PREHISTORIC GRAPHIC ART OF THE CAVE MEN.
In the course of the development of historic art in different countries and among different peoples, under different social and political systems, we may yet discern a kind of strife for ascendency between these two principles, which still divide the world of art; and though in the most perfect art the two are found reconciled and harmonized, as being really two sides of the same question, the general feeling for art seems to swing from one side to the other, like the tides in ebb and flow. At one time human feeling in art seeks to perpetuate types, symbols, and emblems of the wonder of life and the mysteries of the universe, as in the art of ancient Egypt. At another its interest is absorbed in the representation of individual characteristics and varieties, striving to follow nature through her endless subtleties and transformations, as in our own day; when the different aims inspiring our artists might be set down as—
(1) The desire to realize, or to represent things as they are.
(2) The desire to realize, or to represent things as they appear to be.
Under whatever differences of method or material, I believe it will be found that this real difference of mental attitude behind them accounts for the varieties we see, that is to say, in any genuine and thoughtful work.
Every sincere artist naturally desires to realize his conception to the best of his ability, in the most harmonious and forceful way; but in the course of the development of a work of art of any kind there are problems to be solved at every turn.
Is it a piece of repeating surface ornament we are designing? We feel we must subordinate parts to the whole, we must see that our leading structural lines are harmonious, we cannot emphasize a bit of detail without reference to the total effect. We may find the design wants simplifying, and have to strike out even some element of beauty. Such sacrifices are frequently necessary. Our love of naturalism may induce us to work up our details, our leaves and flowers, to vie with natural appearance in full light and relief, until we find we are losing the repose and sense of quiet planes essential to pattern work, and getting beyond the capacities of our material, so that we may realize that even skill and graphic power may be inartistic if wrongly applied or wasted in inappropriate places.
Is it a landscape we desire to transcribe or express upon paper or canvas? Sun and shadow flit across it, changing every moment dark to light and light to dark, so that the general emphasis and expression of the scene constantly vary, like the expression of a human face, as we watch it. Which shall we choose? Which seems the most expressive, the most beautiful? Again, shall we content ourselves with a general superficial impression, leaving details vague? Shall we aim at truth of tone, or truth of local colour? Shall we dwell on the lines of the composition? Shall we spend all our care upon getting the planes right, or rely for our main interest upon light and shade and delicate definition of detail?
All these different problems belong to graphic representation of nature, to graphic methods of drawing and design, and the work of different artists is distinguished usually by the way in which they seem to feel—the particular aspect or truth on which they mostly dwell in their work.
Even the most abstract symbolic or ornamental drawing in pure outline must have some graphic quality, though intentionally limited to the expression of few facts.
The method by which an ancient Egyptian painter or hieroglyphic carver blocked out a vulture or a hawk, relying either solely on truth of mass or silhouette, or on outline and emphatic marking of the masses of the plumage, or the salient characteristics, such as claws and beak, although extremely abstract, was full of natural truth and fact as far as it went, and left no doubt as to the birds depicted.