DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.1311#0259
218 THE GKEAT EXHIBITION
himself on the subject:—c In the first place/ he remarks, ' the beauties of form or of
colour, abstracted from nature by the ornamentist, from the very circumstance that they
are abstractions, assume in relation to the whole progress of the art the character of prin-
ciples or facts, that tend, by accumulation, to bring it to perfection. The accumulated
labours of each successive race of ornamentists are so many discoveries made—so many
facts to be learned, treasured up, applied to a new use, submitted to the process of
artistic generalization, or added to. A language and a literature of ornamental design
are constituted; the former of which must be mastered before the latter can be understood;
and the latter known before we are in a condition to add to its treasures. The first step,
therefore, in the education of ornamentists, must be their initiation into the current and
conventional language of their art, and by this means into its existing literature.' By this
last passage, we may fairly assume that Mr. Dyce would recommend, first the study of
the conventionalities of the student's speciality, and then as much as life is long enough
to learn. The great previous error in art-education has been to grasp at so much
vaguely, and attain so little practically.
** The modifications which nature receives at the hands of the intelligent sculptor are
so various, and frequently so subtle, that it would require a volume to enumerate them,
and an Eastlake to write it. We can glance but at a very few. The first condition of
the highest class of sculpture is, that it should be allied with the noblest architecture,
to which it should serve as an inscription, explaining to those capable of reading its ideal
expression those purposes of the structure which it is not in the power of architecture
alone to convey. In all such cases fitness prescribes the subject—simplicity, its sublimest
treatment—contrast, the general condition of the lines of its composition. In order to
give to his works that commanding language which speaks to the heart (the phonetic
quality in Mr. Fergusson's admirable theory of beauty in art), the sculptor requires to
select from his observation of the expression of individual forms, those precise lines,
which, he learns from study and experience, invariably convey the particular sensations it
is his office to communicate to the mind of the beholder. It was by some such process that
an approach was made by the Greek sculptors of old to attain an embodiment of their
conceptions of divinity, and the beau ideal in loveliness of form. The peculiar refinements
of form and texture which fall within the especial province of the sculptor to carry to
their highest pitch of perfection, he constantly heightens by availing himself of the effect
on the senses of the simultaneous contrast of form. Thus he exaggerates the roughness
of the hair and the coarse texture of every object coming in contact with his flesh, in
order to give to it the exquisite smoothness of nature; he introduces straight lines,
equally balanced folds, and angular breaks into his draperies, in order to bring out the
tender sweeping curves of the outlines of the limbs he so gracefully disposes. His is,
of a truth, the happy art which begins by collecting all that is most sweet and fresh;
and then by one additional touch, one further artful contrast, he ' throws a perfume
on the violet.' In sculpture, as in every other of the decorative arts, changing circum-
stances bring ever-changing conventionalities; and, as supreme arbiters over the propriety
of one and all, still preside our original great principles—variety, fitness, simplicity, and
contrast."
himself on the subject:—c In the first place/ he remarks, ' the beauties of form or of
colour, abstracted from nature by the ornamentist, from the very circumstance that they
are abstractions, assume in relation to the whole progress of the art the character of prin-
ciples or facts, that tend, by accumulation, to bring it to perfection. The accumulated
labours of each successive race of ornamentists are so many discoveries made—so many
facts to be learned, treasured up, applied to a new use, submitted to the process of
artistic generalization, or added to. A language and a literature of ornamental design
are constituted; the former of which must be mastered before the latter can be understood;
and the latter known before we are in a condition to add to its treasures. The first step,
therefore, in the education of ornamentists, must be their initiation into the current and
conventional language of their art, and by this means into its existing literature.' By this
last passage, we may fairly assume that Mr. Dyce would recommend, first the study of
the conventionalities of the student's speciality, and then as much as life is long enough
to learn. The great previous error in art-education has been to grasp at so much
vaguely, and attain so little practically.
** The modifications which nature receives at the hands of the intelligent sculptor are
so various, and frequently so subtle, that it would require a volume to enumerate them,
and an Eastlake to write it. We can glance but at a very few. The first condition of
the highest class of sculpture is, that it should be allied with the noblest architecture,
to which it should serve as an inscription, explaining to those capable of reading its ideal
expression those purposes of the structure which it is not in the power of architecture
alone to convey. In all such cases fitness prescribes the subject—simplicity, its sublimest
treatment—contrast, the general condition of the lines of its composition. In order to
give to his works that commanding language which speaks to the heart (the phonetic
quality in Mr. Fergusson's admirable theory of beauty in art), the sculptor requires to
select from his observation of the expression of individual forms, those precise lines,
which, he learns from study and experience, invariably convey the particular sensations it
is his office to communicate to the mind of the beholder. It was by some such process that
an approach was made by the Greek sculptors of old to attain an embodiment of their
conceptions of divinity, and the beau ideal in loveliness of form. The peculiar refinements
of form and texture which fall within the especial province of the sculptor to carry to
their highest pitch of perfection, he constantly heightens by availing himself of the effect
on the senses of the simultaneous contrast of form. Thus he exaggerates the roughness
of the hair and the coarse texture of every object coming in contact with his flesh, in
order to give to it the exquisite smoothness of nature; he introduces straight lines,
equally balanced folds, and angular breaks into his draperies, in order to bring out the
tender sweeping curves of the outlines of the limbs he so gracefully disposes. His is,
of a truth, the happy art which begins by collecting all that is most sweet and fresh;
and then by one additional touch, one further artful contrast, he ' throws a perfume
on the violet.' In sculpture, as in every other of the decorative arts, changing circum-
stances bring ever-changing conventionalities; and, as supreme arbiters over the propriety
of one and all, still preside our original great principles—variety, fitness, simplicity, and
contrast."