And so we approach the real danger, which is naturally more potent in
some fields than in others. We have seen that the mechanical factor
has, by making the fourth-rate more accessible, increased the number of
those with fourth-rate tastes. Now we encounter the commercial factor
which enters at some stage into every art and almost every artistic
activity. Books, music, and pictures must be published, plays produced,
concerts arranged, art-objects manufactured, and so on. Outlay of
capital is almost invariably involved, and those with capital can
seldom be induced to use it without the usual expectation of gain. In
short, to some person or other nearly _all our artistic experiences are
business propositions_. Practically the only exceptions to this rule
are the institutions maintained at the public expense--art-galleries,
museums, public libraries, etc.--and even these are not entirely
divorced from indirect commercial relationships.
Thus the nature and extent of art-reproduction are very largely
governed by commercial considerations. The effect of this is easily
seen. The natural desire of the capitalist is to secure the best return
from his investment, and this may be sought in two ways. Either he
may produce something for which there is a large demand, or he may
produce something for which there is less demand and charge more for
it. He will certainly avoid the thing for which there is only a small
or a problematic demand. Let us now remember that the proportion of
those who desire good art is decreasing, and it is clear that the
commercial factor is not improving the standard of public taste. Within
limits the most demand is for the least worth-while, and yet it is the
satisfaction of this demand which makes the most attractive commercial
proposition. He who wants the fine thing prized by a minority must pay
more for it if he is lucky enough to be able to do so and if he is
fortunate enough to have it produced for him, or go without it if he is
not.
The snowball rolls on. The vicious sequence operates continuously. The
bigger the demand the more ready is the business-man to meet it; the
better the supply, the greater the desire.
The extent to which the commercial factor is potent varies
considerably, and depends largely upon the amount of capital which
is involved in the single reproductive operation. Fortunately there
are still business-men in the art-producing world who are glad to
compromise, who sometimes put their ideals before their pockets, who
are satisfied so long as they are enabled to pay their way, who are
prepared at times to lose. Accordingly, whenever the capital involved
is not large, and whenever the investor can undertake a number of
contemporary ventures the loss on some of which should be covered by
profits on the others, better though less popular art is given its
chance.
Probably the most fortunate art in this respect is that of literature
(in the widest sense of the word), and the most unfortunate the drama.
The percentage of worthy books which remain unpublished is very low
compared with that of plays or music, and even this percentage does
not indicate the real difference, since through lack of opportunity,
the number of artists who devote their energies to composition or
play-writing is much smaller than it should be. The reason is obvious.
A small circulation will pay the cost of publishing the average book--a
much smaller circulation (were it not for advertising expenses) than
many imagine; on the other hand, commercial conditions being what they
are, considerable public support is necessary if the producer of a
play, a film, or an orchestral concert is to secure any financial gain.
The publisher, moreover, does not put all his eggs into one basket;
the producer of plays, unless he is in an unusually strong financial
position, must. The former can afford to take occasional risks; the
latter cannot.
Even in the case of books, however, the reader who seeks the same
kind of reading as many millions of others is in a more favourable
position than the man with individual, minority inclinations. The
greater the volume of reproduction, the lower the cost per copy. Even
were the business-man willing, he could not give the latter the full
benefit of mechanical inventions. It would not be worth his while to
do so. The complete utilization of mechanical methods involves the
use of expensive plant, which is justified only when the output is
large. It is, of course, a matter of degree, and many processes (e.g.
machine-casing of books) can be applied as readily to the few as to the
many. Other processes, on the contrary, never benefit the minority. In
graphic art, for example, there are several colour-processes by which
very cheap reproductions of pictures can be produced, but their use
is, for necessary commercial reasons, confined to popular works. The
pictures required by the few are never reproduced by these methods.
V
We may now summarize the problem, before passing to a discussion of
ways and means to counteract the dangerous tendencies of to-day.
Firstly--though creative artists and educationists must regard this as
a hard saying--the most powerful force in the art-life of to-day is the
purely mechanical factor.
Secondly, this factor is to a great extent determining the nature and
amount of art-production and reproduction.
Thirdly, it is causing a decrease in the average quality of the total
artistic life of the community.
Fourthly, this degeneration must naturally continue unless it is
counteracted by other influences.
This statement is not an exaggerated one, and it does not ignore
the good effects of the new order. Even though a certain amount of
repetition is involved, it will be well to discuss in detail the causes
of degeneration in popular tastes.
(1) Mechanical improvements were applied first to those grades of art
which offered most scope to the commercial element (and are now still
so applied to a greater extent).
(2) Even if, in the beginning, lower tastes were not in a majority, any
widening of the circle of those interested would inevitably bring in a
large percentage of the artistically uneducated.
(3) Each widening of the circle would involve a lowering of taste, and
also increase the commercial inducement to cater for the lower grade.
(4) This being so, those with better tastes become an even smaller
minority, and (though they probably would be _actually_ better off)
they become _relatively_ at a disadvantage economically. Though they
might now have to pay less than they had to before for something,
they nevertheless still have to pay more than those who belong to the
majority.
(5) Furthermore, the low grade is more accessible, easier to
experience, more frequently offered than the better thing.
(6) Therefore, since (especially the large numbers whose tastes are
on the border line) we unconsciously tend to follow the easy way,
unless we deliberately seek to improve or maintain our taste, it will
degenerate. It is necessary to remember that art is usually regarded
as a recreation and, in spite of the saying that we take our pleasures
sadly, we do often take a short view, and are satisfied to find that
artistic recreation for the day which is first to hand, without thought
of the morrow.
(7) In art-matters we are mostly conservative. Neither do we readily
set ourselves apart from our fellows. The history of any “best seller”
will prove this. Up to a point it is read by those who have discovered
that they might like it; after that it is read chiefly “because
everybody else is reading it”. It is wrong to attribute this tendency
to a mere desire to be “in the swim”; much more often it is because
readers, unconsciously classing themselves as average, argue that the
book which interests the average man will interest them. To a large
extent this applies to all popular art. Few people care to “waste their
time” experimenting when it is so much easier to fall in line with the
crowd. The only wonder is how the popularity of the “best seller” and
its kind begins: once that has happened the rest is a normal process.
(8) The average man, being thus willing to follow the dictates of
the majority, is seldom likely to look elsewhere for his artistic
experiences. And so the tastes of the majority are more firmly
established--and the tastes of to-day form the tastes of to-morrow.
I would not describe this as a vicious circle. Rather is it a vicious
spiral, the circumference of which ever increases. How can this state
of affairs be altered?
Let us not be misunderstood. We are not asserting that this world with
its many who appreciate the less valuable is worse than the world of
the pre-mechanical era. Far from it. In every way it is better. The
actual quantity of good artistic endeavour is much greater, and every
increase in the numbers of those who appreciate the least worth-while
is a distinct gain to the community and to the individual. Our anxiety
is not so much for to-day as for to-morrow. There is no reason to doubt
that before long practically the whole population will be interested in
some form and grade of art. It is then that the trouble will begin to
assume serious proportions. Let us take a biological parallel. It is
agreed that if good stocks do not increase at the same rate as inferior
stocks they will gradually die out. If, in a world full of artistic
endeavour the good artistic stocks are not as sturdy as the remainder,
they too will in time die out. So long as the commercial and mechanical
factors are allowed full play, the good artistic stocks will be at a
disadvantage, and so the future of the finest elements of art depends
upon the success of efforts to counteract these factors. We must find
means (1) to make the most desirable art more accessible than it is
now, and (2) to increase the numbers of those who desire it. The latter
will serve two purposes: (_a_) it will help us in the first aim; and
(_b_) it will increase the aggregate quality and value of the artistic
life.