The artistic appeals of the Panama-Pacific International Exposition
through architecture and the allied decorative arts are so engrossing
that one yields to the call of the independent Fine Arts only with
considerable reluctance. The visitor, however, finds himself cleverly
tempted by numerous stray bits of detached sculpture, effectively placed
amidst shrubbery near the Laguna, and almost without knowing he is drawn
into that enchanting colonnade which leads one to the spacious portals
of the Palace of Fine Arts.
It was a vast undertaking to gather such numbers of pictures together,
but the reward was great - not only to have gratified one's sense of
beauty, but to have contributed toward a broader civilization, on the
Pacific Coast specifically, and for the world in general besides. It
must be admitted that it was no small task, in the face of many very
unusual adverse circumstances, to bring together here the art of the
world. Mr. John E. D. Trask deserves unstinted praise for the
perseverance with which, under most trying circumstances, unusual enough
to defeat almost any collective undertaking, he brought together this
highly creditable collection of art. Wartime conditions abroad and the
great distance to the Pacific Coast, not to speak of difficulties of
physical transportation, called for a singularly capable executive, such
as John E. D. Trask has proved himself to be, and the world should
gratefully acknowledge a big piece of work well done. I do not believe
the art exhibition needs any apologies. Its general character is such as
fully to satisfy the standards of former international expositions.
It seems only rational that, with the notorious absence of any important
permanent exhibition of works of art on the Pacific Coast, an effort
should have been made to present within the exhibit the development of
the art of easel painting since its inception, because it seems
impossible to do justice to any phase of art without an opportunity of
comparison, such as the exposition affords. The retrospective aspects of
the exhibition are absorbingly interesting, not so much for the
presentation of any eminently great works of art as for the splendid
chance for first-hand comparison of different periods. Painting is
relatively so new an art that the earliest paintings we know of do not
differ materially in a technical sense from our present-day work.
Archaeology has disinterred various badly preserved and unpresentable
relics of old arts such as sculpture and architecture. It is little so
with pictures. Painting is really the most recent of all the fine arts.
It must seem almost unbelievable that the greatest periods of
architecture and sculpture had become classic when painting made its
début as an independent art. It is true enough that the Assyrians and
Egyptians used colour, but not in the sense of the modern easel painter.
We are also informed, rather less than more reliably, that a gentleman
by the name of Apelles, in the days of Phidias, painted still-lifes so
naturally that birds were tempted to peck at them, and we know much more
accurately of the many delightful bits of wall-painting the rich man of
Pompeii and Herculaneum used to have put on his walls, but the easel
painting is a creation of modern times.
The sole reason for this can hardly be explained better than by pointing
out the long-standing lack of a suitable medium which would permit the
making of finer paintings, other than wall and decorative paintings. The
old tempera medium was hardly suited to finer work, since it was a
makeshift of very inadequate working qualities. Briefly, the method
consisted of mixing any pigment or paint in powder form with any
suitable sticky substance which would make it adhere to a surface.
Sticky substances frequently used were the tree gums collected from
certain fruit-trees, including the fig and the cherry. This crude method
is known by the word "tempera," which comes from the Latin "temperare,"
to modify or mix, and denotes merely any alteration of the original
pigment. Tempera painting, as the only technique known, was really a
great blessing to the world, since it prevented the wholesale production
in a short time of such vast quantities of pictures as the world
nowadays is asked to enjoy. I am not so sure that the two brothers, the
Flemish painters Hubert and Jan van Eyck, who are said to have given us
the modern oil method, are really so much deserving of praise, since
their improved method of painting with oils caused a production of
paintings half of which might much better have remained unpainted. The
one thing that can be said of all paintings made before their day is
that they were painted for a practical purpose. They had to fit into
certain physical conditions, architectural or other. Most modern
paintings are simply painted on a gambler's chance of finding suitable
surroundings afterwards. Nowadays a picture is produced with the one
idea of separating it from the rest of the world by a more or less
hideous gold frame, the design of which in many cases is out of all
relation to the picture as well as to the wall. In fact, most frames
impress one as nothing but attempts to make them as costly as possible.
I imagine that practically all true painters would rather do their
pictures under and for a given physical condition, to support and be
supported by architecture; but with the unfortunate present-day
elimination of paintings from most architectural problems, most artists
have to paint their pictures for an imaginary condition. The present
production of paintings has become absolutely unmindful of the true,
function of a painting, which is to decorate in collaboration with the
other arts - architecture and sculpture.
It is necessary to bear these facts in mind in trying to do justice to a
large aggregate of canvases in an international exhibition, or any
exhibition. Thousands of pictures, created by a host of different
artists, are temporarily thrown together. The result, of course, can
never be entirely satisfying. Many devices are employed to overcome this
very disturbing condition and with varying success. The hanging of
pictures against neutral backgrounds, the grouping of works of one man,
the selection of works of similar tonality, colour schemes, technique,
subject, style, etc. - these are all well known methods of trying to
overcome the essential artificiality of the methods of exhibition of
modern paintings. I doubt whether so long as we insist upon art
exhibitions of the conventionally accepted type, we shall ever be able
to present pictures with due regard to their meaning. We must not make
the mistake of blaming a director of an exhibition for a difficulty
which he cannot possibly overcome. So long as painters turn out
thousands of pictures, we can expect only the results which are much in
evidence in all modern exhibitions. The fault is entirely with the
artist, who is forever painting easel pictures, and neglecting the great
field of decorative painting. On investigation of our exhibition we
shall find that the good picture - that is, the picture of a certain
respectful attitude toward its function, which is largely decorative -
is far less injured by unavoidable neighbors than the loud-mouthed
canvas of the "Look! Here I am!" variety, which is afraid of being
overlooked. Art exhibitions of the generally adopted modern type are
logically intolerable, and the only solution of the problem of the
correct presentation of pictures is to display fewer of them, within
certain individual rooms, designed by artists, where a few pictures will
take their place with their surroundings in a unity of artistic
expression.
It is certainly no small task to enjoy a large exhibit like ours and to
preserve one's peace of mind. The purpose of these pages is to assist in
guiding the uninitiated, in his visit and in retrospect, without
depriving him of the pleasure of personal observation and investigation.
It is not to be expected that all pictures exhibited should be of a
superior kind. If so, we should never be able to learn to recognize the
good among the bad. So many pictures are only experiments. Only by
having the opportunity for comparison can we learn to discriminate. The
predominant characteristic of our art exhibition is its instructive
value in teaching the development of painting by successive periods,
sometimes represented and some times only indicated. The person who
never had the opportunity to visit the larger historical collections of
paintings abroad, could here obtain an idea of the many changes in
subjects, as well as in technique, which have taken place in the
relatively short existence of the art of painting. It is unfortunately
true that the majority of people are not at all interested in the
technical procedure of the making of the picture, but wholly in the
subject matter. If this be pleasing, the picture is apt to be declared a
success. The artist, on the other hand, and to my mind very justly,
looks primarily for what he calls good painting, and a simple statement
of these two points of view explains a great deal of very deplorable
friction between the artist and the willing and enthusiastic layman, who
is constantly discouraged by finding that his artist friend greets his
pet canvas with a cynical smile.
The subject of the appreciation of pictures from a theoretical point of
view is not exactly the purpose of this book. So enormous is it that it
could be dealt with adequately only in a separate volume the writing of
which I look forward to with joyful anticipation. What I should like to
do - and I should be very glad if I could succeed - is to bring the
public a little closer to the artist's point of view through the
discussion of the merit of certain notable works of art. It is my
conviction that it is the manifestations of an artists artistic
conscience which make exhibitions good, and not the question whether the
public likes certain pictures or not. Only by constant study, a serious
attitude, and a willingness to follow the artist into his realm can the
public hope fully to enjoy the meaning of the artist's endeavors.