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The Courier-Review.
LITERARY.
The Real Meaning of Art.
[A paper read by Prof. Clarke before the Art Club of Lawrence, Kansas.]
The word "art" has become prostituted and is applied to so many trivial things that by association it has acquired a quality which has brought it into contempt. But worse than this; the term has been narrowly restricted, even by intelligent persons to include painting, sculpture and fancy work from a to z, and the truth has been squeezed almost out of sight. This narrow conception is so general that it leaves only a little remnant of the people who are open to its influence. What ought the word mean to us? Why, what it has always meant ever since the beginning of time—expression; from the time when God formed Nature to surround Humanity down to the motion of an eyebrow or the presence of a hand. Our human relations require expression. Our minds and hearts must and will go out to our fellow creatures and receive recognition. It is the one thing that raises us above the brutes, and accounts for language, literature, music and the drama. We express ourselves in speech, in writing, in music, in acting in order to make an impression, and with true art the picture, whether of speech or tones or gesture, is given from mind to mind directly and with abiding force.
See now, in this light, how grand art is, and something to be studied by everyone that he or she may always make his or her best impression and also understand the language of others.
Education is striving everywhere to put the tools of art into the people's hands that they may make something out of their lives. Very poor, crooked, dull tools most of them are, which have to be afterwards straightened and sharpened by hard knocks and friction with the world.
Some day the teacher of art will be honored above all other teachers, but not yet.
Why is it that the multitude will own to being moved by a work of art and yet regard him who imparts the lesson of true expression as merely
another tradesman who sells at a profit whatever is wanted,. Who can forget the shiver which runs down the back at some marvelous burst of song from the great singer. Such a powerful effect has perfection.
Who that has listened to the voice of Millet's "Angelus" can forget the spell enjoined by that powerful picture? The strokes of the bell seem to vibrate through the quivering atmosphere from the little church spire in the gray distance, across the furrowed fields to the two beings in the foreground; who, hearing the sound, drop their implements of toil and stand in attitude of prayer—the woman, with clasped hands meeting the bowed head, giving up body and soul to devotion; the man standing sheepishly with hat in hand, devout, but not in the same way as his companion. It is the truth, the old truth, ever since the call to prayer was issued. This picture makes us think.
Now the great curse and sorrow of the artist is the wholesale acceptance of mock art which expresses nothing truly. Things are, however, all the time getting better. The cheap chromo is the entering wedge which prophecies the recognition of good paintings. Moody and Sankey hymns will some time give way to Handel's Messiah. The dime novel or the "goody" Sunday school book will be supplanted by the works of Scott. The marvelous impersonations of Booth or Jefferson may open the eyes of some frequenter of the vulgar show. The eloquence of a Beecher or a Brooks will move the soul which has been untouched by smaller men who had nothing to express.
I have avoided any allusion to the idea of artifice or deception, and yet that is the first idea which most people have on mention of art. And the idea that art means artificiality keeps many a man and woman from studying for the truth. The Anglo-Saxon mind is particularly prone to distrust polish and a wellrounded perfection as something tacked on for effect. This is simply because the art is untrue
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