There are some authors, however, who have felt the need of a dynamic explanation of the art-impulse, which should trace the motive force to its origin. It was so with Aristotle when he interpreted artistic production as a manifestation of the desire to imitate. By this theory art is indeed brought into connection with a general animal impulse, the æsthetic importance of which can scarcely be overestimated. It is only by reference to the psychology of imitative movements that we shall be able to explain the enjoyment of art. But it seems, nevertheless, somewhat strained to make imitation the basis and purpose of artistic activity, seeing that there are various forms of art, as, for instance, architecture and purely lyrical music or poetry, in which we can scarcely detect any imitative element at all. The theories of Aristotle, of Seneca, and all their modern followers, can only be upheld if the word “imitation” is used in a much wider sense than that which it generally bears. But even those who, with Engel, would consider the bodily movements as “imitating the thoughts,”[26] or those who in æsthetic would speak of “circulary reaction”[27] as a phenomenon of imitation, would find it hard to discover in any of these relatively automatic manifestations such a mental compulsion as that which impels to artistic activity. Moreover, as we need scarcely point out, art in all its forms always strives after something more than a mere likeness.
It seems equally superfluous to emphasise the fact that no genuine artist has made it his sole object to please. The fatal confusion between art-theory and the science of beauty has indeed led some writers on æsthetic to derive artistic activities from an impulse to “produce objects or objective conditions which should attract by pleasing.”[28] Such views will especially recommend themselves to those who believe in an animal art called forth by sexual selection. Nor can it be denied that the means of attraction employed in the competition for the favour of the opposite sex supply a part of the material which is used in the various arts.[29] With the artistic impulse itself, which, according to its very definition, is independent of external motives, the various means of attraction have no connection whatever.[30]
From the theoretical point of view it is undoubtedly easier to defend Professor Baldwin’s way of stating the case, in which the “self-exhibiting impulse” takes the place of the “instinct to attract by pleasing.”[31] Figuratively speaking, an element of self-exhibition is involved in every artistic creation which addresses itself to a public. And without a public—in the largest sense of the word—no art would ever have appeared. But it seems somewhat difficult to make this self-exhibiting—in a sense which implies an actual audience—the aim and purpose of, for instance, the most intimate and personal examples of lyrical poetry.
It may of course be contended, by those who advocate the importance of the last-mentioned interpretations, that the variety of art-forms compels us to assume, not one, but several art-impulses. At this stage of our research we cannot enter upon a discussion of such views; but it will at least be admitted that explanations which can be applied in the whole field of art must be preferable to partial definitions.
This merit of universality, at least, cannot be denied to the theories which derive art from the playing impulse. The notion of a sportive activity involves precisely that freedom from external, consciously utilitarian motives which, according to the consensus of almost all writers on æsthetic, is required in every genuine manifestation of art. It is not surprising, therefore, that it was by reference to the play-impulse that Schiller tried to distinguish artistic production from all “unfree” forms of activity.[32] It is true that the notion of “play” as used by Schiller and Spencer—who has given the theory a physiological foundation—is chiefly important as a negative demarcation. But even Schiller brings in a positive factor when he speaks of the force by which “overflowing life itself urges the animal to action” (“wenn das überflüssige Leben sich selbst zur Thätigkeit stachelt”).[33] In Spencer’s theory, on the other hand, the “excessive readiness” to nervous discharge which accompanies every surplus of vigour, and which, in his view, accounts for play, represents a motor element, the impelling force of which must be considered as very strong.[34] As is well known, Spencer, Wallace, and Hudson have applied this principle of surplus energy to explain so-called animal art, rejecting the theory which ascribes æsthetic judgment to the female.[35]
As formulated by the last-mentioned authors, the play-theory is, however, open to objection from a physiological point of view. It has been remarked by Dr. Wallaschek that, in speaking of animals, the phrase “surplus of vigour” ought to be superseded by “inapplicability of energy” or “unemployed energy.”[36] And still more explicitly Professor Groos has shown that a stored-up supply of energy is by no means a necessary condition for play.[37] But these criticisms have by no means deprived the play-instinct of its importance as a dynamic factor. Since Groos by his epoch-making researches has been able to prove that the majority of games—especially the games of youth—are based upon instincts, we can adduce as an impelling force “the demon instinct that urges and even compels to activity not only if and so long as the vessel overflows (to use a figure of speech), but even when there is but a last drop left in it.”[38] By considering artistic activity as a kind of play, one is therefore able to account for its great attractiveness, even when no “surplus of vigour” can be shown to exist.
In the beginning of this chapter we did indeed contend that the “compulsion” which prompts to artistic activity is too strong to be even compared with the passion for sports and games. But this superiority may of course be explained as a result of some peculiarity of this special kind of play. As a matter of fact art is, in a far higher degree than any of the sports and games, able to satisfy the greatest and most fundamental instincts of man. Groos has tried to prove that the artistic motives which in all times have been most popular, offer to the spectator as well as to the producer an opportunity for warlike and erotic stimulation;[39] and Guyau had already remarked how important a part the moods of war, or rather of struggle, play in all enjoyment of art.[40] It is easy to understand the eager prosecution of an activity which thus affords free, if imaginary, exercise for instincts and tendencies which would otherwise be thwarted by the narrow restrictions of social life. We are all animals in captivity, and we eagerly seize every kind of vicarious function which can give at least a memory of the life from which we are excluded.
At lower stages of social evolution, where instincts are more in harmony with life, the play-element in art must evidently be of still greater importance. Artistic production and artistic enjoyment provide exercise for those very functions which are most important in real life. Art fulfils a great social mission, and is developed in subservience to the struggle for life. The play-theory, as formulated by Professor Groos, affords, therefore, in many cases an explanation of the high artistic level reached by the lower tribes. In our historical treatment of primitive dances and dramas we shall be continually obliged to have recourse to this theory. And it will thus appear that it is no deficient appreciation of its importance which compels us to look elsewhere for an explanation for the artistic impulse.
Play and art have indeed many important characteristics in common. Neither of them has any immediate practical utility, and both of them do nevertheless serve some of the fundamental needs of life. All art, therefore, can in a certain sense be called play. But art is something more than this. The aim of play is attained when the surplus of vigour is discharged or the instinct has had its momentary exercise. But the function of art is not confined to the act of production; in every manifestation of art, properly so called, something is made and something survives. It is true that in certain manifestations—for instance in the dance or in acting—the effect is destroyed as soon as created; it survives only in the rhythm devised by the dancer, or in the spectator’s memory of the part played. But this is accidental, not essential to the nature of the arts as arts. On the other hand, there is nothing in the nature of the play-impulse to call for a stereotyping of the state of mind and feelings to which it gives rise. Still less can the artistic qualities, such as beauty and rhythm, which, however difficult to define scientifically, always characterise works of art, be interpreted as a result of the play-impulse. The theories of Schiller, Spencer, and Groos may indeed explain the negative criterion of art, but they cannot, any more than the imitation theories or the Darwinian interpretation, give us any positive information as to the nature of art.
In order to understand the art-impulse as a tendency to æsthetic production, we must bring it into connection with some function, from the nature of which the specifically artistic qualities may be derived. Such a function is to be found, we believe, in the activities of emotional expression.