A BOOK is not worth its paper if it cannot suffer by the process of critical mutilation; writing, and also painting, must be viewed as a whole, but never pigment by pigment or line by line. Every paragraph read separately must call forth some opposite view or else the book is poor stuff. Every inch of the picture closely viewed by itself must bewilder the observer; otherwise, it is a weak, insipid, belaboured canvas, good for nothing. I tell you for your own sake: do not hold a microscope in front of genius!
14. The Closed Ear
IF I listened attentively to the things that others say my work would lose character. To pay attention to criticism is to pursue the process of laboured refinement which reduces all to the commonplace. Critics with much knowledge are people with retrospective minds; they cannot be of use to the born painter whose work is creative. Knowledge is related to things already accomplished; but the vast unexplored fields open to creative genius are beyond the range of all critical analysis. The painter, more than any other, lives a life of spiritual change.
Look at the sky! The luminaries return, return, return! To the scientist they move with regularity and precision; but to the romanticist they shed new light every moment. The astronomer knows the facts: the poet feels the truth!
15. The Painter’s Cigarette
THERE is a certain something in a cigarette that gives character to the painter’s conversation. The cigarette itself plays an important part in timing the frequent pauses to suit the wit of genius. The curls of smoke punctuate a series of brilliant aphorisms which otherwise would be impossible. The painter has the gift of making parables. The fact is he talks from feeling rather than reason. He never makes a speech: he tells you something. But is he not charming withal?
He has no self-restraint. The cold, placid surface, the cultivated evenness that is counted a valuable asset in the man of business, in the politician and the millionaire, is not his, thank God!
In his heart he is a child. He will talk about himself and his own work so frankly that you will always be interested if not wholly charmed. Unselfish in every vein, his grievance is never a personal one; it has no bearings save for his art. From this point the matter is soon beaten flat under his hammer of words. If he had not the courage to say all he felt he would be no painter! But do not be deceived: his fearless tongue has a fine counterpart deep in his heart. As a man in the right capable of strong denunciation, he is the man you may safely approach and trust!
16. The People’s Café
I PREFER the café of the people, and never visit any that has an exclusive atmosphere unless I am obliged. I do not care to see many rich people at one time. It was ordained that the percentage of rich should always be small, therefore a crowd of them in one spot is bad form, often bad colour, and mostly confusion. A group of artisans never gives me any unpleasant thoughts: it is the natural order of things; the poor were regarded by Our Lord as the multitude.