CHAPTER XIII · INFLUENCES AND TENDENCIES
“C’EST L’AFFIRMATION GRANDIOSE DE L’EFFORT VERS LE BEAU QUE CERTAINS ARTISTES INDÉPENDANTS TRAITÈRENT À UN MOMENT DONNÉ EN DEHORS DE LA TRADITION ET DES FORMULES ACQUISES”
GEORGES LECOMTE
IT is the fashion nowadays amongst a certain class of art-critics to adopt the pessimistic note. They laud the past, deplore the present, and display sympathetic alarm for the future of art and artists. Should a modern manifestation of art be under discussion, some phase undeniably good and universally accepted by those best qualified to form an opinion, these critics recognise it with a guarded qualification and a prophecy of its speedy decadence in the immediate future; and these depreciatory remarks are extended to all those artists who have been attracted by the new movement and have ranged themselves under its banner. It has always been so. In the art literature of the past we read of Delacroix and the decadence, of Corot and the downfall, of Monet and the abyss. There are still living in France aged and honoured professors, members of the Institute and of the Salon juries, who believe that the teaching of Claude Monet has been a national calamity. They hold that art no longer exists, having been destroyed by these dreadful innovations. Is it not strange that the birth of new methods, rather than the death of old ones, should be heralded with melancholy head-shakings, with frequent and wrathful imprecations upon the impious intruders! Time rights all things. The new to-day is old to-morrow, the exotic becomes classic, and one more page is added to the history of the evolution of art.
Nothing is more amazing than to read in the daily and weekly press of the “pernicious influence” and decadence of modern French art, criticisms the more astonishing as the present age is one of universal travel and liberal ideas. French art is in no such parlous state, and never, at any period of its history, displayed stronger signs of vitality. Never was its activity greater, nor its influence, poetry, and gaiety better for the general good of the nation. Such wild accusations are unjustifiable, hypocritical, and themselves pernicious. French influence dominates the work of the most successful painters and sculptors throughout the world. The art of such men as La Thangue, Edward Stott, Alfred East, Peppercorn, Bertram Priestman, Arnesby Brown, Fred Footet, John Lavery, Macaulay Stevenson, Edwin Abbey, John S. Sargent, George Clausen, and the men of the Glasgow school, is unquestionably derived from Paris, a city we are asked to believe is decadent in art matters. Of these artists it may be said that the majority were educated in Paris. It is well to acknowledge candidly that, although in the days of Gainsborough, Turner, Constable, and the other members of that brilliant band, English art led the world, to-day we must look to “la ville lumière” for instruction and inspiration. The fact is proved by the enormous preponderance of students of all nationalities who flock to Paris for the completion of their art education. In other words, French art is the leading art of the day, and will remain so for many years to come.
Let any unbiased observer compare the two magnificent Salons of Painting and Sculpture held annually in Paris with the English Royal Academy, New Gallery, and British Artists’ Exhibitions. Note that France houses her artists in some of the most beautiful palaces in the world, then think of London. Observe the high average quality of the exhibits, their astounding technical excellence, the courage of the artists, and their bold experiments in untrodden paths, their extraordinary originality and diversity of temperament. They are not content with an ephemeral success, or the stereotyped reproduction of popular playthings. The contributors are cosmopolitan in nationality, for, provided the necessary passport of talent, Paris welcomes the stranger. Where in Great Britain can the foreigner, even if he possess acknowledged genius, be sure of meeting with a sympathetic reception and fair play from a Hanging Committee? He is fortunate if he escapes public ridicule. The Continental artist has learnt this lesson and troubles us no more, to the blight of our national education and the detriment of our taste. This blot upon our reputation for common sense has been to some extent redeemed of recent years by the International Society of Painters, Sculptors, and Gravers. Perhaps its intermittent exhibitions will rehabilitate our name abroad, and incidentally aid in revivifying our national taste.
Recall haphazard the names of a few artists who are at the present moment exhibiting in France. Aman-Jean, Barillot, Binet, Besnard, Billotte, Bracquemond, Cottet, Chèret, Carrière, Cassatt, Cazin, Dagnan-Bouveret, Daillon, Dameron, Didier-Pouget, Degas, d’Espagnat, Forain, Fantin-Latour, Geffroy, Gosselin, Gaston la Touche, Gagliardini, Guillaumin, Harpignies, Henner, Lhermitte, Le Sidaner, Meunier, Marais, Monet, Menard, Maufra, Montenard, Pointelin, Ribot, Rigolot, Raffaëlli, Rodin, Renoir, Roybet, Ziem. This list can be extended indefinitely by the addition of the names of artists of the rarest temperaments. The art of the whole of the rest of the world cannot surpass the productions of these men.
The state of the plastic arts in England is deplorable. If it be not soon remedied, we shall be compelled to go abroad for any statues needed. The little sculpture we have is frequently excellent, but its output is so insignificant that it cannot possibly be compared with the sculpture of France. The art cannot flourish in England whilst there are so few public commissions, or wealthy patrons. Financially the painter’s career is bad enough, but, as a remunerative profession, sculpture does not exist. Look around the galleries in London during the height of the season, and note the quite insignificant amount of sculpture exhibited. Many of the London galleries exclude it altogether, and in the provincial collections it is practically non-existent. If there is any it is systematically overlooked by visitors, and as for sales—! one never hears of such a thing. Then remember Paris with its immense annual production of excellent sculpture, and the admirable manner in which the State fosters this great art.
If we take monuments and statues in public places as the fittest expression of national gratitude, we are sadly lacking. Where in England can we find monuments in perpetuation of the memory of such mighty painters as Turner, Reynolds, Gainsborough, Constable, Romney, and a score besides. If we possess such monuments, they are certainly hidden away from the sight of both native and stranger, and the latter frequently remarks upon their absence. In France the birthplaces of these artists would have raised some remembrance, whilst the capital city in which they laboured would surely have had its statues and collegiate endowments to perpetuate their spirit. An example can be quoted from the little country town in which these lines are being written. Here in Les Andelys, in the most prominent position, are two statues. One of them is as fine a memorial as can be seen in any capital city of Europe. The men so honoured in imperishable bronze are not kings, generals, statesmen, or even local benefactors. They are merely artists, and one of them (the son of an Englishwoman) is but distantly allied to the countryside. Chaplin and Poussin, two artists of thoughtful, gentle lives, of obscure birth, without fortune or influence, yet possessors, in some degree, of the ennobling fire of genius. Of these men the simple townspeople are exceedingly proud, and in such pride we see the whole spirit of the nation. France delights to honour genius, and the intelligent foreigner, noting these things, will pay little heed to stories that decadence and pernicious influences are the outcome of such a feeling.
Following the lead of Paris, American painters may be said to have adopted “la peinture claire” almost to a man. Germany also has revolted, and the Secessionist movement, with Liebermann at its head, has gathered together the most vigorous talent in modern German art. Clean painting in a pure and healthy atmosphere now reigns supreme. Spain and Italy have also been deeply affected, and in both of these countries there is a marked recrudescence of that fine talent which in times past distinguished the two peninsulas. Together with this increasing activity is happily to be noted a commensurate degree of financial encouragement. Enormous sums yearly change hands in Germany alone for the products of the new school, irrespective of nationality. The sales recorded at the annual exhibitions in Berlin, Munich, Dresden, and Dusseldorf average about twenty times the amounts received at the Royal Academy, and it is clear that Germany intends to take as leading a position in the arts as she is doing in commerce.
The tendency in England appears to be retrograde. Modern Dutch art reigns as the present fashion, its propagation admirably engineered, its influence widespread. The pictures à-la-mode are those with foggy, sombre grey skies in heavy unatmospheric paint. They give us damp discoloured tenements, shipping the colour of coal-tar, clumsy barges, malodorous canals, ugly toil-broken humanity, the whole as unromantic, depressing, and dyspeptic as can be imagined. The seal of official approbation has been secured for this kind of thing, and the Mansion House requisitioned for its display. This poetry of the prosaic has been generally accepted, and never have times been better for the sturdy, plodding producer of Dutch pictures. As it is the dark and sordid side of Nature that appeals most forcibly to these men, we shall, within a given time, develop a whole race of “Nubians” of our own. Finally we shall deny the very existence of the sun and all he represents in our limited share of life.
The cult of sun-worship, of joy in sparkling colour, of pure health-bringing open-air art must, sooner or later, predominate in England as it already predominates throughout the world. The mission of Impressionism is to depict beauty that elevates, light that cheers. In their struggle for this mastery of light, Impressionist painters have often in the past sacrificed many of the qualities which go towards the making of a picture, and have thus incurred public displeasure. Their subjects have been chosen at random, and they have gained their effects often regardless of composition. The artists were far too much occupied by technical difficulties to care about picture-making, and the results, mere studies, were not intended as pictures. They were the necessary experiments incidental to the invention of “Impressionism.” Yet how preferable are these “studies” to the ordinary canvases of commerce, and how treasured they are at the present day. Now that the material difficulties have been overcome, and settled methods achieved, this reproach will disappear, and we may confidently look to the Impressionist picture for all those qualities which go to the making of a perfect work of art.
In the canvases of Vincent Van Gogh, Gauguin, Claus, Maufra, d’Espagnat, Liebermann, Harrison, Besnard, Le Sidaner, and many others of the later school, will be found not only colour, rich light, and subtly strong harmonies, but a feeling for beauty of line, composition, rhythm of movement. Our admiration for the great men of 1870 must not blind us to the fact that there are others; the road is not barred, and many of the followers are of great strength. The pioneers having opened up the new territory, the gift is free and all are welcome.
