DOI Heft:
No. 197 (August, 1909)
DOI Artikel:The lay figure: on a blot upon civilisation
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.20967#0278
T
The Lay Figure
HE LAY FIGURE: ON A BLOT
UPON CIVILISATION.
I want to get away into the country,”
said the Art Critic, “ to some place where artists
will cease from troubling and even critics can
be at rest. Where can I go ? ”
“ Surely there are plenty of places where you can
hide yourself and hear not even the faintest mur-
mur from the Art world,” laughed the Man with
the Red Tie. “ Seek out some stronghold of the
Philistines and consort with them ; Art will not
trouble you there.”
“ But I do not want to associate with Philis-
tines,” protested the Critic. “ The Philistine
would only make me yearn for Art as a sort of
antidote to his blatant want of taste. I want
Nature, pure and unsophisticated, frank, free
Nature; and I want to sit at her feet and learn
from her how I can best judge Art.”
“ Is that all ? ” scoffed the Man with the Red
Tie. “ Nature is everywhere ; you need not go
far to find her.”
“ But the Philistine is everywhere, too,” com-
plained the Critic, “and he gets in my way
wherever I go. He intrudes offensively between
me and Nature, and I am perfectly certain that
nothing will ever make him realise how bitterly
I hate his interference.”
“Who are the Philistines? ” broke in the Practi-
cal Man. “ How do they come between you and
Nature? Talk plain English for a change and
explain what you mean.”
“ The Philistine, as he appears to me,” said the
Critic, “is that annoyingly practical person who
thinks that his schemes and his ideas are the only
things in the world that matter. He looks upon
Art as a kind of immoral eccentricity unworthy
of any serious attention and upon Nature as a
useless idler, who is to be flouted and outraged in
every possible way.”
“What are you talking about?” cried the
Practical Man. “ The Philistine, as you call him,
goes his own way, and Nature, I suppose, goes
hers. Where can they clash ? ”
“ Can you not give us an illustration ? ” asked
the Man with the Red Tie. “I am afraid cur
friend cannot understand you when you talk in
parables.”
“ Well, what better illustration can I give than
that of the advertiser who plasters the whole
countryside with notices of his wares ? ” replied the
Critic. “ The advertiser, I suppose you will ad-
mit, is an extremely practical person, always on the
248
look-out for chances of asserting himself; he is to
me the typical Philistine who caring nothing for
the feelings of decent people comes unblushingly
between me and Nature and robs her of her charm
to serve his own sordid ends.”
“ The advertiser’s notices are only intended to
tell the public where they can get the things they
want, and naturally he puts them where they are
likely to be seen,” said the Practical Man. “ Surely
you cannot blame him for understanding the
fundamental principles of business and for merely
exercising his common sense.”
“ I do blame him; I blame him very seriously,”
returned the Critic, “ when he makes the exercise
of his common sense a matter of offence to me. I
cannot take a railway journey now without being
irritated by a hideous notice-board whenever I
want to look at some particularly charming piece
of scenery. It is an annoyance from which it is
impossible to escape at home or abroad. Look at
the fringe of advertisements beside the English
railways; look at the hedge of notices which shuts
in the line from Boulogne to Paris ; look at the
staring letters which grin disgustingly from this cliff
or that mountainside. Are not these things an
interference between me and Nature; are they
not objectionable and unnecessary — are they
not in fact a serious blot on what we call our
civilisation ? ”
“You are too sensitive!” sneered the Practical
Man. “ If there were anything in what you say
people would object. They would write letters of
complaint to the papers, and I am sure that public
opinion would soon put a stop to any real abuse
of advertising.”
“ The papers you must remember live by adver-
tisements and therefore would scarcely publish
letters of that sort for fear of offending their best
supporters,” laughed the Man with the Red Tie,
“ so there is no chance of organising public
opinion in that way.”
“ But there is a very vehement public opinion
against this very real abuse of advertising,” said
the Critic, “and a great many people would be
ready to echo my complaint. But what is the
remedy ? I do not know. Perhaps it would do
some good to tax the owner of the land on which
these notice-boards are stuck up. I am sure no
one could say that the value of his land, as a place
for displaying advertisements, has been enhanced
by any exertions of his : what has he done that he
should profit? He is enjoying an unearned incre-
ment anyhow, and he might well be made to pay
for it.” The Lay Figure.
The Lay Figure
HE LAY FIGURE: ON A BLOT
UPON CIVILISATION.
I want to get away into the country,”
said the Art Critic, “ to some place where artists
will cease from troubling and even critics can
be at rest. Where can I go ? ”
“ Surely there are plenty of places where you can
hide yourself and hear not even the faintest mur-
mur from the Art world,” laughed the Man with
the Red Tie. “ Seek out some stronghold of the
Philistines and consort with them ; Art will not
trouble you there.”
“ But I do not want to associate with Philis-
tines,” protested the Critic. “ The Philistine
would only make me yearn for Art as a sort of
antidote to his blatant want of taste. I want
Nature, pure and unsophisticated, frank, free
Nature; and I want to sit at her feet and learn
from her how I can best judge Art.”
“ Is that all ? ” scoffed the Man with the Red
Tie. “ Nature is everywhere ; you need not go
far to find her.”
“ But the Philistine is everywhere, too,” com-
plained the Critic, “and he gets in my way
wherever I go. He intrudes offensively between
me and Nature, and I am perfectly certain that
nothing will ever make him realise how bitterly
I hate his interference.”
“Who are the Philistines? ” broke in the Practi-
cal Man. “ How do they come between you and
Nature? Talk plain English for a change and
explain what you mean.”
“ The Philistine, as he appears to me,” said the
Critic, “is that annoyingly practical person who
thinks that his schemes and his ideas are the only
things in the world that matter. He looks upon
Art as a kind of immoral eccentricity unworthy
of any serious attention and upon Nature as a
useless idler, who is to be flouted and outraged in
every possible way.”
“What are you talking about?” cried the
Practical Man. “ The Philistine, as you call him,
goes his own way, and Nature, I suppose, goes
hers. Where can they clash ? ”
“ Can you not give us an illustration ? ” asked
the Man with the Red Tie. “I am afraid cur
friend cannot understand you when you talk in
parables.”
“ Well, what better illustration can I give than
that of the advertiser who plasters the whole
countryside with notices of his wares ? ” replied the
Critic. “ The advertiser, I suppose you will ad-
mit, is an extremely practical person, always on the
248
look-out for chances of asserting himself; he is to
me the typical Philistine who caring nothing for
the feelings of decent people comes unblushingly
between me and Nature and robs her of her charm
to serve his own sordid ends.”
“ The advertiser’s notices are only intended to
tell the public where they can get the things they
want, and naturally he puts them where they are
likely to be seen,” said the Practical Man. “ Surely
you cannot blame him for understanding the
fundamental principles of business and for merely
exercising his common sense.”
“ I do blame him; I blame him very seriously,”
returned the Critic, “ when he makes the exercise
of his common sense a matter of offence to me. I
cannot take a railway journey now without being
irritated by a hideous notice-board whenever I
want to look at some particularly charming piece
of scenery. It is an annoyance from which it is
impossible to escape at home or abroad. Look at
the fringe of advertisements beside the English
railways; look at the hedge of notices which shuts
in the line from Boulogne to Paris ; look at the
staring letters which grin disgustingly from this cliff
or that mountainside. Are not these things an
interference between me and Nature; are they
not objectionable and unnecessary — are they
not in fact a serious blot on what we call our
civilisation ? ”
“You are too sensitive!” sneered the Practical
Man. “ If there were anything in what you say
people would object. They would write letters of
complaint to the papers, and I am sure that public
opinion would soon put a stop to any real abuse
of advertising.”
“ The papers you must remember live by adver-
tisements and therefore would scarcely publish
letters of that sort for fear of offending their best
supporters,” laughed the Man with the Red Tie,
“ so there is no chance of organising public
opinion in that way.”
“ But there is a very vehement public opinion
against this very real abuse of advertising,” said
the Critic, “and a great many people would be
ready to echo my complaint. But what is the
remedy ? I do not know. Perhaps it would do
some good to tax the owner of the land on which
these notice-boards are stuck up. I am sure no
one could say that the value of his land, as a place
for displaying advertisements, has been enhanced
by any exertions of his : what has he done that he
should profit? He is enjoying an unearned incre-
ment anyhow, and he might well be made to pay
for it.” The Lay Figure.