International studio (59.1916)

Realism and Romance

EALISM AND ROMANCE
BY MAXWELL ARMFIELD
Let us hope that the time is come
for the retirement of these super-
annuated phrases. They have worked hard, and
have been worked harder for a very long time,
and it seems as though the end should now come.
Like most other catch-words they never had any
definite meaning or significance, expressing merely
the vagueness of a people groping after a distinc-
tion they dimly felt but did not understand; they
are, in fact, both altars to unknown gods.
Realism, so far as it means anything, implies
in art the imitation or at any rate the acceptance
of objects as they appear, and the representation
of them as nearly as possible. It is really pho-
tography coloured by hand.
Romance indicates a conviction that the func-
tion of the artist is rather to present a world of
his own such as never was, lit by a light that
never could be on sea or land.
If we allow that the business of the artist is
to show forth the significance of life, it is plain
that Realism is beside the mark, for this implies
that life, as a rule, is not seen to be significant
of anything. One does not, as a rule, and artists
do not, as a rule, see things as significant or
unified. We all have long, flat lapses when things
seem entirely contrary to our ideas of order and
wisdom, and beauty, or when the world seems a
mere boring hiatus. Realism fattens on these
lapses. “They exist; therefore they are subject
for artistic treatment,” say her disciples when
pushed to vindicate their point of view. A spe-
cious argument on the surface, but more than a
little shallow; for the whole business of art is to
prove the falsity of these lapses. Anything, of
course, is grist to the artist’s mill, but he stands
or falls by the use he makes of his provender.
This use, too, must always be the showing forth
of significance of some kind.
In painting a picture such as may be entitled
Ennui, for instance, it is not sufficient to convey
a sense of boredom to the beholder. There is no
praise of anything in the statement, however
forcible, that boredom exists. Nor can it be sig-
nificant of life in any real sense. Healthy life is
always interesting.
Nor is it of any avail to talk mysteriously of
some deeper reality behind the appearance of
things which it is one’s duty to seek, and show

forth. This deeper reality will be defined as soon
as it is seen and understood, and no sooner.
Romance is even more fatal to the artist be-
cause at first sight its protestations appear to be
nearer the truth. It is obvious, now, to most
people, that the aim of art is to reveal something
rather more believable than the muddle of sin,
disease, and death we call life. A number of
people make art their religion because in its
highest manifestations only have they been able
to feel assured of a harmonious and beautiful
state of things which they instinctively feel ought
to exist. They feel that the state thus presented
to them is in some mysterious way truer than
the state they know. But it is these people who
are responsible for Romance. Romance comes
along and says, You are right, this state of sor-
did greyness is not the real thing. Come with
me. Take no notice of these dreary facts, they
are merely winding sheets. Let us be free. Let
us break all bounds and know no laws except
those we find amusing to obey. The world is
for the most part a hideous mistake; let us leave
it to its husks, and open our magic casements.
Now the fatal mistake of Romance is that,
however amusing may be its magic casements
and other sorceries, you are still actually, willy
nilly, very much in the grey and sordid world you
wish so much to forget. And you never can forget it.
It is always tugging at your coat-tails. For the
simple reason that it exists to you as a reality
and the other doesn’t. Fairy tales are always
rather silly except when they happen to be para-
bles. There is always something unsatisfactory
about that light that never was on sea or land.
It has a most uncomfortable knack of reminding
one of some light or other that was very much
on land, a light due perhaps to stained glass or
an aquarium, or incense or something.
Whilst there have always been artists who have
been above these trivialities, popular art has con-
sistently coquetted with Realism and Romance
alternately up to the present moment. Only
keeping sane when the craftsman found himself
impelled by a genuine popular demand and was
free to supply it in a straightforward way. That
is to say at those points when the arts were
either free from the domination of ecclesiasticism,
or when ecclesiasticism was so playing to the
democracy that it ceased to have much theolog-
ical significance.
To go no farther back than the Giottesque


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