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SOM E PRINCIPLES OF
EVERY-DAY ART.


MR. LEWIS F. DAY’S '
TEXT BOOKS OF ORNAMENTAL DESIGN.
Price Three-and-Sixpe'nce each, Crown 8vo, bound in Cloth.
SOME PRINCIPLES OF EVERY-DAY ART:
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTERS ON THE ARTS NOT FINE.
In great part re-written from ‘Every-Day Art,’
and containing nearly all the original Illustra-
tions ; forming a Prefatory Volume to the Series.
THE ANATOMY OF PATTERN.
Second Edition, revised.
With Thirty-six full page Illustrations.
THE PLANNING OF ORNAMENT.
Second Edition, revised.
With Forty-one full page Illustrations.
THE APPLICATION OF ORNAMENT.
With Forty-two full page Illustrations.
IN PREPARATION.
NATURE IN ORNAMENT.
With nearly a Hundred full page Plates, and
many Illustrations in the text.





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\
SOME PRINCEPLES OF
\
AY ART;
\w, \ _
EVERWD
vINTRODUCTORY CHAPTERS ON THE ARTS NOT FINE.
B Y
LEWIS FOREMAN DAY,
AUTHOR OF ‘TEXT BOOKS OF ORNAMENTAL DES!G.\'-’
“ De gustibu: EST dzlrpulana'um.”
NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS, CHIEFLV BY THE AUTHOR-
_LONDON:
B.T.BATSFORD,p,HIGH HOLBORN
1890.


WK
)100'
.,D5'


TO THE READER.
THE original edition of “Every-day Art” being
out of print, it occurred to me to issue the first
(and, as I think, the only permanently interesting)
i part of it, in the form of anintroductory volume to
the “Text Books of Ornamental Design,” without,
however, substantially reducing the number of
illustrations.
When it came to revising the text for the press,
I found on every page something which I thought
might be better said. And so. it has resolved itself
into my writing the greater part of it anew.
LEWIS F. DAY._
13, zllecklmburg Square, London, 1890.


CONTENTS.
—.<>o--
V
ON ORNAMENT .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. I
“ Orno, Ornas, Ornat, Ornamus, Ornatis, Ornant.”
g. o. a. .0 .0 II I. I. on 00 00 a. “ I know what I like!”
PAST AND PRESENT .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 20
“ New lamps for old !”
THE NATURE OF ART .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 39
“ Art is man’s nature.”
'/ .
THE USE IN ORNAMENT.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .68
“ Surely use alone
Makes money not a contemptible stone.”
THE WORKMAN AND Hrs Toors .. .. .. .. .. 85
“ If you do not use the tools they use you.”
L
THE RIGHTS AND WRONGS OF IMITATION .. .. .. 113
“ Nothing concealed that is done, but all things done to adornment.”
on 00 00 so a. 00 no 00 00
“The eagle never lost so much time as when he consented to learn of the crow.”
FORM AND COLOUR .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 134
“ N 0 man can serve two masters.”





EVERY-DAY ART.
ON ORNAMENT.
“ Orno, Ornas, Ornat, Ornamus, Ornatis,70rnant.”
RNAMENT is the art of
every-day. The great
picture galleries may be
likened to the temples
of art, whither devout
worshippers, and others
less devout but no less
anxious to pass for
pious, resort only at
intervals. 50, also, a
treasured painting may
be the shrine at which a man offers up in private
the incense of his admiration. But every day
and all day long we breathe the atmosphere of
ornament. There is no escape from its influence.
Good or bad, it pervades every object with which
our daily doings bring us in contact. We may,
if we choose, keep away from picture galleries
and not look at pictures; but, our attention once
turned to ornament, we can no longer shut our
B


2 Every-day A rt.
eyes and decline to take heed of it, though there
are all about us forms of it which every cultivated
man would evade at any cost if he could._ It
may be to us a dream of beauty or a nightmare,
but we cannot shake it off. At every turn in
life we come face to face with some fresh phase
of it. ' I
The question of ornament is, therefore, neither
insignificant nor one that has significance only for
the wealthy few. Neither is it a matter which
concerns only those who take some interest in art,
since we are all of us, however little inclined
towards the arts, alike compelled to ornament our
dwellings, our belongings, and our persons.
Imagine for a moment how a man would set
about furnishing a house without art. In the first
place the house itself would need to be built for
him, and not a door, or window-frame, or chimney- ‘
Upiece, not so much. as a fire-grate, door-knocker, or
area-railing, but would have to be made to his
express order. The furniture, from the door-
scraper to his easy chair, would in like manner
have to be designed for him; and it is doubtful
whether the markets of the known world would
suffice to supply the necessary utensils, imple-
ments, and household vessels, all innocent of orna-
ment. Were this at last accomplished,.the first
time he entered. it he himself would introduce
within its walls the inevitable decoration—unless
indeed, he put off on the door-step the clothes that


0n Ornament. 3
the usages of society have determined to be
necessary appendages to the natural man. The
cut of his coat, or the rib of the cloth, the polish of
his boots, the curve of his hat-brim, the starch of his
linen, the knot of his necktie, the shape of his studs,
the pattern of his watch-chain, the ring on his finger,
the umbrella in his hand, even the all-neceSsary
money in his pocket, would any one of them be
enough to destroy the artless simplicity at which
he vainly aimed. A lady in every-day walking
costume would introduce a small museum of
ornamental detail.
You cannot so much as accept the present of a
box of Elvas plums without at the same time
receiving food for thought on ornament. There is
the pattern of red and green printed on the paper
with which it is covered, bearing upon it distinctly
the stamp of a period, and illustrating the very
simplest form of printing. . A further problem is
suggested by the relation of the alternate stripes of
colour to the circular shape of the box. Then we
find inside a disc of cut paper, delightfully na'fve
in its perforation, and. exemplifying to perfection
the adaptation of design to the method of its
execution. No less suggestive of the scissors are
the shreds of tinsel mingled with the plums; and
the barbaric richness of their effect in the box is
admirable. But there is a warning in them, too.
They have away of adhering to‘ the fruit ; and you
relish the tinsel less when it gets between your teeth.
x
B 2


4 Every-day A 71‘.
The love of decoration is by no means a charac-
teristic peculiar to the {Victorian age. Ornament
dates back to the rudimentary stage of the human
race. If we were to trace it to its beginnings we
should find ourselves in Eden—0r wherever else


Top of Plum-box.
the scientists Will allow the human race to have
had its origin. To-day it is omnipresent among
us; and we can scarcely conceive a “coming race”
without ornament.
The association of art with every common ob-
ject of daily use seems to be in the natural order


6 . Every-day A 7!.
was ever entertained that use and ornament were
in any sense antagonistic. The result of attempting
*
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Savage ornament.
to draw the line between use and ornament, as
though the two were not to be reconciled, was that


0n Ornament. Z
ornament, which is irrepressible, struck out on. its
own account, and, unrestrained by sober use,
indulged in all the extravagance and excess which
the better taste of recent years has, we cannot yet
say ended, but at all events interrupted.
Perhaps we may assume, since there is usually
some ground in fact for every fiction, that it was“
the perversion of ornamental art among civilised
nations, subsequent to the degradation of Renais-
sance design, which led to the idea that use and
ornament were incompatible. The recurrence to a
better style of decorative design among us in this
generation, and a truer appreciation of the end and
object of ornament, would soon overturn this
fallacy; so that nOt even the most practical and
prosaic person would be able to rest in the belief
that use andvornament are independent one of the
other. For decoration is, or should be, art con-
ttolled by common sense.
It is beyond dispute that the influence of our
every-day surroundings must affect us; possibly
they influence us much more powerfully than we
are accustomed to suspect. That some among us
should be doomed to live without beauty is one of
the curses of our civilisation; such unfortunates
may find relief in deadening the sense of beauty
within them; even then it can never be quite the
same thing to them whether they live in the midst
of beauty or of ugliness. >
fEsthetic culture is not the high-road to all the


IO
Every-day A rt.


TASTE.
“I know what I like.”
settles in the first place whether
decoration at all, how much of it, of what kind,
where introduced, and how executed. It prescribes
‘ l|| ET is characteristic
of decorative
art.that it de-
pends almost
as much u on
the critical as
upon the crea—
tive faculty 01
thearfist. 1M5
thallimsLother
art—rt—elepends
gppniaste ;and
by that test it
stands or falls.
It is taste that
determines—
what is'it that
it does not de-
termine in de-
coration? It
there shall be


Taste. I I
what is wanted; what is admissible, and what is
becoming. Not one of these questions can be
solved without reference to it. Every work of
applied art is a 'problem, and the most important
factor in its solution is taste. 1
This, too, is worthy to ‘be remembered, that
whilst we judge of a man’s power by the high
water-mark of his achievement, we measure his
taste less generously, not even according to the
average of his work, but by the record of its lowest
ebb. When once an artist has succeeded in pro-
ducing a powerful impression, it survives many
failures. We point to his great workkand say:
that shows what he can do! But a single false
step in taste may be fatal ; it is difficult to believe
any more in the certainty of a judgment that has
once been flagrantly at fault ; 'we think always of
the man’s failure, and wonder: what must be the
taste of a man who can have letlthat pass P
In the tacit assumption of taste on the part of
every educated person there is unconscious recogni-
tion of the supremacy of the faculty. So firmly is
this infatuation rooted in men’s minds that to
question their authority in this respect is' taken as
an insult. Is not every Alderman a man of taste ?
We have all of us met ere now the worthy gentle-
man who “knows what he likes ”; he announces
that incontrovertible fact with a self-satisfaction
which seems to imply that really it is no slight
merit in him that he knows no more. It would be,


I 2 E very day A rt.
7 of course, the height of rudeness to suggest that
his preference did not of necessity argue excellence.
But why is it that in this matter of art a man, even
while admitting that he knows nothing of the sub-
ject, will protest that he is none the less competent
to give judgment ? _ He would hesitate with regard
to any other subject to pit his ignorance against
the special knowledge of an expert.
The confusion in men’s minds is owing in part to
a confusion of the different senses in which the
word is used. Bad taste may mean bad breeding,
and no one cares to be accused of that/ Again,
taste may be understood to signify liking, and in
respect to liking every man must be a law to him-
self. There is no disputing on that point. Even
though it be raw spirit that we prefer to mellow
wine, or crude combinations of red, blue, and yellow
that we like better than any subtle harmony of
colour, we have a perfect right to our preference.
Whether by announcing it we show discrimina-
tion or expose our ignorance is another matter.
- In reference to art there should be no mistake
about the meaning of the word. Liking is one
thing, and taste quite another. One may thoroughly
dislike a work at heart, and yet acknowledge that
it is good ; and the faculty that enables us to re-
cognise its merits, apart from our own likes and
i dislikes, is taste.
The more competent the critic, the more readily
he will acknowledge that he is not unerring. His


T astt. I 3
judgment must, he knows, be to some extent
biassed by personal predilection. It is reserved for
the average ignoramus to assume calmly that his
.likes and dislikes constitute good and bad in art—-
only in art: in other respects he is sane enough.
He does not argue with his solicitor or pretend to
prescribe to his physician. He goes to them for
advice, and whether he acts upon it or not, the fact
that he is prepared to pay for it implies that he
attaches some value to it. It is true that society
does not insist that a man should be versed in the
law or in medicine, and that it does demand that
he should be able to converse about art. Society,
by the way, appears to be quite unconscious of the
nonsense he talks when he begins. If for a moment
he could but see himself as artists see him !
The unaffected expression of a man’s preference
is valuable in proportion to his experience and
character; and there is no particular reason why
he should keep it to himself; but the way in which
those who never held a brush since the days of
their childhood venture to determine what is good
and bad, “well painted,” or “ out of drawing," shows
not only that they are unaware of the depth of
their own ignorance, but' that they are quite incap-
able of learning. Lookers-on see the best of the
game, it is true, but not unless they know its rules.
For every fault that the mere dilettante really dis-
covers in a work of vart, there are possibly a dozen
merits that he fails to detect; and, on the-other


I 4 Every—day A rt.
hand, if certain works in which he finds great merits
are not highly esteemed by the expert, such poor
opinion is probably warranted by faults of execu-
tion he has not the experience to see. It would be
only decently modest in him to assume that, when;
ever he differs from an artist as to a matter of art,
which he has himself not particularly studied, he
is in the wrong ; for the artist probably has studied
it. . To go beyond the expression of personal
opinion, and say what is good or bad, is to assume
the function of critic, an assumption only justified
by knowledge.
There is no more common pretence than that of a
knowledge of art ; and though the affectation is evi-
dent at once to those who really know, it is difficult
to prove to those whom it has duped how hollow
it is. The best in art can only be demonstrated
by appealing to faculties which comparatively few
persons possess, and fewer still have cultivated.
Ignorance mostly pays a penalty of some sort :'it is
that way we buy our experience. The man whose
palate is not so delicate but that he enjoyed the
liquor he drank last night, may be convinced, if
only by the logic of this morning’s headache, that
it was not of the best, and begin to mistrust his
judgment accordingly ; but the indulgence in cheap
art pays no such obvious toll—there is no headache
afterwards. A man’s natural vanity, the want of
discernment that permitted the purchase of a poor
work of art, and the ungraciousness of the task of


Taste. I 5
pointing out to him the worthlessness of his bargain,
together, make his enlightenment all but impossible.
The thing remains before his eyes, still further to
vitiate his sense of what is beautiful. “ After all,”
\ says the popular fallacy, “it is a matter of taste ! ”
te is not a ersonal matter. ILisno more
mere preference than judgment is mere opinion.
.Twaiimsiupprzsedmbemommon. it
implies not only artistic feeling and critical pong;
WEB-mo Failing artistic sympathy,
we miss the very aroma of the art we profess to
judge; without critical faculty we are inevitably
led away by our feelings ; and without experience
we are in danger of mistaking molehills for moun-
tains, never perhaps having seen such a thing as a
mountain.
he artis l a ws som ' h' in
w The cloak of art does not altogether
disguise the man under it; and, though he should
pose as the personification of impersonality, his very
pose, the mere fact of his posing, tells tales. Silence
sometimes betrays as much as speech. I But if ‘this
be true_ of the artist’s personality, it is still more true
with regard to his culture ; wince
itrséLmali’s-wntk-Oinitummiswghflflultila-
_ tion and experience, that distin u's_h_4as,_ta_ste.
‘fimmfiéste the con-
trolling as distinct from the creative or manipulative
faculty, might be a common attribute of the more
refined and cultivated class; and it is so far true


I6 ‘ Every-day A rt.
that a man of mere culture is far more likely to err
on the side of harmless commonplace than to break
out into outrageous extravagance. But the fact
remains that the mere looker-on does not educate
himself in anything like the degree that the worker
does. You may look at a thing fifty times, and
carefully too; yet when you come to copy it you
find .that you had not seen half that was there.
With rare exceptions, a man who has not been him- "
self a practical workman, never really gets to know
much about workmanship; he has neither experi-
ence nor training ; his'theories are at second hand ;
his judgment is mere opinioh. '
I—Iow astonishingly crude is the criticism of persons
who are, except in art, cultivated! They do not
even know what an artist means when he talks of
vulgarity in art. A loud voice or coarse expression
will offend them, just as mincing affectation or
pretence may do; but they would be startled to
be told that the brutal workmanship, the crude
colours, the mechanical affectation of finish, and
the cheap pretentious ornament, whichiare to be
found broadcast in their drawing rooms, are simply
vulgar. They have perhaps a general idea that
anything rather strong in effect approaches vul-
garity, and scarcely dare to like it till it has
received the stamp of general approval. Their
estimate is very much according to the cata-
logue : a picture is of more account than a
panel, and a panel of more account than a pattern


Taste. I 9
importations to anything that is produced by his
tribe. His sense of what is beautiful,~more_over, stops
abruptly short at what is absolutely subordinate to
use. The battle-clubs and paddles of savages, their
basket-work and mats, are admirable ; but their
idols are, without exception, monstrously ugly, and
their ideal of personal adornment culminates in the
distortion and mutilation of their natural bodies. I
The more cultivated art of the Mohammedan
nations is proportionately more refined and beau-
tiful. Enforced obedience to the law of the Prophet
was in itself a restraining influence. Religion
served as a bridle to Asiatic extravagance, and
made Moresque art almost too evenly excellent.
In the art of the ancient Greeks, the most exqui-
site taste of all is shown ; and in their case it mus
be ascribed mainly to the degree of culture to whic
they had attained. f
It would seem that the quality of taste, as revealed 1'
in the art of the past, may be the outcome either
of simplicity, of submission, or of culture. Seeing
that the times on which we have fallen are out of
. tune with simplicity, and since the sceptic spirit of ,
the age has determined that obedience in us shall i
not be blind, it would seem as if modern taste must be rooted in culture.


1’ 0 Every-day A rt.
PAST AND PRESENT.
“ New lamps for old ! "
Q HE opinion a man
_. ' \Rh‘fllx' gig/ill may hold concern-
.w ing old work is by
‘ no means a fixed
quantity: it pro-
gresses, in a some-
what curious order.
We begin in our
ignorance by con-
demning it very _
likely as barbarous
or old-fashioned; on further acquaintance, we find
ourselves attracted to it; and by degrees we are
taken captive by the charms of antiquity, and are
even liable to be smitten at last with a blind pedantry
that can see no beauty in anything that is new. To
recover from this stage of love-sickness argues a
degree of native energy and independence which
not all of us appear to possess.
There is no knowing how the art of the past may
affect a man, or what lesson he will draw from it.
Very often he is mastered by some phase of art
which most men thought was long since dead, but



.~
-:¢~
in r


Past and Present. 2 t
with life enough in it, at all events, to allure and
fascinate him, and take, perhaps, entire possession
of him, until he is no more himself but the exponent
of a style gone by. One artist finds in the very
idea of style a hindrance; it stands in his way, and
he cannot get over it. Another masters a style and
bends it to his own will, compelling it to conform
to his individuality and express his thought. Others
there are, again,1who make use of it only as foothold
for some fresh venture in art.
Something is to be Said for the devotee who
kneels before the past and worships. But retrospect
is not art ; and it is more in the spirit of the nine
teenth century to accept a given style as a starting—
point—not as an end. Those who went before
have left tracks which will be helpful to us. We
should be wasting time, were we to insist ‘on finding
out always a way for ourselves where they have
trodden for us a sure path ; but there is no occasion
to follow them into regions which we'don’t want to
explore, or to confine ourselves entirely to the
beaten way. It is well to have always a pretty
clear idea as to the direction in which the high road
lies ; we can wander, then, widely from it without
losing our bearings; but if we are in search of
something that is not quite commonplace, it will
serve us perhaps more often as a line to depart
from and to return to than strictly to follow. Old
work should be not much more than a starting-
point for the art of any but a student. In a certain


Past and Present. 2 3
at all events, they were not merely of a day or of a
“season.” The fashion of a century ceases to be a
fashion—or, if a fashion, is no longer contemptible.
The ancient styles were not pushed and puffed into
ephemeral existence ; they had time to grow,


Style or Fashion of Franoois 161'-
develop, culminate, and die at last a natural death ;
the new style developed itself as naturally from
their remains as a fresh plant from the seed of last
autumn. ‘
v Each succeeding phase of ancient ornament em-
bodied in some degree the ideas of the people
among whom it arose, although the ideas, like the
forms of ornament, may have been by no means


24 Every—day A rt.
original, and the people themselves may have had
no consciousness of any particular idea at all in the
art about them. From the evidence of pots and
pans alone, it ,would be quite safe to declare a
remote people simple or sophisticated, unrefined or
cultivated, sensuous or ascetic, or whatever their
character might have been. In every case their
ornament would betray them, and all the more
'surely that they did not for a moment suspect that,
in the manufacture of ordinary objects of every-day
use, they were writing their own history for posterity.
The testimony of decorative art is, again, the more
valuable in that it represents, not a single class
of wealthy and perhaps cultivated purchasers of
pictures, sculptures, and objects of luxury, but the
whole people. Everybody had need of pots and
pans, and all the multitude of common things, the
decoration of which was so much a matter of course
‘ that the artist was scarcely aware he had left his
mark upon them. v '
Whatever we may think of the various styles of
ornament that have come down to us, it is impos-
sible for us to‘leave them altogether o'ut of account.
They are the various languages in which the past
has expressed itself; and unless in our foolishness
we fancy we can evolve from inner consciousness
something at once independent of and superior
to all that has been done before our time, we must .
begin by some study of the ancient principles and
practice. It will save time in the end. Does any


Past and ' Present.
.25
one flatter himself that he has only to take one
bound into successful originality.
He is much
more likely to arrive there safely by stepping back
a pace or two and gathering himself together for
the leap.
If there were no other reason why we should
know something of past styles, it would be sufficient
that, in the absence of any
marked national style~ among
us at present, we have taken
to “reviving” in succession
all manner of bygone styles.
The ornament of to-day is to
so great an extent a reflection,
in some instances a distor-
tion, of old work, that one
cannot well discuss it without
reference to its origin. These
“revivals,” irrational as they
are in themselves, may not
be without good results.
There is such a wealth of old
work accessible to us nowa-
days ! What modern facilities
of travel do not enable us
actually to see, modern pro-
cesses of reproduction bring
home to us, and modern
l
k___J
i
No? D
\T.
e


Modern outcome of
Greek ornament.


methods of publication press upon our attention.
There is no possibility of escape from its influence.


2 6 - Every-day A rt.
We are compelled to such study of the various
styles that, when we shall have arrived at reason
and begin to express ourselves naturally in the
language of our own day, it must tell to some
purpose in our work.



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Window showing Gothic and Japanese influence.
It is only by the widest stretch of courtesy that ~
the greater part of modern ornament can be called
design at all. There is very little but what is
borrowed. Some few of the more prominent deco-
rative artists of our time have, indeed, established
what is to be recognised as a style of their





v Past and Present. 29
ache to apoplexy. It is strange that men who
would be the last to put faith in any patent pill, and
believe in its efficacy against all the ills that flesh is
heir to, should be so eager to swallow the nostrum
that this or that particular style of bygone art is
bound to suit their case whoever they may be.
Nearly all old work has something to teach us,
but the more deeply we study it the more
thoroughly we realise that side by side with the
special merits of each style lie its inherent 'defects.
The grace we find wanting in one style is atoned
for by a strength and character absent from the
other. One excels in form, another in colour, a
third is symbolic, and a fourth sensuous; each is
best in some particular, even though its individual
excellence be of no very high order. ' "
It would be beyond the truth to say that the
principles which underlie all old work are the same.
Those principles are as diverse as the temperaments
and characters of the races among whom they were
developed. The Egyptians showed what could be
done within the bounds of severe convention ; the
Greeks carried refinement of form to perfection;
the Romans revelled in richness; the Byzantines
indulged in a brilliance of colour that is yet always
barbaric; thelArabs gave themselves up to the
subtle interweaving of intricate detail; the artists
of the Gothic period combined religious sentiment
with energy 'of execution ; and those of the Renais-
sance returned to the worship of beauty for its own


3O . Every-day A rt.
sake. We should seek in vain elsewhere for the all-
pervading symbolism that runs through Egyptian
ornament, the purity of line that characterises
Greek detail, or the sumptuousness that belongs to
Roman scrollery. Inasmuch as all nations and all
ages differ, their expression in ornament differs;
and inasmuch as all nations and all ages are alike,
they express themselves alike in their every-day
art.
Though one race of men may be naturally dis-
posed to remain in the grooves of tradition, and
another always eager to start off on a new track,
there is no race of men among whom all are
exactly alike; everywhere there have been skilful
and clumsy, conscientious and dishonest workmen,
and in every period of art there has been good
work and bad.
Fortunately for us, the latter has most of it
gone the way of bad work and perished; so that,
although in ancient art collectively we have not
an unerring guide, it is mainly the good that
remains to us. The winnowing of old work has I
been done for us by the sure hand of Time.
The art of design does not consist in the slavish
reproduction of classic, mediaeval, or other detail.
It is not enough that we are familiar with antique
forms, we must make ourselves masters of the old
methods, that we too may go and do, not likewise,
but as good or better, if we can. Our success is
more than uncertain, and, to speak frankly, we


3 2 ‘Every-day A rt.
ornament, earnest but bigoted; Mohammedan de-
sign, as exquisite as it is limited? What if it be of
old Japan, with its facility not always restrained by
taste; of the Renaissance, that is responsible for the
most beautiful and the most degraded in decorative
art? In no case is it possible that such art can- be
sufficiently in sympathy with us to serve our needs
of every day.
Reaction against the pedantry of modern
Gothicism was but natural. Men were so sick
of trying to build nineteenth-century dwelling
houses according to the precedent of thirteenth
century churches and abbeys, that.even the affecta-
tion of what is called “Queen Anne” architecture
was welcome, because, being really a sort of no.-
style-in-particular, it allowed some freedom to the
artist. The promptitude with which that liberty has
been used is an indication, perhaps, of a temper to
which a fusion of past styles into something like
really characteristic modern work may not be
‘ altogether impossible. . ~
Although each style of ancient art has its intrinsic
merit, the value of any particular style is relative,
and depends upon our immediate object in study.
We should not expect to find in an Egyptian
mummy-case any very marvellous degree of airy
grace or elegance, nor look for quaintness and
piquancy in the sculptures of the Parthenon; we
should not go back to ancient Rome for purity
of style, nor to Byzantium for beauty of figure-


Past and Present. 33
drawing; we do not ex- H) 3; ' ~
pect- to find freedom in l 1 l
Moorish art, or restraint
in Japanese. If the ex- ‘
perience of time past is
to serve our turn, accord-
ing to the nature of our
own work we must refer
to the art of the par-
ticular period or people
that afforded the most
perfect examples of that
kind; according to our
particular difficulty we
should refer to the par-
ticular style of art in ,
which it had been most
satisfactorily solved.
Notwithstanding the
beauty of a great deal
of old work (and some
of it is so perfect that
the mere study of its
details is a sort of edu-
cation in itself), there is
infinitely more to be ‘
learnt from the study
of ancient processes than
from the worship of an-
tique forms. Half the
. 1,,


Goldsmith’s work of the best type.


Past and Present. 35'
opportunities. Manufacturers reproduce, at pre-
posterous prices, laborious copies of inexpensive
oriental pottery which is chiefly admirable for the
ease and directness with which the artist potter
produced so satisfactory a result, whilst they
remain in contented ignorance of the secrets of the
superiority, so far as art is concerned, of Eastern
ware to the products of Staffordshire. In spite of
old work, in spite of common-sense almost, they
still hold, in all the sincerity of ignorance, to the
faith of the amateur—that finish is only so much
smoothness, that the highest art consists in the most
' minute elaboration. They think to imitate Etruscan
terra-cotta by ‘copying antique vase shapes, and‘
printing upon them mechanical travesties of the bold
and beautiful forms that flowed from the brush of
the Greek so freely, that it is difficult to say exactly
how much of the credit is due to the artist and
how much to the brush. So again with our even- ‘
tinted imitations of old Persian carpets, which miss
all the charm of the originals. And so in all our
manufactures.
There is perplexity in the wonderful variety of
the styles of art with which we are familiar, but
there is something more than perplexity: each
reflects some light on the 'other. With all the dif-
ference between the various styles of ancient orna—
ment, there are certain characteristics common to
the best, of whatever race or period. A critical
examination of old work will go far to show that
D 2


3 6 \ Every-day A rt.
the best in each style is akin to what is best in all
others; even as its authors, though they differ in
type and feature as Chinaman differs from Greek,
are all built upon the skeleton common to humanity.
And as all races go to make mankind, all styles go
to make ornament, in which are embodied the un-
written laws of decorative design. Not that they
were perhaps ever consciously followed. The gram-
mar is compiled from the language; the language
is not constructed on the lines of the grammar.
Nevertheless, what is to be gathered from the
practice of the masters of design may conveni~
entl‘y be formulated for the guidance of beginners.
All arbitrary rules and dogmas ate in the nature
of leading-strings, irritating to a degree when once
we can do without them; but small children
cannot run alone, and every one is a child in art to
begin with.
Of modern ornament the most perfect is that
which is not modern, that is to say, such Indian,
Persian, japanese or other Eastern art, as is tradi-
tional, and has changed little or not at all for
centuries.
- All that we know about the ornament of the
future-is that it must be influenced by what has
gone before. What that influence will be is matter
for speculation. When we think of the diversity
between ancient and modern modes of life and
thought, we cannot but feel that the expression
of ancient and modern art must of necessity be


Past and Present,
3

L, a,
were. .
in?












llIi
t
t v
i
I

1U». I lvl :
.JI




“a.



Modern traditional ornament.


3 8 - Every-day A rt.
different. Yet, when we come to reflect how near we.
are to the most remote of our race, and how little
of novelty there is in art, we are more disposed to
believe that the elements of all possible art lie
buried in the ruins of what has been.
The past is there to teach us, the present is here
to work in. What may be the due relation of
ancient precedent to modern practice is a question
not easily to be solved; the designer in his work
solves it as best he may.





Every-a'ay A rt.






Picturesque panel decoration.





natural way of
treating ornament?
what is- the artistic
way of rendering
nature? It may
be assumed that
no .one seriously
believes that art is
nature, and that
natureisart. How-
ever dependent the
one may be upon
the other, they are
always distinctly
two. _ Nature is
before all art,
and above it, and
beyond. All that.
gives us satisfac-
tion in ornament
existed first of all
in nature, though
not of necessity in
the animal or ve-
getable kingdom.
Human nature
counts for some-
thing. Butwe haVe
long since ceased
to be the unsophis-


T/ze‘Natnre 0fArt. 43
ticated children of nature. Art, though it be only
second nature, is now at least quite natural to us;
and the discussion of human affairs from the point
of view of primeval simplicity, interesting though it
may be, does not go far towards the solution of any ~
real difficulty. '
The world has determined that it cannot do
without ornament. If it be contrary to nature, and
nature to it, nature, in so far as she is refractory,
must be brought into subjection. Is not our whole
life artificial? Whosoever takes service under art
must keep in the ranks. To say that it is art
which should serve under nature, is to say that
ornament has no business to exist; for ornament
very clearly insists upon the precedence of art.
It is not here a question of easel pictures. The
painter is restrained only within the limits of his
own ability and the four sides of his picture-frame.
The decorator has comparatively little liberty of
invention, and yet no excuse for the lack of it. He
can put in no plea for unreasoning realism. His
business is to add the grace of ornament to some-
thing predetermined, if not already in existence;
and the opportunity for naturalism is of the rarest
occurrence. He may not say all that he could say.
He has not even the privilege of silence. His art
is, so to speak, in submissionth one continual cross-
examination. Whatever he does is more or less in
answer to the question; how in this instance can
art and beauty best be reconciled? His rank as a


The Nature 0fArt. 45
decorator will depend upon his habitual succ'ess'in
the solution of that problem.
The copying of natural forms is no solution, but
an evasion, of the difficulty. If we would pay to
nature that sincerest flattery
of imitation, we should begin
by adapting to the purpose in
hand, as she inevitably would
do, every form that we adopt
from her. That so-called
ornament which is only a copy
of nature is no more natural
than it is workmanlike or in-
telligent. Ornament is in its
nature an accessory art, and
must, in common sense, be re-
duced to harmony with the
architecture, craft, or industry
with which it is associated. Madam" Pam‘-
To compare a picture with nature, or decoration
with a picture, is in either case, to judge it by a
false standard, that is to say to misjudge it. judge
ornament after its kind, consider it as ornament,
and you cannot fail to see that its most essential
characteristic is fitness.
There are some to whom the necessary adapta-
tion of natural forms to ornamental conditions
appears to be a mere stopping short of nature. In
a sense that may be so. Painting is no doubt a
stopping short of relief, sculpture a stopping short


46 Every-day A rt.
\
of colour, music a stopping short of words, poetry at
stopping short of reality; and like them, decorative
art stOps discreetly short. But this apparent
“stopping short ” is really selection, a deliberate
and wise rejection of this or that for 	he moment
unimportant fact, in favour of the all-important
impression at which the artist is aiming.
Ornament may be called, if you will, a stopping
short of imitation, as breadth a stopping short of
detail. All art stops short'of nature, and that inten-
tionally; else we should have no drawings in black
and white, no sculpture without colour, no painting
without actual modelling. The barber’s block and
the tailor’s dummy would go nearest to our ideal ;
and, with the aid of clockwork, no need even to stop
short of motion. The coupling of science and art
need be confined no longer to the newspaper_
heading, but might become at last an accomplished
fact. What a picture rises before the imagination
—Art ,yielding at length to the fond embrace of
Mechanism !
Art is compromise. The most literal of painters
reject many truths for the sake of the one truth
they desire to enforce. Only children and amateurs
attempt to repreSent all that is before them. A
painter makes up his mind what effect it is that he
wishes to produce and sacrifices all else to that.
So does the decorator. But the sacrifices due from
him to purpose, place, material, and fitness are
greater. He has not merely to choose between


The Nature ofArt. 47
beauty and truth, or between one truth and another;
but whatever is in any way contrary to his deco-
rative purpose, that it is his bounden duty to
suppress. Half the art of the decorator is in the


Cabinet panels, stopping short oflight and shade.
faculty of selection. It is not so easy to strike
a balance between beauty and~ use. Let any one
attempt, by the process of “ stopping short,” to
produce a decorative work. Perhaps he will realise,
after inevitable failure, that to reach the success
that seemed so easy he must retrace his steps, and
travel quite a different path—all the more difficult
to him, that he does not know his bearings.
Decorative treatment consists neither in the


48 ' Every-day Art.
violation nor in the disregard of natural forms, but
in their selection and adaptation; not in ignorant
omission of anything, but in the deliberate rejec-
tion of all that is irrelevant. Neither does it
consist in the grouping of any number of copies
of the same prim sprig of foliage round a central
point, like so many spokes of a floral wheel. To
dissect a plant and arrange. its members on a
g
g
=
E
E
g
E


Medlar tile—the characteristic sepals, &c., essentially ornamental.
geometric basis, is a quite childish idea of orna-
ment. Dissection is useful enough in its way, but
it is only a preparatory study.


The Nature of Art. 49
LL
all'lIlllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

Ill]IllllllHlllllllllllllllll
llIllIlllllllIlIllllllllllllllllllllW


llllllIllllllllllllllllllllllllIlllllllllllllllllIllllllIlllIIllllll]llllllllllllllllllIlIIllllllllllllllllllllllllllll


f‘l lllllll



O
:-
aracteristically ornamental growth of strawberry.


5 O Every-day A rt. '
In studying nature the ornamentist will naturally
be on the look out for forms which are in. them-
selves suggestive of ornament. And there is in the
world such infinite variety, that he who needs mtist
cling always to nature has scarce occasion to let
go her skirts. I
Not seldom it will be found that the characteristic
features of a plant, for example, are at the same
time the most ornamental; so that, in adapting it
to ornamental design, he may emphasise instead of
obliterating its individuality. .
So essentially ornamental is the growth of some
plants, that a closer study of nature shows how many
a decorative detail which we have been in the habit
of looking upon as evidence of consummate skill
‘ in design, is in reality borrowed from nature.
In the same way, when we come to adapt a study
from nature to the purposes of design, we often
find that we have, all unconsciously, reproduced
some quite familiar form of ornament. Not only
is every particular part of plant-growth suggestive
of decoration, but each different plant reveals
fresh decorative possibilities. Certain plants grow
with such crispness and vigour in the curl of their
foliage, that they invite the smith to hammer his
metal like that! Some are as broad and large in
style as if they were already carved in stone; and
others, again, grow in such symmetrical and simple
lines, that they all but say to the decorator, in so
many words, “ Come, copy us !”


5 2 Every-day A rt.
1 l!
m All ‘l 1 nu g. ,
.‘i . 1.1!? W _ V
i I, 5’ 1V" ‘4‘



iii








. 1‘
. . ll
.
. a
it were, a high-
‘ water mark, be-
“, yond which the
‘ tide of nature
,1 seldom dares to
rise. ‘
There are cases
in which imitation
may be carried as
l 1 far as you please,
' m .
. i so long as it
‘ in 1‘ i, neither obtrudes
1 itself nor brings
into
1‘ prominence the
i object ornament-
obtrusive
? i ed. Thethingto
be decoratedmust -
i“. always be in the
I x ;, artist’s thoughts.
‘. .511. fl.“ If for a moment
W he be perverted
H.“ W» ,1. from his decora-
‘w tive purpose by




~ I
u 1723 l
“i 'j l
‘ M delight in
k ‘ power of copying
, ‘ ‘il nature, the proba-
‘ bility is that his
- i“ work will distract
the
attention from the


The Nature 'ofArt. 55
what is amiss in these imitative tricks, and why it
is amiss. The examples mentioned above are
doubly in fault. In the first place, it is but a
poverty-stricken idea to make a vase after the
model of a basket, or to fashion a dish in the like-
ness of a leaf. In the second, it is an unworkman-
like proceeding to manipulate clay as if it were
osiers, or to neglect the beautiful and altogether
appropriate forms natural to the lathe and the
potter’s wheel, in favour of the less convenient shape
of any natural leaf. For it is an inflexible law of
design that in every work of decorative art the
artist should be influenced by two primary con-
siderations, namely, by the purpose of the thing to
be decorated, and by'the characteristic qualities of
the material in which he is working. To design,
as in the two instances supposed, without regard to
either consideration, is to confess one’s incapacity,
and to confess it twice over.
The least reference to the laws of nature would
suggest a very different procedure. Every tree
that grows adapts itself to its place, or dies in the
attempt. When the circumstances of an individual
plant are changed, nature modifies that plant to
suit its altered state. If, for example, a flower that
is naturally short in.the stalk, with its leaves
clustered ‘closely round it, chance to grow in a dry
ditch, it will shoot up so quickly, in haste to get its
share of the sunlight, that it will leave long lengths
of stalk between the leaves, quite contrary to its


5 6 E way-day A rt.
habitual growth. Ivy leaves,
again, grow in spiral order round
the stem, but against a wall
" they appear alternately on each
,3 side of the stalk; and the rooty
1 fibres by which it attaches itself,
do not occur on the loose, berry-
: bearing branches, which hold
‘7 their own among the trees.
_ Nature brings forth herbs and
' flowers answering to all manner
of human needs; but her scope
does not include the art of
domestic decoration. Had she
produced a species of plants
whose province in the world was
to serve as models for painter,
carver, or weaver, she would
doubtless have modified her
accustomed forms and colours
to meet this novel purpose.
Since she .has neglected to do
this, it devolves, obviously, upon
'3 us to adapt whatever we may
take from nature to the purpose
l of our art. V
Not even the painter can
afford to transcribe too literally
from nature. There is always
03“ “19;? ‘° {mm the danger that in a painting
0 CI.


The Nature ryfArt. 57






















Adapted beyond recognition.
the colours of nature will be too startlingly bright,
even though they be less intense than in the reality.


But grass in spring is








L rm: E my


w/m/foq [ma/as 9r/J/A/va nfawr









never too green for us;
soft cloud-shadows creep
over it continually, and
its most vivid colour is
only revealed in m0-
mentary gleams of light
too bright to last.
“ Why is it that you have
made me so perish-
able? ” asked Beauty of
jupiter, and the god
answered : “Nay, but it
is only the Perishable
that I have endowed
with beauty ! ” Cer-
tainly the most beautiful
effects are'those which
are most fleeting. To fix
them before us in naked
isolation, is to rob them
of their loveliness. They
decline to be trans-
planted bodily. It takes
a poet to translate them.
“True to nature” is
the catch phrase of a
party; the allegiance of
the artist is to art. In
ornament we have rather


The Nature qurt. ' 59
to consider the nature of the work to be done,
than the nature of any object from which we
may gather an idea. If our intention be purely
decorative, the mere fact that nature has sug-
gested a certain form, need not trammel us in the
use of it. We are perfectly at liberty to depart
from the suggestive type if we see fit, or even‘to
engraft upon it a character derived from quite
another source, so long as we can persuade all into
harmony, and produce consistent and satisfactory
ornament. Where, however, some natural type has
been selected for the sake of symbolism or sugges-
tion, one is less at liberty to alter any of its charac-
teristics. Certainly nothing should be added
arbitrarily to it. What is omitted may be regarded
as a sacrifice to the necessities of material, position,
or purpose. For example, if in a decorative panel
we wished to symbolise Morning, we should not
be justified in disregarding any of the charac-
teristics of the “ Day’s-eye,” we might choose for
that purpose. It would be desirable to consider
the growth as well as the form of the' flower, and,
indeed, due modification would consist in little more
than in fitting it to the space it occupied, and in
treating it according to the nature of wood-carving,
modelling, painting, or whatever processwe might
adopt for its execution. In adapting the same
plant to surface decoration, as in a textile fabric or
wall paper, the necessity for repetition, and for a
somewhat uniform distribution of design, would


6o Every-day A rt.


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The Nature ofArt. 61
necessitate less strict adherence to natural growth ;
and, the consideration of the secondary nature of all
mere surface decoration would suggest a flatter treat-
ment. One might content oneself with the flowers


Daisy diaper.
alone, without any indication of growth. If it were
only the shape of the flower that led to its use, and
no value were attached to its meaning, it might be
modified out of all recognition ; and every departure
from nature would be justified by the production of
beautiful ornament. (See daisy-like ornament over-
leaf.) There is a wide difference between ornament
suggested by a natural type, and natural form used
for its own sake, but reduced to harmony with
some ornamental scheme or purpose.


The Nature ofArz‘. 63
opposite, and with the Japanese and Persian ren-
derings overleaf. I '
The keynote of a design may be struck by some-


Tudor rose.
thing in the flower itself, or by something in any
one of its past representations, or by the material
and'tools in use: but the one thing .of importance
is that all should be in tune.
Nowhere is the discrepancy between idea and
execution more obvious than in the heraldry of the
nineteenth century. Heraldic art is apt to look
in these days rather puny. It is, to all intents and
purposes, more dead than alive. The “sign of the
red lion " will not bear comparison with “a lion
gules” of four or five hundred years ago. No
mediaeval herald was ever guilty of the absurdity
of representing a zoological beast dyed red. He
concerned himself little about the anatomy of a


Every-day A rt.


The Nature ofArt. _ 65
natural lion ; he just meant
to symbolise the bravery,
the lion-like nature, as he
conceived it, of some fierce
combatant; and he man-
aged to combine symbolism
with ornament. The forms
he drew were sufiiciently
intelligible for their pur-
pose—more so perhaps
than if they had been more
literal : there would be no
fear of mistaking his de-
vice in the field. Such
heraldry as this was her-
aldic, thorough-bred. It
remained for a more culti-
vated age than his to gene-
rate a mongrel something
between heraldry and the
illustrations in a natural
history book, not, perhaps,
altogether unworthy to
figure on the coach panels
of those whose pedigree
dates from the Herald’s
Ofiice. “HBut,” says the
“ you want a Persianrendering ofthe rose.
lion paint a lion, and not a nondescript creature
that might with quite as much propriety be called a
F


66 Every-day A rl.
leopard or a cat!”
Yes, if that is
what you want!
But heraldry has
to do with sym-
bols, not pictures.
Then paint the
symbol. A zoo-
logical lion is as
much out of place
on a shield of
arms as an her-
aldic beast would
be in the wilds of
Africa.
It is in a little
art like this of
heraldry that the
reasonableness of
apt expression is
most obvious; but
ill-adapted orna-
ment is always
unreasonable. In
all art that has
any claim to be
decorative the
natural must
needs be trans-
lated into the lan-
Heraldic dragon.


The Use 2% Ornament. 69
asked of the decorative artist is, that he also shall
express himself idiomatically.
This idiomatic expression in ornament has been
called ; conventionality. But the term “conven--
d,“-
4 7/5»



Adaptation of the oak to ornament.
tional" is not altogether a happy one. For one
i thing it is associated in our minds with what is
commonplace and insincere; and it is not desirable
l that the art of ornament should be bracketed in


7O
E very-day A rt.






Conventional not traditional-


men's minds with the
pretence that keeps
society going. Then
again, the word, even
as applied to ornament,
serves to express that
which is traditional;
and, if we trace it back
to its root, it does
mean literally that
which has been agreed
upon by mutual con-
sent. It happens that
a large Proportion of
ornament in any de-
gree idiomatic is at the
same time traditional,
and more or less stereo-
typed in character;
and, as a consequence,
the idea of fixedness
or familiarity has come
to be popularly associ-
ated with the word
conventional. Yet it
is quite possible to
have apt expression in
ornament not in the
least according to tra-
dition.


The Use in Ornament. 73
suggested by some useful purpose, and so falls into
its place as a matter of course. Ornament has uses,
too, quite independent of art. It is not only that
plain surfaces are tiresomely monotonous; they are
often very inconvenient as well. The slightest soil
or scratch, sooner or later inevitable, betrays itself at
once upon an even ground; and it is only taking
Time by his proverbial forelock, to dapple such
spaces with a pattern or to scratch them with orna-
ment, to figure the delicate silk, to'carve the surface
of the wood. )
That ornament should be beautiful is under-
stood ; it is no less essential that it should be apt.
This is no fantastic theory or arbitrary dogma.
It is the plain teaching of nature, of old work, and
of common sense. Nature works in no simply utili-
tarian spirit. Most things natural are also beauti-
ful ; and the beauty is perhaps as much another
use as the usefulness is, in a sense, a fresh source of
beauty. The practical purpose of nature’s orna-
ment may not always be apparent to us; but we
never find in nature ornament that is contrary to
use. The harvest may not be in direct relation to
the golden glow of the cornfield, nor the vintage
quite according to the mottled crimson of the vine
leaves ; but the bread is not the less sustaining nor
the wine the less refreshing, because of the beauty
of field or vineyard. In many instances we find
on investigation, that beauty is subservient to some
useful purpose ; as in the case of flowers and berries


74 Every-day A rt.
which by the brightness of their colour attract the
bees and birds. It is only“ Nature’s journeyman"
who is proud of a progeny of monstrous flowers
that bear no fruit, and of which not one is to be
compared, for beauty, with the simple almond
blossom or the wild briar-rose.
One of the first functions of ornament is to com-
pensate, correct, or qualify the simplicity or ungain-
liness of form dictated by necessity. It is a common
mistake to suppose that this is to be done by over-
laying it with enrichment, and hiding it under a
heap of ornament. The simplest and most obvious
lines on which to build a house, the inevitable con-
struction of a machine, the comfortable proportions
of a piece of furniture, the convenient form of a
gas-pipe—each and all of these may be far from
beautiful; but that is scarcely an argument why
they should be smothered with scrollery. If the fit
and proper form be indeed beyond redemption,
there are two courses open to us—either to do
without it, or to put up with it as it is.
Happily it is not often so hopeless as that. In
most cases a little consideration will show that
some of the objectionable features may be omitted
or supplanted by others more presentable, and that
if the actual lines of an object cannot be made in
themselves harmonious, their awkwardness may be
to some extent relieved by decorative features which
in no way interfere with its use or character. It is
not quantity of ornament that tells, but ornament


The Use in Ornament.
75


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Ornament in cross bands.


76 ' Every-ddy A rt.’
in the right place ; a cross band here and there to
break any disproportionate length, a few parallel
stripes to counteract the appearance of thickness,
an occasional rosette or flower to withdraw attention
from the less interesting parts of the construction—
simple devices like these are often quite enough to
redeem a thing from ugliness.
l/The defect of the thing to be ornamented is the
starting point of the decorator. If it be already
perfect, why, that is enough. It is because the
proportion of a room is defective that we desire to
give the appearance of greater height or length to
it; because it is bare that we seek to enrich it;
because it is dull that we wish to enliven it ; because
it is glaring that we do our best to subdue it;
because it is cold that we want to give it warmth ;
because in short it is unsatisfactory that we propose
to do anything at all to the room.
The motives which prompt the undertaking of
decoration should also by rights suggest the nature
and extent of the ornament. Welcould do very
well, for example, with perfectly plain cardbacks
but for the fact that every speck on the enamel
would tell tales. It is convenient, therefore, to
cover the back of a card pretty evenly with orna-
ment; and a design which did not cover the ground
would fail of its purpose.
Ornament may be in itself perfectly satisfactory
and even charming, and yet so inadequate to the
purpose to which it is put that it is obviously out of


78 Every-day A rt.
Intelligent decoration has always some definite
. intention in it; and that intention or idea rules
everything absolutely, even to the least significant
detail. Whether the motive be nnpretending
or ambitious, every stroke of work properly
leads up to it. Every stroke that does not! do
so is ill done. The first step in design is to
determine which shall be the culminating point of
the decoration ; and however lavishly the artist may
distribute enrichment, he reserves for it his crowning
effort, making all else converge towards it. With,-
out such emphasis of treatment ornament sinks into
monotony. The point or points of emphasis being
determined, all else is subordinate, background,
to be decorated, if at all, with ornament apt
to a position comparatively unpretending and
subdued.
i The term “background,” however, is itself only
relative. Both walls and floors, for example, are
unmistakably backgrounds, from a decorative point
of view ; yet the enrichment befitting the one would
be offensive in the other.
It is not difficult to keep a background in its
place, if you are content with simple monochrome,
or with minute pattern-work in tints which, however
bright, lose themselves at some little distance in a
haze of soft colour, and only reveal the design that
may be there when you come closer and look for it.
The difficulty is in inventing a pattern that shall not
be insignificant, nor yet beckon your attention. The


The Use in Ornament. 79
unpardonable sin in ornament, is the attempt to
usurp the first place. It should simply fit its pur-
pose, neither more nor less. It is equally at fault
when it is too rich or too poor for its place.


Background pattern.
We see frequently, set in excellent cabinet work,
panels of so trivial a character as to cast suspicion


8o Every-day A rt.
over the whole work, and make it hard to believe
that the workmanship has been conscientious and
careful up “to that point, and has failed only just
where it should have culminated. Economy is
pleaded in excuse for this paltriness. True eco-
nomy would suggest rather that tawdry ornament
should be left out.
The opposite fault of degrading good work toa
position unworthy of it is less common. Yet we
do find flower and figure panels as background to
shelves for objects with which they cannot but
compete. This is no more to be condoned than
uninteresting diaper or coarse ornament usurping
a place of honour in a framework of delicate
mouldings.
Certain objects, such as things purely ornamental,
and certain portions of objects, such as the doors
and panels of furniture and the like, deserve pro-
minence ; and in these posts of distinction the artist
is justified in a freedom of treatment not warranted
elsewhere.
The panel occupies a position that may be either
insignificant, or of the very highest importance.
In the latter case there is little restraint as to the
extent to which elaboration and realisation may be
carried. The law of fitness decrees that it shall
always remain a panel—however admirable in itself,
still more admirable as part of the whole. The
danger with pictorial work is that it may forget its
dependent position, and attract too much attention,


The Use in Ornament. SI
either to itself, or to the 5;
object which it pretends
to honour. But if only
the artist bear in mind
the condition of fitness
or decorative unity, for
the rest he is free to per-
fect his work to his
heart’s content; and it
is neither more nor less
than pedantrythat would
hinder the competent
man from doing his
utmost.
There are many ways
in which a decorative
painting, artistically on
a level with pictures on
the walls, may acknow-
ledge that it is part of
the wall or cabinet in
which it is framed. The
evidence that it was de-
signed to occupy the
space it fills, its unob-
trusive neutrality, or the
fact that it forms as it
were a high note of the
prevailing colour scheme,
may suffice to show that it has no desire whatever
G



Clematis panel.


(85)
THE WORKMAN AND HIS TOOLS.
“ If you do not use the tools they use you."
OTHING is more
striking to a stu-
dent of old work
than the tradi-
tional character
of the best orna-
ment. So much
is this so that
there is more than
a possibility of
forms intrinsically beautiful becoming at last weari-
some to us from perpetual repetition. We have
even to remind ourselves that, however appropriate
certain traditional forms may be to the purpose to
which they were put, that appropriateness has only
this much to do with tradition, that it was owing to
their fitness that they were preserved; and that in
passing down from hand to hand, whatever of
inappropriateness there may have been, in them
has been worn away. They are often, in effect,
perfect, so perfect sometimes as to have lost some-
thing of their interest. Traditional forms and even


86 Every-day A rt.
traditional methods, however, do not exhaust the
possible in ornament ; they are only the prelude to
what may yet be done in the way of decorative
treatment. ' _
The gulf which commercial: economy has found
it convenient to dig between the arts and crafts has
to be bridged by the ornamentist, though he pretend
to be no Colossus. The prospects of art are brightest
when the artificer is himself the designer and the
vendor of his wares ; for he cannOt fail to have some
respect for the traditions which exist in all trades,
embodying as they do the accumulated knowledge
of all time. The best tools and the best ways of
using them may not yet all have been discovered ;
but we may be pretty sure that in current modes of
workmanship will be found the key to simpler and
more perfect processes. A gobd workman hits
upon a new manner, and good workmen following
him improve upon his discovery ; and so the tradi-
tional ways of working represent the sum of
technical experience.
Unhappily, intelligent and earnest workmen do
not largely preponderate in any art or trade.
Adam Bedes are as exceptional as they are worthy.
The lazy find out cheap and easy ways of shirking
honest work, and succeeding lazy ones carry these
tricks to the furthest possible point. One favourite
expedient of laziness is never to go out of the
beaten track, never to do anything new, which
exacts thought, but to reproduce the same lold


'1 ‘he Workman and his T ools. 87
well-worn pattern, till a man can do it almost with
his eyes shut, certainly without consciously bringing
his brains into play. His handiwork has conse-
quently about as much feeling in it as if it had
been cast in a machine. It has been cast in a
machine. And this stereotyped and lifeless detail
has come to be called “ conventional ! ”
The vice of laziness, however, is only incidental
and not peculiar to craftsmanship. “Scamping”
cannot fairly be identified with “that which has
been agreed upon by mutual consent.” It would
be nearer the truth to say, that not until all possi-‘
bility of growth has ceased in it is it possible for
an art to crystallise into forms altogether conven-
tional.
That kind of conventionality which comes of
knowing how to use one’s tools with effect, controls
to some extent the character of all good ornament,
but it does not impose the slightest restraint upon
variety, invention, or individuality. It will save
confusion, however, to describe such treatment by
a name which does not suggest any other mean-
ing and simply call it “apt.” Clearly, art is
apt inasmuch as it is distinctly after its kind,
painting, carving, hammering, stitching, or whatever
it may be. _ I
A workman fairly proficient in any of the
applied arts, and in the habit of thinking over
what he is about, must produce work that is apt.
If he be a man of any individuality his work will _be


The Worhman and his Tools. 89
that is applied judiciously, that it does not in the
slightest degree interfere with the use of the object
decorated, and that it is strictly adapted to the
nature of the material in which it is carried out.
Misapply the most exquisite workmanship, and it is


Adapted to appliqué embroidery.
worse than wasted ; add enrichment that unfits an
object for its prime purpose, and it becomes
offensive ; work in antagonism to the material
employed, and you produce, perhaps, at great pains,
an effect far inferior to what you might have gained
with ease by an intelligent use of the means at
hand.
The considerations of material, process of manu-


90 Every-day A rt.
facture, and method of execution, are of too tech;
nical a nature to be discussed here at any great
Adapted to painting.


length. But it is
necessary that
even the amateur
should know
something of the
value of work-
manlikeness in
ornament; and
he has only to
know it in order
to appreciate the
unreasonableness
of neglecting it.
It may require
some little train-
ing and study,
some degree of
familiarity with
the various crafts,
to detect at once
whether a design
is adapted to ‘be
wrought or cast,
printed or woven,
carved or mo-
‘delled ; whether
it is fit to be executed in stone or plaster, silk or
paper, wood or metal. But it will take only a.


The Worhman and his T ools. 91
moment’s thought to convince the least artistic,
that the processes of hammering and casting,
weaving and printing, modelling and carving, are
so different; and the nature of hard stone and soft
plaster, cross-grained wood and malleable iron, the
printer’s block and the weaver’s cards, are so
different, that they call each for different treatment.
And more than this, whoever inquires a little more
closely into the matter will see that each particular
material, and each particular process by which it is
manipulated, even each particular tool employed in
its manipulation, has its own particular limitations
as well as its facilities. The surest way to success
- is to bear these in mind, to keep well within the
limits prescribed by the circumstances, and to
make the most of the advantages peculiar to them.
It is only too possible to work in opposition to
natural conditions. But this is at best boasting.
Exhibition work is, for example, most of it brag,
the exhibitor being aware that delicate and reticent
art would stand no chance of recognition in the
bustle of an international bazaar. In every-day
design such boasting is fatal ; it leads straight away
. from that modest workmanship which is the ideal
of craftsmanship. In the first place it is very
doubtful whether the conditions will be overcome
by the ambitious craftsman—his presumption is
very likely to be in excess of his power—and in the
second, supposing the result to be satisfactory, it
will have been reached by an expenditure of time,


9 2 Every-day A rt.
energy, and material, which, wisely directed, would
have gone very much further. It is difficult to
speak in moderate terms of such blundering wrong-
headedness.
just as the general character of ornament is
properly suggested by its position and purpose, so
also must material and method of production deter-


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Domestic stained glass.
mine to some extent its detail. There is no
reason why wood-work should protest that it is
joinery, why stained glass should proclaim that it
is glazing, or a wall paper shout at you that it is
printed. The simple reasonableness of the matter
is that each should be, and be content with


94 Every-day A rt.
thinking about whether the cost of decoration ‘be
increased or diminished ; and it may be worth
while to remind them that nothing is more costly
than unpractical work, whereas apt treatment mini-
mises expense. Those who begin by encouraging
judicious workmanship for merely practical reasons
will soon learn to appreciate it for its individuality.
It was not until all character had been smoothed
out of it by unthinking-mechanism that folk became
apathetic about every-day art. No wonder that
such lifeless stuff ceased to interest any one. '
The aptness of ornament to material, tools, and
mode of workmanship is a virtue best appreciated
by the workman. Yet, in the eagerness to show
his skill, he is often led to do just the kind of thing
he should not do, if only to show that he can do it.
Nor is he in this respect restrained by the taste of
the purchaser, who is ordinarily far from realising
any necessity for workmanlike treatment. And as
a fact we find that any illogical tour de farce is
more generally admired than the most masterly
grasp of resource. You have only to put into
marble a subject that is worthy of nothing more
enduring than a page in Punt/z, and it will attract
greater attention than a masterpiece of Greek art.
Possibly some enterprising manufacturer will pur-
chase it—for a trade-mark!
It is hardly necessary to discriminate particularly
between the special aptitude of design to material,
to tools, and to method; the three are so closely


96 Every-day A rt.
effect, where there is no strict use in it : it is enough
that it gives scale to the design.
From the beginning the apt use of a particular
material has continually served, not only as a
wholesome restraining influence, but actually as
suggestion of most beautiful ornament. Something
at least of Egyptian dignity is due to the employ-
ment of granite ; something of Greek refinement to
the marble used in architecture; while the peculiar
character of Swiss or Scandinavian wood-work is,
perhaps, more obviously carpentry than it is dis-
tinctly Scandinavian or Swiss. Inthe more strictly
decorative arts, how much of the beauty of cloz'samze'
or champler/e' enamel depends upon the network of
gold lines that frames-in each separate colour! yet
the gold outline is as much a condition of manufac-
ture as are the leads in stained glass. Think of the
infinite variety of beautiful geometric pattern-work
that has resulted from the need of simple forms
in mosaic-work and inlay; and the graceful and
vigorous metal-work that has grown out of the
readiness with which a bar of iron can be hammered
into shape.
It would seem almost as if every success in
decorative art depended to some extent upon
restricting circumstances, and every process of
manufacture were suggestive of some specific beauty
in design. The process of incising suggests its
own simplicity; niello or damascening invites the
delicate intricacy of detail that we find in Persian


The Workman and his T 001s.
99



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Design adapted to inlay.


IOO Every-day Art.
conditions, pay toll to consistency, and so, instead
of making enemies of the means at hand, win them
to your side. It is they who will help us eventually
to the most sure success. And though sheer force
may sometimes prevail over everything, it is safer
by far to depend upon one’s brains. A clear-
sighted craftsman takes in the situation at once,
and resolves what is best to be done. The
decorator is not yet master of the situation
when he is acquainted with the use of the thing to
be decorated, its position and purpose. He must
appreciate the nature of his material, in all its
strength and all its weakness; he must be master
of his tools, knowing well what they can do, what
they can best do, and what they cannot hope to do
at all; he must be at home in every process to
be employed.
What a catalogue the common sins against con-
sistency in ornament would make! China is
painted with realistic pictures that have not, and in
the nature of things cannot have, the colours true
to nature, whilst all the beautiful effects proper to
ceramic painting (semi-accidental but wholly deco-
rative) remain unsought. We see stucco bursting
in the attempt to look like stone, when it might
have been so easily enriched by scratching or
incising. Marble is worried out of all the dignity
of sculpture. Painting rivals the mechanical exact-
ness of manufacture, lackingall the charm of hand-
work. This chapter would not hold the illustra-


T he W orkman and 112': Tools. 109
and the pattern was complete. The accompanying
diagram may make this more clear.
With experience the most intricate frets may
be sketched in this manner, the eye learning to
measure the distances with almost absolute cer-
tainty. The Greeks saved themselves much trouble
in this respect by habitually interrupting the long
horizontal bands by means of square stops or patera,
leaving themselves only short lengths to deal with.
The familiar wave scroll may be sketched in
two or three different ways. It is as easy to
sketch it in d la grecgue as it is difficult to put it
in with the mechanical exactness of modern
imitators. ~
We have instances of Greek ornament which is
nothing at all but brush-play. The painter just
amused himself
by letting the
brush go, almost
without guidance,
and watching the
curves that came
of it, much as he
might have watch-
ed the wreaths of
smoke curling Q '
upwards from his
pipe.
The, forms first
suggested by the Example ofbrush—play.


I I 2 Every-day A rt.
and according to such different traditions, should
arrive (the one from brush-work to nature, the
other from nature to brush-work) at forms of orna-
ment which may be said to overlap one another.
The apt form seems to be almost inevitable : good
workmen in all times have been agreed upon that


Bird rendered in brush-strokes.
one point. Hence it is that modern progress is
mainly in the direction whither the old ways led.
Design and workmanship have risen to a higher
point, not when materials and tools have been
despised, but when apter, and more sympathetic
treatment has been adopted, more idiomatic
expression found.


THE RIGHTS AND WRONGS OF
IMITATION.
“ Nothing concealed that is done, but all things done to adornment.”
ORE than enough has been
said concerning the heresy
of shams in decoration, and
yet not quite enough. The
reasons that have been
urged against shams have
not always been the most
reasonable. Rather too
much stress has been laid upOn the immorality of
pretence, and not enough on its paltriness. Some-
thing remains to be said upon the fiimsiness of the
shift of imitation, upon its futility, upon the lack
of feeling and fancy that it implies in the artist who
resorts to it.
Have we no invention that we complacently fall
back upon the poor device of making one material
look as nearly as possible like another?
Judged on its own merits,apart from itsinsincerity,
there is really very little to besaid in favour of
such expedients as graining or marbling. Once in a
'way, as a kind of practical joke, the thing might be
amusing ; but no joke was ever so little able to bear
I


1 I 4 Every-day A rt.
repetition. From the economical point of view
it is contended, and fairly, that the imitation wears
better than plain paint or simple paper, and that the
varnish on it is a protection ; but plain paint and
simple paper are not the only alternatives to pre-
tence, and there is no law against the use of varnish
wherever it may be necessary. Besides, there is
the obvious alternative of mottling your colour
somewhat after the manner of certain Japanese
lacquer. This method lends itself to very rich and
varied effects of colour, without imitating anything;
it wears quite as well as graining, and is quite as
easily “ touched up.” ' ~
The plea that effect is everything, never mind
how you arrive at it so you reach it, is none the less
unscrupulous that this unscrupulousness is exercised
in the matter of art. That true artists have used
it proves, not that it is good, but that they were
fallible. The argument that it pays better to supply
the demand for graining, than to endeavour to
create a demand for something worthier, is only an
argument of the pocket, and does not touch the
question at issue. Whatever of beauty there may
be in sham wainscot or marble, or other such efforts
of prevarication (and they are sometimes satisfactory
enough as colour), is more than counter-balanced
by the pretentiousness of it all.
A curious fact in connection with graining is that
really good imitation is almost as expensive as the
wood itself would be. But then polished wood-


T he Rzlghz‘s and Wrongs of [mz'z‘atz'on. I I 5
work would need
to be of the best ;
every crack and
every clumsyjoint
would be exposed
to view; whereas
painting hides a
multitude of sins,
and men live in
happy ignorance
of the yawning
gaps in the joinery
when they have
been stopped with
putty and covered
over with paint.
The most elabo-
rate pattern-work
would scarcely be
more costly than
the best graining.
It is true that
many so-called
imitations are
either so ill done,
or so misplaced,
that they must in
fairness be held
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Elaborately patterned door.


1 I 8 Every-day A rt.
of marble. The mock granite looks peculiarly mean
on the staircase of the British Museum l Thoroughly
to realise all the shabbiness of sham marble, one
should see it in process of peeling off the walls of a
ducal mansion. The more appropriate the real
thing would be, the more offensive becomes its
imitation, for the more obvious it is that it was
meant to deceive. One can look leniently upon
the marble “end-papers,” so dear to the book-
binder, because they could not be marble, because
they are not like marble, and because they are the
natural outcome of a workmanlike process of
making. Where there is really intent to deceive,
neither the transparency of the cheat nor its success
will justify it. i
v It is easier to denounce pretence than to draw
with certainty the line at which it begins. Where
we have a right to expect the actual thing
instead of the counterfeit, we resent the deception.
Where the thing counterfeited would itself have
been out of place, the inappropriateness of the
pretence jars upon us. Marbling and graining, for
example, must be guilty either of pretentiousness
or incongruity. The handsome oak door which
you discover to be only painted deal, stands con-
victed of fraud. The gorgeous marble door, which
you know can only be painted wood is merely
ridiculous.
In many instances the right and wrong of imita-
tion is not so obvi0us. The use of veneer has been


The Rzlghls and W rongs of Imitation. I 19
most indiscriminately condemned; but it is rather
the abuse of it that deserves tobe denounced. There
can be no occasion to deny ourselves the luxury of
rich marble on our walls because we cannot possibly
construct them of it throughout. If we could do so it
would be a wanton burying of beautiful colour. N o
sane person would expect the walls of S. Mark’s to
be built of the precious material with which they are
lined. When there is a possibility of misapprehen-
sion it would certainly be advisable that the baser
stone or brickwork should come to the front occasion-
ally and confess itself. It is a simple thing to embed
veneers of marble on a wall in panels (with or with-
out mosaic work) in such a way that no one could
for a moment mistake it for anything but what
it is.
a, In wood-work the abuse of veneer has been so
shameless, one is almost prejudiced against its use
at all. Yet it would be a pity that the beauty of
rare wood should be sacrificed to a theory ; and there
is, besides, this real use in veneer, that by crossing
the grain of veneers some danger of shrinkage and
warping is met. Nothing could be more objection-
able than the use of veneer on curved surfaces and
in the framing of cabinet-work, but it would be
arbitrary to deny the just use of veneered panels,
if only the wood be rich enough to deserve cutting
into thin slices. No one, probably, would be found
to object on principle to veneer in the form of
marquetry. There is even a charm about the very


I 2 2 Every-day A rt.
of a bath-room, and the refreshing effect of them,
has led to the common use of so-called “tile-
papers ” by those who cannot or will not afford the
luxury of the real thing. Perhaps it has not occurred
to them that this effect might just as well have been
produced without resorting to the representation of
the jointing of the tiles. A pattern printed on the
white paper ground, or, still better, stencilled on
the white walls, may have much of the cool and
fresh appearance of tile-work; it may even with
advantage be based on the square form of the
ordinary tiles, so as indefinitely to suggest them,
and thus through association afford additional satis-
faction, without for a moment pretending to imitate
them. The same may be said of other effects, that
have from the first been copied in wall-paper.
French wall-paper effaces itself in the endeavour
to look like tapestry, brocade, cretonne, damask
—apparently no matter what, so long as it does
not look like what it is. Yet the effect might in
all cases have been arrived at without simulation.
We may take it that the imitator knows this well
enough, but simply shirks the difficulty. Number-
less are the expedients, more-or less pretentious,
that are adopted, and in the name of ornament, to
save trouble and supply the place of skill.
Occasionally, a decorative device turns out to be
less guilty of pretence than would appear at first
sight—such for example as embossed “leather-
paper ” which is to some extent discredited by its


The Rights and Wrongs of Imitation. I 23




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I 26 Every-day A rt.
in a wall-pattern would be offensive, not simply on
account of its deceptiveness, but because it would
be sure to assert itself more than a background
should. If, however, not aiming at relief, the de-
signer should arrive at a satisfactory result, which
somehow suggested slight and delicate relief, such
as would not be otherwise than pleasing to the eye
were it actually modelled, it would be dogmatic
to declare that such an effect was not legiti-
mate. We have to beware of bigotry. “The truth,
the whole truth, and nothingibut the truth,” is a 4
fiction of the law. Morally it may be desirable;
socially it is impossible. The man who, in season
and out of season, is perpetually parading his truth-
fulness, comes to be put down as a prig. Art, too,
may be priggish. What we esteem in men and in
their work is sincerity; and that is quite possible
in every-day art as well as in every-day life. A
real man puts himself into his work. There will be
no falsity in his art, if he is honest.
If we speak without prejudice, we must admit
that it is very difficult to define the limits of what
is allowable. In some cases it is perhaps only the
intention that determines whether an expedient is
right or wrong.
A certain degree of downright imitation might
not be altogether inexcusable if the motive were
merely the laudable desire to bridge over some
abrupt transition from ornament in bold relief to
flat painted-decoration. If the choice lie only


The Rights and Wrongs of Imitation. 127
between two evils, one is not to be blamed for
choosing the lesser; and incongruity is an evil, just
as imitation is : which is the greater of the two may,
in exceptional cases. be matter of dispute.
In mural decoration one is continually compelled
to approach so far at least in the direction of imita-
tion as to give in painting the value, if not the effect,
of modelling or carving. If every builder were an
artist, it would not be so. But every decorator has
at times to balance constructed ornament by painted
decoration, for which there should have been no
occasion. In the attempt to accomplish this he
may do something which is in danger of being mis-
taken for relief; in which case the fault should in
justice be debited to the blunderer whose short-
comings he is endeavouring in all honesty to make
good. Even then the too ready resort to imitation
is a confession either of incompetence or laziness.
Whoever is artist enough will find some mean
between pretence and slovenliness.
We ask not only for honesty but for a certain
amount of frankness in the use of materials. The
degree to which such honesty and frankness should
be carried, each one must determine according to
his conscience and according to his temperament:
feeling will often anticipate reason in pointing out
the way that is right. Is it not always so P The best
of us are scarcely fit to inhabit a “Palace of Truth.”
Upright men who would scorn deliberately to lie,
make concessions to social convenience which are


I 2 8 Every-day A rt.
not consistent with strict truth. They would vindi~
cate themselves, perhaps, by saying that in their
lives they are truthful, and that it is only the literal
truth which they appear to violate. And in art
also, it is not so essential that our wor should be
true to the letter, as that it should be frank, honest,
unpret?d,ing, workmanlike, obedient to the spirit
of trut . Z


(129)
LEADING-STRINGS.
“ The eagle never lost so much time as when he consented to
learn of the crow.”
MIGHT seema simple
thing to state broadly
the principles that
govern ornament ;
and, indeed, it is easy
enough for an ex-
perienced workman to give some
simple working rules that may be
of use to the beginner; but these
are not to be confounded with
“ principles” even though they be
put forth on authority. The prin-
ciples enunciated by Owen Jones
in his ‘Grammar of Ornament’
are, strictly speaking, only a de-
scription of the lines on which that
tasteful artisthimself worked, plus
certain dogmas deduced from his own practice. Now,
the truths that appeal to us are not necessarily the
highest nor the only truths: not every good work-
ing rule is to be accepted as a principle of design.
Dogmas are two-edged tools to play ‘with. One
K


I 3 2 Every-day rt.
which the various colours should be used, are based
upon the fact, or fancy, that a ray of sunlight is
divisible into coloured rays in those proportions.
We were taught in childhood that the seven colours
of the rainbow went to make white light; later,
we learnt that there Were three primary colours,
although there was some doubt among scientists as
to what those three were ; we have since been asked
to believe that there are only two primaries. At all
events, Nature (who has on the whole not a bad
eye for colour) has very carefully concealed from us
the component parts of white light. It is of infinite
importance to the astronomer and the chemist to
resolve colourless light into its elements ; but the
spectroscope is not likely to revolutionise art, or
even greatly to help the artist. Dissect and analyse
as much as you like, you cannot draw up any formula
guaranteeing the production of fine colour.
There is just this fact in connection with the
theories of colour proportion, that the eye can bear
as a rule more of those colours which preponderate
in the spectrum. We can-endure, that is to say,
more of blue than of red, and more of red than
of yellow; but any rule as to the ratio in which
colours should be used is as futile as it is arbitrary.
The very test of good colour is that it is too subtle
to be put into words. Only the coarser, cruder
tints, those which can be quite clearly defined,
come within the scope of the theorist. Some
trouble might doubtless be spared us, if we could


Leading-strings. I 3 3
consent to shut our eyes, and swallow obediently
some such formula as this :—“ Take three parts
of yellow pigment, five of red, and eight of blue;
distribute evenly over a surface geometrically sub-
divided into small spaces, with care that no two
colours impinge; sugar with orientalism, flavour
with conventionality at discretion, and serve up
boldly in the form of ornamental art!” But how
is one to arrive at a pure primary colour? Our
pigments do not approach the purity of the prism.
And how shall we measure them ? The eye must
be judge. Better by far trust to it altogether, and
dispense with the encumbrance of a theory.


Form and Colour. I 35
ritative dogma. Those consummate colourists, the
Chinese, are not particular about the forms they
employ, so long as they lend themselves to colour.


Old Chinese embroidery, the forms only a vehicle for colour.
All that can safely be asserted is, that in any
scheme of colour there should be strict relation
between its quality, its quantity, and its place


1 3 6 Every-day A rt.
—that is to say, the quality of colour will be
determined by the area it covers and its situation ;
the amount of colour will depend upon whether
the tone is light or dark, whether the tints are rich
vor delicate, whether they are seen in strong light







Strongly defined form.
or in shadow, and so on. 'The contrast between
Capricornus, above, and his background is none too
sharp for the dark corner the panel was designed
to occupy. _
No need of much philosophy to tell us that the


Form and Colour. I 37
cruder a colour the less we must use of it, and the
more it should be broken up and separated from
other crude colour; or to teach us that low tones
are lost in dark places, where bright ones are only
subdued to due sobriety and softness. The slightest
feeling for colour will suggest that the larger the
surface to be covered with one flat colour the lower
it must be in tone (unless again it be in shadow),
and that the smaller the surface the brighter it may
be. Every house-painter knows by experience that
for a ceiling he must mix his tint a shade or two
lighter and brighter than he wishes it to appear;
but to insist upon the adoption of one colour for
projections, another for hollows, and a third for flat
surfaces, is to prove oneself a theorist beyond
redemption.
One need not even have studied Chevreul in
order to know that some colours appear to advance
and others to recede from the eye. Where it was
desired to throw back one member of a moulding,
we should naturallypaint it in some colour approach-
ing to greyness, and not bright orange; but it is by
'no means necessary in architectural decoration to
exaggerate every projection and deepen every
hollow, as if the architect had expressed himself
so timidly that it was necessary for the decorator
to underline his words; When architect and deco-
rator are one, he wisely leaves it to the painting
to supplement the modelling. He relies, perhaps
upon colour to deepen hollows (as did the Greeks


I 3 8 Every-day A rt.
when they made their curves so flat) perhaps upon
the depth of the hollow to soften the crudity of
available colours. This is more nearly the function
of colour—to qualify form, defining or subduing it
as need may be. In the design below, the dark
colour behind the boys is used to emphasise their

1
\I
H


Colour used to modify form.
forms, and, at the same time, to confuse the form
of the arabesque.


Every-day A rt.





Hard form to be softened by very subdued colour.


I 4.2 Every-day A rt.
was inspired by nothing of the kind. The cultivated
instinct of the artist must be its own law. Let him
dare to be true to his artistic Conscience, and he can
afford to despise the theorist and all his works.
It is impossible to reconcile all the claims of form
and colour. The two work often together to their
mutual gain. But, however friendly the rivalry
between them, it is always rivalry, and each claims
for itself something that the other would fain deny
to it. It is seldom that they are found together in
equal perfection ; rather it would seem as if absolute
perfection of the one were only to be obtained by
some sacrifice of the other. There are, and have
been in all times, men who in their work aim at
combining the two qualities equally, and who have
attained in both a measure of success; but they are
just the men who fail to satisfy, either colourists in
the matter of colour, or draughtsmeri in the matter
of form. And with respect to decorative art, what
remains to us of ancient ornament goes to show
that the masters of form are often those from whom
the secret of colour is hidden, and that colourists
are as frequently half contemptuous of form, making
use of it merely to assist them in their effect of
colour.
Perhaps the very pre-eminence of the Greeks in
form was in some measure due to a defective appre-
ciation of the beauty of colour. Mr. Gladstone’s
theory of the colour-blindness of the ancient Greeks
may or may not be correct; but at least it seems


' 1 44 Every-day A rt.
counter-attractions. Even in the poetry of the
Greeks, is it not rather the form that is so ad-
mirable? Both evidence and presumption point to
the fact that in Greek art perfection of form was
not allied with equally splendid colour. Perhaps it
could not have been otherwise, and the perfect purity
of form was owing to perfect singleness of aim.
Colour, with its sensuous charm, did something
towards blinding the artists of ancient Rome to the
'value and beauty of pure form. Though their work
may have been, in a sense, a debasement of Greek
art, we must admit at least that it was richer. The
purity of Greek art has sometimes the air of being
slightly cold-blooded ; and there are moods in which
one can sympathise with the Romans losing patience
with its calm faultlessness, and breaking out into
reckless excess.
In the Renaissance the culmination of colour
was accompanied by almost equal magnificence of
form ; but the latter had not the refinement of the
best Greek art; and, certainly so far as ornament
was concerned, the purest form was always in
monochrome, carved in wood or marble, or wrought
in metal.
The key of colour in the earlier art of Egypt
appears to have been pitched higher than in that of
Greece, and its success was less uniformly assured.
It is true that, though among the Egyptians both
form and colour were strictly subordinate to sym-
bolism, in the ornaments which decorate the ancient


Form and Colour. I47
jewel-like brilliance, and even to the accident of
capricious mending and patching and misplacement
of glass by glaziers before the days of “restoration.”
Admitting all the beauty of old glass we cannot
take it as proof of the universal excellence of Gothic
colour. The illuminated manuscripts, preserved
with a care that is less than kind, tell a different
tale, a tale for the most part of a crudity that can
only be described as childish. Nor do the remains
of mediaeval wall-painting give us a very high idea
of the power of the artists. Their safety lay in the
\discreet use of ochre and other simple earths, with
which they could not go far wrong.
It is not here the purpose, however, to disparage
Gothic or any other colour, but to show that the
perfections of form and colour are seldom twin-born.
Nowadays, as always, an artist according to his
idiosyncrasy, looks upon form as a vehicle for
colour, or upon colour as it may influence form.
His best chance of success in either is in the subor-
dination of the other to it; and it behoves him to
know clearly which it is that he desires to attain,
and to give his mind to that, not ignoring the other,
nor being content to do work that is in any respect
bad, only doing always the best that is compatible
with his main purpose.
It is characteristic of strength not to believe in
the impossible. But much modern art fails because
it attempts too much—seeks to combine qualities


WORKS ON DECORATIVE ART.

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“1mm Mill” 1-,“.








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