In the development of art all these exhibitions have their values. They are not unlike an army in a campaign, with its scouts, its skirmishers, its advance guard, and its more slowly moving main body—in the end it is the main body that does the most work.
The value of every new movement lies in the possibility of its ultimately contributing something to the mass, not in the possibility of its destroying what has been done.
One has but to recall that both Whistler and Manet—to mention no others—were obliged to exhibit in the Salon des Refuses of their day to realize that an independent salon has its place in the art world quite as important as an official; in fact, wherever there is an official exhibition there should be an un-official, or independent, as a natural complement, otherwise the opportunity of the public to see for itself is limited by official discretion.
For instance, it is the rule of the National Academy in New York that every member and associate has the right to hang a picture irrespective of its merits. As the space is limited the chance for new men is small indeed.
Furthermore it is the older men who pass upon the works of the newer and naturally they feel an instinctive aversion to paintings that clash with or distract attention from their own, hence the more radical, the more novel, the more interesting the picture the less chance it has of being accepted. This is both a fault and a virtue in the Academy—the fault and the virtue of extreme conservatism.
To correct the fault other exhibitions, held under freer conditions, are absolutely necessary not only to the progress of artists, young and old, but to stimulate interest in the public, to make the public feel that it is something more than a passive spectator with nothing to say, but on the contrary its sympathetic cooperation and final verdict of approval are desired.