Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1895-03-23


with stick in the other he was poklng up
the great mans bump of generation
Moreover, the beautiful in art doesn't TALL
in your face like rotten apple from Tree
under which you happen to look up You
wouldn't expect to get the wealth OF peau-
ty and wisdom there is in Faust II you
couldn't read the characters In which 1t Is
written, would you2 No; and art mas It's
a, b. c's, and it's grammar and rhetoric and
all that, too. Now, an artist sees IN tne
variations of color and of form words that
his experience interprets, just as you from
a book read and interpret poetry. You've
got to know the language to get the HE OF
art"
I was being really inspired, and was
about to have a Thought when roland
Evans, who had been quietly combing ms
fathers hair with something that looked
to me like fork-his fathers head. l
should mention perhaps, was being moloed
under his hands-this young man interrupt
ed to ask if it was time to take Hofatlo
King out of soak
Artistic Disorder.
Goodness gracious" exclaimed. you
don't mean to say you've had to hook the
gcod MANI"
Whereupon learned that he was in soak
merely IT. reference to being put on
pedestal.
This interruption diverted my mind from
art to it's environment on Olympus, and
oh! but 1 wish I had the nerve to throw
Housekeeping to the dogs the way Jove
does!
"1f you were to put things in their place
and clean up here. I suppose business
would STOP" I said, and learned that
conglomeration of tools, tables. dead mems
features. living statues, drawings, odd legs,
hands, ears and the stuff We're made of
-dust-over all, is really not confusion, but
a broadened scheme of order like that
which in the heavens makes place for
splitting worlds. shooting stars, falling
meteors, flying comets and all that, you
know.
Then I poked into three tubs standing
along the wall, secretly bent on finding out
If Jove took in washing on the side,
and found under the clothes on top chunks
of mud-I mean clay. That's one thing l
know better about art, whatever else 1
have missed. I'll never again speak of the
sculptor's potential clay as mud-Jove said
there was really no bottom to my ignor-
aIce when did.
On the whole. was pushing into the
mysteries of Olympus, I was being pur-
sued by tho spirit of despair, that fairly
eXrded from the pores of a life-size plaster
cast of woman kneellng in an attitude
of such utter abandonment to- the hope
lessress Of grief that 1T would have been
a real comfort 10 havs a funeral and the
l shadans tes4s So afforded for
Now. that thing I can see" said.
ing to work to make the world one thought
sadder than It Isl is9ll. that work of art
and I'm kin to 1t. But, now, who on earth
is kin to landscapes, waterscapes, cow
scapes and thoseJ smooth, panty things
that loads Of people call art?"
What she-snw and Heard.
''Why, I'm kin to EN-" said Jove. 'It's
possible to paint Just as much truth in a
bit of sky r-woods or.wateras there is in
all the Vedas. It's just matter of hay
ing the strings Of your sou1 tuned to the
harmony Of nature and the touch of the
master in reproducing, It. But, let me tell
you this, 1t takes "a god! to really put even
a COW on canvas. Anybody can copy cows
paint cows, paint anything. But to bring
the beast before the eye, so that he lives,
it needs a soul behind the artists brush"
you're a heather. Jove. to thus preach
transmigraticn by which human souls pass
into cows, and how is the eye of Chris
tan to perceive such things?" asked.
''Well. the next time you get chance to
look just try, answered Jove.
The chance came the next afternoon at
musicale at Walter Paris studio. Pre-
would have gone to this musicale with
company smile fixed upon my face, the
usual stock of explosive adjectives stored
at my tongues end, and my soul groaning
how long,"
Now, however, my soul-that is, of course,
assuming souls to exist in women only as
artists put them there on canvas-my soul
was straining. What If I should see and
hear also?
I did both.
I actually penetrated the spirit of pic
lures on the wall until cows 'moo-ed" for
SO vivid could hear the twang of the ma
tives in the distance. and feel the Ply
mouth Rock self-sufficiency of the Boston
tourists there SO true to life I was quite
unhappy.
Then, when the musical program began.
and woman with one of those contralto
voices that elucidate the philosophy of
the 'Kreutzer Sonata began singing, 1
radiating from my vertebral region all
over my body caused me to exclaim to her
when she was done. THAT song went
straight to my spinal column"
"Of course" she answered; that's where
your ear for music Isl
And so at last my wandering ear was
found.
The music went on. and when the waves
of sound sweeping from the strings of Mr..
Paris violin, that led sea of harmony
from several other instruments deluged
my inner consciousness-set everything
in motion-creeds, dogmas, ethics and opin-
ions all afoat, leaving my will tide to
bear the first thing, good or evil that came
along down upon the structure supposed
to be enduring that is called character, it
began to seem tc me as if my ear was
perhaps too large-asinine, maybe.
However, when the number was ended
I caught a bit of talk that told me, even
So am not alone in this extent of ear.
Really" said she, you know, I think
the calender Of deadly sins should be en-
larged to include music
Rather" said he, you might write it
over with one word-music-the poten-
TALLY of all SIM"
VERY true" she answered; "still, as
part of divine worship it's carnal nature is
redeemed-makes your very flesh and blood
do reverence, don't You know"
"Ofl, no; it is always sensuous, even IN
church, don't you Nhink?"
eff you abstract the divine-certainly.
But aren't we talking beautifully"
Beautifully. infeed-quite like a chap
ter from Oscar Wilde; 1 wish somebody
Eyes; sensuous is so nearly a wicked
word" a,
"And when you couple the divine with it,
really, you know it's actually profound"
Then the ccntralto sang again. and my
ear continued to develop, until when the
program was finished life relative to art
for me had just one concern left.
I noticed that the women I found wor-
Shipping art in paradise, all save the high
priestesses who assist at the atari noticed
that these women protesting an eye and an
a,r for ba beautiful were IF younp not