[the artist] and the effect of this sensation is a strong, peculiar
impression.... But art itself, which is the faculty of perceiving and
expressing the leading character of objects, is as enduring as the
civilization of which it is the best and earliest fruit.... To give
full prominence to a leading character is the object of a work of art.
It is owing to this that the closer a work of art approaches this
point the more perfect it becomes; in other words, the more exactly
and completely these conditions are complied with, the more elevated
it becomes on the scale. Two of these conditions are necessary; it
is necessary that the character should be the most notable possible
and the most dominant possible.... The masterpiece is that in which
the greatest force receives the greatest development. In the language
of the painter, the superior work is that in which the character
possessing the greatest possible value in nature receives from art
all the increase in value that is possible.... It is essential, then,
to closely imitate something in an object; but not everything.” After
defining the essential quality by two illustrations--the illustration
of the lion and the illustration of the dominant characteristics of a
flat country like Holland, Taine continues: “Through its innumerable
effects, you judge of the importance of this essential character. It
is this which art must bring forward into proper light, and if this
task devolves upon art it is because nature fails to accomplish it. In
nature this essential character is simply dominant; it is the aim of
art to render it predominant.... Man is sensible of this deficiency,
and to remove it he has invented art.”
[SN: _Froude_]
Froude touches upon this point in his reference to the art of the
writer. He said he would turn to Shakespeare for the best history of
England because of his (Shakespeare’s) absolute truth to character and
event. “We wonder,” Froude wrote, “at the grandeur, the moral majesty,
of some of Shakespeare’s characters, so far beyond what the noblest
among ourselves can imitate, and at first thought we attribute it to
the genius of the poet, who has outstripped Nature in his creations.
But we are misunderstanding the power and the meaning of poetry in
attributing creativeness to it in any such sense. Shakespeare created,
but only as the spirit of Nature created around him, working in him
as it worked abroad in those among whom he lived. The men whom he
draws were such men as he saw and knew; the words they utter were
such as he heard in the ordinary conversations in which he joined. At
the Mermaid with Raleigh and with Sidney, and at a thousand unnamed
English firesides, he found the living originals for his Prince Hals,
his Orlandos, his Antonios, his Portias, his Isabellas. The closer
personal acquaintance which we can form with the English of the age of
Elizabeth, the more we are satisfied that Shakespeare’s great poetry is
no more than the rhythmic echo of the life which it depicts.”
[SN: _Baumgarten_]
Baumgarten concluded, from Leibnitz’ theory of a pre-established
harmony and its consequence, that the world is the best possible, that
nature is the highest embodiment of beauty, and that art must seek as
its highest function the strictest possible imitation of nature.
[SN: _Leibnitz_]
Bosanquet says: “The greatest degree of perfection was to be found,
according to Leibnitz, in the existing universe, every other possible
system being as a whole less perfect.”
[SN: _Kant_]
Kant deals with a phase of this subject which is of great interest.
In many strong works of art there remain incomplete and often
unsatisfactory details. These are permitted to remain because the
artist knows that to remove them would weaken or affect the strength
of the whole. These, Kant says, are “only of necessity suffered to
remain, because they could hardly be removed without loss of force
to the idea. This courage has merit only in the case of a genius. A
certain boldness of expression, and, in general, many a deviation from
the common rule becomes him well; but in no sense is it a thing worthy
of imitation. On the contrary it remains all through intrinsically a
blemish which one is bound to try to remove, but for which the genius
is, as it were, allowed to plead a privilege, on the ground that a
scrupulous carefulness would spoil what is inimitable in the impetuous
ardor of his soul.”
The genius here referred to by Kant is well understood and his power
is fully recognized, but he is not separated from his fellow craftsmen
except in the degree of his knowledge and ability. He is a man of
superior ability and power who, driving straight to the object of
his labor, represents character in a direct and forceful way. To
this end he brings to his assistance his superior technical skill,
but often in the very impetuosity of his ardor, as Kant suggests, he
leaves unfinished parts because he well understands that to labor over
these parts would be to reduce the force or power of the whole. This
impetuous manner which strives to render the character of the object
or person, or of the scene, or of the ephemeral effects of nature,
quickly and directly, is well understood by the painter. I recall a
large sketch of Daubigny’s owned by Mesdag, probably purchased from
the painter. This sketch represents a green hillside with a canal and
horses in the foreground. For absolute power and truth of beautiful
quality and colour it was probably never surpassed by Daubigny, but it
is what the public would call an unfinished picture. In truth, force,
and beauty, it might fairly be considered “inspired” as compared with
Daubigny’s finished or carefully painted pictures so widely known.
In this painting there are many unsatisfactory parts, such as are
referred to by Kant as “deformities,” but Daubigny well understood
that to remove them or to work over this sketch, which was doubtless
made rapidly in the presence of nature and under the influence of the
particular mood expressed by nature, would have weakened its power.
I recall another painting that will illustrate this point--a study by
Anton Mauve. This study was found among Mauve’s possessions after his
death, and was probably never offered for sale during his lifetime
because, in minor parts, it is incomplete. Rough lines of the original
drawing were permitted to remain. These are the kind of blemishes to
which Kant refers, but they do not detract from the supreme beauty
and power of the study. Indeed, this picture is considered by many
painters to be one of Mauve’s masterpieces, so true and just is it in
the representation of a momentary effect in nature. Mauve doubtless
recognized the importance of the study and refused to make corrections
of minor defects. I have been told that he replied to Weissenbrouck, a
fellow painter who urged him to finish this work: “I will leave it as
God made it in nature. It is finished.” Mauve had secured the broad,
essential truth of nature and with this he was content.
[SN: _Maeterlinck_]
Maurice Maeterlinck tersely expressed the same thought when he said:
“I myself have now for a long time ceased to look for anything more
beautiful in this world, or more interesting, than the truth....”
The reader will not have failed to observe the significant note of
agreement running through these opinions touching the importance of
selection, the power to perceive and select from among the multitude of
forms those which are exceptional or dominant.
“Pure perception”; “the faculty of perceiving and expressing the
leading character of objects”; “In nature this essential character is
simply dominant; it is the aim of art to render it predominant ...”;
these expressions of philosophers are in perfect accord with the
expressions of painters, as for instance, “The only thing is _to see_”;
or “our only chance lies in selection and combination.”
_Symmetry_
If what has been written is true, if art is but the revelation of grace
and beauty inherent in nature, the making plain that which is revealed
to the artist and obscure to the less observant, or to those with less
power, it still remains to account for the universal distinction in
form which characterizes all great works of art. Reference has been
made to the common factor of truth, but there is a second factor or
quality possessed by works of art, that of symmetry. This attribute
lifts a work above the commonplace and, combined with truth, places it
among the masterpieces of art.