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Produced by John Mamoun <mamounjo@umdnj.edu>, Charles | |
Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreaders Website | |
CONCERNING THE SPIRITUAL IN ART | |
BY WASSILY KANDINSKY [TRANSLATED BY MICHAEL T. H. SADLER] | |
TABLE OF CONTENTS | |
LIST OF FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS [NOT IN E-TEXT] | |
TRANSLATOR'S INTRODUCTION | |
PART I. ABOUT GENERAL AESTHETIC | |
I. INTRODUCTION | |
II. THE MOVEMENT OF THE TRIANGLE | |
III. SPIRITUAL REVOLUTION | |
IV. THE PYRAMID | |
PART II. ABOUT PAINTING | |
V. THE PSYCHOLOGICAL WORKING OF COLOUR | |
VI. THE LANGUAGE OF FORM AND COLOUR | |
VII. THEORY | |
VIII. ART AND ARTISTS | |
IX. CONCLUSION | |
LIST OF FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS [NOT IN E-TEXT] | |
Mosaic in S. Vitale, Ravenna | |
Victor and Heinrich Dunwegge: "The Crucifixion" (in the Alte | |
Pinakothek, Munich) | |
Albrecht Durer: "The Descent from the Cross" (in the Alte | |
Pinakothek, Munich) | |
Raphael: "The Canigiani Holy Family" (in the Alte Pinakothek, | |
Munich) | |
Paul Cezanne: "Bathing Women" (by permission of Messrs. | |
Bernheim-Jeune, Paris) | |
Kandinsky: Impression No. 4, "Moscow" (1911) | |
"Improvisation No. 29 (1912) | |
"Composition No. 2 (1910) | |
"Kleine Freuden" (1913) | |
TRANSLATOR'S INTRODUCTION | |
It is no common thing to find an artist who, even if he be | |
willing to try, is capable of expressing his aims and ideals with | |
any clearness and moderation. Some people will say that any such | |
capacity is a flaw in the perfect artist, who should find his | |
expression in line and colour, and leave the multitude to grope | |
its way unaided towards comprehension. This attitude is a relic | |
of the days when "l'art pour l'art" was the latest battle cry; | |
when eccentricity of manner and irregularity of life were more | |
important than any talent to the would-be artist; when every one | |
except oneself was bourgeois. | |
The last few years have in some measure removed this absurdity, | |
by destroying the old convention that it was middle-class to be | |
sane, and that between the artist and the outer-world yawned a | |
gulf which few could cross. Modern artists are beginning to | |
realize their social duties. They are the spiritual teachers of | |
the world, and for their teaching to have weight, it must be | |
comprehensible. Any attempt, therefore, to bring artist and | |
public into sympathy, to enable the latter to understand the | |
ideals of the former, should be thoroughly welcome; and such an | |
attempt is this book of Kandinsky's. | |
The author is one of the leaders of the new art movement in | |
Munich. The group of which he is a member includes painters, | |
poets, musicians, dramatists, critics, all working to the same | |
end--the expression of the SOUL of nature and humanity, or, as | |
Kandinsky terms it, the INNERER KLANG. | |
Perhaps the fault of this book of theory--or rather the | |
characteristic most likely to give cause for attack--is the | |
tendency to verbosity. Philosophy, especially in the hands of a | |
writer of German, presents inexhaustible opportunities for vague | |
and grandiloquent language. Partly for this reason, partly from | |
incompetence, I have not primarily attempted to deal with the | |
philosophical basis of Kandinsky's art. Some, probably, will find | |
in this aspect of the book its chief interest, but better service | |
will be done to the author's ideas by leaving them to the | |
reader's judgement than by even the most expert criticism. | |
The power of a book to excite argument is often the best proof of | |
its value, and my own experience has always been that those new | |
ideas are at once most challenging and most stimulating which | |
come direct from their author, with no intermediate discussion. | |
The task undertaken in this Introduction is a humbler but perhaps | |
a more necessary one. England, throughout her history, has shown | |
scant respect for sudden spasms of theory. Whether in politics, | |
religion, or art, she demands an historical foundation for every | |
belief, and when such a foundation is not forthcoming she may | |
smile indulgently, but serious interest is immediately withdrawn. | |
I am keenly anxious that Kandinsky's art should not suffer this | |
fate. My personal belief in his sincerity and the future of his | |
ideas will go for very little, but if it can be shown that he is | |
a reasonable development of what we regard as serious art, that | |
he is no adventurer striving for a momentary notoriety by the | |
strangeness of his beliefs, then there is a chance that some | |
people at least will give his art fair consideration, and that, | |
of these people, a few will come to love it as, in my opinion, it | |
deserves. | |
Post-Impressionism, that vague and much-abused term, is now almost a | |
household word. That the name of the movement is better known than the | |
names of its chief leaders is a sad misfortune, largely caused by the | |
over-rapidity of its introduction into England. Within the space of two | |
short years a mass of artists from Manet to the most recent of Cubists | |
were thrust on a public, who had hardly realized Impressionism. The | |
inevitable result has been complete mental chaos. The tradition of which | |
true Post-Impressionism is the modern expression has been kept alive | |
down the ages of European art by scattered and, until lately, neglected | |
painters. But not since the time of the so-called Byzantines, not since | |
the period of which Giotto and his School were the final splendid | |
blossoming, has the "Symbolist" ideal in art held general sway over the | |
"Naturalist." The Primitive Italians, like their predecessors the | |
Primitive Greeks, and, in turn, their predecessors the Egyptians, sought | |
to express the inner feeling rather than the outer reality. | |
This ideal tended to be lost to sight in the naturalistic revival | |
of the Renaissance, which derived its inspiration solely from | |
those periods of Greek and Roman art which were pre-occupied with | |
the expression of external reality. Although the all-embracing | |
genius of Michelangelo kept the "Symbolist" tradition alive, it | |
is the work of El Greco that merits the complete title of | |
"Symbolist." From El Greco springs Goya and the Spanish influence | |
on Daumier and Manet. When it is remembered that, in the | |
meantime, Rembrandt and his contemporaries, notably Brouwer, left | |
their mark on French art in the work of Delacroix, Decamps and | |
Courbet, the way will be seen clearly open to Cezanne and | |
Gauguin. | |
The phrase "symbolist tradition" is not used to express any | |
conscious affinity between the various generations of artists. As | |
Kandinsky says: "the relationships in art are not necessarily | |
ones of outward form, but are founded on inner sympathy of | |
meaning." Sometimes, perhaps frequently, a similarity of outward | |
form will appear. But in tracing spiritual relationship only | |
inner meaning must be taken into account. | |
There are, of course, many people who deny that Primitive Art had an | |
inner meaning or, rather, that what is called "archaic expression" was | |
dictated by anything but ignorance of representative methods and | |
defective materials. Such people are numbered among the bitterest | |
opponents of Post-Impressionism, and indeed it is difficult to see how | |
they could be otherwise. "Painting," they say, "which seeks to learn | |
from an age when art was, however sincere, incompetent and uneducated, | |
deliberately rejects the knowledge and skill of centuries." It will be | |
no easy matter to conquer this assumption that Primitive art is merely | |
untrained Naturalism, but until it is conquered there seems little hope | |
for a sympathetic understanding of the symbolist ideal. | |
The task is all the more difficult because of the analogy drawn by | |
friends of the new movement between the neo-primitive vision and that of | |
a child. That the analogy contains a grain of truth does not make it the | |
less mischievous. Freshness of vision the child has, and freshness of | |
vision is an important element in the new movement. But beyond this a | |
parallel is non-existent, must be non-existent in any art other than | |
pure artificiality. It is one thing to ape ineptitude in technique and | |
another to acquire simplicity of vision. Simplicity--or rather | |
discrimination of vision--is the trademark of the true | |
Post-Impressionist. He OBSERVES and then SELECTS what is essential. The | |
result is a logical and very sophisticated synthesis. Such a synthesis | |
will find expression in simple and even harsh technique. But the process | |
can only come AFTER the naturalist process and not before it. The child | |
has a direct vision, because his mind is unencumbered by association and | |
because his power of concentration is unimpaired by a multiplicity of | |
interests. His method of drawing is immature; its variations from the | |
ordinary result from lack of capacity. | |
Two examples will make my meaning clearer. The child draws a landscape. | |
His picture contains one or two objects only from the number before his | |
eyes. These are the objects which strike him as important. So far, good. | |
But there is no relation between them; they stand isolated on his paper, | |
mere lumpish shapes. The Post-Impressionist, however, selects his | |
objects with a view to expressing by their means the whole feeling of | |
the landscape. His choice falls on elements which sum up the whole, not | |
those which first attract immediate attention. | |
Again, let us take the case of the definitely religious picture. | |
[Footnote: Religion, in the sense of awe, is present in all true | |
art. But here I use the term in the narrower sense to mean | |
pictures of which the subject is connected with Christian or | |
other worship.] | |
It is not often that children draw religious scenes. More often battles | |
and pageants attract them. But since the revival of the religious | |
picture is so noticeable a factor in the new movement, since the | |
Byzantines painted almost entirely religious subjects, and finally, | |
since a book of such drawings by a child of twelve has recently been | |
published, I prefer to take them as my example. Daphne Alien's religious | |
drawings have the graceful charm of childhood, but they are mere | |
childish echoes of conventional prettiness. Her talent, when mature, | |
will turn to the charming rather than to the vigorous. There could be no | |
greater contrast between such drawing and that of--say--Cimabue. | |
Cimabue's Madonnas are not pretty women, but huge, solemn symbols. Their | |
heads droop stiffly; their tenderness is universal. In Gauguin's "Agony | |
in the Garden" the figure of Christ is haggard with pain and grief. | |
These artists have filled their pictures with a bitter experience which | |
no child can possibly possess. I repeat, therefore, that the analogy | |
between Post-Impressionism and child-art is a false analogy, and that | |
for a trained man or woman to paint as a child paints is an | |
impossibility. [Footnote: I am well aware that this statement is at | |
variance with Kandinsky, who has contributed a long article--"Uber die | |
Formfrage"--to Der Blaue Reiter, in which he argues the parallel between | |
Post-Impressionism and child vision, as exemplified in the work of Henri | |
Rousseau. Certainly Rousseau's vision is childlike. He has had no | |
artistic training and pretends to none. But I consider that his art | |
suffers so greatly from his lack of training, that beyond a sentimental | |
interest it has little to recommend it.] | |
All this does not presume to say that the "symbolist" school of | |
art is necessarily nobler than the "naturalist." I am making no | |
comparison, only a distinction. When the difference in aim is | |
fully realized, the Primitives can no longer be condemned as | |
incompetent, nor the moderns as lunatics, for such a condemnation | |
is made from a wrong point of view. Judgement must be passed, not | |
on the failure to achieve "naturalism" but on the failure to | |
express the inner meaning. | |
The brief historical survey attempted above ended with the names of | |
Cezanne and Gauguin, and for the purposes of this Introduction, for the | |
purpose, that is to say, of tracing the genealogy of the Cubists and of | |
Kandinsky, these two names may be taken to represent the modern | |
expression of the "symbolist" tradition. | |
The difference between them is subtle but goes very deep. For | |
both the ultimate and internal significance of what they painted | |
counted for more than the significance which is momentary and | |
external. Cezanne saw in a tree, a heap of apples, a human face, | |
a group of bathing men or women, something more abiding than | |
either photography or impressionist painting could present. He | |
painted the "treeness" of the tree, as a modern critic has | |
admirably expressed it. But in everything he did he showed the | |
architectural mind of the true Frenchman. His landscape studies | |
were based on a profound sense of the structure of rocks and | |
hills, and being structural, his art depends essentially on | |
reality. Though he did not scruple, and rightly, to sacrifice | |
accuracy of form to the inner need, the material of which his art | |
was composed was drawn from the huge stores of actual nature. | |
Gauguin has greater solemnity and fire than Cezanne. His pictures | |
are tragic or passionate poems. He also sacrifices conventional | |
form to inner expression, but his art tends ever towards the | |
spiritual, towards that profounder emphasis which cannot be | |
expressed in natural objects nor in words. True his abandonment | |
of representative methods did not lead him to an abandonment of | |
natural terms of expression--that is to say human figures, trees | |
and animals do appear in his pictures. But that he was much | |
nearer a complete rejection of representation than was Cezanne is | |
shown by the course followed by their respective disciples. | |
The generation immediately subsequent to Cezanne, Herbin, | |
Vlaminck, Friesz, Marquet, etc., do little more than exaggerate | |
Cezanne's technique, until there appear the first signs of | |
Cubism. These are seen very clearly in Herbin. Objects begin to | |
be treated in flat planes. A round vase is represented by a | |
series of planes set one into the other, which at a distance | |
blend into a curve. This is the first stage. | |
The real plunge into Cubism was taken by Picasso, who, nurtured | |
on Cezanne, carried to its perfectly logical conclusion the | |
master's structural treatment of nature. Representation | |
disappears. Starting from a single natural object, Picasso and | |
the Cubists produce lines and project angles till their canvases | |
are covered with intricate and often very beautiful series of | |
balanced lines and curves. They persist, however, in giving them | |
picture titles which recall the natural object from which their | |
minds first took flight. | |
With Gauguin the case is different. The generation of his disciples | |
which followed him--I put it thus to distinguish them from his actual | |
pupils at Pont Aven, Serusier and the rest--carried the tendency | |
further. One hesitates to mention Derain, for his beginnings, full of | |
vitality and promise, have given place to a dreary compromise with | |
Cubism, without visible future, and above all without humour. But there | |
is no better example of the development of synthetic symbolism than his | |
first book of woodcuts. | |
[Footnote: L'Enchanteur pourrissant, par Guillaume Apollinaire, | |
avec illustrations gravees sur bois par Andre Derain. Paris, | |
Kahnweiler, 1910.] | |
Here is work which keeps the merest semblance of conventional | |
form, which gives its effect by startling masses of black and | |
white, by sudden curves, but more frequently by sudden angles. | |
[Footnote: The renaissance of the angle in art is an interesting | |
feature of the new movement. Not since Egyptian times has it been | |
used with such noble effect. There is a painting of Gauguin's at | |
Hagen, of a row of Tahitian women seated on a bench, that | |
consists entirely of a telling design in Egyptian angles. Cubism | |
is the result of this discovery of the angle, blended with the | |
influence of Cezanne.] | |
In the process of the gradual abandonment of natural form the | |
"angle" school is paralleled by the "curve" school, which also | |
descends wholly from Gauguin. The best known representative is | |
Maurice Denis. But he has become a slave to sentimentality, and | |
has been left behind. Matisse is the most prominent French artist | |
who has followed Gauguin with curves. In Germany a group of young | |
men, who form the Neue Kunstlevereinigung in Munich, work almost | |
entirely in sweeping curves, and have reduced natural objects | |
purely to flowing, decorative units. | |
But while they have followed Gauguin's lead in abandoning | |
representation both of these two groups of advance are lacking in | |
spiritual meaning. Their aim becomes more and more decorative, | |
with an undercurrent of suggestion of simplified form. Anyone who | |
has studied Gauguin will be aware of the intense spiritual value | |
of his work. The man is a preacher and a psychologist, universal | |
by his very unorthodoxy, fundamental because he goes deeper than | |
civilization. In his disciples this great element is wanting. | |
Kandinsky has supplied the need. He is not only on the track of | |
an art more purely spiritual than was conceived even by Gauguin, | |
but he has achieved the final abandonment of all representative | |
intention. In this way he combines in himself the spiritual and | |
technical tendencies of one great branch of Post-Impressionism. | |
The question most generally asked about Kandinsky's art is: "What | |
is he trying to do?" It is to be hoped that this book will do | |
something towards answering the question. But it will not do | |
everything. This--partly because it is impossible to put into | |
words the whole of Kandinsky's ideal, partly because in his | |
anxiety to state his case, to court criticism, the author has | |
been tempted to formulate more than is wise. His analysis of | |
colours and their effects on the spectator is not the real basis | |
of his art, because, if it were, one could, with the help of a | |
scientific manual, describe one's emotions before his pictures | |
with perfect accuracy. And this is impossible. | |
Kandinsky is painting music. That is to say, he has broken down | |
the barrier between music and painting, and has isolated the pure | |
emotion which, for want of a better name, we call the artistic | |
emotion. Anyone who has listened to good music with any enjoyment | |
will admit to an unmistakable but quite indefinable thrill. He | |
will not be able, with sincerity, to say that such a passage gave | |
him such visual impressions, or such a harmony roused in him such | |
emotions. The effect of music is too subtle for words. And the | |
same with this painting of Kandinsky's. Speaking for myself, to | |
stand in front of some of his drawings or pictures gives a keener | |
and more spiritual pleasure than any other kind of painting. But | |
I could not express in the least what gives the pleasure. | |
Presumably the lines and colours have the same effect as harmony | |
and rhythm in music have on the truly musical. That psychology | |
comes in no one can deny. Many people--perhaps at present the | |
very large majority of people--have their colour-music sense | |
dormant. It has never been exercised. In the same way many people | |
are unmusical--either wholly, by nature, or partly, for lack of | |
experience. Even when Kandinsky's idea is universally understood | |
there may be many who are not moved by his melody. For my part, | |
something within me answered to Kandinsky's art the first time I | |
met with it. There was no question of looking for representation; | |
a harmony had been set up, and that was enough. | |
Of course colour-music is no new idea. That is to say attempts have been | |
made to play compositions in colour, by flashes and harmonies. | |
[Footnote: Cf. "Colour Music," by A. Wallace Rimington. Hutchinson. 6s. | |
net.] Also music has been interpreted in colour. But I do not know of | |
any previous attempt to paint, without any reference to music, | |
compositions which shall have on the spectator an effect wholly divorced | |
from representative association. Kandinsky refers to attempts to paint | |
in colour-counterpoint. But that is a different matter, in that it is | |
the borrowing from one art by another of purely technical methods, | |
without a previous impulse from spiritual sympathy. | |
One is faced then with the conflicting claims of Picasso and | |
Kandinsky to the position of true leader of non-representative | |
art. Picasso's admirers hail him, just as this Introduction hails | |
Kandinsky, as a visual musician. The methods and ideas of each | |
rival are so different that the title cannot be accorded to both. | |
In his book, Kandinsky states his opinion of Cubism and its fatal | |
weakness, and history goes to support his contention. The origin | |
of Cubism in Cezanne, in a structural art that owes its very | |
existence to matter, makes its claim to pure emotionalism seem | |
untenable. Emotions are not composed of strata and conflicting | |
pressures. Once abandon reality and the geometrical vision | |
becomes abstract mathematics. It seems to me that Picasso shares | |
a Futurist error when he endeavours to harmonize one item of | |
reality--a number, a button, a few capital letters--with a | |
surrounding aura of angular projections. There must be a conflict | |
of impressions, which differ essentially in quality. One trend of | |
modern music is towards realism of sound. Children cry, dogs | |
bark, plates are broken. Picasso approaches the same goal from | |
the opposite direction. It is as though he were trying to work | |
from realism to music. The waste of time is, to my mind, equally | |
complete in both cases. The power of music to give expression | |
without the help of representation is its noblest possession. No | |
painting has ever had such a precious power. Kandinsky is | |
striving to give it that power, and prove what is at least the | |
logical analogy between colour and sound, between line and rhythm | |
of beat. Picasso makes little use of colour, and confines himself | |
only to one series of line effects--those caused by conflicting | |
angles. So his aim is smaller and more limited than Kandinsky's | |
even if it is as reasonable. But because it has not wholly | |
abandoned realism but uses for the painting of feeling a | |
structural vision dependent for its value on the association of | |
reality, because in so doing it tries to make the best of two | |
worlds, there seems little hope for it of redemption in either. | |
As has been said above, Picasso and Kandinsky make an interesting | |
parallel, in that they have developed the art respectively of | |
Cezanne and Gauguin, in a similar direction. On the decision of | |
Picasso's failure or success rests the distinction between | |
Cezanne and Gauguin, the realist and the symbolist, the painter | |
of externals and the painter of religious feeling. Unless a | |
spiritual value is accorded to Cezanne's work, unless he is | |
believed to be a religious painter (and religious painters need | |
not paint Madonnas), unless in fact he is paralleled closely with | |
Gauguin, his follower Picasso cannot claim to stand, with | |
Kandinsky, as a prophet of an art of spiritual harmony. | |
If Kandinsky ever attains his ideal--for he is the first to admit | |
that he has not yet reached his goal--if he ever succeeds in | |
finding a common language of colour and line which shall stand | |
alone as the language of sound and beat stands alone, without | |
recourse to natural form or representation, he will on all hands | |
be hailed as a great innovator, as a champion of the freedom of | |
art. Until such time, it is the duty of those to whom his work | |
has spoken, to bear their testimony. Otherwise he may be | |
condemned as one who has invented a shorthand of his own, and who | |
paints pictures which cannot be understood by those who have not | |
the key of the cipher. In the meantime also it is important that | |
his position should be recognized as a legitimate, almost | |
inevitable outcome of Post-Impressionist tendencies. Such is the | |
recognition this Introduction strives to secure. | |
MICHAEL T. H. SADLER | |
REFERENCE | |
Those interested in the ideas and work of Kandinsky and his | |
fellow artists would do well to consult: | |
DER BLAUE REITER, vol. i. Piper Verlag, Munich, 10 mk. This | |
sumptuous volume contains articles by Kandinsky, Franz Marc, | |
Arnold Schonberg, etc., together with some musical texts and | |
numerous reproductions--some in colour--of the work of the | |
primitive mosaicists, glass-painters, and sculptors, as well as | |
of more modern artists from Greco to Kandinsky, Marc, and their | |
friends. The choice of illustrations gives an admirable idea of | |
the continuity and steady growth of the new painting, sculpture, | |
and music. | |
KLANGE. By Wassily Kandinsky. Piper Verlag, Munich, 30 mk. A most | |
beautifully produced book of prose-poems, with a large number of | |
illustrations, many in colour. This is Kandinsky's most recent | |
work. | |
Also the back and current numbers of Der Sturm, a weekly paper | |
published in Berlin in the defence of the new art. Illustrations | |
by Marc, Pechstein, le Fauconnier, Delaunay, Kandinsky, etc. Also | |
poems and critical articles. Price per weekly number 25 pfg. Der | |
Sturm has in preparation an album of reproductions of pictures | |
and drawings by Kandinsky. | |
For Cubism cf. Gleizes et Metzinger, "du Cubisme," and Guillaume | |
Apollinaire, "Les Peintres Cubistes." Collection Les Arts. Paris, | |
Figuiere, per vol. 3 fr. 50 c. | |
DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF ELISABETH TICHEJEFF | |
PART 1: ABOUT GENERAL AESTHETIC | |
I. INTRODUCTION | |
Every work of art is the child of its age and, in many cases, the | |
mother of our emotions. It follows that each period of culture | |
produces an art of its own which can never be repeated. Efforts | |
to revive the art-principles of the past will at best produce an | |
art that is still-born. It is impossible for us to live and feel, | |
as did the ancient Greeks. In the same way those who strive to | |
follow the Greek methods in sculpture achieve only a similarity | |
of form, the work remaining soulless for all time. Such imitation | |
is mere aping. Externally the monkey completely resembles a human | |
being; he will sit holding a book in front of his nose, and turn | |
over the pages with a thoughtful aspect, but his actions have for | |
him no real meaning. | |
There is, however, in art another kind of external similarity | |
which is founded on a fundamental truth. When there is a | |
similarity of inner tendency in the whole moral and spiritual | |
atmosphere, a similarity of ideals, at first closely pursued but | |
later lost to sight, a similarity in the inner feeling of any one | |
period to that of another, the logical result will be a revival | |
of the external forms which served to express those inner | |
feelings in an earlier age. An example of this today is our | |
sympathy, our spiritual relationship, with the Primitives. Like | |
ourselves, these artists sought to express in their work only | |
internal truths, renouncing in consequence all consideration of | |
external form. | |
This all-important spark of inner life today is at present only a | |
spark. Our minds, which are even now only just awakening after | |
years of materialism, are infected with the despair of unbelief, | |
of lack of purpose and ideal. The nightmare of materialism, which | |
has turned the life of the universe into an evil, useless game, | |
is not yet past; it holds the awakening soul still in its grip. | |
Only a feeble light glimmers like a tiny star in a vast gulf of | |
darkness. This feeble light is but a presentiment, and the soul, | |
when it sees it, trembles in doubt whether the light is not a | |
dream, and the gulf of darkness reality. This doubt, and the | |
still harsh tyranny of the materialistic philosophy, divide our | |
soul sharply from that of the Primitives. Our soul rings cracked | |
when we seek to play upon it, as does a costly vase, long buried | |
in the earth, which is found to have a flaw when it is dug up | |
once more. For this reason, the Primitive phase, through which we | |
are now passing, with its temporary similarity of form, can only | |
be of short duration. | |
These two possible resemblances between the art forms of today | |
and those of the past will be at once recognized as diametrically | |
opposed to one another. The first, being purely external, has no | |
future. The second, being internal, contains the seed of the | |
future within itself. After the period of materialist effort, | |
which held the soul in check until it was shaken off as evil, the | |
soul is emerging, purged by trials and sufferings. Shapeless | |
emotions such as fear, joy, grief, etc., which belonged to this | |
time of effort, will no longer greatly attract the artist. He | |
will endeavour to awake subtler emotions, as yet unnamed. Living | |
himself a complicated and comparatively subtle life, his work | |
will give to those observers capable of feeling them lofty | |
emotions beyond the reach of words. | |
The observer of today, however, is seldom capable of feeling such | |
emotions. He seeks in a work of art a mere imitation of nature | |
which can serve some definite purpose (for example a portrait in | |
the ordinary sense) or a presentment of nature according to a | |
certain convention ("impressionist" painting), or some inner | |
feeling expressed in terms of natural form (as we say--a picture | |
with Stimmung) [Footnote: Stimmung is almost untranslateable. It | |
is almost "sentiment" in the best sense, and almost "feeling." | |
Many of Corot's twilight landscapes are full of a beautiful | |
"Stimmung." Kandinsky uses the word later on to mean the | |
"essential spirit" of nature.--M.T.H.S.] All those varieties of | |
picture, when they are really art, fulfil their purpose and feed | |
the spirit. Though this applies to the first case, it applies | |
more strongly to the third, where the spectator does feel a | |
corresponding thrill in himself. Such harmony or even contrast of | |
emotion cannot be superficial or worthless; indeed the Stimmung | |
of a picture can deepen and purify that of the spectator. Such | |
works of art at least preserve the soul from coarseness; they | |
"key it up," so to speak, to a certain height, as a tuning-key | |
the strings of a musical instrument. But purification, and | |
extension in duration and size of this sympathy of soul, remain | |
one-sided, and the possibilities of the influence of art are not | |
exerted to their utmost. | |
Imagine a building divided into many rooms. The building may be | |
large or small. Every wall of every room is covered with pictures | |
of various sizes; perhaps they number many thousands. They | |
represent in colour bits of nature--animals in sunlight or | |
shadow, drinking, standing in water, lying on the grass; near to, | |
a Crucifixion by a painter who does not believe in Christ; | |
flowers; human figures sitting, standing, walking; often they are | |
naked; many naked women, seen foreshortened from behind; apples | |
and silver dishes; portrait of Councillor So and So; sunset; lady | |
in red; flying duck; portrait of Lady X; flying geese; lady in | |
white; calves in shadow flecked with brilliant yellow sunlight; | |
portrait of Prince Y; lady in green. All this is carefully | |
printed in a book--name of artist--name of picture. People with | |
these books in their hands go from wall to wall, turning over | |
pages, reading the names. Then they go away, neither richer nor | |
poorer than when they came, and are absorbed at once in their | |
business, which has nothing to do with art. Why did they come? In | |
each picture is a whole lifetime imprisoned, a whole lifetime of | |
fears, doubts, hopes, and joys. | |
Whither is this lifetime tending? What is the message of the | |
competent artist? "To send light into the darkness of men's | |
hearts--such is the duty of the artist," said Schumann. "An | |
artist is a man who can draw and paint everything," said Tolstoi. | |
Of these two definitions of the artist's activity we must choose | |
the second, if we think of the exhibition just described. On one | |
canvas is a huddle of objects painted with varying degrees of | |
skill, virtuosity and vigour, harshly or smoothly. To harmonize | |
the whole is the task of art. With cold eyes and indifferent mind | |
the spectators regard the work. Connoisseurs admire the "skill" | |
(as one admires a tightrope walker), enjoy the "quality of | |
painting" (as one enjoys a pasty). But hungry souls go hungry | |
away. | |
The vulgar herd stroll through the rooms and pronounce the | |
pictures "nice" or "splendid." Those who could speak have said | |
nothing, those who could hear have heard nothing. This condition | |
of art is called "art for art's sake." This neglect of inner | |
meanings, which is the life of colours, this vain squandering of | |
artistic power is called "art for art's sake." | |
The artist seeks for material reward for his dexterity, his power | |
of vision and experience. His purpose becomes the satisfaction of | |
vanity and greed. In place of the steady co-operation of artists | |
is a scramble for good things. There are complaints of excessive | |
competition, of over-production. Hatred, partisanship, cliques, | |
jealousy, intrigues are the natural consequences of this aimless, | |
materialist art. | |
[Footnote: The few solitary exceptions do not destroy the truth | |
of this sad and ominous picture, and even these exceptions are | |
chiefly believers in the doctrine of art for art's sake. They | |
serve, therefore, a higher ideal, but one which is ultimately a | |
useless waste of their strength. External beauty is one element | |
of a spiritual atmosphere. But beyond this positive fact (that | |
what is beautiful is good) it has the weakness of a talent not | |
used to the full. (The word talent is employed in the biblical | |
sense.)] | |
The onlooker turns away from the artist who has higher ideals and | |
who cannot see his life purpose in an art without aims. | |
Sympathy is the education of the spectator from the point of view | |
of the artist. It has been said above that art is the child of | |
its age. Such an art can only create an artistic feeling which is | |
already clearly felt. This art, which has no power for the | |
future, which is only a child of the age and cannot become a | |
mother of the future, is a barren art. She is transitory and to | |
all intent dies the moment the atmosphere alters which nourished | |
her. | |
The other art, that which is capable of educating further, | |
springs equally from contemporary feeling, but is at the same | |
time not only echo and mirror of it, but also has a deep and | |
powerful prophetic strength. | |
The spiritual life, to which art belongs and of which she is one | |
of the mightiest elements, is a complicated but definite and | |
easily definable movement forwards and upwards. This movement is | |
the movement of experience. It may take different forms, but it | |
holds at bottom to the same inner thought and purpose. | |
Veiled in obscurity are the causes of this need to move ever | |
upwards and forwards, by sweat of the brow, through sufferings | |
and fears. When one stage has been accomplished, and many evil | |
stones cleared from the road, some unseen and wicked hand | |
scatters new obstacles in the way, so that the path often seems | |
blocked and totally obliterated. But there never fails to come to | |
the rescue some human being, like ourselves in everything except | |
that he has in him a secret power of vision. | |
He sees and points the way. The power to do this he would | |
sometimes fain lay aside, for it is a bitter cross to bear. But | |
he cannot do so. Scorned and hated, he drags after him over the | |
stones the heavy chariot of a divided humanity, ever forwards and | |
upwards. | |
Often, many years after his body has vanished from the earth, men | |
try by every means to recreate this body in marble, iron, bronze, | |
or stone, on an enormous scale. As if there were any intrinsic | |
value in the bodily existence of such divine martyrs and servants | |
of humanity, who despised the flesh and lived only for the | |
spirit! But at least such setting up of marble is a proof that a | |
great number of men have reached the point where once the being | |
they would now honour, stood alone. | |
II. THE MOVEMENT OF THE TRIANGLE | |
The life of the spirit may be fairly represented in diagram as a | |
large acute-angled triangle divided horizontally into unequal | |
parts with the narrowest segment uppermost. The lower the segment | |
the greater it is in breadth, depth, and area. | |
The whole triangle is moving slowly, almost invisibly forwards | |
and upwards. Where the apex was today the second segment is | |
tomorrow; what today can be understood only by the apex and to | |
the rest of the triangle is an incomprehensible gibberish, forms | |
tomorrow the true thought and feeling of the second segment. | |
At the apex of the top segment stands often one man, and only | |
one. His joyful vision cloaks a vast sorrow. Even those who are | |
nearest to him in sympathy do not understand him. Angrily they | |
abuse him as charlatan or madman. So in his lifetime stood | |
Beethoven, solitary and insulted. | |
[Footnote: Weber, composer of Der Freischutz, said of Beethoven's | |
Seventh Symphony: "The extravagances of genius have reached the | |
limit; Beethoven is now ripe for an asylum." Of the opening | |
phrase, on a reiterated "e," the Abbe Stadler said to his | |
neighbour, when first he heard it: "Always that miserable 'e'; he | |
seems to be deaf to it himself, the idiot!"] | |
How many years will it be before a greater segment of the | |
triangle reaches the spot where he once stood alone? Despite | |
memorials and statues, are they really many who have risen to his | |
level? [Footnote 2: Are not many monuments in themselves answers | |
to that question?] | |
In every segment of the triangle are artists. Each one of them | |
who can see beyond the limits of his segment is a prophet to | |
those about him, and helps the advance of the obstinate whole. | |
But those who are blind, or those who <DW44> the movement of the | |
triangle for baser reasons, are fully understood by their fellows | |
and acclaimed for their genius. The greater the segment (which is | |
the same as saying the lower it lies in the triangle) so the | |
greater the number who understand the words of the artist. Every | |
segment hungers consciously or, much more often, unconsciously | |
for their corresponding spiritual food. This food is offered by | |
the artists, and for this food the segment immediately below will | |
tomorrow be stretching out eager hands. | |
This simile of the triangle cannot be said to express every | |
aspect of the spiritual life. For instance, there is never an | |
absolute shadow-side to the picture, never a piece of unrelieved | |
gloom. Even too often it happens that one level of spiritual food | |
suffices for the nourishment of those who are already in a higher | |
segment. But for them this food is poison; in small quantities it | |
depresses their souls gradually into a lower segment; in large | |
quantities it hurls them suddenly into the depths ever lower and | |
lower. Sienkiewicz, in one of his novels, compares the spiritual | |
life to swimming; for the man who does not strive tirelessly, who | |
does not fight continually against sinking, will mentally and | |
morally go under. In this strait a man's talent (again in the | |
biblical sense) becomes a curse--and not only the talent of the | |
artist, but also of those who eat this poisoned food. The artist | |
uses his strength to flatter his lower needs; in an ostensibly | |
artistic form he presents what is impure, draws the weaker | |
elements to him, mixes them with evil, betrays men and helps them | |
to betray themselves, while they convince themselves and others | |
that they are spiritually thirsty, and that from this pure spring | |
they may quench their thirst. Such art does not help the forward | |
movement, but hinders it, dragging back those who are striving to | |
press onward, and spreading pestilence abroad. | |
Such periods, during which art has no noble champion, during | |
which the true spiritual food is wanting, are periods of | |
retrogression in the spiritual world. Ceaselessly souls fall from | |
the higher to the lower segments of the triangle, and the whole | |
seems motionless, or even to move down and backwards. Men | |
attribute to these blind and dumb periods a special value, for | |
they judge them by outward results, thinking only of material | |
well-being. They hail some technical advance, which can help | |
nothing but the body, as a great achievement. Real spiritual | |
gains are at best under-valued, at worst entirely ignored. | |
The solitary visionaries are despised or regarded as abnormal and | |
eccentric. Those who are not wrapped in lethargy and who feel | |
vague longings for spiritual life and knowledge and progress, cry | |
in harsh chorus, without any to comfort them. The night of the | |
spirit falls more and more darkly. Deeper becomes the misery of | |
these blind and terrified guides, and their followers, tormented | |
and unnerved by fear and doubt, prefer to this gradual darkening | |
the final sudden leap into the blackness. | |
At such a time art ministers to lower needs, and is used for | |
material ends. She seeks her substance in hard realities because | |
she knows of nothing nobler. Objects, the reproduction of which | |
is considered her sole aim, remain monotonously the same. The | |
question "what?" disappears from art; only the question "how?" | |
remains. By what method are these material objects to be | |
reproduced? The word becomes a creed. Art has lost her soul. | |
In the search for method the artist goes still further. Art | |
becomes so specialized as to be comprehensible only to artists, | |
and they complain bitterly of public indifference to their work. | |
For since the artist in such times has no need to say much, but | |
only to be notorious for some small originality and consequently | |
lauded by a small group of patrons and connoisseurs (which | |
incidentally is also a very profitable business for him), there | |
arise a crowd of gifted and skilful painters, so easy does the | |
conquest of art appear. In each artistic circle are thousands of | |
such artists, of whom the majority seek only for some new | |
technical manner, and who produce millions of works of art | |
without enthusiasm, with cold hearts and souls asleep. | |
Competition arises. The wild battle for success becomes more and | |
more material. Small groups who have fought their way to the top | |
of the chaotic world of art and picture-making entrench | |
themselves in the territory they have won. The public, left far | |
behind, looks on bewildered, loses interest and turns away. | |
But despite all this confusion, this chaos, this wild hunt for | |
notoriety, the spiritual triangle, slowly but surely, with | |
irresistible strength, moves onwards and upwards. | |
The invisible Moses descends from the mountain and sees the dance | |
round the golden calf. But he brings with him fresh stores of | |
wisdom to man. | |
First by the artist is heard his voice, the voice that is | |
inaudible to the crowd. Almost unknowingly the artist follows the | |
call. Already in that very question "how?" lies a hidden seed of | |
renaissance. For when this "how?" remains without any fruitful | |
answer, there is always a possibility that the same "something" | |
(which we call personality today) may be able to see in the | |
objects about it not only what is purely material but also | |
something less solid; something less "bodily" than was seen in | |
the period of realism, when the universal aim was to reproduce | |
anything "as it really is" and without fantastic imagination. | |
[Footnote: Frequent use is made here of the terms "material" and | |
"non-material," and of the intermediate phrases "more" or "less | |
material." Is everything material? or is EVERYTHING spiritual? | |
Can the distinctions we make between matter and spirit be nothing | |
but relative modifications of one or the other? Thought which, | |
although a product of the spirit, can be defined with positive | |
science, is matter, but of fine and not coarse substance. Is | |
whatever cannot be touched with the hand, spiritual? The | |
discussion lies beyond the scope of this little book; all that | |
matters here is that the boundaries drawn should not be too | |
definite.] | |
If the emotional power of the artist can overwhelm the "how?" and | |
can give free scope to his finer feelings, then art is on the | |
crest of the road by which she will not fail later on to find the | |
"what" she has lost, the "what" which will show the way to the | |
spiritual food of the newly awakened spiritual life. This "what?" | |
will no longer be the material, objective "what" of the former | |
period, but the internal truth of art, the soul without which the | |
body (i.e. the "how") can never be healthy, whether in an | |
individual or in a whole people. | |
THIS "WHAT" IS THE INTERNAL TRUTH WHICH ONLY ART CAN DIVINE, | |
WHICH ONLY ART CAN EXPRESS BY THOSE MEANS OF EXPRESSION WHICH ARE | |
HERS ALONE. | |
III. SPIRITUAL REVOLUTION | |
The spiritual triangle moves slowly onwards and upwards. Today | |
one of the largest of the lower segments has reached the point of | |
using the first battle cry of the materialist creed. The dwellers | |
in this segment group themselves round various banners in | |
religion. They call themselves Jews, Catholics, Protestants, etc. | |
But they are really atheists, and this a few either of the | |
boldest or the narrowest openly avow. "Heaven is empty," "God is | |
dead." In politics these people are democrats and republicans. | |
The fear, horror and hatred which yesterday they felt for these | |
political creeds they now direct against anarchism, of which they | |
know nothing but its much dreaded name. | |
In economics these people are Socialists. They make sharp the | |
sword of justice with which to slay the hydra of capitalism and | |
to hew off the head of evil. | |
Because the inhabitants of this great segment of the triangle | |
have never solved any problem independently, but are dragged as | |
it were in a cart by those the noblest of their fellowmen who | |
have sacrificed themselves, they know nothing of the vital | |
impulse of life which they regard always vaguely from a great | |
distance. They rate this impulse lightly, putting their trust in | |
purposeless theory and in the working of some logical method. | |
The men of the segment next below are dragged slowly higher, | |
blindly, by those just described. But they cling to their old | |
position, full of dread of the unknown and of betrayal. The | |
higher segments are not only blind atheists but can justify their | |
godlessness with strange words; for example, those of Virchow--so | |
unworthy of a learned man--"I have dissected many corpses, but | |
never yet discovered a soul in any of them." | |
In politics they are generally republican, with a knowledge of | |
different parliamentary procedures; they read the political | |
leading articles in the newspapers. In economics they are | |
socialists of various grades, and can support their "principles" | |
with numerous quotations, passing from Schweitzer's EMMA via | |
Lasalle's IRON LAW OF WAGES, to Marx's CAPITAL, and still | |
further. | |
In these loftier segments other categories of ideas, absent in | |
these just described, begin gradually to appear--science and art, | |
to which last belong also literature and music. | |
In science these men are positivists, only recognizing those | |
things that can be weighed and measured. Anything beyond that | |
they consider as rather discreditable nonsense, that same | |
nonsense about which they held yesterday the theories that today | |
are proven. | |
In art they are naturalists, which means that they recognize and | |
value the personality, individuality and temperament of the | |
artist up to a certain definite point. This point has been fixed | |
by others, and in it they believe unflinchingly. | |
But despite their patent and well-ordered security, despite their | |
infallible principles, there lurks in these higher segments a | |
hidden fear, a nervous trembling, a sense of insecurity. And this | |
is due to their upbringing. They know that the sages, statesmen | |
and artists whom today they revere, were yesterday spurned as | |
swindlers and charlatans. And the higher the segment in the | |
triangle, the better defined is this fear, this modern sense of | |
insecurity. Here and there are people with eyes which can see, | |
minds which can correlate. They say to themselves: "If the | |
science of the day before yesterday is rejected by the people of | |
yesterday, and that of yesterday by us of today, is it not | |
possible that what we call science now will be rejected by the | |
men of tomorrow?" And the bravest of them answer, "It is | |
possible." | |
Then people appear who can distinguish those problems that the | |
science of today has not yet explained. And they ask themselves: | |
"Will science, if it continues on the road it has followed for so | |
long, ever attain to the solution of these problems? And if it | |
does so attain, will men be able to rely on its solution?" In | |
these segments are also professional men of learning who can | |
remember the time when facts now recognized by the Academies as | |
firmly established, were scorned by those same Academies. There | |
are also philosophers of aesthetic who write profound books about | |
an art which was yesterday condemned as nonsense. In writing | |
these books they remove the barriers over which art has most | |
recently stepped and set up new ones which are to remain for ever | |
in the places they have chosen. They do not notice that they are | |
busy erecting barriers, not in front of art, but behind it. And | |
if they do notice this, on the morrow they merely write fresh | |
books and hastily set their barriers a little further on. This | |
performance will go on unaltered until it is realized that the | |
most extreme principle of aesthetic can never be of value to the | |
future, but only to the past. No such theory of principle can be | |
laid down for those things which lie beyond, in the realm of the | |
immaterial. That which has no material existence cannot be | |
subjected to a material classification. That which belongs to the | |
spirit of the future can only be realized in feeling, and to this | |
feeling the talent of the artist is the only road. Theory is the | |
lamp which sheds light on the petrified ideas of yesterday and of | |
the more distant past. [Footnote: Cf. Chapter VII.] And as we | |
rise higher in the triangle we find that the uneasiness | |
increases, as a city built on the most correct architectural plan | |
may be shaken suddenly by the uncontrollable force of nature. | |
Humanity is living in such a spiritual city, subject to these | |
sudden disturbances for which neither architects nor | |
mathematicians have made allowance. In one place lies a great | |
wall crumbled to pieces like a card house, in another are the | |
ruins of a huge tower which once stretched to heaven, built on | |
many presumably immortal spiritual pillars. The abandoned | |
churchyard quakes and forgotten graves open and from them rise | |
forgotten ghosts. Spots appear on the sun and the sun grows dark, | |
and what theory can fight with darkness? And in this city live | |
also men deafened by false wisdom who hear no crash, and blinded | |
by false wisdom, so that they say "our sun will shine more | |
brightly than ever and soon the last spots will disappear." But | |
sometime even these men will hear and see. | |
But when we get still higher there is no longer this | |
bewilderment. There work is going on which boldly attacks those | |
pillars which men have set up. There we find other professional | |
men of learning who test matter again and again, who tremble | |
before no problem, and who finally cast doubt on that very matter | |
which was yesterday the foundation of everything, so that the | |
whole universe is shaken. Every day another scientific theory | |
finds bold discoverers who overstep the boundaries of prophecy | |
and, forgetful of themselves, join the other soldiers in the | |
conquest of some new summit and in the hopeless attack on some | |
stubborn fortress. But "there is no fortress that man cannot | |
overcome." | |
On the one hand, FACTS are being established which the science of | |
yesterday dubbed swindles. Even newspapers, which are for the | |
most part the most obsequious servants of worldly success and of | |
the mob, and which trim their sails to every wind, find | |
themselves compelled to modify their ironical judgements on the | |
"marvels" of science and even to abandon them altogether. Various | |
learned men, among them ultra-materialists, dedicate their | |
strength to the scientific research of doubtful problems, which | |
can no longer be lied about or passed over in silence. [Footnote: | |
Zoller, Wagner, Butleroff (St. Petersburg), Crookes (London), | |
etc.; later on, C. H. Richet, C. Flammarion. The Parisian paper | |
Le Matin, published about two years ago the discoveries of the | |
two last named under the title "Je le constate, mais je ne | |
l'explique pas." Finally there are C. Lombroso, the inventor of | |
the anthropological method of diagnosing crime, and Eusapio | |
Palladino.] | |
On the other hand, the number is increasing of those men who put no | |
trust in the methods of materialistic science when it deals with those | |
questions which have to do with "non-matter," or matter which is not | |
accessible to our minds. Just as art is looking for help from the | |
primitives, so these men are turning to half-forgotten times in order to | |
get help from their half-forgotten methods. However, these very methods | |
are still alive and in use among nations whom we, from the height of our | |
knowledge, have been accustomed to regard with pity and scorn. To such | |
nations belong the Indians, who from time to time confront those learned | |
in our civilization with problems which we have either passed by | |
unnoticed or brushed aside with superficial words and explanations. | |
[Footnote: Frequently in such cases use is made of the word hypnotism; | |
that same hypnotism which, in its earlier form of mesmerism, was | |
disdainfully put aside by various learned bodies.] Mme. Blavatsky was | |
the first person, after a life of many years in India, to see a | |
connection between these "savages" and our "civilization." From that | |
moment there began a tremendous spiritual movement which today includes | |
a large number of people and has even assumed a material form in the | |
THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY. This society consists of groups who seek to | |
approach the problem of the spirit by way of the INNER knowledge. The | |
theory of Theosophy which serves as the basis to this movement was set | |
out by Blavatsky in the form of a catechism in which the pupil receives | |
definite answers to his questions from the theosophical point of view. | |
[Footnote: E. P. Blavatsky, The Key of Theosophy, London, 1889.] | |
Theosophy, according to Blavatsky, is synonymous with ETERNAL TRUTH. | |
"The new torchbearer of truth will find the minds of men prepared for | |
his message, a language ready for him in which to clothe the new truths | |
he brings, an organization awaiting his arrival, which will remove the | |
merely mechanical, material obstacles and difficulties from his path." | |
And then Blavatsky continues: "The earth will be a heaven in the | |
twenty-first century in comparison with what it is now," and with these | |
words ends her book. | |
When religion, science and morality are shaken, the two last by | |
the strong hand of Nietzsche, and when the outer supports | |
threaten to fall, man turns his gaze from externals in on to | |
himself. Literature, music and art are the first and most | |
sensitive spheres in which this spiritual revolution makes itself | |
felt. They reflect the dark picture of the present time and show | |
the importance of what at first was only a little point of light | |
noticed by few and for the great majority non-existent. Perhaps | |
they even grow dark in their turn, but on the other hand they | |
turn away from the soulless life of the present towards those | |
substances and ideas which give free scope to the non-material | |
strivings of the soul. | |
A poet of this kind in the realm of literature is Maeterlinck. He | |
takes us into a world which, rightly or wrongly, we term | |
supernatural. La Princesse Maleine, Les Sept Princesses, Les | |
Aveugles, etc., are not people of past times as are the heroes in | |
Shakespeare. They are merely souls lost in the clouds, threatened | |
by them with death, eternally menaced by some invisible and | |
sombre power. | |
Spiritual darkness, the insecurity of ignorance and fear pervade | |
the world in which they move. Maeterlinck is perhaps one of the | |
first prophets, one of the first artistic reformers and seers to | |
herald the end of the decadence just described. The gloom of the | |
spiritual atmosphere, the terrible, but all-guiding hand, the | |
sense of utter fear, the feeling of having strayed from the path, | |
the confusion among the guides, all these are clearly felt in his | |
works.[Footnote: To the front tank of such seers of the decadence | |
belongs also Alfred Kubin. With irresistible force both Kubin's | |
drawings and also his novel "Die Andere Seite" seem to engulf us | |
in the terrible atmosphere of empty desolation.] | |
This atmosphere Maeterlinck creates principally by purely | |
artistic means. His material machinery (gloomy mountains, | |
moonlight, marshes, wind, the cries of owls, etc.) plays really a | |
symbolic role and helps to give the inner note. [Footnote: When | |
one of Maeterlinck's plays was produced in St. Petersburg under | |
his own guidance, he himself at one of the rehearsals had a tower | |
represented by a plain piece of hanging linen. It was of no | |
importance to him to have elaborate scenery prepared. He did as | |
children, the greatest imaginers of all time, always do in their | |
games; for they use a stick for a horse or create entire | |
regiments of cavalry out of chalks. And in the same way a chalk | |
with a notch in it is changed from a knight into a horse. On | |
similar lines the imagination of the spectator plays in the | |
modern theatre, and especially in that of Russia, an important | |
part. And this is a notable element in the transition from the | |
material to the spiritual in the theatre of the future.] | |
Maeterlinck's principal technical weapon is his use of words. The | |
word may express an inner harmony. This inner harmony springs | |
partly, perhaps principally, from the object which it names. But | |
if the object is not itself seen, but only its name heard, the | |
mind of the hearer receives an abstract impression only, that is | |
to say as of the object dematerialized, and a corresponding | |
vibration is immediately set up in the HEART. | |
The apt use of a word (in its poetical meaning), repetition of this | |
word, twice, three times or even more frequently, according to the need | |
of the poem, will not only tend to intensify the inner harmony but also | |
bring to light unsuspected spiritual properties of the word itself. | |
Further than that, frequent repetition of a word (again a favourite game | |
of children, which is forgotten in after life) deprives the word of its | |
original external meaning. Similarly, in drawing, the abstract message | |
of the object drawn tends to be forgotten and its meaning lost. | |
Sometimes perhaps we unconsciously hear this real harmony sounding | |
together with the material or later on with the non-material sense of | |
the object. But in the latter case the true harmony exercises a direct | |
impression on the soul. The soul undergoes an emotion which has no | |
relation to any definite object, an emotion more complicated, I might | |
say more super-sensuous than the emotion caused by the sound of a bell | |
or of a stringed instrument. This line of development offers great | |
possibilities to the literature of the future. In an embryonic form this | |
word-power-has already been used in SERRES CHAUDES. [Footnote: SERRES | |
CHAUDES, SUIVIES DE QUINZE CHANSONS, par Maurice Maeterlinck. Brussels. | |
Lacomblez.] As Maeterlinck uses them, words which seem at first to | |
create only a neutral impression have really a more subtle value. Even a | |
familiar word like "hair," if used in a certain way can intensify an | |
atmosphere of sorrow or despair. And this is Maeterlinck's method. He | |
shows that thunder, lightning and a moon behind driving clouds, in | |
themselves material means, can be used in the theatre to create a | |
greater sense of terror than they do in nature. | |
The true inner forces do not lose their strength and effect so | |
easily. [Footnote: A comparison between the work of Poe and | |
Maeterlinck shows the course of artistic transition from the | |
material to the abstract.] An the word which has two meanings, | |
the first direct, the second indirect, is the pure material of | |
poetry and of literature, the material which these arts alone can | |
manipulate and through which they speak to the spirit. | |
Something similar may be noticed in the music of Wagner. His | |
famous leitmotiv is an attempt to give personality to his | |
characters by something beyond theatrical expedients and light | |
effect. His method of using a definite motiv is a purely musical | |
method. It creates a spiritual atmosphere by means of a musical | |
phrase which precedes the hero, which he seems to radiate forth | |
from any distance. [Footnote: Frequent attempts have shown that | |
such a spiritual atmosphere can belong not only to heroes but to | |
any human being. Sensitives cannot, for example, remain in a room | |
in which a person has been who is spiritually antagonistic to | |
them, even though they know nothing of his existence.] The most | |
modern musicians like Debussy create a spiritual impression, | |
often taken from nature, but embodied in purely musical form. For | |
this reason Debussy is often classed with the Impressionist | |
painters on the ground that he resembles these painters in using | |
natural phenomena for the purposes of his art. Whatever truth | |
there may be in this comparison merely accentuates the fact that | |
the various arts of today learn from each other and often | |
resemble each other. But it would be rash to say that this | |
definition is an exhaustive statement of Debussy's significance. | |
Despite his similarity with the Impressionists this musician is | |
deeply concerned with spiritual harmony, for in his works one | |
hears the suffering and tortured nerves of the present time. And | |
further Debussy never uses the wholly material note so | |
characteristic of programme music, but trusts mainly in the | |
creation of a more abstract impression. Debussy has been greatly | |
influenced by Russian music, notably by Mussorgsky. So it is not | |
surprising that he stands in close relation to the young Russian | |
composers, the chief of whom is Scriabin. The experience of the | |
hearer is frequently the same during the performance of the works | |
of these two musicians. He is often snatched quite suddenly from | |
a series of modern discords into the charm of more or less | |
conventional beauty. He feels himself often insulted, tossed | |
about like a tennis ball over the net between the two parties of | |
the outer and the inner beauty. To those who are not accustomed | |
to it the inner beauty appears as ugliness because humanity in | |
general inclines to the outer and knows nothing of the inner. | |
Almost alone in severing himself from conventional beauty is the | |
Austrian composer, Arnold Schonberg. He says in his | |
Harmonielehre: "Every combination of notes, every advance is | |
possible, but I am beginning to feel that there are also definite | |
rules and conditions which incline me to the use of this or that | |
dissonance." [Footnote: "Die Musik," p. 104, from the | |
Harmonielehre (Verlag der Universal Edition).] This means that | |
Schonberg realizes that the greatest freedom of all, the freedom | |
of an unfettered art, can never be absolute. Every age achieves a | |
certain measure of this freedom, but beyond the boundaries of its | |
freedom the mightiest genius can never go. But the measure of | |
freedom of each age must be constantly enlarged. Schonberg is | |
endeavouring to make complete use of his freedom and has already | |
discovered gold mines of new beauty in his search for spiritual | |
harmony. His music leads us into a realm where musical experience | |
is a matter not of the ear but of the soul alone--and from this | |
point begins the music of the future. | |
A parallel course has been followed by the Impressionist movement | |
in painting. It is seen in its dogmatic and most naturalistic | |
form in so-called Neo-Impressionism. The theory of this is to put | |
on the canvas the whole glitter and brilliance of nature, and not | |
only an isolated aspect of her. | |
It is interesting to notice three practically contemporary and | |
totally different groups in painting. They are (1) Rossetti and | |
his pupil Burne-Jones, with their followers; (2) Bocklin and his | |
school; (3) Segantini, with his unworthy following of | |
photographic artists. I have chosen these three groups to | |
illustrate the search for the abstract in art. Rossetti sought to | |
revive the non-materialism of the pre-Raphaelites. Bocklin busied | |
himself with the mythological scenes, but was in contrast to | |
Rossetti in that he gave strongly material form to his legendary | |
figures. Segantini, outwardly the most material of the three, | |
selected the most ordinary objects (hills, stones, cattle, etc.) | |
often painting them with the minutest realism, but he never | |
failed to create a spiritual as well as a material value, so that | |
really he is the most non-material of the trio. | |
These men sought for the "inner" by way of the "outer." | |
By another road, and one more purely artistic, the great seeker | |
after a new sense of form approached the same problem. Cezanne | |
made a living thing out of a teacup, or rather in a teacup he | |
realized the existence of something alive. He raised still life | |
to such a point that it ceased to be inanimate. | |
He painted these things as he painted human beings, because he | |
was endowed with the gift of divining the inner life in | |
everything. His colour and form are alike suitable to the | |
spiritual harmony. A man, a tree, an apple, all were used by | |
Cezanne in the creation of something that is called a "picture," | |
and which is a piece of true inward and artistic harmony. The | |
same intention actuates the work of one of the greatest of the | |
young Frenchmen, Henri Matisse. He paints "pictures," and in | |
these "pictures" endeavours to reproduce the divine.[Footnote: | |
Cf. his article in KUNST UND KUNSTLER, 1909, No. 8.] To attain | |
this end he requires as a starting point nothing but the object | |
to be painted (human being or whatever it may be), and then the | |
methods that belong to painting alone, colour and form. | |
By personal inclination, because he is French and because he is | |
specially gifted as a colourist, Matisse is apt to lay too much | |
stress on the colour. Like Debussy, he cannot always refrain from | |
conventional beauty; Impressionism is in his blood. One sees | |
pictures of Matisse which are full of great inward vitality, | |
produced by the stress of the inner need, and also pictures which | |
possess only outer charm, because they were painted on an outer | |
impulse. (How often one is reminded of Manet in this.) His work | |
seems to be typical French painting, with its dainty sense of | |
melody, raised from time to time to the summit of a great hill | |
above the clouds. | |
But in the work of another great artist in Paris, the Spaniard Pablo | |
Picasso, there is never any suspicion of this conventional beauty. | |
Tossed hither and thither by the need for self-expression, Picasso | |
hurries from one manner to another. At times a great gulf appears | |
between consecutive manners, because Picasso leaps boldly and is found | |
continually by his bewildered crowd of followers standing at a point | |
very different from that at which they saw him last. No sooner do they | |
think that they have reached him again than he has changed once more. In | |
this way there arose Cubism, the latest of the French movements, which | |
is treated in detail in Part II. Picasso is trying to arrive at | |
constructiveness by way of proportion. In his latest works (1911) he has | |
achieved the logical destruction of matter, not, however, by dissolution | |
but rather by a kind of a parcelling out of its various divisions and a | |
constructive scattering of these divisions about the canvas. But he | |
seems in this most recent work distinctly desirous of keeping an | |
appearance of matter. He shrinks from no innovation, and if colour seems | |
likely to balk him in his search for a pure artistic form, he throws it | |
overboard and paints a picture in brown and white; and the problem of | |
purely artistic form is the real problem of his life. | |
In their pursuit of the same supreme end Matisse and Picasso | |
stand side by side, Matisse representing colour and Picasso form. | |
IV. THE PYRAMID | |
And so at different points along the road are the different arts, | |
saying what they are best able to say, and in the language which | |
is peculiarly their own. Despite, or perhaps thanks to, the | |
differences between them, there has never been a time when the | |
arts approached each other more nearly than they do today, in | |
this later phase of spiritual development. | |
In each manifestation is the seed of a striving towards the | |
abstract, the non-material. Consciously or unconsciously they are | |
obeying Socrates' command--Know thyself. Consciously or | |
unconsciously artists are studying and proving their material, | |
setting in the balance the spiritual value of those elements, | |
with which it is their several privilege to work. | |
And the natural result of this striving is that the various arts | |
are drawing together. They are finding in Music the best teacher. | |
With few exceptions music has been for some centuries the art | |
which has devoted itself not to the reproduction of natural | |
phenomena, but rather to the expression of the artist's soul, in | |
musical sound. | |
A painter, who finds no satisfaction in mere representation, | |
however artistic, in his longing to express his inner life, | |
cannot but envy the ease with which music, the most non-material | |
of the arts today, achieves this end. He naturally seeks to apply | |
the methods of music to his own art. And from this results that | |
modern desire for rhythm in painting, for mathematical, abstract | |
construction, for repeated notes of colour, for setting colour in | |
motion. | |
This borrowing of method by one art from another, can only be | |
truly successful when the application of the borrowed methods is | |
not superficial but fundamental. One art must learn first how | |
another uses its methods, so that the methods may afterwards be | |
applied to the borrower's art from the beginning, and suitably. | |
The artist must not forget that in him lies the power of true | |
application of every method, but that that power must be | |
developed. | |
In manipulation of form music can achieve results which are | |
beyond the reach of painting. On the other hand, painting is | |
ahead of music in several particulars. Music, for example, has at | |
its disposal duration of time; while painting can present to the | |
spectator the whole content of its message at one moment. | |
[Footnote: These statements of difference are, of course, | |
relative; for music can on occasions dispense with extension of | |
time, and painting make use of it.] Music, which is outwardly | |
unfettered by nature, needs no definite form for its expression. | |
[Footnote: How miserably music fails when attempting to express | |
material appearances is proved by the affected absurdity of | |
programme music. Quite lately such experiments have been made. | |
The imitation in sound of croaking frogs, of farmyard noises, of | |
household duties, makes an excellent music hall turn and is | |
amusing enough. But in serious music such attempts are merely | |
warnings against any imitation of nature. Nature has her own | |
language, and a powerful one; this language cannot be imitated. | |
The sound of a farmyard in music is never successfully | |
reproduced, and is unnecessary waste of time. The Stimmung of | |
nature can be imparted by every art, not, however, by imitation, | |
but by the artistic divination of its inner spirit.] | |
Painting today is almost exclusively concerned with the | |
reproduction of natural forms and phenomena. Her business is now | |
to test her strength and methods, to know herself as music has | |
done for a long time, and then to use her powers to a truly | |
artistic end. | |
And so the arts are encroaching one upon another, and from a | |
proper use of this encroachment will rise the art that is truly | |
monumental. Every man who steeps himself in the spiritual | |
possibilities of his art is a valuable helper in the building of | |
the spiritual pyramid which will some day reach to heaven. | |
PART II: ABOUT PAINTING | |
V. THE PSYCHOLOGICAL WORKING OF COLOUR | |
To let the eye stray over a palette, splashed with many colours, | |
produces a dual result. In the first place one receives a PURELY | |
PHYSICAL IMPRESSION, one of pleasure and contentment at the | |
varied and beautiful colours. The eye is either warmed or else | |
soothed and cooled. But these physical sensations can only be of | |
short duration. They are merely superficial and leave no lasting | |
impression, for the soul is unaffected. But although the effect | |
of the colours is forgotten when the eye is turned away, the | |
superficial impression of varied colour may be the starting point | |
of a whole chain of related sensations. | |
On the average man only the impressions caused by very familiar | |
objects, will be purely superficial. A first encounter with any | |
new phenomenon exercises immediately an impression on the soul. | |
This is the experience of the child discovering the world, to | |
whom every object is new. He sees a light, wishes to take hold of | |
it, burns his finger and feels henceforward a proper respect for | |
flame. But later he learns that light has a friendly as well as | |
an unfriendly side, that it drives away the darkness, makes the | |
day longer, is essential to warmth, cooking, play-acting. From | |
the mass of these discoveries is composed a knowledge of light, | |
which is indelibly fixed in his mind. The strong, intensive | |
interest disappears and the various properties of flame are | |
balanced against each other. In this way the whole world becomes | |
gradually disenchanted. It is realized that trees give shade, | |
that horses run fast and motor-cars still faster, that dogs bite, | |
that the figure seen in a mirror is not a real human being. | |
As the man develops, the circle of these experiences caused by | |
different beings and objects, grows ever wider. They acquire an | |
inner meaning and eventually a spiritual harmony. It is the same | |
with colour, which makes only a momentary and superficial | |
impression on a soul but slightly developed in sensitiveness. But | |
even this superficial impression varies in quality. The eye is | |
strongly attracted by light, clear colours, and still more | |
strongly attracted by those colours which are warm as well as | |
clear; vermilion has the charm of flame, which has always | |
attracted human beings. Keen lemon-yellow hurts the eye in time | |
as a prolonged and shrill trumpet-note the ear, and the gazer | |
turns away to seek relief in blue or green. | |
But to a more sensitive soul the effect of colours is deeper and | |
intensely moving. And so we come to the second main result of | |
looking at colours: THEIR PSYCHIC EFFECT. They produce a | |
corresponding spiritual vibration, and it is only as a step | |
towards this spiritual vibration that the elementary physical | |
impression is of importance. | |
Whether the psychic effect of colour is a direct one, as these last few | |
lines imply, or whether it is the outcome of association, is perhaps | |
open to question. The soul being one with the body, the former may well | |
experience a psychic shock, caused by association acting on the latter. | |
For example, red may cause a sensation analogous to that caused by | |
flame, because red is the colour of flame. A warm red will prove | |
exciting, another shade of red will cause pain or disgust through | |
association with running blood. In these cases colour awakens a | |
corresponding physical sensation, which undoubtedly works upon the soul. | |
If this were always the case, it would be easy to define by | |
association the effects of colour upon other senses than that of | |
sight. One might say that keen yellow looks sour, because it | |
recalls the taste of a lemon. | |
But such definitions are not universally possible. There are many | |
examples of colour working which refuse to be so classified. A | |
Dresden doctor relates of one of his patients, whom he designates | |
as an "exceptionally sensitive person," that he could not eat a | |
certain sauce without tasting "blue," i.e. without experiencing a | |
feeling of seeing a blue color. [Footnote: Dr. Freudenberg. | |
"Spaltung der Personlichkeit" (Ubersinnliche Welt. 1908. No. 2, | |
p. 64-65). The author also discusses the hearing of colour, and | |
says that here also no rules can be laid down. But cf. L. | |
Sabanejeff in "Musik," Moscow, 1911, No. 9, where the imminent | |
possibility of laying down a law is clearly hinted at.] It would | |
be possible to suggest, by way of explanation of this, that in | |
highly sensitive people, the way to the soul is so direct and the | |
soul itself so impressionable, that any impression of taste | |
communicates itself immediately to the soul, and thence to the | |
other organs of sense (in this case, the eyes). This would imply | |
an echo or reverberation, such as occurs sometimes in musical | |
instruments which, without being touched, sound in harmony with | |
some other instrument struck at the moment. | |
But not only with taste has sight been known to work in harmony. | |
Many colours have been described as rough or sticky, others as | |
smooth and uniform, so that one feels inclined to stroke them | |
(e.g., dark ultramarine, chromic oxide green, and rose madder). | |
Equally the distinction between warm and cold colours belongs to | |
this connection. Some colours appear soft (rose madder), others | |
hard (cobalt green, blue-green oxide), so that even fresh from | |
the tube they seem to be dry. | |
The expression "scented colours" is frequently met with. And | |
finally the sound of colours is so definite that it would be hard | |
to find anyone who would try to express bright yellow in the bass | |
notes, or dark lake in the treble. | |
[Footnote: Much theory and practice have been devoted to this | |
question. People have sought to paint in counterpoint. Also | |
unmusical children have been successfully helped to play the | |
piano by quoting a parallel in colour (e.g., of flowers). On | |
these lines Frau A. Sacharjin-Unkowsky has worked for several | |
years and has evolved a method of "so describing sounds by | |
natural colours, and colours by natural sounds, that colour could | |
be heard and sound seen." The system has proved successful for | |
several years both in the inventor's own school and the | |
Conservatoire at St. Petersburg. Finally Scriabin, on more | |
spiritual lines, has paralleled sound and colours in a chart not | |
unlike that of Frau Unkowsky. In "Prometheus" he has given | |
convincing proof of his theories. (His chart appeared in "Musik," | |
Moscow, 1911, No. 9.)] | |
[Footnote: The converse question, i.e. the colour of sound, was | |
touched upon by Mallarme and systematized by his disciple Rene | |
Ghil, whose book, Traite du Verbe, gives the rules for | |
"l'instrumentation verbale."--M.T.H.S.] | |
The explanation by association will not suffice us in many, and | |
the most important cases. Those who have heard of chromotherapy | |
will know that light can exercise very definite | |
influences on the whole body. Attempts have been made with | |
different colours in the treatment of various nervous ailments. | |
They have shown that red light stimulates and excites the heart, | |
while blue light can cause temporary paralysis. But when the | |
experiments come to be tried on animals and even plants, the | |
association theory falls to the ground. So one is bound to admit | |
that the question is at present unexplored, but that colour can | |
exercise enormous influence over the body as a physical organism. | |
No more sufficient, in the psychic sphere, is the theory of | |
association. Generally speaking, colour is a power which directly | |
influences the soul. Colour is the keyboard, the eyes are the | |
hammers, the soul is the piano with many strings. The artist is | |
the hand which plays, touching one key or another, to cause | |
vibrations in the soul. | |
IT IS EVIDENT THEREFORE THAT COLOUR HARMONY MUST REST ONLY ON A | |
CORRESPONDING VIBRATION IN THE HUMAN SOUL; AND THIS IS ONE OF THE | |
GUIDING PRINCIPLES OF THE INNER NEED. | |
[Footnote: The phrase "inner need" (innere Notwendigkeit) means | |
primarily the impulse felt by the artist for spiritual | |
expression. Kandinsky is apt, however, to use the phrase | |
sometimes to mean not only the hunger for spiritual expression, | |
but also the actual expression itself.--M.T.H.S.] | |
VI. THE LANGUAGE OF FORM AND COLOUR | |
The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not mov'd with | |
concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and | |
spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his | |
affections dark as Erebus: Let no such man be trusted. Mark the | |
music. (The Merchant of Venice, Act v, Scene I.) | |
Musical sound acts directly on the soul and finds an echo there because, | |
though to varying extents, music is innate in man. | |
[Footnote: Cf. E. Jacques-Dalcroze in The Eurhythmics of | |
Jacques-Dalcroze. London, Constable.--M.T.H.S.] | |
"Everyone knows that yellow, orange, and red suggest ideas of joy and | |
plenty" (Delacroix). [Footnote: Cf. Paul Signac, D'Eugene Delacroix au | |
Neo-Impressionisme. Paris. Floury. Also compare an interesting article | |
by K. Schettler: "Notizen uber die Farbe." (Decorative Kunst, 1901, | |
February).] | |
These two quotations show the deep relationship between the arts, | |
and especially between music and painting. Goethe said that | |
painting must count this relationship her main foundation, and by | |
this prophetic remark he seems to foretell the position in which | |
painting is today. She stands, in fact, at the first stage of the | |
road by which she will, according to her own possibilities, make | |
art an abstraction of thought and arrive finally at purely | |
artistic composition. [Footnote: By "Komposition" Kandinsky here | |
means, of course, an artistic creation. He is not referring to | |
the arrangement of the objects in a picture.--M.T.H.S.] | |
Painting has two weapons at her disposal: | |
1. Colour. | |
2. Form. | |
Form can stand alone as representing an object (either real or | |
otherwise) or as a purely abstract limit to a space or a surface. | |
Colour cannot stand alone; it cannot dispense with boundaries of some | |
kind. [Footnote: Cf. A. Wallace Rimington. Colour music (OP. CIT.) where | |
experiments are recounted with a colour organ, which gives symphonies of | |
rapidly changing colour without boundaries--except the unavoidable ones | |
of the white curtain on which the colours are reflected.--M.T.H.S.] A | |
never-ending extent of red can only be seen in the mind; when the word | |
red is heard, the colour is evoked without definite boundaries. If such | |
are necessary they have deliberately to be imagined. But such red, as is | |
seen by the mind and not by the eye, exercises at once a definite and an | |
indefinite impression on the soul, and produces spiritual harmony. I say | |
"indefinite," because in itself it has no suggestion of warmth or cold, | |
such attributes having to be imagined for it afterwards, as | |
modifications of the original "redness." I say "definite," because the | |
spiritual harmony exists without any need for such subsequent attributes | |
of warmth or cold. An analogous case is the sound of a trumpet which one | |
hears when the word "trumpet" is pronounced. This sound is audible to | |
the soul, without the distinctive character of a trumpet heard in the | |
open air or in a room, played alone or with other instruments, in the | |
hands of a postilion, a huntsman, a soldier, or a professional musician. | |
But when red is presented in a material form (as in painting) it | |
must possess (1) some definite shade of the many shades of red | |
that exist and (2) a limited surface, divided off from the other | |
colours, which are undoubtedly there. The first of these | |
conditions (the subjective) is affected by the second (the | |
objective), for the neighbouring colours affect the shade of red. | |
This essential connection between colour and form brings us to | |
the question of the influences of form on colour. Form alone, | |
even though totally abstract and geometrical, has a power of | |
inner suggestion. A triangle (without the accessory consideration | |
of its being acute-or obtuse-angled or equilateral) has a | |
spiritual value of its own. In connection with other forms, this | |
value may be somewhat modified, but remains in quality the same. | |
The case is similar with a circle, a square, or any conceivable | |
geometrical figure. [Footnote: The angle at which the triangle | |
stands, and whether it is stationary or moving, are of importance | |
to its spiritual value. This fact is specially worthy of the | |
painter's consideration.] As above, with the red, we have here a | |
subjective substance in an objective shell. | |
The mutual influence of form and colour now becomes clear. A | |
yellow triangle, a blue circle, a green square, or a green | |
triangle, a yellow circle, a blue square--all these are different | |
and have different spiritual values. | |
It is evident that many colours are hampered and even nullified | |
in effect by many forms. On the whole, keen colours are well | |
suited by sharp forms (e.g., a yellow triangle), and soft, deep | |
colours by round forms (e.g., a blue circle). But it must be | |
remembered that an unsuitable combination of form and colour is | |
not necessarily discordant, but may, with manipulation, show the | |
way to fresh possibilities of harmony. | |
Since colours and forms are well-nigh innumerable, their | |
combination and their influences are likewise unending. The | |
material is inexhaustible. | |
Form, in the narrow sense, is nothing but the separating line | |
between surfaces of colour. That is its outer meaning. But it has | |
also an inner meaning, of varying intensity, [Footnote: It is | |
never literally true that any form is meaningless and "says | |
nothing." Every form in the world says something. But its message | |
often fails to reach us, and even if it does, full understanding | |
is often withheld from us.] and, properly speaking, FORM IS THE | |
OUTWARD EXPRESSION OF THIS INNER MEANING. To use once more the | |
metaphor of the piano--the artist is the hand which, by playing | |
on this or that key (i.e., form), affects the human soul in this | |
or that way. SO IT IS EVIDENT THAT FORM-HARMONY MUST REST ONLY ON | |
A CORRESPONDING VIBRATION OF THE HUMAN SOUL; AND THIS IS A SECOND | |
GUIDING PRINCIPLE OF THE INNER NEED. | |
The two aspects of form just mentioned define its two aims. The | |
task of limiting surfaces (the outer aspect) is well performed if | |
the inner meaning is fully expressed. | |
[Footnote: The phrase "full expression" must be clearly | |
understood. Form often is most expressive when least coherent. It | |
is often most expressive when outwardly most imperfect, perhaps | |
only a stroke, a mere hint of outer meaning.] | |
The outer task may assume many different shapes; but it will | |
never fail in one of two purposes: (1) Either form aims at so | |
limiting surfaces as to fashion of them some material object; (2) | |
Or form remains abstract, describing only a non-material, | |
spiritual entity. Such non-material entities, with life and value | |
as such, are a circle, a triangle, a rhombus, a trapeze, etc., | |
many of them so complicated as to have no mathematical | |
denomination. | |
Between these two extremes lie the innumerable forms in which | |
both elements exist; with a preponderance either of the abstract | |
or the material. These intermediate forms are, at present, the | |
store on which the artist has to draw. Purely abstract forms are | |
beyond the reach of the artist at present; they are too | |
indefinite for him. To limit himself to the purely indefinite | |
would be to rob himself of possibilities, to exclude the human | |
element and therefore to weaken his power of expression. | |
On the other hand, there exists equally no purely material form. | |
A material object cannot be absolutely reproduced. For good or | |
evil, the artist has eyes and hands, which are perhaps more | |
artistic than his intentions and refuse to aim at photography | |
alone. Many genuine artists, who cannot be content with a mere | |
inventory of material objects, seek to express the objects by | |
what was once called "idealization," then "selection," and which | |
tomorrow will again be called something different. | |
[Footnote: The motive of idealization is so to beautify the organic form | |
as to bring out its harmony and rouse poetic feeling. "Selection" aims | |
not so much at beautification as at emphasizing the character of the | |
object, by the omission of non-essentials. The desire of the future will | |
be purely the expression of the inner meaning. The organic form no | |
longer serves as direct object, but as the human words in which a divine | |
message must be written, in order for it to be comprehensible to human | |
minds.] | |
The impossibility and, in art, the uselessness of attempting to | |
copy an object exactly, the desire to give the object full | |
expression, are the impulses which drive the artist away from | |
"literal" colouring to purely artistic aims. And that brings us | |
to the question of composition. [Footnote: Here Kandinsky means | |
arrangement of the picture.--M.T.H.S.] | |
Pure artistic composition has two elements: | |
1. The composition of the whole picture. | |
2. The creation of the various forms which, by standing in | |
different relationships to each other, decide the composition of | |
the whole. [Footnote: The general composition will naturally | |
include many little compositions which may be antagonistic to | |
each other, though helping--perhaps by their very antagonism--the | |
harmony of the whole. These little compositions have themselves | |
subdivisions of varied inner meanings.] Many objects have to be | |
considered in the light of the whole, and so ordered as to suit | |
this whole. Singly they will have little meaning, being of | |
importance only in so far as they help the general effect. These | |
single objects must be fashioned in one way only; and this, not | |
because their own inner meaning demands that particular | |
fashioning, but entirely because they have to serve as building | |
material for the whole composition. [Footnote: A good example is | |
Cezanne's "Bathing Women," which is built in the form of a | |
triangle. Such building is an old principle, which was being | |
abandoned only because academic usage had made it lifeless. But | |
Cezanne has given it new life. He does not use it to harmonize | |
his groups, but for purely artistic purposes. He distorts the | |
human figure with perfect justification. Not only must the whole | |
figure follow the lines of the triangle, but each limb must grow | |
narrower from bottom to top. Raphael's "Holy Family" is an | |
example of triangular composition used only for the harmonizing | |
of the group, and without any mystical motive.] | |
So the abstract idea is creeping into art, although, only | |
yesterday, it was scorned and obscured by purely material ideals. | |
Its gradual advance is natural enough, for in proportion as the | |
organic form falls into the background, the abstract ideal | |
achieves greater prominence. | |
But the organic form possesses all the same an inner harmony of | |
its own, which may be either the same as that of its abstract | |
parallel (thus producing a simple combination of the two | |
elements) or totally different (in which case the combination may | |
be unavoidably discordant). However diminished in importance the | |
organic form may be, its inner note will always be heard; and for | |
this reason the choice of material objects is an important one. | |
The spiritual accord of the organic with the abstract element may | |
strengthen the appeal of the latter (as much by contrast as by | |
similarity) or may destroy it. | |
Suppose a rhomboidal composition, made up of a number of human | |
figures. The artist asks himself: Are these human figures an | |
absolute necessity to the composition, or should they be replaced | |
by other forms, and that without affecting the fundamental | |
harmony of the whole? If the answer is "Yes," we have a case in | |
which the material appeal directly weakens the abstract appeal. | |
The human form must either be replaced by another object which, | |
whether by similarity or contrast, will strengthen the abstract | |
appeal, or must remain a purely non-material symbol. [Footnote: | |
Cf. Translator's Introduction, pp. xviii and xx.--M.T.H.S.] | |
Once more the metaphor of the piano. For "colour" or "form" | |
substitute "object." Every object has its own life and therefore | |
its own appeal; man is continually subject to these appeals. But | |
the results are often dubbed either sub--or super-conscious. | |
Nature, that is to say the ever-changing surroundings of man, | |
sets in vibration the strings of the piano (the soul) by | |
manipulation of the keys (the various objects with their several | |
appeals). | |
The impressions we receive, which often appear merely chaotic, | |
consist of three elements: the impression of the colour of the | |
object, of its form, and of its combined colour and form, i.e. of | |
the object itself. | |
At this point the individuality of the artist comes to the front | |
and disposes, as he wills, these three elements. IT IS CLEAR, | |
THEREFORE, THAT THE CHOICE OF OBJECT (i.e. OF ONE OF THE ELEMENTS | |
IN THE HARMONY OF FORM) MUST BE DECIDED ONLY BY A CORRESPONDING | |
VIBRATION IN THE HUMAN SOUL; AND THIS IS A THIRD GUIDING | |
PRINCIPLE OF THE INNER NEED. | |
The more abstract is form, the more clear and direct is its | |
appeal. In any composition the material side may be more or less | |
omitted in proportion as the forms used are more or less | |
material, and for them substituted pure abstractions, or largely | |
dematerialized objects. The more an artist uses these abstracted | |
forms, the deeper and more confidently will he advance into the | |
kingdom of the abstract. And after him will follow the gazer at | |
his pictures, who also will have gradually acquired a greater | |
familiarity with the language of that kingdom. | |
Must we then abandon utterly all material objects and paint | |
solely in abstractions? The problem of harmonizing the appeal of | |
the material and the non-material shows us the answer to this | |
question. As every word spoken rouses an inner vibration, so | |
likewise does every object represented. To deprive oneself of | |
this possibility is to limit one's powers of expression. That is | |
at any rate the case at present. But besides this answer to the | |
question, there is another, and one which art can always employ | |
to any question beginning with "must": There is no "must" in art, | |
because art is free. | |
With regard to the second problem of composition, the creation of | |
the single elements which are to compose the whole, it must be | |
remembered that the same form in the same circumstances will | |
always have the same inner appeal. Only the circumstances are | |
constantly varying. It results that: (1) The ideal harmony alters | |
according to the relation to other forms of the form which causes | |
it. (2) Even in similar relationship a slight approach to or | |
withdrawal from other forms may affect the harmony. [Footnote: | |
This is what is meant by "an appeal of motion." For example, the | |
appeal of an upright triangle is more steadfast and quiet than | |
that of one set obliquely on its side.] Nothing is absolute. | |
Form-composition rests on a relative basis, depending on (1) the | |
alterations in the mutual relations of forms one to another, (2) | |
alterations in each individual form, down to the very smallest. | |
Every form is as sensitive as a puff of smoke, the slightest | |
breath will alter it completely. This extreme mobility makes it | |
easier to obtain similar harmonies from the use of different | |
forms, than from a repetition of the same one; though of course | |
an exact replica of a spiritual harmony can never be produced. So | |
long as we are susceptible only to the appeal of a whole | |
composition, this fact is of mainly theoretical importance. But | |
when we become more sensitive by a constant use of abstract forms | |
(which have no material interpretation) it will become of great | |
practical significance. And so as art becomes more difficult, its | |
wealth of expression in form becomes greater and greater. At the | |
same time the question of distortion in drawing falls out and is | |
replaced by the question how far the inner appeal of the | |
particular form is veiled or given full expression. And once more | |
the possibilities are extended, for combinations of veiled and | |
fully expressed appeals suggest new LEITMOTIVEN in composition. | |
Without such development as this, form-composition is impossible. | |
To anyone who cannot experience the inner appeal of form (whether | |
material or abstract) such composition can never be other than | |
meaningless. Apparently aimless alterations in form-arrangement | |
will make art seem merely a game. So once more we are faced with | |
the same principle, which is to set art free, the principle of | |
the inner need. | |
When features or limbs for artistic reasons are changed or | |
distorted, men reject the artistic problem and fall back on the | |
secondary question of anatomy. But, on our argument, this | |
secondary consideration does not appear, only the real, artistic | |
question remaining. These apparently irresponsible, but really | |
well-reasoned alterations in form provide one of the storehouses | |
of artistic possibilities. | |
The adaptability of forms, their organic but inward variations, | |
their motion in the picture, their inclination to material or | |
abstract, their mutual relations, either individually or as parts | |
of a whole; further, the concord or discord of the various | |
elements of a picture, the handling of groups, the combinations | |
of veiled and openly expressed appeals, the use of rhythmical or | |
unrhythmical, of geometrical or non-geometrical forms, their | |
contiguity or separation--all these things are the material for | |
counterpoint in painting. | |
But so long as colour is excluded, such counterpoint is confined | |
to black and white. Colour provides a whole wealth of | |
possibilities of her own, and when combined with form, yet a | |
further series of possibilities. And all these will be | |
expressions of the inner need. | |
The inner need is built up of three mystical elements: (1) Every | |
artist, as a creator, has something in him which calls for | |
expression (this is the element of personality). (2) Every | |
artist, as child of his age, is impelled to express the spirit of | |
his age (this is the element of style)--dictated by the period | |
and particular country to which the artist belongs (it is | |
doubtful how long the latter distinction will continue to exist). | |
(3) Every artist, as a servant of art, has to help the cause of | |
art (this is the element of pure artistry, which is constant in | |
all ages and among all nationalities). | |
A full understanding of the first two elements is necessary for a | |
realization of the third. But he who has this realization will | |
recognize that a rudely carved Indian column is an expression of | |
the same spirit as actuates any real work of art of today. | |
In the past and even today much talk is heard of "personality" in | |
art. Talk of the coming "style" becomes more frequent daily. But | |
for all their importance today, these questions will have | |
disappeared after a few hundred or thousand years. | |
Only the third element--that of pure artistry--will remain for | |
ever. An Egyptian carving speaks to us today more subtly than it | |
did to its chronological contemporaries; for they judged it with | |
the hampering knowledge of period and personality. But we can | |
judge purely as an expression of the eternal artistry. | |
Similarly--the greater the part played in a modern work of art by | |
the two elements of style and personality, the better will it be | |
appreciated by people today; but a modern work of art which is | |
full of the third element, will fail to reach the contemporary | |
soul. For many centuries have to pass away before the third | |
element can be received with understanding. But the artist in | |
whose work this third element predominates is the really great | |
artist. | |
Because the elements of style and personality make up what is | |
called the periodic characteristics of any work of art, the | |
"development" of artistic forms must depend on their separation | |
from the element of pure artistry, which knows neither period nor | |
nationality. But as style and personality create in every epoch | |
certain definite forms, which, for all their superficial | |
differences, are really closely related, these forms can be | |
spoken of as one side of art--the SUBJECTIVE. Every artist | |
chooses, from the forms which reflect his own time, those which | |
are sympathetic to him, and expresses himself through them. So | |
the subjective element is the definite and external expression of | |
the inner, objective element. | |
The inevitable desire for outward expression of the OBJECTIVE | |
element is the impulse here defined as the "inner need." The | |
forms it borrows change from day to day, and, as it continually | |
advances, what is today a phrase of inner harmony becomes | |
tomorrow one of outer harmony. It is clear, therefore, that the | |
inner spirit of art only uses the outer form of any particular | |
period as a stepping-stone to further expression. | |
In short, the working of the inner need and the development of | |
art is an ever-advancing expression of the eternal and objective | |
in the terms of the periodic and subjective. | |
Because the objective is forever exchanging the subjective | |
expression of today for that of tomorrow, each new extension of | |
liberty in the use of outer form is hailed as the last and | |
supreme. At present we say that an artist can use any form he | |
wishes, so long as he remains in touch with nature. But this | |
limitation, like all its predecessors, is only temporary. From | |
the point of view of the inner need, no limitation must be made. | |
The artist may use any form which his expression demands; for his | |
inner impulse must find suitable outward expression. | |
So we see that a deliberate search for personality and "style" is | |
not only impossible, but comparatively unimportant. The close | |
relationship of art throughout the ages, is not a relationship in | |
outward form but in inner meaning. And therefore the talk of | |
schools, of lines of "development," of "principles of art," etc., | |
is based on misunderstanding and can only lead to confusion. | |
The artist must be blind to distinctions between "recognized" or | |
"unrecognized" conventions of form, deaf to the transitory | |
teaching and demands of his particular age. He must watch only | |
the trend of the inner need, and hearken to its words alone. Then | |
he will with safety employ means both sanctioned and forbidden by | |
his contemporaries. All means are sacred which are called for by | |
the inner need. All means are sinful which obscure that inner | |
need. | |
It is impossible to theorize about this ideal of art. In real art | |
theory does not precede practice, but follows her. Everything is, | |
at first, a matter of feeling. Any theoretical scheme will be | |
lacking in the essential of creation--the inner desire for | |
expression--which cannot be determined. Neither the quality of | |
the inner need, nor its subjective form, can be measured nor | |
weighed. | |
[Footnote: The many-sided genius of Leonardo devised a system of | |
little spoons with which different colours were to be used, thus | |
creating a kind of mechanical harmony. One of his pupils, after | |
trying in vain to use this system, in despair asked one of his | |
colleagues how the master himself used the invention. The | |
colleague replied: "The master never uses it at all." | |
(Mereschowski, LEONARDO DA VINCI).] | |
Such a grammar of painting can only be temporarily guessed at, | |
and should it ever be achieved, it will be not so much according | |
to physical rules (which have so often been tried and which today | |
the Cubists are trying) as according to the rules of the inner | |
need, which are of the soul. | |
The inner need is the basic alike of small and great problems in | |
painting. We are seeking today for the road which is to lead us | |
away from the outer to the inner basis. | |
[Footnote: The term "outer," here used, must not be confused with | |
the term "material" used previously. I am using the former to | |
mean "outer need," which never goes beyond conventional limits, | |
nor produces other than conventional beauty. The "inner need" | |
knows no such limits, and often produces results conventionally | |
considered "ugly." But "ugly" itself is a conventional term, and | |
only means "spiritually unsympathetic," being applied to some | |
expression of an inner need, either outgrown or not yet attained. | |
But everything which adequately expresses the inner need is | |
beautiful.] | |
The spirit, like the body, can be strengthened and developed by | |
frequent exercise. Just as the body, if neglected, grows weaker | |
and finally impotent, so the spirit perishes if untended. And for | |
this reason it is necessary for the artist to know the starting | |
point for the exercise of his spirit. | |
The starting point is the study of colour and its effects on men. | |
There is no need to engage in the finer shades of complicated | |
colour, but rather at first to consider only the direct use of | |
simple colours. | |
To begin with, let us test the working on ourselves of individual | |
colours, and so make a simple chart, which will facilitate the | |
consideration of the whole question. | |
Two great divisions of colour occur to the mind at the outset: | |
into warm and cold, and into light and dark. To each colour there | |
are therefore four shades of appeal--warm and light or warm and | |
dark, or cold and light or cold and dark. | |
Generally speaking, warmth or cold in a colour means an approach | |
respectively to yellow or to blue. This distinction is, so to | |
speak, on one basis, the colour having a constant fundamental | |
appeal, but assuming either a more material or more non-material | |
quality. The movement is an horizontal one, the warm colours | |
approaching the spectator, the cold ones retreating from him. | |
The colours, which cause in another colour this horizontal | |
movement, while they are themselves affected by it, have another | |
movement of their own, which acts with a violent separative | |
force. This is, therefore, the first antithesis in the inner | |
appeal, and the inclination of the colour to yellow or to blue, | |
is of tremendous importance. | |
The second antithesis is between white and black; i.e., the | |
inclination to light or dark caused by the pair of colours just | |
mentioned. These colours have once more their peculiar movement | |
to and from the spectator, but in a more rigid form (see Fig. 1). | |
FIGURE I | |
First Pair of antitheses. (inner appeal acting on | |
A and B. the spirit) | |
A. Warm Cold | |
Yellow Blue = First antithesis | |
Two movements: | |
(i) horizontal | |
Towards the spectator <-----<<< >>>-----> Away from the spectator | |
(bodily) (spiritual) | |
Yellow Blue | |
(ii) Ex- and concentric | |
B. Light Dark | |
White Black = Second Antithesis | |
Two movements: | |
(i) discordant | |
Eternal discord, but with Absolute discord, devoid | |
possibilities for the White Black of possibilities for the | |
future (birth) future (death) | |
(ii) ex-and concentric, as in case of yellow and blue, but | |
more rigid. | |
Yellow and blue have another movement which affects the first | |
antithesis--an ex-and concentric movement. If two circles are | |
drawn and painted respectively yellow and blue, brief | |
concentration will reveal in the yellow a spreading movement out | |
from the centre, and a noticeable approach to the spectator. The | |
blue, on the other hand, moves in upon itself, like a snail | |
retreating into its shell, and draws away from the spectator. | |
[Footnote: These statements have no scientific basis, but are | |
founded purely on spiritual experience.] | |
In the case of light and dark colours the movement is emphasized. | |
That of the yellow increases with an admixture of white, i.e., as | |
it becomes lighter. That of the blue increases with an admixture | |
of black, i.e., as it becomes darker. This means that there can | |
never be a dark- yellow. The relationship between white | |
and yellow is as close as between black and blue, for blue can be | |
so dark as to border on black. Besides this physical | |
relationship, is also a spiritual one (between yellow and white | |
on one side, between blue and black on the other) which marks a | |
strong separation between the two pairs. | |
An attempt to make yellow colder produces a green tint and checks | |
both the horizontal and excentric movement. The colour becomes | |
sickly and unreal. The blue by its contrary movement acts as a | |
brake on the yellow, and is hindered in its own movement, till | |
the two together become stationary, and the result is green. | |
Similarly a mixture of black and white produces gray, which is | |
motionless and spiritually very similar to green. | |
But while green, yellow, and blue are potentially active, though | |
temporarily paralysed, in gray there is no possibility of | |
movement, because gray consists of two colours that have no | |
active force, for they stand the, one in motionless discord, the | |
other in a motionless negation, even of discord, like an endless | |
wall or a bottomless pit. | |
Because the component colours of green are active and have a | |
movement of their own, it is possible, on the basis of this | |
movement, to reckon their spiritual appeal. | |
The first movement of yellow, that of approach to the spectator | |
(which can be increased by an intensification of the yellow), and | |
also the second movement, that of over-spreading the boundaries, | |
have a material parallel in the human energy which assails every | |
obstacle blindly, and bursts forth aimlessly in every direction. | |
Yellow, if steadily gazed at in any geometrical form, has a | |
disturbing influence, and reveals in the colour an insistent, | |
aggressive character. [Footnote: It is worth noting that the | |
sour-tasting lemon and shrill-singing canary are both yellow.] | |
The intensification of the yellow increases the painful | |
shrillness of its note. | |
[Footnote: Any parallel between colour and music can only be | |
relative. Just as a violin can give various shades of tone,--so | |
yellow has shades, which can be expressed by various instruments. | |
But in making such parallels, I am assuming in each case a pure | |
tone of colour or sound, unvaried by vibration or dampers, etc.] | |
Yellow is the typically earthly colour. It can never have | |
profound meaning. An intermixture of blue makes it a sickly | |
colour. It may be paralleled in human nature, with madness, not | |
with melancholy or hypochondriacal mania, but rather with violent | |
raving lunacy. | |
The power of profound meaning is found in blue, and first in its | |
physical movements (1) of retreat from the spectator, (2) of | |
turning in upon its own centre. The inclination of blue to depth | |
is so strong that its inner appeal is stronger when its shade is | |
deeper. | |
Blue is the typical heavenly colour. | |
[Footnote: ...The halos are golden for emperors and prophets | |
(i.e. for mortals), and sky-blue for symbolic figures (i.e. | |
spiritual beings); (Kondakoff, Histoire de l'An Byzantine | |
consideree principalement dans les miniatures, vol. ii, p. 382, | |
Paris, 1886-91).] | |
The ultimate feeling it creates is one of rest. | |
[Footnote: Supernatural rest, not the earthly contentment of | |
green. The way to the supernatural lies through the natural. And | |
we mortals passing from the earthly yellow to the heavenly blue | |
must pass through green.] | |
When it sinks almost to black, it echoes a grief that is hardly | |
human. | |
[Footnote: As an echo of grief violet stand to blue as does green | |
in its production of rest.] | |
When it rises towards white, a movement little suited to it, its | |
appeal to men grows weaker and more distant. In music a light | |
blue is like a flute, a darker blue a cello; a still darker a | |
thunderous double bass; and the darkest blue of all-an organ. | |
A well-balanced mixture of blue and yellow produces green. The | |
horizontal movement ceases; likewise that from and towards the | |
centre. The effect on the soul through the eye is therefore | |
motionless. This is a fact recognized not only by opticians but | |
by the world. Green is the most restful colour that exists. On | |
exhausted men this restfulness has a beneficial effect, but after | |
a time it becomes wearisome. Pictures painted in shades of green | |
are passive and tend to be wearisome; this contrasts with the | |
active warmth of yellow or the active coolness of blue. In the | |
hierarchy of colours green is the "bourgeoisie"-self-satisfied, | |
immovable, narrow. It is the colour of summer, the period when | |
nature is resting from the storms of winter and the productive | |
energy of spring (cf. Fig. 2). | |
Any preponderance in green of yellow or blue introduces a | |
corresponding activity and changes the inner appeal. The green | |
keeps its characteristic equanimity and restfulness, the former | |
increasing with the inclination to lightness, the latter with the | |
inclination to depth. In music the absolute green is represented | |
by the placid, middle notes of a violin. | |
Black and white have already been discussed in general terms. | |
More particularly speaking, white, although often considered as | |
no colour (a theory largely due to the Impressionists, who saw no | |
white in nature as a symbol of a world from which all colour as a | |
definite attribute has disappeared). | |
[Footnote: Van Gogh, in his letters, asks whether he may not | |
paint a white wall dead white. This question offers no difficulty | |
to the non-representative artist who is concerned only with the | |
inner harmony of colour. But to the impressionist-realist it | |
seems a bold liberty to take with nature. To him it seems as | |
outrageous as his own change from brown shadows to blue seemed to | |
his contemporaries. Van Gogh's question marks a transition from | |
Impressionism to an art of spiritual harmony, as the coming of | |
the blue shadow marked a transition from academism to | |
Impressionism. (Cf. The Letters of Vincent van Gogh. Constable, | |
London.)] | |
This world is too far above us for its harmony to touch our | |
souls. A great silence, like an impenetrable wall, shrouds its | |
life from our understanding. White, therefore, has this harmony | |
of silence, which works upon us negatively, like many pauses in | |
music that break temporarily the melody. It is not a dead | |
silence, but one pregnant with possibilities. White has the | |
appeal of the nothingness that is before birth, of the world in | |
the ice age. | |
A totally dead silence, on the other hand, a silence with no | |
possibilities, has the inner harmony of black. In music it is | |
represented by one of those profound and final pauses, after | |
which any continuation of the melody seems the dawn of another | |
world. Black is something burnt out, like the ashes of a funeral | |
pyre, something motionless like a corpse. The silence of black is | |
the silence of death. Outwardly black is the colour with least | |
harmony of all, a kind of neutral background against which the | |
minutest shades of other colours stand clearly forward. It | |
differs from white in this also, for with white nearly every | |
colour is in discord, or even mute altogether. | |
[Footnote: E.g. vermilion rings dull and muddy against white, but | |
against black with clear strength. Light yellow against white is | |
weak, against black pure and brilliant.] | |
Not without reason is white taken as symbolizing joy and spotless | |
purity, and black grief and death. A blend of black and white | |
produces gray which, as has been said, is silent and motionless, | |
being composed of two inactive colours, its restfulness having | |
none of the potential activity of green. A similar gray is | |
produced by a mixture of green and red, a spiritual blend of | |
passivity and glowing warmth. | |
[Footnote: Gray = immobility and rest. Delacroix sought to | |
express rest by a mixture of green and red (cf. Signac, sup. | |
cit.).] | |
The unbounded warmth of red has not the irresponsible appeal of | |
yellow, but rings inwardly with a determined and powerful | |
intensity. It glows in itself, maturely, and does not distribute | |
its vigour aimlessly (see Fig. 2). | |
The varied powers of red are very striking. By a skillful use of | |
it in its different shades, its fundamental tone may be made warm | |
or cold. | |
[Footnote: Of course every colour can be to some extent varied | |
between warm and cold, but no colour has so extensive a scale of | |
varieties as red.] | |
Light warm red has a certain similarity to medium yellow, alike | |
in texture and appeal, and gives a feeling of strength, vigour, | |
determination, triumph. In music, it is a sound of trumpets, | |
strong, harsh, and ringing. | |
Vermilion is a red with a feeling of sharpness, like glowing | |
steel which can be cooled by water. Vermilion is quenched by | |
blue, for it can support no mixture with a cold colour. More | |
accurately speaking, such a mixture produces what is called a | |
dirty colour, scorned by painters of today. But "dirt" as a | |
material object has its own inner appeal, and therefore to avoid | |
it in painting, is as unjust and narrow as was the cry of | |
yesterday for pure colour. At the call of the inner need that | |
which is outwardly foul may be inwardly pure, and vice versa. | |
The two shades of red just discussed are similar to yellow, | |
except that they reach out less to the spectator. The glow of red | |
is within itself. For this reason it is a colour more beloved | |
than yellow, being frequently used in primitive and traditional | |
decoration, and also in peasant costumes, because in the open air | |
the harmony of red and green is very beautiful. Taken by itself | |
this red is material, and, like yellow, has no very deep appeal. | |
Only when combined with something nobler does it acquire this | |
deep appeal. It is dangerous to seek to deepen red by an | |
admixture of black, for black quenches the glow, or at least | |
reduces it considerably. | |
But there remains brown, unemotional, disinclined for movement. | |
An intermixture of red is outwardly barely audible, but there | |
rings out a powerful inner harmony. Skillful blending can produce | |
an inner appeal of extraordinary, indescribable beauty. The | |
vermilion now rings like a great trumpet, or thunders like a | |
drum. | |
Cool red (madder) like any other fundamentally cold colour, can | |
be deepened--especially by an intermixture of azure. The | |
character of the colour changes; the inward glow increases, the | |
active element gradually disappears. But this active element is | |
never so wholly absent as in deep green. There always remains a | |
hint of renewed vigour, somewhere out of sight, waiting for a | |
certain moment to burst forth afresh. In this lies the great | |
difference between a deepened red and a deepened blue, because in | |
red there is always a trace of the material. A parallel in music | |
are the sad, middle tones of a cello. A cold, light red contains | |
a very distinct bodily or material element, but it is always | |
pure, like the fresh beauty of the face of a young girl. The | |
singing notes of a violin express this exactly in music. | |
Warm red, intensified by a suitable yellow, is orange. This blend | |
brings red almost to the point of spreading out towards the | |
spectator. But the element of red is always sufficiently strong | |
to keep the colour from flippancy. Orange is like a man, | |
convinced of his own powers. Its note is that of the angelus, or | |
of an old violin. | |
Just as orange is red brought nearer to humanity by yellow, so | |
violet is red withdrawn from humanity by blue. But the red in | |
violet must be cold, for the spiritual need does not allow of a | |
mixture of warm red with cold blue. | |
Violet is therefore both in the physical and spiritual sense a | |
cooled red. It is consequently rather sad and ailing. It is worn | |
by old women, and in China as a sign of mourning. In music it is | |
an English horn, or the deep notes of wood instruments (e.g. a | |
bassoon). | |
[Footnote: Among artists one often hears the question, "How are | |
you?" answered gloomily by the words "Feeling very violet."] | |
The two last mentioned colours (orange and violet) are the fourth | |
and last pair of antitheses of the primitive colours. They stand | |
to each other in the same relation as the third antitheses--green | |
and red--i.e., as complementary colours (see Fig. 2). | |
FIGURE II | |
Second Pair of antitheses (physical appeal of complementary | |
C and D colours) | |
C. Red Green = Third antithesis | |
Movement of the spiritually extinguished | |
First antithesis | |
Motion within itself [CIRCLE] = Potentiality of motion | |
= Motionlessness | |
Red | |
Ex-and concentric movements are absent | |
In optical blend = Gray | |
In mechanical blend of white and black = Gray | |
D. Orange Violet = Fourth antithesis | |
Arise out of the first antithesis from: | |
1. Active element of the yellow in red = Orange | |
2. Passive element of the blue in red = Violet | |
<---Orange---Yellow<--<--<--Red-->-->-->Blue---Violet---> | |
In excentric Motion within In Concentric | |
direction itself direction | |
As in a great circle, a serpent biting its own tail (the symbol | |
of eternity, of something without end) the six colours appear | |
that make up the three main antitheses. And to right and left | |
stand the two great possibilities of silence--death and birth | |
(see Fig. 3). | |
FIGURE III. | |
A | |
Yellow | |
/ \ | |
/ \ | |
/ \ | |
D C | |
B Orange Green B | |
White | | Black | |
| | | |
| | | |
C D | |
Red Violet | |
\ / | |
\ / | |
\ A / | |
Blue | |
The antitheses as a circle between two poles, i.e., the life of | |
colours between birth and death. | |
(The capital letters designate the pairs of antitheses.) | |
It is clear that all I have said of these simple colours is very | |
provisional and general, and so also are those feelings (joy, | |
grief, etc.) which have been quoted as parallels of the colours. | |
For these feelings are only the material expressions of the soul. | |
Shades of colour, like those of sound, are of a much finer | |
texture and awake in the soul emotions too fine to be expressed | |
in words. Certainly each tone will find some probable expression | |
in words, but it will always be incomplete, and that part which | |
the word fails to express will not be unimportant but rather the | |
very kernel of its existence. For this reason words are, and will | |
always remain, only hints, mere suggestions of colours. In this | |
impossibility of expressing colour in words with the consequent | |
need for some other mode of expression lies the opportunity of | |
the art of the future. In this art among innumerable rich and | |
varied combinations there is one which is founded on firm fact, | |
and that is as follows. The actual expression of colour can be | |
achieved simultaneously by several forms of art, each art playing | |
its separate part, and producing a whole which exceeds in | |
richness and force any expression attainable by one art alone. | |
The immense possibilities of depth and strength to be gained by | |
combination or by discord between the various arts can be easily | |
realized. | |
It is often said that admission of the possibility of one art | |
helping another amounts to a denial of the necessary differences | |
between the arts. This is, however, not the case. As has been | |
said, an absolutely similar inner appeal cannot be achieved by | |
two different arts. Even if it were possible the second version | |
would differ at least outwardly. But suppose this were not the | |
case, that is to say, suppose a repetition of the same appeal | |
exactly alike both outwardly and inwardly could be achieved by | |
different arts, such repetition would not be merely superfluous. | |
To begin with, different people find sympathy in different forms | |
of art (alike on the active and passive side among the creators | |
or the receivers of the appeal); but further and more important, | |
repetition of the same appeal thickens the spiritual atmosphere | |
which is necessary for the maturing of the finest feelings, in | |
the same way as the hot air of a greenhouse is necessary for the | |
ripening of certain fruit. An example of this is the case of the | |
individual who receives a powerful impression from constantly | |
repeated actions, thoughts or feelings, although if they came | |
singly they might have passed by unnoticed. [Footnote: This idea | |
forms, of course, the fundamental reason for advertisement.] We | |
must not, however, apply this rule only to the simple examples of | |
the spiritual atmosphere. For this atmosphere is like air, which | |
can be either pure or filled with various alien elements. Not | |
only visible actions, thoughts and feelings, with outward | |
expression, make up this atmosphere, but secret happenings of | |
which no one knows, unspoken thoughts, hidden feelings are also | |
elements in it. Suicide, murder, violence, low and unworthy | |
thoughts, hate, hostility, egotism, envy, narrow "patriotism," | |
partisanship, are elements in the spiritual atmosphere. | |
[Footnote: Epidemics of suicide or of violent warlike feeling, | |
etc., are products of this impure atmosphere.] | |
And conversely, self-sacrifice, mutual help, lofty thoughts, | |
love, un-selfishness, joy in the success of others, humanity, | |
justness, are the elements which slay those already enumerated as | |
the sun slays the microbes, and restore the atmosphere to purity. | |
[Footnote: These elements likewise have their historical | |
periods.] | |
The second and more complicated form of repetition is that in | |
which several different elements make mutual use of different | |
forms. In our case these elements are the different arts summed | |
up in the art of the future. And this form of repetition is even | |
more powerful, for the different natures of men respond to the | |
different elements in the combination. For one the musical form | |
is the most moving and impressive; for another the pictorial, for | |
the third the literary, and so on. There reside, therefore, in | |
arts which are outwardly different, hidden forces equally | |
different, so that they may all work in one man towards a single | |
result, even though each art may be working in isolation. | |
This sharply defined working of individual colours is the basis | |
on which various values can be built up in harmony. Pictures will | |
come to be painted--veritable artistic arrangements, planned in | |
shades of one colour chosen according to artistic feeling. The | |
carrying out of one colour, the binding together and admixture of | |
two related colours, are the foundations of most | |
harmonies. From what has been said above about colour working, | |
from the fact that we live in a time of questioning, experiment | |
and contradiction, we can draw the easy conclusion that for a | |
harmonization on the basis of individual colours our age is | |
especially unsuitable. Perhaps with envy and with a mournful | |
sympathy we listen to the music of Mozart. It acts as a welcome | |
pause in the turmoil of our inner life, as a consolation and as a | |
hope, but we hear it as the echo of something from another age | |
long past and fundamentally strange to us. The strife of colours, | |
the sense of balance we have lost, tottering principles, | |
unexpected assaults, great questions, apparently useless | |
striving, storm and tempest, broken chains, antitheses and | |
contradictions, these make up our harmony. The composition | |
arising from this harmony is a mingling of colour and form each | |
with its separate existence, but each blended into a common life | |
which is called a picture by the force of the inner need. Only | |
these individual parts are vital. Everything else (such as | |
surrounding conditions) is subsidiary. The combination of two | |
colours is a logical outcome of modern conditions. The | |
combination of colours hitherto considered discordant, is merely | |
a further development. For example, the use, side by side, of red | |
and blue, colours in themselves of no physical relationship, but | |
from their very spiritual contrast of the strongest effect, is | |
one of the most frequent occurrences in modern choice of harmony. | |
[Footnote: Cf. Gauguin, Noa Noa, where the artist states his | |
disinclination when he first arrived in Tahiti to juxtapose red | |
and blue.] Harmony today rests chiefly on the principle of | |
contrast which has for all time been one of the most important | |
principles of art. But our contrast is an inner contrast which | |
stands alone and rejects the help (for that help would mean | |
destruction) of any other principles of harmony. It is | |
interesting to note that this very placing together of red and | |
blue was so beloved by the primitive both in Germany and Italy | |
that it has till today survived, principally in folk pictures of | |
religious subjects. One often sees in such pictures the Virgin in | |
a red gown and a blue cloak. It seems that the artists wished to | |
express the grace of heaven in terms of humanity, and humanity in | |
terms of heaven. Legitimate and illegitimate combinations of | |
colours, contrasts of various colours, the over-painting of one | |
colour with another, the definition of surfaces by | |
boundaries of various forms, the overstepping of these | |
boundaries, the mingling and the sharp separation of surfaces, | |
all these open great vistas of artistic possibility. | |
One of the first steps in the turning away from material objects | |
into the realm of the abstract was, to use the technical artistic | |
term, the rejection of the third dimension, that is to say, the | |
attempt to keep a picture on a single plane. Modelling was | |
abandoned. In this way the material object was made more abstract | |
and an important step forward was achieved--this step forward | |
has, however, had the effect of limiting the possibilities of | |
painting to one definite piece of canvas, and this limitation has | |
not only introduced a very material element into painting, but | |
has seriously lessened its possibilities. | |
Any attempt to free painting from this material limitation | |
together with the striving after a new form of composition must | |
concern itself first of all with the destruction of this theory | |
of one single surface--attempts must be made to bring the picture | |
on to some ideal plane which shall be expressed in terms of the | |
material plane of the canvas. [Footnote: Compare the article by | |
Le Fauconnier in the catalogue of the second exhibition of the | |
Neue Kunstlervereinigung, Munich, 1910-11.] There has arisen out | |
of the composition in flat triangles a composition with plastic | |
three-dimensional triangles, that is to say with pyramids; and | |
that is Cubism. But there has arisen here also the tendency to | |
inertia, to a concentration on this form for its own sake, and | |
consequently once more to an impoverishment of possibility. But | |
that is the unavoidable result of the external application of an | |
inner principle. | |
A further point of great importance must not be forgotten. There | |
are other means of using the material plane as a space of three | |
dimensions in order to create an ideal plane. The thinness or | |
thickness of a line, the placing of the form on the surface, the | |
overlaying of one form on another may be quoted as examples of | |
artistic means that may be employed. Similar possibilities are | |
offered by colour which, when rightly used, can advance or | |
retreat, and can make of the picture a living thing, and so | |
achieve an artistic expansion of space. The combination of both | |
means of extension in harmony or concord is one of the richest | |
and most powerful elements in purely artistic composition. | |
VII. THEORY | |
From the nature of modern harmony, it results that never has | |
there been a time when it was more difficult than it is today to | |
formulate a complete theory, [Footnote: Attempts have been made. | |
Once more emphasis must be laid on the parallel with music. For | |
example, cf. "Tendances Nouvelles," No. 35, Henri Ravel: "The | |
laws of harmony are the same for painting and music."] or to lay | |
down a firm artistic basis. All attempts to do so would have one | |
result, namely, that already cited in the case of Leonardo and | |
his system of little spoons. It would, however, be precipitate to | |
say that there are no basic principles nor firm rules in | |
painting, or that a search for them leads inevitably to | |
academism. Even music has a grammar, which, although modified | |
from time to time, is of continual help and value as a kind of | |
dictionary. | |
Painting is, however, in a different position. The revolt from | |
dependence on nature is only just beginning. Any realization of | |
the inner working of colour and form is so far unconscious. The | |
subjection of composition to some geometrical form is no new idea | |
(cf. the art of the Persians). Construction on a purely abstract | |
basis is a slow business, and at first seemingly blind and | |
aimless. The artist must train not only his eye but also his | |
soul, so that he can test colours for themselves and not only by | |
external impressions. | |
If we begin at once to break the bonds which bind us to nature, | |
and devote ourselves purely to combination of pure colour and | |
abstract form, we shall produce works which are mere decoration, | |
which are suited to neckties or carpets. Beauty of Form and | |
Colour is no sufficient aim by itself, despite the assertions of | |
pure aesthetes or even of naturalists, who are obsessed with the | |
idea of "beauty." It is because of the elementary stage reached | |
by our painting that we are so little able to grasp the inner | |
harmony of true colour and form composition. The nerve vibrations | |
are there, certainly, but they get no further than the nerves, | |
because the corresponding vibrations of the spirit which they | |
call forth are too weak. When we remember, however, that | |
spiritual experience is quickening, that positive science, the | |
firmest basis of human thought, is tottering, that dissolution of | |
matter is imminent, we have reason to hope that the hour of pure | |
composition is not far away. | |
It must not be thought that pure decoration is lifeless. It has | |
its inner being, but one which is either incomprehensible to us, | |
as in the case of old decorative art, or which seems mere | |
illogical confusion, as a world in which full-grown men and | |
embryos play equal roles, in which beings deprived of limbs are | |
on a level with noses and toes which live isolated and of their | |
own vitality. The confusion is like that of a kaleidoscope, which | |
though possessing a life of its own, belongs to another sphere. | |
Nevertheless, decoration has its effect on us; oriental | |
decoration quite differently to Swedish, savage, or ancient | |
Greek. It is not for nothing that there is a general custom of | |
describing samples of decoration as gay, serious, sad, etc., as | |
music is described as Allegro, Serioso, etc., according to the | |
nature of the piece. | |
Probably conventional decoration had its beginnings in nature. | |
But when we would assert that external nature is the sole source | |
of all art, we must remember that, in patterning, natural objects | |
are used as symbols, almost as though they were mere | |
hieroglyphics. For this reason we cannot gauge their inner | |
harmony. For instance, we can bear a design of Chinese dragons in | |
our dining or bed rooms, and are no more disturbed by it than by | |
a design of daisies. | |
It is possible that towards the close of our already dying epoch | |
a new decorative art will develop, but it is not likely to be | |
founded on geometrical form. At the present time any attempt to | |
define this new art would be as useless as pulling a small bud | |
open so as to make a fully blown flower. Nowadays we are still | |
bound to external nature and must find our means of expression in | |
her. But how are we to do it? In other words, how far may we go | |
in altering the forms and colours of this nature? | |
We may go as far as the artist is able to carry his emotion, and | |
once more we see how immense is the need for true emotion. A few | |
examples will make the meaning of this clearer. | |
A warm red tone will materially alter in inner value when it is | |
no longer considered as an isolated colour, as something | |
abstract, but is applied as an element of some other object, and | |
combined with natural form. The variety of natural forms will | |
create a variety of spiritual values, all of which will harmonize | |
with that of the original isolated red. Suppose we combine red | |
with sky, flowers, a garment, a face, a horse, a tree. | |
A red sky suggests to us sunset, or fire, and has a consequent | |
effect upon us--either of splendour or menace. Much depends now | |
on the way in which other objects are treated in connection with | |
this red sky. If the treatment is faithful to nature, but all the | |
same harmonious, the "naturalistic" appeal of the sky is | |
strengthened. If, however, the other objects are treated in a way | |
which is more abstract, they tend to lessen, if not to destroy, | |
the naturalistic appeal of the sky. Much the same applies to the | |
use of red in a human face. In this case red can be employed to | |
emphasize the passionate or other characteristics of the model, | |
with a force that only an extremely abstract treatment of the | |
rest of the picture can subdue. | |
A red garment is quite a different matter; for it can in reality | |
be of any colour. Red will, however, be found best to supply the | |
needs of pure artistry, for here alone can it be used without any | |
association with material aims. The artist has to consider not | |
only the value of the red cloak by itself, but also its value in | |
connection with the figure wearing it, and further the relation | |
of the figure to the whole picture. Suppose the picture to be a | |
sad one, and the red-cloaked figure to be the central point on | |
which the sadness is concentrated--either from its central | |
position, or features, attitude, colour, or what not. The red | |
will provide an acute discord of feeling, which will emphasize | |
the gloom of the picture. The use of a colour, in itself sad, | |
would weaken the effect of the dramatic whole. [Footnote: Once | |
more it is wise to emphasize the necessary inadequacy of these | |
examples. Rules cannot be laid down, the variations are so | |
endless. A single line can alter the whole composition of a | |
picture.] This is the principle of antithesis already defined. | |
Red by itself cannot have a sad effect on the spectator, and its | |
inclusion in a sad picture will, if properly handled, provide the | |
dramatic element. [Footnote: The use of terms like "sad" and | |
"joyful" are only clumsy equivalents for the delicate spiritual | |
vibrations of the new harmony. They must be read as necessarily | |
inadequate.] | |
Yet again is the case of a red tree different. The fundamental | |
value of red remains, as in every case. But the association of | |
"autumn" creeps in. | |
The colour combines easily with this association, and there is no | |
dramatic clash as in the case of the red cloak. | |
Finally, the red horse provides a further variation. The very | |
words put us in another atmosphere. The impossibility of a red | |
horse demands an unreal world. It is possible that this | |
combination of colour and form will appeal as a freak--a purely | |
superficial and non-artistic appeal--or as a hint of a fairy | |
story [Footnote: An incomplete fairy story works on the mind as | |
does a cinematograph film.]--once more a non-artistic appeal. To | |
set this red horse in a careful naturalistic landscape would | |
create such a discord as to produce no appeal and no coherence. | |
The need for coherence is the essential of harmony--whether | |
founded on conventional discord or concord. The new harmony | |
demands that the inner value of a picture should remain unified | |
whatever the variations or contrasts of outward form or colour. | |
The elements of the new art are to be found, therefore, in the | |
inner and not the outer qualities of nature. | |
The spectator is too ready to look for a meaning in a picture--i.e., | |
some outward connection between its various parts. Our materialistic age | |
has produced a type of spectator or "connoisseur," who is not content to | |
put himself opposite a picture and let it say its own message. Instead | |
of allowing the inner value of the picture to work, he worries himself | |
in looking for "closeness to nature," or "temperament," or "handling," | |
or "tonality," or "perspective," or what not. His eye does not probe the | |
outer expression to arrive at the inner meaning. In a conversation with | |
an interesting person, we endeavour to get at his fundamental ideas and | |
feelings. We do not bother about the words he uses, nor the spelling of | |
those words, nor the breath necessary for speaking them, nor the | |
movements of his tongue and lips, nor the psychological working on our | |
brain, nor the physical sound in our ear, nor the physiological effect | |
on our nerves. We realize that these things, though interesting and | |
important, are not the main things of the moment, but that the meaning | |
and idea is what concerns us. We should have the same feeling when | |
confronted with a work of art. When this becomes general the artist will | |
be able to dispense with natural form and colour and speak in purely | |
artistic language. | |
To return to the combination of colour and form, there is another | |
possibility which should be noted. Non-naturalistic objects in a | |
picture may have a "literary" appeal, and the whole picture may | |
have the working of a fable. The spectator is put in an | |
atmosphere which does not disturb him because he accepts it as | |
fabulous, and in which he tries to trace the story and undergoes | |
more or less the various appeals of colour. But the pure inner | |
working of colour is impossible; the outward idea has the mastery | |
still. For the spectator has only exchanged a blind reality for a | |
blind dreamland, where the truth of inner feeling cannot be felt. | |
We must find, therefore, a form of expression which excludes the | |
fable and yet does not restrict the free working of colour in any | |
way. The forms, movement, and colours which we borrow from nature | |
must produce no outward effect nor be associated with external | |
objects. The more obvious is the separation from nature, the more | |
likely is the inner meaning to be pure and unhampered. | |
The tendency of a work of art may be very simple, but provided it | |
is not dictated by any external motive and provided it is not | |
working to any material end, the harmony will be pure. The most | |
ordinary action--for example, preparation for lifting a heavy | |
weight--becomes mysterious and dramatic, when its actual purpose | |
is not revealed. We stand and gaze fascinated, till of a sudden | |
the explanation bursts suddenly upon us. It is the conviction | |
that nothing mysterious can ever happen in our everyday life that | |
has destroyed the joy of abstract thought. Practical | |
considerations have ousted all else. It is with this fact in view | |
that the new dancing is being evolved--as, that is to say, the | |
only means of giving in terms of time and space the real inner | |
meaning of motion. The origin of dancing is probably purely | |
sexual. In folk-dances we still see this element plainly. The | |
later development of dancing as a religious ceremony joins itself | |
to the preceding element and the two together take artistic form | |
and emerge as the ballet. | |
The ballet at the present time is in a state of chaos owing to | |
this double origin. Its external motives--the expression of love | |
and fear, etc.--are too material and naive for the abstract ideas | |
of the future. In the search for more subtle expression, our | |
modern reformers have looked to the past for help. Isadora Duncan | |
has forged a link between the Greek dancing and that of the | |
future. In this she is working on parallel lines to the painters | |
who are looking for inspiration from the primitives. | |
[Footnote: Kandinsky's example of Isadora Duncan is not perhaps | |
perfectly chosen. This famous dancer founds her art mainly upon a | |
study of Greek vases and not necessarily of the primitive period. | |
Her aims are distinctly towards what Kandinsky calls | |
"conventional beauty," and what is perhaps more important, her | |
movements are not dictated solely by the "inner harmony," but | |
largely by conscious outward imitation of Greek attitudes. Either | |
Nijinsky's later ballets: Le Sacre du Printemps, L'Apres-midi | |
d'un Faune, Jeux, or the idea actuating the Jacques Dalcroze | |
system of Eurhythmics seem to fall more into line with | |
Kandinsky's artistic forecast. In the first case "conventional | |
beauty" has been abandoned, to the dismay of numbers of writers | |
and spectators, and a definite return has been made to primitive | |
angles and abruptness. In the second case motion and dance are | |
brought out of the souls of the pupils, truly spontaneous, at | |
the call of the "inner harmony." Indeed a comparison between | |
Isadora Duncan and M. Dalcroze is a comparison between the | |
"naturalist" and "symbolist" ideals in art which were outlined in | |
the introduction to this book.--M.T.H.S.] | |
In dance as in painting this is only a stage of transition. In | |
dancing as in painting we are on the threshold of the art of the | |
future. The same rules must be applied in both cases. | |
Conventional beauty must go by the board and the literary element | |
of "story-telling" or "anecdote" must be abandoned as useless. | |
Both arts must learn from music that every harmony and every | |
discord which springs from the inner spirit is beautiful, but | |
that it is essential that they should spring from the inner | |
spirit and from that alone. | |
The achievement of the dance-art of the future will make possible | |
the first ebullition of the art of spiritual harmony--the true | |
stage-composition. | |
The composition for the new theatre will consist of these three | |
elements: | |
(1) Musical movement | |
(2) Pictorial movement | |
(3) Physical movement | |
and these three, properly combined, make up the spiritual | |
movement, which is the working of the inner harmony. They will be | |
interwoven in harmony and discord as are the two chief elements | |
of painting, form and colour. | |
Scriabin's attempt to intensify musical tone by corresponding use of | |
colour is necessarily tentative. In the perfected stage-composition the | |
two elements are increased by the third, and endless possibilities of | |
combination and individual use are opened up. Further, the external can | |
be combined with the internal harmony, as Schonberg has attempted in his | |
quartettes. It is impossible here to go further into the developments of | |
this idea. The reader must apply the principles of painting already | |
stated to the problem of stage-composition, and outline for himself the | |
possibilities of the theatre of the future, founded on the immovable | |
principle of the inner need. | |
From what has been said of the combination of colour and form, | |
the way to the new art can be traced. This way lies today between | |
two dangers. On the one hand is the totally arbitrary application | |
of colour to geometrical form--pure patterning. On the other hand | |
is the more naturalistic use of colour in bodily form--pure | |
phantasy. Either of these alternatives may in their turn be | |
exaggerated. Everything is at the artist's disposal, and the | |
freedom of today has at once its dangers and its possibilities. | |
We may be present at the conception of a new great epoch, or we | |
may see the opportunity squandered in aimless extravagance. | |
[Footnote: On this question see my article "Uber die Formfrage"--in "Der | |
Blaue Reiter" (Piper-Verlag, 1912). Taking the work of Henri Rousseau as | |
a starting point, I go on to prove that the new naturalism will not only | |
be equivalent to but even identical with abstraction.] | |
That art is above nature is no new discovery. [Footnote: Cf. "Goethe", | |
by Karl Heinemann, 1899, p. 684; also Oscar Wilde, "De Profundis"; also | |
Delacroix, "My Diary".] New principles do not fall from heaven, but are | |
logically if indirectly connected with past and future. What is | |
important to us is the momentary position of the principle and how best | |
it can be used. It must not be employed forcibly. But if the artist | |
tunes his soul to this note, the sound will ring in his work of itself. | |
The "emancipation" of today must advance on the lines of the inner need. | |
It is hampered at present by external form, and as that is thrown aside, | |
there arises as the aim of composition-construction. The search for | |
constructive form has produced Cubism, in which natural form is often | |
forcibly subjected to geometrical construction, a process which tends to | |
hamper the abstract by the concrete and spoil the concrete by the | |
abstract. | |
The harmony of the new art demands a more subtle construction | |
than this, something that appeals less to the eye and more to the | |
soul. This "concealed construction" may arise from an apparently | |
fortuitous selection of forms on the canvas. Their external lack | |
of cohesion is their internal harmony. This haphazard arrangement | |
of forms may be the future of artistic harmony. Their fundamental | |
relationship will finally be able to be expressed in mathematical | |
form, but in terms irregular rather than regular. | |
VIII. ART AND ARTISTS | |
The work of art is born of the artist in a mysterious and secret | |
way. From him it gains life and being. Nor is its existence | |
casual and inconsequent, but it has a definite and purposeful | |
strength, alike in its material and spiritual life. It exists and | |
has power to create spiritual atmosphere; and from this inner | |
standpoint one judges whether it is a good work of art or a bad | |
one. If its "form" is bad it means that the form is too feeble in | |
meaning to call forth corresponding vibrations of the soul. | |
[Footnote: So-called indecent pictures are either incapable of | |
causing vibrations of the soul (in which case they are not art) | |
or they are so capable. In the latter case they are not to be | |
spurned absolutely, even though at the same time they gratify | |
what nowadays we are pleased to call the "lower bodily tastes."] | |
Therefore a picture is not necessarily "well painted" if it | |
possesses the "values" of which the French so constantly speak. | |
It is only well painted if its spiritual value is complete and | |
satisfying. "Good drawing" is drawing that cannot be altered | |
without destruction of this inner value, quite irrespective of | |
its correctness as anatomy, botany, or any other science. There | |
is no question of a violation of natural form, but only of the | |
need of the artist for such form. Similarly colours are used not | |
because they are true to nature, but because they are necessary | |
to the particular picture. In fact, the artist is not only | |
justified in using, but it is his duty to use only those forms | |
which fulfil his own need. Absolute freedom, whether from anatomy | |
or anything of the kind, must be given the artist in his choice | |
of material. Such spiritual freedom is as necessary in art as it | |
is in life. [Footnote: This freedom is man's weapon against the | |
Philistines. It is based on the inner need.] | |
Note, however, that blind following of scientific precept is less | |
blameworthy than its blind and purposeless rejection. The former | |
produces at least an imitation of material objects which may be | |
of some use. | |
[Footnote: Plainly, an imitation of nature, if made by the hand | |
of an artist, is not a pure reproduction. The voice of the soul | |
will in some degree at least make itself heard. As contrasts one | |
may quote a landscape of Canaletto and those sadly famous heads | |
by Denner.--(Alte Pinakothek, Munich.)] | |
The latter is an artistic betrayal and brings confusion in its | |
train. The former leaves the spiritual atmosphere empty; the | |
latter poisons it. | |
Painting is an art, and art is not vague production, transitory | |
and isolated, but a power which must be directed to the | |
improvement and refinement of the human soul--to, in fact, the | |
raising of the spiritual triangle. | |
If art refrains from doing this work, a chasm remains unbridged, | |
for no other power can take the place of art in this activity. | |
And at times when the human soul is gaining greater strength, art | |
will also grow in power, for the two are inextricably connected | |
and complementary one to the other. Conversely, at those times | |
when the soul tends to be choked by material disbelief, art | |
becomes purposeless and talk is heard that art exists for art's | |
sake alone. | |
[Footnote: This cry "art for art's sake," is really the best | |
ideal such an age can attain to. It is an unconscious protest | |
against materialism, against the demand that everything should | |
have a use and practical value. It is further proof of the | |
indestructibility of art and of the human soul, which can never | |
be killed but only temporarily smothered.] | |
Then is the bond between art and the soul, as it were, drugged | |
into unconsciousness. The artist and the spectator drift apart, | |
till finally the latter turns his back on the former or regards | |
him as a juggler whose skill and dexterity are worthy of | |
applause. It is very important for the artist to gauge his | |
position aright, to realize that he has a duty to his art and to | |
himself, that he is not king of the castle but rather a servant | |
of a nobler purpose. He must search deeply into his own soul, | |
develop and tend it, so that his art has something to clothe, and | |
does not remain a glove without a hand. | |
THE ARTIST MUST HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY, FOR MASTERY OVER FORM IS | |
NOT HIS GOAL BUT RATHER THE ADAPTING OF FORM TO ITS INNER | |
MEANING. | |
[Footnote: Naturally this does not mean that the artist is to | |
instill forcibly into his work some deliberate meaning. As has | |
been said the generation of a work of art is a mystery. So long | |
as artistry exists there is no need of theory or logic to direct | |
the painter's action. The inner voice of the soul tells him what | |
form he needs, whether inside or outside nature. Every artist | |
knows, who works with feeling, how suddenly the right form | |
flashes upon him. Bocklin said that a true work of art must be | |
like an inspiration; that actual painting, composition, etc., are | |
not the steps by which the artist reaches self-expression.] | |
The artist is not born to a life of pleasure. He must not live | |
idle; he has a hard work to perform, and one which often proves a | |
cross to be borne. He must realize that his every deed, feeling, | |
and thought are raw but sure material from which his work is to | |
arise, that he is free in art but not in life. | |
The artist has a triple responsibility to the non-artists: (1) He | |
must repay the talent which he has; (2) his deeds, feelings, and | |
thoughts, as those of every man, create a spiritual atmosphere | |
which is either pure or poisonous. (3) These deeds and thoughts | |
are materials for his creations, which themselves exercise | |
influence on the spiritual atmosphere. The artist is not only a | |
king, as Peladan says, because he has great power, but also | |
because he has great duties. | |
If the artist be priest of beauty, nevertheless this beauty is to | |
be sought only according to the principle of the inner need, and | |
can be measured only according to the size and intensity of that | |
need. | |
THAT IS BEAUTIFUL WHICH IS PRODUCED BY THE INNER NEED, WHICH | |
SPRINGS FROM THE SOUL. | |
Maeterlinck, one of the first warriors, one of the first modern | |
artists of the soul, says: "There is nothing on earth so curious | |
for beauty or so absorbent of it, as a soul. For that reason few | |
mortal souls withstand the leadership of a soul which gives to | |
them beauty." [Footnote: De la beaute interieure.] | |
And this property of the soul is the oil, which facilitates the | |
slow, scarcely visible but irresistible movement of the triangle, | |
onwards and upwards. | |
IX. CONCLUSION | |
The first five illustrations in this book show the course of | |
constructive effort in painting. This effort falls into two | |
divisions: | |
(1) Simple composition, which is regulated according to an | |
obvious and simple form. This kind of composition I call the | |
MELODIC. | |
(2) Complex composition, consisting of various forms, subjected | |
more or less completely to a principal form. Probably the | |
principal form may be hard to grasp outwardly, and for that | |
reason possessed of a strong inner value. This kind of | |
composition I call the SYMPHONIC. | |
Between the two lie various transitional forms, in which the | |
melodic principle predominates. The history of the development is | |
closely parallel to that of music. | |
If, in considering an example of melodic composition, one forgets | |
the material aspect and probes down into the artistic reason of | |
the whole, one finds primitive geometrical forms or an | |
arrangement of simple lines which help toward a common motion. | |
This common motion is echoed by various sections and may be | |
varied by a single line or form. Such isolated variations serve | |
different purposes. For instance, they may act as a sudden check, | |
or to use a musical term, a "fermata." [Footnote: E.g., the | |
Ravenna mosaic which, in the main, forms a triangle. The upright | |
figures lean proportionately to the triangle. The outstretched | |
arm and door-curtain are the "fermate."] Each form which goes to | |
make up the composition has a simple inner value, which has in | |
its turn a melody. For this reason I call the composition | |
melodic. By the agency of Cezanne and later of Hodler [Footnote: | |
English readers may roughly parallel Hodler with Augustus John | |
for purposes of the argument.--M.T.H.S.] this kind of composition | |
won new life, and earned the name of "rhythmic." The limitations | |
of the term "rhythmic" are obvious. In music and nature each | |
manifestation has a rhythm of its own, so also in painting. In | |
nature this rhythm is often not clear to us, because its purpose | |
is not clear to us. We then speak of it as unrhythmic. So the | |
terms rhythmic and unrhythmic are purely conventional, as also | |
are harmony and discord, which have no actual existence. | |
[Footnote: As an example of plain melodic construction with a | |
plain rhythm, Cezanne's "Bathing Women" is given in this book.] | |
Complex rhythmic composition, with a strong flavour of the | |
symphonic, is seen in numerous pictures and woodcuts of the past. | |
One might mention the work of old German masters, of the | |
Persians, of the Japanese, the Russian icons, broadsides, etc. | |
[Footnote: This applies to many of Hodler's pictures.] | |
In nearly all these works the symphonic composition is not very | |
closely allied to the melodic. This means that fundamentally | |
there is a composition founded on rest and balance. The mind | |
thinks at once of choral compositions, of Mozart and Beethoven. | |
All these works have the solemn and regular architecture of a | |
Gothic cathedral; they belong to the transition period. | |
As examples of the new symphonic composition, in which the | |
melodic element plays a subordinate part, and that only rarely, I | |
have added reproductions of four of my own pictures. | |
They represent three different sources of inspiration: | |
(1) A direct impression of outward nature, expressed in purely | |
artistic form. This I call an "Impression." | |
(2) A largely unconscious, spontaneous expression of inner | |
character, the non-material nature. This I call an | |
"Improvisation." | |
(3) An expression of a slowly formed inner feeling, which | |
comes to utterance only after long maturing. This I call a | |
"Composition." In this, reason, consciousness, purpose, play | |
an overwhelming part. But of the calculation nothing appears, | |
only the feeling. Which kind of construction, whether | |
conscious or unconscious, really underlies my work, the | |
patient reader will readily understand. | |
Finally, I would remark that, in my opinion, we are fast | |
approaching the time of reasoned and conscious composition, when | |
the painter will be proud to declare his work constructive. This | |
will be in contrast to the claim of the Impressionists that they | |
could explain nothing, that their art came upon them by | |
inspiration. We have before us the age of conscious creation, and | |
this new spirit in painting is going hand in hand with the spirit | |
of thought towards an epoch of great spiritual leaders. | |
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Concerning the Spiritual in Art, by | |
Wassily Kandinsky | |
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