# The Invisible Line

by

KATHERINE S. DREIER

ONE of the most interesting phenomena in the study of the history of art is that at certain periods certain expressions in art that have been neglected and forgotten are once more brought to the fore, and the beauty which lay hidden, sometimes for centuries, is once more revealed to an appreciative and understanding people.

We all know Ruskin's contribution to the understanding of what we term "The Early Italian Primitive"; which in his day no one admired. The late renaissance into which the theatrical had crept was the vogue. You will recall Ruskin's attack on Sir Joshua Reynolds' falseness of teachings — false because of its superficial quality. Reynolds stated that the landscape painter works not for the virtuoso or naturalist but for the general observer of life and nature. He praised the plants in a foreground because they were depicted just as much as was necessary for variety and no more. Ruskin was quick to see that this teaching would easily lead to a carelessness which would destroy art, for the average person rarely observes.

The fact that we modernists should be accused of superficiality, proves the truth of Ruskin's assertion that the average person sees only superficially and it is for that reason that I am dwelling a little longer on Ruskin than might seem necessary. He not only emphasized the need of a profound study of that which one desires to express in art, but also stated that the greatest period in a master's life is his last period, where he combines a knowledge of his years with the careless and light touch of his youth, thereby conveying something which the severity of his middle life destroys. To use Ruskin's own words "childhood often holds a truth in its feeble fingers which the grasp of manhood cannot retain and which it is the pride of understanding age to recover".

It is the importance of this subtle truth which we modernists have emphasized. We agree with Ruskin that one must have a profound knowledge of that which one desires to interpret, no matter what medium used. It is impossible to give or to get the essence of anything which one does not know thoroughly. That is why Ruskin emphasizes the need of accurate knowledge of detail. After one has acquired this knowledge it can be set aside, for, though it seemingly will have been forgotten, the essence will remain and the stroke of a brush will convey the fundamental knowledge. Without this thorough knowledge these strokes become meaningless lines and convey nothing.

To learn this discrimination of what a line stands for, is the essential need in the studying of all art. If through lack of knowledge the observer cannot discriminate, it is impossible for him to comprehend the full significance of what is before him. It is like an imperfect knowledge of a language. Of course it is possible to acquire this knowledge if we are willing to give it the time for our vision to grow. The sincere onlooker will acknowledge his own limitation and thereby enable himself to grow in understanding. It were indeed a sad world, where we would be only surrounded by a beauty which could *teach us nothing* —which did not contain within itself *the power* to enlarge our vision of beauty. Our ideas of beauty change as we develop spiritually. This is a TRUTH we must not forget.

My early study of Ruskin taught me to discriminate in the arts and laid the foundation of my understanding of what we term “The Modernists” or “Art Progressive.” English speaking peoples readily speak of the early Italian painters as the *Primitives*. It must be remembered that this term is purely historical in importance. If it were otherwise it would be a misnomer; for what is now recognized as “primitive art” bears no relation to the early Italian period. I have been unable to ascertain where this title as applied to Italian painters originated but it has been the cause of much misconception and has in a large part been responsible for conveying a wrong impression on the value and purpose of the artists of that period.

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It must be borne in mind that different periods had dif-
ferent messages to convey and if the Italian masters had
painted in any other manner they would have failed in
their message. For the message they had in mind could
best be interpreted in the form they used and therefore
for them it was a good form. This leads me to an impor-
tant point and one we are apt to forget, that it is the mes-
sage of the period that often creates what we superficially
feel to be a limitation in style.

What effect has it had on the popular mind to call these
pictures "primitive"? A two fold effect. As always a
negative and a positive. The negative was that it pre-
vented many from receiving the true message of beauty
because of the belief that the masters knew no better and
were limited by their lack of knowledge. The positive is
now more widely accepted, for it has been recognized that
the group of paintings called the "Primitives" contain such
force and vitality, that an added significance is given to
this word in the English language which now carries within
itself the further meaning of Power, Freshness and Vital-
ity.

We must remember that all masters, no matter when
they live, paint in their manner because they consider that
form of expression the best vehicle through which to ex-
press their thought. It can readily be seen that if any-
one paints in a certain way because he does not know how
to paint differently, then he cannot be called a master.
He may be a delightful painter, but not a master. A mas-
ter deliberately chooses his mode of expression. There
have been masters in all ages. A master of a certain period
may speak to you more readily than those of others. We
must learn to set aside our own personal limitations and
to approach a work of art without prejudice. A period
may be strange to us and we cannot understand the
achievement of that period because it will lie too remote
in the past or too far in the future. These facts however
do not affect the achievement itself. Ruskin had difficulty
in making the people appreciate the early Italian masters.
He had to reestablish them for us in their true importance.
I believe that it was the preliminary work Ruskin did to

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The Nativity by El Greco. 1548-1614. Courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Fine Art

swing appreciation back to fundamentals, which prepared
the way for the MODERN SPIRIT to enter.

What Ruskin did for the early Italian painters the pres-
ent critics are doing for El Greco. Without the Modern
Spirit entering the world of Art, El Greco would still be
hanging hidden in museums—just as there will *always* be
painters waiting for the time of reappraisal. A new
approach in Art reveals masters who have already sown
the seed of future expression—for thought is slow to reach
its fruition—which means the giving and appreciation of
its expression by the many in place of the isolated few.
It often takes centuries to bring this about. When the
thought stands clearly revealed, one can trace it back to

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Mme. Cezanne in Red by Cezanne. 1839-1906. Courtesy of the Wildenstein Gallery

its source. It is now possible to trace back the fluidity
of Cezanne and Matisse to El Greco. Before El Greco
there was no fluidity. There was grace of line, but that
is something else. Fluidity in modern chemistry is the
theory that in place of solids, everything is made up of
electrons—alive and moving—which through an inner
power of differentiation adhere together. El Greco at the
end of the sixteenth century was conscious of the fluidity
of life and expressed it in his paintings. And we who
feel that the art of music and painting precede the art of
speech and science—believe that El Greco was intuitively
conscious of what science is only discovering today. This
also explains that during the last century when MATTER

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and the SOLIDITY OF MATTER were given such importance
—El Greco was lost to the world—hanging silent and
hidden in churches and museums.

It is only in his later pictures that Cezanne shows the fluidity of life and the breaking up of surfaces. I was greatly interested in the reaction of the public as they viewed the wonderful collection of Cezanne's shown last winter at the Wildenstein Galleries. The above picture by Cezanne was among these. There were present some young painters who had a keen appreciation of Cezanne's middle period—but were unable to follow him in his larger and deeper understanding of life. When looking at this marvelous canvas they decided that it was unfinished. It was interesting to notice how their own limitation blocked them for a time, at least. If they could not follow Cezanne in this, they will never see what the abstractionists are doing. And that is why we must have an understanding of the past—step by step we must understand what art has revealed to us of the great messages of life.

Again it is in Matisse's later pictures that we find that he emphasizes the rhythm and fluidity which El Greco introduces and Cezanne took up 300 years later when more could understand. One of his best examples of this is his DANCE. Here, in this drawing, you can see clearly the flowing continuous movement and fluidity of life.

Just as El Greco took the problem of light which Correggio introduced into painting and added to it fluidity, so Cezanne took the problem of fluidity and extended it to all solid masses showing the essence of change. This picture of the POORHOUSE shows most clearly this breaking up of surfaces. You will see how he developed a new technique to achieve the outer expression of his thought. Through his color within color which breaks up his surfaces he permits the inner urge—the true force of all living matter to be perceived. Since this was achieved through color he places a new construction on color. It is here that we find the first note sounded of the increasing importance of what color is to mean to the eye—as well as the first search after the dynamic forces in life. He exercised deep influences which were not imitative

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Matisse—A Lithograph. 1869—Living

but creative. His attitude towards art was that the only thing that mattered was creation. I should not be surprised if centuries later artists and critics would discover in a Cezanne seeds of thoughts which will only find their completed expression then.

From all great masters one can study more than one thing. They must give full expression to the richness of their natures. Therefore I shall again return to El Greco's NATIVITY, so that I may talk to you about it from another angle. The first angle I took up was his greatest contribution—FLUIDITY. The next is the radiation of light which Correggio introduced and which a century later was taken up by El Greco and developed further by Rembrandt. To

The Poor House on the Hill by Cezanne. Courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Fine Arts

fully understand the importance of this contribution it is
important to study the two illustrations together.

We see how totally different this approach towards light
is from that of the men who preceded Correggio. He took
a new thought pertaining to light and had the light radiate
from the child as a light radiates from a lamp. In those
days home subjects were not painted as in the seventeenth
century by the Dutch School, therefore he took this study
of the radiation of light from a lamp—which, as far as I
know, he was the first to use—and gave it a spiritual
meaning, letting the light emanate from the Christ Child.

Correggio died 14 years before El Greco was born. I am
sure that he saw and admired greatly this picture by Cor-
reggio when in Italy—for it will be noticed that he took
the identical theme—that of the light emanating from the
child—but through his own contribution to art—the flu-
idity of line and substance—it takes on a much more vital
form than Correggio's picture painted approximately a cen-
tury and a half earlier. Now in comparing these two
paintings one must not consider one inferior to the other,
but realize the contribution of each. Just as the blossom

is as perfect as the fruit and as important, for there would
be no fruit without the blossom, so is the contribution of
each artist to be considered Correggio introduced a com-
plete new vision in art through light. El Greco benefited
by this great new vision. It is interesting to note that
though painted more than a century before, the
beauty of this light was not valued or appreciated
until expressed by El Greco and carried further by Rem-
brandt. El Greco increased this vision of light by add-
ing the fluidity of line and substance. Again I want to
emphasize that this contribution has not fully been appre-
ciated until now, and even now by a comparative few.

Twenty years ago one heard only occasionally the name
of El Greco and even in 1926 those strangers relying on the
general guides of the Louvre to see its treasures were hur-
ried past the beautiful El Greco as not worthy of attention.
I only mention this to show how the fluidity which he intro-
duced 350 years ago is still so in advance of *our* times that
in comparison only a few understand. This shows how slow
is the development of the understanding of a thought. So
little do they understand the cosmic forces which were re-
vealed that people even today think that he painted the
way he did because of his limitations. In all of El Greco's
late paintings you will find this fluidity creating a nervous
energy and force which is astounding. But this very nerv-
ous energy which we progressives admire so greatly was
frowned upon during the last half of the 19th Century
when the cult of so-called correct drawing was the vogue.
When one looks at the drawing of any great master and
then at the lifeless presentation of the human figure by the
men of this cult whose figures are always seen from an ar-
bitrary point of perspective—so arbitrary in fact that in
time it was termed the academic point of view—you can
readily see how even today to those who admire this pre-
sentation, the nervous vitality and fluidity of an El Greco
is very strange. And if quite honest they will admit that to
them it is very ugly. It is only however the honest and
open-minded who in time will learn to understand why we
admire El Greco and look at him with the greatest joy. For

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The Holy Family by Rubens. 1577-1640. Courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Fine Arts

to the progressive painters—life is vitality—is nervous energy—is fluid—and not static.

To show the amazing advancement of El Greco over the painters of his day with regards to nervous energy and the treatment of light, it is well to show you two very great painters who died almost half a century later—Rubens and Franz Hals. You will notice in this first picture by Rubens how the light is treated conventionally so as to emphasize and bring out the drawing of the muscles of the figure. Through this handling of light there is none of the feeling of fluidity possible. They are fine solid figures and no one treated flesh as Rubens treated it. But a certain rigidity remains though not as severe as in the painting of Correggio. In this article we are concerned with light and nervous energy.

It will be observed how, in the picture of the MERRY-MAKERS, Franz Hals approaches the problem of light, yet how different this approach is from that of El Greco. It is very illuminating in the light of modern scientific dis-

The Merrymakers by Franz Hals. 1580/84-1666. Courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Fine Arts

coveries how advanced in spirit El Greco was. And very interesting to consider that Rubens must have had the opportunity of studying him while ambassador to Spain—but their temperaments were so different that one finds no response. There is nothing of the mystic in Rubens.

You can now appreciate El Greco's contribution to art and see how he broke the rigid tradition of a conventional light and shade and was the first to paint light and shade as he actually perceived it. Sometimes we can best discern a man's greatness by showing the work of other great men who had not perceived the great truth which he revealed.

A seed holds many hidden potentialities and so it was with this question of the problem of light. First the study

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The Nativity by El Greco. 1543-1614

of the light from a lamp—then centuries later the study of the problem of the light of the sun—the Impressionists. The problem of light in relation to the shadow it casts and the mystery of life which it thereby reveals was carried to its greatest perfection in Rembrandt. This was more readily understood than the fluidity of form which El Greco introduced and so it was quite natural that Rembrandt's paintings were understood sooner.

I have sometimes wondered whether Rembrandt will also be forgotten for a period. As our lighting system assumes other forms, and everything is bathed in a general light, the lighting effects of Rembrandt will become further removed from our daily experience. Will they

Woman Paring Her Nails by Rembrandt. 1606-1669. Courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Fine Arts

then appear strange and bizzare? We are so ready to reject what we do not understand—in fact most people condemn that which they do not comprehend and thereby close the gates of all possible growth in the appreciation of a larger conception of beauty.

Let us study this picture of Rembrandt's WOMAN PARING HER NAILS, in relation to THE NATIVITY of El Greco.

In THE NATIVITY the light emanates from the Christ Child whereas in this picture we do not know from where the light comes. Though so simple and small a matter that most people do not remark it—it nevertheless enlarges the scope of the painting. This was done consciously by the artist—but its effect is of carrying the onlooker

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Mount Monadnock by Abbott Thayer. 1849-1921. Courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Fine Arts

unconsciously much further into the room. In Rembrandt we find that the power of his message did not depend upon the realistic form of his subject but rather that his message was quite independent of it. This was his great contribution. Up to his day painting always had a subject. Either some religious or historic scene, portraits, or some Dutch interior. But Rembrandt created a picture entirely independent of its subject or realistic form which could hold its own through its great fundamental message. His master mind could play upon the emotions through his effects of light and dark to such an extent that they take upon themselves spiritual forces.

I am making a big jump of 240 years from Rembrandt to Thayer and one which is rarely taken but we are concerned with the problem of light and I know of no picture among our present-day painters which introduces the problem of light so clearly from the same great spiritual altitude as this picture does. In this painting Thayer has far over-reached any achievement which he attained in any of his other paintings which I know. But to have suc-

ceeded as he has succeeded here is a very great achievement. For he has treated his light effects as Rembrandt might have treated them—to enlarge and increase the majesty of his subject. Through his treatment of light and shade Thayer enhances the mystery and power of the mountain. A reproduction cannot give you what the actual picture does, for he created his light and shadow effects through color. That was of course the great contribution of the Impressionists which Cezanne carried further and we must not forget that it was the Impressionists who taught us to see color in shadow.

I want you to study these three last pictures one in relation to the other. El Greco's *NATIVITY*—Rembrandt's WOMAN PARING HER NAILS—and Thayer's *MOUNT MONADNOCK* in relation to the problem of light and shadow. It will show you the very deep and fundamental powers which can be achieved through the medium of light and dark, when approached from a high spiritual altitude. For it must be remembered that just as a line will reveal the real knowledge of the artists on the material plane, so his spiritual approach towards his paintings is also fully revealed. If the approach is ignoble it may remain hidden for a time. It will never take hold of the imagination as the painting with a noble and large conception. I believe that to be one reason why Picasso's realistic pictures have such an amazing reception, for few painters today approach their work with such bigness of conception. It is more general among the leaders of the purely Abstract Movement; but they are as yet little understood or appreciated, since they are in advance of their day.

These pictures are in the Metropolitan Museum of Fine Arts and to make the comparison of the three is no small task which I have set you, and will be an excellent test by which to check up your power of observation. It will also test the knowledge you bring to the pictures. If you look at a picture vacantly you cannot expect it to speak to you. Neither can it reveal its message if all you seek is simply technique. As I have stated before a master has always some message and chooses the technique he believes best suited to reveal his thought.

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We have talked of two of the very great contributions El Greco has made: the carrying on of the problem of light introduced by Correggio and the second, the fluidity which he introduced into his pictures. And now I come to a third which you may have become conscious of while studying the various points his picture reveals—and that is its structural quality based on the unseen line. It is the underlying quality of all great works of art. A quality which was more or less lost sight of by the popular artists of the last century or two—especially during the period when the study of color absorbed their whole attention. Of course you find it in a Manet—a Cezanne or a Van Gogh to mention only a few leaders. This knowledge of the structural side is one, if not the only real test, to apply to all paintings. And without an understanding of it, the whole Abstract Movement is a closed book.

Those who have studied Hambridge's Dynamic Symmetry will notice that what I term the invisible line is related to his theory—yet different. These unseen lines or structural forms are also related to the very highest form of mathematics, which deals with the creative forces. But the masters in music and painting do it intuitively as well as consciously. Let us take the invisible lines as I have traced them out somewhat in this drawing. It will be noticed that it forms a pattern. The more beautiful the pattern underlying a painting the more satisfying it is and the deeper we can penetrate into the beauty of a picture.

Take the pattern as shown here and see the completion of the arch formed by the foliage to the left.

The beautiful curve from the support of the arch down the left figure to the light and curve of the drapery of the shepherd kneeling—his bent knee to the crook of the staff.

The column which supports the whole picture and is continued through the use of light and form of the Ma-donna.

Take the bottom curve. All these lines explain just why the details come where they do. Or take the beautiful angle from the head of the angel to the lamb—then up to the knee of Joseph to the light on the little figures in the

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distance. Or take the curve from the Lamb's left side—
through the knee and the back of shepherd.

The curve enclosing the Christ Child—the back of the
standing shepherd — the heads — down the drapery of
Joseph. Emphasizing the love of this group for the child.

The curious rectangle shape of light enclosing the child.

In the lower beautiful curve which cradles the child—
not only in the manger but in the hearts of those adoring.
This with the other line emphasizes the religious quality
of the picture.

You will find many pictures where this sub-structure
of the unseen line is entirely missing. I have seen teach-
ers take Hambridges's book and reconstruct a picture, miss-

The Nativity—Structural Lines.

ing entirely the essence of the unseen line so that the sub-
structure was no structure at all. I only mention this as
some seem to think that to reconstruct a picture is a very
simple process when you have the formula.

Wagner in The Meistersinger emphasizes the comedy
of what happens when the pretentious man writes music
according to rule, in the scene where Beckmesser uses
the rules on the musical notes of Hans Sachs. It is not
all so simple even if you know the rules. You must have
sensitiveness and something to say. Think of the still-
lives painted since the day of Cezanne. Cezanne expressed
something *through* his still-lives. These invisible lines
form the beauty of the completed picture, and explain

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why accents are placed where they are — sometimes
through light and dark, sometimes through the pose of
the figure or lines of drapery, and since the day of Ce-
zanne, through color as well. These lines felt—and not
seen—give to a painting its greatest beauty and vitality.
If they are missing and there exists no invisible line to
carry the eye from point to point one soon grows weary
of the picture for the material expression is not sufficient
to sustain the interest.

It is an easy step from this sub-structural side to the
Abstract in Art. But this phase of art would not have
been possible if color had not begun to play an important
part in the integral part of a picture. Before that it was
masses—light and shade—lines and forms—but color as
an integral part did not make its appearance until the
Impressionists. In all the old masters it belongs to the
surface quality. That is why they reproduce so well in
a photograph—while the modern or contemporary picture
does not.

If we will look at the ASSUMPTION OF THE VIRGIN by Bor-
gognone, an early Italian painter, we will see how beautiful
the sub-structure is. It seems to unfold itself like a flower.
That is why, though the design is so simple, it is so satis-
fying. The great danger which exists among American
painters is that the moment they become abstract they
almost always create designs in place of pictures in Ab-
stract Form. Just why this happens I cannot discover—
unless they do not sufficiently understand the sub-structure
of a painting—the *unseen line*. Our group of Abstract
Painters belong to those to whom the power of a word—a
philosophic thought—or some feeling—have become so
poignant that they have become entities which must find
expression. These entities cannot be expressed in well-
known forms as it would limit them and be too closely
connected with association of ideas.

Kandinsky is the leader of the group who believes not
only that color should speak to the eye as music does to
the ear, but that the element of time has now entered
painting as well as existing in music. And as we believe

*Note*—Kandinsky's Point and Line in Relation to Space to be published by SOCIETE ANONYME, Spring, 1929.

Assumption of the Virgin by Borgognone. 1450?-1524?. Courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Fine Arts. With Structural Lines.

that the art of music and painting precede speech or science—as I have already stated—we wish to express these powerful reactions which as yet can find no other form of expression. We believe that they will awaken and do awaken thoughts along lines which lead to an enlargement of our conception of life.

It can therefore readily be seen that if an artist has a thought no bigger than concrete form, that it is foolish to express it in abstract form. Not only foolish but akin to charlatanism through its pretentiousness.

These pictures, too, must have their unseen lines, if they are not to weary the onlooker. But whereas formerly these unseen lines were made through points from

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form to form or light and dark, as is seen in these
drawings of substructure, they are now created through
color. These color points must support the abstract forms,
and are not only more difficult but more subtle.

This *Invisible Line* shows how all Art has one fundamental basis or substructure, whether expressing the old or new visions in Art. The Abstract is, therefore, not a break as many believe, but a continuation. And no painting or drawing, whether belonging to the old school or the new, can be related to Art without this understructure of composition which the unseen line creates and the discerning eye reveals. This invisible line is the edifice which we call Art, and reveals that Art is one throughout the ages, no matter what outer form it takes—for in the limitless variety of art lies its power.

Music by Kandinsky. 1867—Living

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Photography in Aesthetics

by
SARA PARSONS

SINCE the invention of the camera there have been two very distinct critical approaches to the pictures which have come into being through this medium. On the one hand we have had the worker who has endeavored to make of it an art expression; on the other those who have denied it any relation to the arts or any significant place of its own outside of the mere uninspired recording of objects or people for practical purposes.

What is photography's real relation to art?

Perhaps the greatest thing that has ever happened to photography has been the advent of what has become known to the public mind as "Modern Art". This thing which has happened, both the good and bad phases of it, creating in the lay mind the demand for the abstract in-

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terpretation of nature, has at last given photography to
itself.

The photographer can no longer imitate the painter
because the painter is no longer imitating the photog-
rapher. It was easy enough to think that photography
was one of the arts when the arts themselves were in that
degenerate period waiting upon their last vital step into the
more truly subjective expression. But now that photog-
raphy is left high upon the rocks of its own mechanical
limitations, what is its place to be in relation to the arts?

Photography is not an *expression*, it is a mechanical
means to an end; what truly this end is, is the important
factor in the aesthetic future of photography.

Photography is seeing, the camera's eye recording the
experience of the human eye. The photographer must be
able to free himself from all save the sense of sight, leav-
ing himself only one thing more than the lens of the
camera, the alive thing, the consciousness that he is see-
ing. Photography is not a plastic medium; it cannot de-
scribe, analyze, deduce, comment, or interpret. It is the
means of recording a visual experience.

Before saying more, let us define the terms which ex-
plain photography's place in aesthetics and examine them
closely, in order not to confuse them with their broader
or more general usage. The unique use of photography
is in the recording of a visual aspect of something which
could not otherwise be made known to or be seen in the
original by others than the photographer. The pure see-
ing or recognition of this "aspect of something" we will
call *visual experience*. We will also call it *objective visual
experience*, as it is sight stripped of all preconception of
the things seen, being the camera's eye plus the receptivity
of the experiencer. We must confine the word "objec-
tive" to the seen world, as describing any form or sub-
stance or aspect of these which may be made known to
the eye through light, and "visual experience" to the com-
plete *recognition* of something through the sense of sight,
plus the mental and emotional *reception* of the thing seen.
If we add to this the word "aesthetic" we are qualifying
the *reception*, giving to it the sense of unity.

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The photographer's world is a strictly objective one, constituted of light in relation to substance. To the photographer the content of each material form is primarily of plastic significance, breathing an intense realism which needs no outer meaning to substantiate or make it picturable to the camera's eye. When an aspect of familiar objects or forms is recorded, it is this fine realism in itself which should cause in the minds of those other than the photographer a full consciousness of the object's relative meaning in use or sentiment. The photographer, learning to see each form freshly, so lights his subject in relation to the pictorial rectangle of his camera that one seeing the record would re-experience this pure visual objectization.

This conscious simplification of sight is necessary to the photographer who is to attain aesthetic unity in his pictures, and so lift photography to a place with art. By it he makes the record of his objective visualization of equal aesthetic value with the materialization of the artist's conception.

In giving photography its place in aesthetics, it is necessary to draw a fine line between the experiencing of creation and the experiencing of the created.

The photographer may make use of many different art mediums to attain the effects of form and light relationship which become, as seen on the ground glass rectangle of the camera, a temporary picture with aesthetic unity; but though he may do this, the result toward which he is working is not in the art sense "structural", but instead a momentary experience of sight which may be materialized through photography. Photography, then, is the crystallization of our most vital sense, the sense of sight, and it makes possible to those desirous of varied aesthetic stimuli records of a finely seen world.

To attain the ability to experience visually is to be able at a moment's notice to set aside the natural thought reactions to a thing seen. It requires years of patient interest in the possibilities of such an experience, and there will be as few to acquire this faculty in its remote aesthetic development as there are great masters in the arts.

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This visual experiencing as an aesthetic end in
itself is a new world. It belongs to the future where
sense participation as such is given a place in aesthetic
consideration and experimentation. A more vital photo-
graphy is to come out of this future. It will be made
by masters of light manipulation just as paintings are
made by masters of paint, except that one, the great
painter, will interpret a subjective experience, while the
other, the photographer, will record the experience of a
refined visual recognition. This recognition comes only
to the man whose visual perception has passed beyond the
mere pleasure of observation and has carried him into the
world of pure visual experience. The pictures which he
mechanically produces with his camera are records of a
phase of art consciousness which could be materialized in
no other way.

An aesthetic visual experience, like any other aesthetic
experience, comes from some recognition of aesthetic
unity which includes all that a work of art includes; de-
sign, form, color, rhythm.

A photographer in building to a sight experience, as
seen in relation to the pictorial rectangle, will know that
his picture is not complete and therefore not ready to
record until all these art elements are present to his eye;
just as the painter would not consider his painting com-
plete until he had brought his subjective conception to its
fullest expression. What interpretation is to the painter,
sight recognition is to the photographer.

It is necessary for the photographer consciously to build
toward these temporary pictorial effects, and in doing this
he is the artist. His methods must of necessity be archi-
tectonic, though the end toward which he is building is
but this one of a temporary effect of light in relation to
substance as seen through the ground glass rectangle of
his camera. The fact that the photographer does thus
become the artist in realizing these effects of light does
not disprove in any sense nor alter the fact that photog-
raphy is not an art *expression*; the fact of the photog-
rapher being at the same time the artist does, however,

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explain his receptivity to a complete and unified aesthetic impression.

To the trained eye there will be two vital elements entering into his approach to his subject matter: one the accidental and the other the conscious. The more one trains one's vision the more amusing the seen world becomes and the more numerous are the unusual aspects of material form which present themselves. The recording of these impressions is an often happy but always a lighter phase of the use of photography. These are the accidental experiences. The photographs which result from them are what could always be known as snapshots. They belong to the photographic diaries of accidental visual experience. They are the playtime of photography, containing perhaps every element of fine aesthetic sight, save that of consciousness. The photographer had not built toward his experience, he had been caught by it.

It is paradoxical, perhaps, that the photographer must be an artist in order to experience an effect which in itself can never be a work of art; but that is what the photographer must be in order to attain a conscious pictorial visual experience, the record of which is to be a great work of photography.

The conscious experience is the artist's who has trained his eye to see and mind to comprehend the objective seen world plastically and so present it in light that it maintains a significant and penetrating reality. The only structural medium which the photographer uses which is peculiar to photography is *light*. The modern photographer literally builds with light; it is his elusive and temporary medium which he is able to command only long enough to record it.

The use of light does not by any means mean the use of light and shade, but *light* as it envelops and makes best known to the eye the complete form and texture of substance and creates on bare planes folds upon folds of tone gradations, building toward some central form.

The word shadow could well be eliminated from the photographer's nomenclature. Where a thing is photographic there is light, light in varying degrees of intensity.

With the creative use of light the photographer is able to establish, for record, an aspect of objective formal relationships wholly remote to the ordinary observer, which give to these natural forms an intimate life of their own.

The materials with which the photographer builds may be those of the painter, sculptor, architect, or a combination of any or all of these; but as the final aim is simply an experience of light relationships brought about momentarily by those forms as they are contained in light, the object—meaning the picture as *seen* within the rectangle—in itself is not an enduring entity, nor could it ever be materialized were it not for the camera's means.

It must be remembered that in discussing photography in relation to aesthetics we are considering the possibilities of this means, as something to be encouraged for a future time and not something which the world has already attained either in fact or consciousness. To give photography a place in aesthetic consideration it is necessary to give pure objective experience such a place. This may be exceedingly difficult to accomplish, as our thoughts have so long been turned in the direction of creative expression through an art medium, that experience simply realized for itself has never had, or has long ceased to have, aesthetic significance.

To photograph, once again, is to record a visual experience of light and form relationships as seen within the pictorial rectangle. All that can ever be given to posterity is a reproduction of this record of a temporary effect or aspect of a natural phenomenon. These photographs can never be called works of art; but they can and should be recognized, when having art merit, as records of aesthetic experiences worthy of highly discriminative attention by those interested in art.

If, instead of resisting or ignoring the material world, one would search it for its simple and very often pictorial revelations one could find in these objective experiences a poignant and provocative beauty equal in aesthetic refinement and unity to the ideal and subjective experience of self-expression. A pure objective experience cannot be interpreted, as interpretation immediately changes it from

the objective (which is in itself complete) to the subjective which is one of idealizing or recreating its impressions by means of a plastic medium.

To understand more thoroughly what this sight life would mean to the life of an individual it would be best to take him through a day of normal activity, noting every object, person, panorama, which called upon his sight attention. How many of these appear freshly to him without thought of their usefulness or association? We pick up a book. It is by someone. It is about something. It belongs to someone we like, dislike, hope to see, have parted with. Do we see the book itself? A black book on a white table, light modeling it into visual completeness, the parts where the light grows less receding from the attention, rounding off the back of the book, squaring off the lines and corners of the book, flattening and giving texture to the greatest surface. How many people see a book this way, see any object this way?

There are two distinct ways of seeing the objects and aspects of nature which present themselves for visual consideration. The accustomed, practical way is that of recognizing a thing by its relation in usefulness to other things or customs, through this approach gradually becoming conscious of its general form, color, etc. Then there is the objective way of seeing for elementary plastic significance; of seeing an object as if it had no reason for being outside of itself; experiencing through sight the visual aspect of life, impersonally and without prejudice; quite as the eye would see if the development of human sight from infancy to maturity could be compressed into one short period of observation; seeing as the infant sees, experiencing the emotion of sight receptivity and then gradually seeing with hope, memory, adaptation, and sentiment.

The first manner of seeing adds nothing to the life of the individual in relation to his environment, save as it enables him to make use of, avoid, or be reminded. It is sight employed for practical purposes and with emotion only when the practical aspect of the thing seen reminds and so evokes emotion.

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The second manner of seeing is fundamentally the natural way of seeing. It is the naive and therefore the most sensuously conscious. It is the sight of the real artist, but it is not for that reason necessarily confined to the arts. It is the conscious sight of the individual who would experience fully the natural receptivity of one of the senses. It is as necessary to the appreciation of great works of art as it is to the appreciation of and the desire for a great photography. But it must be remembered that where, in the appreciation of art, this clearer, more natural sight enables one to come nearer to the cause of the artist's original concept or emotional exaltation, in the appreciation of photography it enables one to understand the importance and beauty of completing and, by the camera's means, recording the final experience.

Heretofore aesthetics has been given over mainly to the appreciation of the beautiful, or the ideal, as expressed in art. Photography must demand more than this appreciation if it is to be considered at all. For photography, though it may record the beautiful, as it is presented through a conscious unification of related forms and light, does not record the *ideal*. Its "seeing" is *real*. It demands of this age that a rightful significance be given to a pure *objective sight experience*.

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