The origins of art; a psychological & sociological inquiry

by Y. Hirn

Dans mon orgueil muet, dans ma tombe sans gloire,

Dussé-je m’engloutir pour l’éternité noire,

Je ne te vendrai pas mon ivresse ou mon mal,

Je ne livrerai pas ma vie à tes huées,

Je ne danserai pas sur ton tréteau banal

Avec tes histrions et tes prostituées.[171]

Nothing could indeed be further from our intentions than to enter the lists against the so-called Parnassian ideas. At a time when intimate confessions seem to be the most sought-for things in literature, we have reason to value every appeal to the dignity of the artist. But it is only a confusion of ideas which can lead any one to think that this dignity would be in any way infringed by the adoption of an emotionalistic art-theory. We have been especially anxious not to be misunderstood on this point, and this is the only reason why in the preceding chapters we have taken so much pains to disentangle the psychology of feeling, especially the relation between simple feeling and emotions. The word feeling, as it is used colloquially, generally involves only the fully formed emotions, especially those which are painful. Owing to this narrow and inadequate usage, every one who speaks of the importance of feeling for art exposes himself to the accusation of sentimentalism. But it is sufficient to point out, with regard to such misconceptions, that even pride, joy, elation, and all the other pleasurable states, may be quite as emotional as any sorrow or melancholy. The poem of Leconte de Lisle, quoted above, may therefore, in spite of all that the author himself may have objected against such an interpretation, be considered as an expression of feeling. And we can in the same way point out that in every one of the most orthodox Parnassian poems some emotional state has been expressed by the poet and conveyed to the reader. It is only by virtue of this element that the poems of this school have attained to their high poetical quality.

Within the department of the pictorial arts want of precision in the use of terms has given rise to a confusion which is even greater than that which prevails with regard to poetry. It has been a natural result of intellectualistic views that in every painting the subject, the situation represented, has been considered as the most important element. As the endeavour to give an explanatory representation of external things and events has been assumed as essential to the artistic craving, so the essence of the artistic work, its real content, has been looked for in the things and events depicted. Especially when paintings are designated by a descriptive title, spectators will be apt to turn their attention solely to those situations or impressions which can be subsumed under the title. If they cannot find any emotional element in the subject, they declare the whole painting to be devoid of feeling. And for this misconception they may even find support in the utterances of the artists; for there are many painters who, fearing lest they might be confused with the melodramatic sensation-mongers, have emphatically pronounced their abhorrence of all emotional suggestion. For the unbiassed observer, however, it is evident that the painter’s joy over a colour or a nuance, or the melancholy which can be expressed, without any anthropomorphic element, by a mere relation between light and shadow, may be as emotional states as those which are embodied in the humorous or sentimental subjects of genre-painting. Every artistic representation, whether landscape, figure, or still-life, always conveys to us some emotional mood of the painter. If this feeling element has been conveyed in some pictures with greater distinctness than in others, this fact must not prevent us from acknowledging that it enters into every kind of art. We do not say, therefore, with Professor van Dyke, “Art to Phidias was a matter of form; to Titian a matter of colour; to Corot a matter of feeling;”[172] but we say, Art to Phidias was a matter of feeling expressed by form; to Titian a matter of feeling expressed by colour; and to Corot a matter of feeling expressed by lights.

In the essential unity of all feeling we may thus find the point in which all forms of art, notwithstanding their different subjects and materials, have their unity. By laying the chief stress on the emotional mood which in every work is conveyed from creator to spectator, we save the trouble of dividing the works into different classes. We need not then assume any peculiar principle of admiration for technical skill to explain the enjoyment of Dutch painting or of Greek sculpture. Nor need we put ourselves to the pains of deciding whether the subject or the execution is to be considered more important. The problem of content and form, so much debated throughout intellectualistic æsthetic, does not exist for the emotionalistic interpretation, which sees the essence of art in the feeling embodied, sometimes in a great and important subject, sometimes in some insignificant feature of nature or life. And the element of technical perfection becomes acknowledged in its proper light when interpreted as the indispensable condition for effectually achieving such an embodiment.

It would be impossible, however, to explain as merely a confusion of standpoints the fact that certain schools of art have been considered entirely unemotional. To some extent, no doubt, the deficient appreciation of purely pictorial art is the result of the disastrous influence which has, especially in England, been exercised by prevailing currents of criticism. By systematically diverting the attention of the public from the essential element in painting, the leaders of taste may, no doubt, accomplish great things in deadening the art-sense of nations. But it is scarcely probable that, even if he knew better than to look for a “story” and literary interest in a work of pure painting, the general spectator would be able to enjoy the état d’âme which is expressed in an intérieur of Ver Meer or a landscape of Whistler. To him a painting the whole subject of which is sunshine, and the figures of which have no mission but that of absorbing or reflecting the light, would appear inane and cold. “Pictorial ideas,” which may represent such a wealth of feeling for the initiated, are thus to the artistically uneducated devoid of any emotional content.