"That wit of this kind would leave six inches of raw canvas between the painting and its gold frame, to delight the purchaser with the quality of the cloth."
We may not agree with his conclusion on the margin and remarque. The latter, no doubt, was introduced by the artist to please the purchaser. It is therefore, if a fault at all, that of the artist as much as of the collector. The question of margin is an individual one. There is little difference between a mat and a margin, and the Japanese print and the framing of black and whites in general have taught us the utility of uneven spacing around the picture. The remainder of the argument is excellent, theoretically as well as æsthetically.
Whistler's composition, excepting the French set, was strictly impressionistic. One merely has to look at the "Cadogan Pier," "The Little Pool," "Old Hungerford Bridge," "Little Wapping," "The Velvet Dress," "The Dam Wood," "The Long Lagoon," etc., to come to this conclusion.
OLD HUNGERFORD BRIDGE (ETCHING).
The word impressionism is rather difficult to explain. It is on the tongue of everybody, and yet few mean exactly the same thing when they make use of it. The term applied formerly to every art expression—as every artist endeavoured to render an impression—has been specialized in the latter half of the last century. It has become the nickname of a definite number of painters, who have adopted a new palette (as suggested by scientific researches) and introduced a new method of laying colours on the canvas. In recent years the term has undergone another change—it has become a general claim for individuality of subject and treatment.
First of all, let us determine what difference there really is between the old and the new style of impressionism. The artist of the old school received an impression and elaborated upon it. He embellished it with all his art was capable of, and the original impression underwent all sorts of changes. It was merely the first inspiration—the foundation stone upon which the whole art structure was erected. The artist of the new school, on the other hand, endeavours to reproduce the impression he has received, unchanged. He wants the impression itself, and wants to see it on his canvas as he has seen and felt it, hoping that his interpretation may call forth similar æsthetic pleasures in others as the original impression did in him. It is a singular coincidence, indeed, that while the men of the lens busy themselves with imitating the art of several centuries ago, those of the brush are seeking but for the accuracy of the camera plus technical individuality.
The impressionist painters adhere to a style of composition that apparently ignores all previous laws. They depict life in scraps and pigments, as it appears haphazard in the finder or on the ground glass of the camera. The mechanism of the camera is essentially the one medium which renders every interpretation impressionistic, and every photographic print, whether sharp or blurred, is really an impression.
How did the impressionistic painters arrive at this new style of composition? Permit me two questions. When was impressionism introduced into painting? In the sixties. When did photography come into practice? In the early forties. Do you see what I am driving at? Photography in the sixties was still a comparative novelty, and consequently excited the interest of pictorial reformers more than it does to-day. Its influence must have been very strongly felt, and the more I have thought of the nature of this influence the stronger has become the conviction in me that the impressionistic style of composition is largely of photographic origin.