International studio (61.1917)

Is there Hope for the Philistine !

genuine. If I could direct that man’s efforts I
would not undertake to teach him what a genu-
ine portrait is; I would set him to making hand-
painted barns.
But what of him who merely has not had his
chance? It is not inconceivable that the world
lost many a bibliolater before the ability to read
became so general. How many potential lovers
of art are in this country to-day who need only
to know the language in which the painter speaks
to awake from a dormant to an active attitude
towards art? Suppose a man who could read no
further than: “See the cat,” “This is a rat,”
“Will the cat catch the rat?” “Yes, the cat will
catch the rat.” What would he think of a sturdy,
vigorous person who would read a whole book?
There are thousands of otherwise intelligent peo-
ple who can read no further in the artist’s medium
of expression than this and who fill their homes
with meaningless and pitiful decorations. The
fact that they hang primer stuff on their walls is
an evidence of aspiration. It is the duty of the
artist or of the critic or of somebody to lead these
people from the primer stage to a full reading
knowledge. It is true that not every one who
can read knows literature, but it is also true that
he who cannot read has no hope of such knowl-
edge.
I am an example of a reclaimed philistine and
I speak from the heart. I am not an art critic,
not a connoisseur, not an affecter, but simply a
zealous lover of pictures with some independence
of taste and judgment. You will read story after
story of the self-made man in business; why not
read one of a self-made man in aesthetic appre-
ciation? I had reached years of maturity; I had
a fair lay knowledge of the literature of the
world; I had confidence in my opinions at the
theatre; I keenly enjoyed the opera, though I
had not and have not been able to acquire any
technical knowledge of music; but nobody knew
less of the pictorial art than I did.
My quickening to art was unpremeditated.
One day my wife said: “Do you know what our
home needs more than anything else?” I did
not know, so she answered: “Some good pic-
tures.” I became interested. I selected an
etching for an anniversary gift for her which the
dealer, by mistake, delivered long enough before
the day to disconnect it from the anniversary.
We counselled together in the purchase of an-
other etching. We still prize the etchings, but
L

we soon came under the spell of the greatest
medium, and while the timorous approach paint
diffidently we had the courage of adventurers
and have slowly acquired a modest little collec-
tion of oils. Our means have not permitted any
important examples but we have some good
American work selected with reference to our
own taste and preference. And no real collector
ever got more real pleasure out of his real col-
lecting than we have gotten out of our little
make-believe. Many and many a picture have
we had out for approval and returned because
we did not feel we just had to have it. Usually
I have proposed and my wife has disposed, and
whenever we have joined in a burning desire for
a picture we have never regretted its purchase.
We have known the keenest joy that comes to
the small collector—that is to buy a picture of a
comparatively unknown artist and then see him
come into more general recognition. But more
than all we have learned another way of resting
from the brunts of life. “Whenever my way is
too rough for my feet, or too steep for my strength,
I get off it, to some smooth velvet path which
fancy has scattered over with rosebuds of delights;
and having taken a few turns in it, come back
strengthen’d and refresh’d,” said the great sen-
timentalist. The artist turns me into that velvet
path which I cannot find unaided. I come back
not languorous from the scent of blossoms but
with a soul quickened to greater effort. But
enough of the simple annals of the poor.
I undertook to educate myself in this new field
of enjoyment. Being past school age, I sought
knowledge in reading. There is much interesting
and profitable literature for the developed art
lover but I could find little which unfolded the
philosophy of art to one in my stage of undevel-
opment. I would as soon read a book on how to
open my mouth in amazement as to read one on
how to look at a picture—they amount to about
the same thing. Historical and descriptive books
and lectures did not fill my need and the art
columns of the general periodicals are of no
more value than their cover pictures. Seeing
pictures is the greatest education in art, but
important galleries are accessible to only those
in art centres, moreover, one sees more with
help than without it. Well selected and good
reproductions received monthly, as in The In-
ternational Studio, inform the art-enlight-
ened mind of the trend of art but they will