UC-NRLF $B 5T M2M 00 Tenth Series, No. 10 March I, 1919 Ceacj)er0 College JBulletin The Psychology of Drawing Imagination and Expression Culture and Industry in Education A REPRINT OF THREE ARTICLES BY John Dewey PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY, COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY Published b College, Columbia 525 West izoth Street New York City ft INTRODUCTION The three articles included in this pamphlet were written ;-. number of years ago by Professor Dewey and have long been ou of print. Because of the relation of these articles to moderr educational theory and practice Professor Dewey has, at the request of Professor Patty S. Hill, of Teachers College, kindly consented to this reprint. EDUCATION Stackers College "Bulletin Published fortnightly from September to May inclusive. Entered as second-class matter January 15, 1910, at the Post Office, New York, N.Y., under Act of August 24, 1912. Acceptance for mailing at special rate of postage provided for in Sec- tion 1103, Act of October 3, 1917, authorized. THE PSYCHOLOGY OF DRAWING Drawing should be at first a means for reinforcing or dwell- ing upon some interesting life experience of the child. The start must be imaginative, not simply ought to be. Even in drawing objects the child will draw from his image, not from the object itself ; there is no road from the object to the child's motor object. The use of the object is therefore simply to help the construction of the image. But the child is interested in objects only from the stand- point of the part they play in his life, their use, their function, their purpose or service. Hence there is crudity, lack of propor- tion, lack of qualities or structure and form; hence symbolism serves as a sign, not as a conveyance. It serves to stimulate, to vivify; its main value is reactive, freeing the child and giving him help upon his own imagery. It must at first be judged from this standpoint, its liberating power. But the reaction ought to go to the point of forming a new mode of vision on the part of the child, and allowing this new mode of experience to control his motor expression; otherwise after a certain point is passed slovenly habits both of seeing and of moving are acquired. What this point is differs in different children and it is a matter of tact to deal with it. Once the child's imagery is loosened, then does his expression become easy, become a delight, become varied. The ship, the house, the tree are mechanical and formal, and must be clothed in human form to excite interest ; but as soon as the child has acquired the habit of vivifying and liberating his image through expression, then a return may take place to the original form. In one sense there is no technique up to this time, but there is the physical factor corresponding to technique the motor ex- pression, its coordination with, control by, and stimulation of the visual- image. This becomes through training what is ordi- narily called technique. 609072 4 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF DRAWING The first consideration is the doing, the use : after use comes method, the how of doing. Now method must exist not for its own sake but for better self-expression, fuller and more interest- ing doing. Hence these two points; technique must grow out of free imaginative expression, it must grow up within and come into such imaginative expression. Here I speak as a psychologist, not as an artist. There are no separate objects for a child, they have their meaning in their relations to the whole picture, the whole expres- sion, and are controlled by it. Although this is the source of crudity, it is also the source of possible maturity or ripeness. The object is meant to fulfill a function, to stimulate to look again; an image is formed, then the movement is controlled by that new vision. Thus technique arises normally. When the image produced is used as a basis to center the habit of seeing, then the new mode of vision is used to centralize the old motor product and to build up a new one. Take, for example, certain children's drawings in their falsity of line; this shows an unreal analysis beginning with the technique ; when the technique is mechanical there is jio meaning, no idea to it, and there results this psychological evil that the imagery is as uncontrolled as before; no new mode of seeing is acquired. It is so completely an abstract that it ceases to be an element of the original object, and not a universal one at that. Here the principle of control is wholly external and not at all within the child's experience. Type forms are an advance, for they help the child to make a transition from the natural habit of seeing; but they are type forms only to the adult : in calling them types arises a misunder- standing of the child's realization. There is more involved than finding them in nature. The child must feel the need of them in order to govern and control his own activity. It is a turning back in order to get a fuller and more vital expression, and there are various means for this accomplishment. Incidental criticism of technique and form may begin very early, as in stories, in history, geography and literature. In nature study there is more demand for accuracy, also in archi- THE PSYCHOLOGY OF DRAWING 5 tectural drawing, while decorative forms impart ideas of sym- metry and an interest in formal reproduction. Type forms may be used here; they should, however, be studied in connection with nature study, flowers, leaves, animals, etc. Advantage should be taken of the child's love of symbolism and his imaginative interest. In work like manual training and sloyd, failure in technique manifests itself at once as mistakes of product, proportion and structure. The imitation of landscape has a strong interest, and here an analysis should be made for the child, not by the child ; for later in his experience further opportunity for this will arise in the reproduction of greater landscape, by which special attention to light and shade, form and line, can be secured, Every great work of art represents the analysis and synthesis of a great mind. In the above suggestions I have attempted to point out the psychology involved in principles already adopted because of their practical utility. One point, however, that I wish to make is the arrangement, utilization and organization of these means. We have here, as with many other things, no common end ; the ends are considered as different, instead of as a division of interest for one common end, viz., Education. The story, history, geography, nature-study are but means by which the child masters ideas and reaches after ideals. To subordinate the child to type forms, to things, to the Parthenon, to the practice of decorative designs or even to manual training, is materialism. These things, like the Sabbath, are made for man, for the child, not the child for them. They must be simply his to help him to the best utterance of himself, to sincerity, genuineness, unconsciousness and power. Imagination is expression ; technique is that phase of expression which helps to realize more perfectly the vision, the inner image, and by so doing to build up and to define the finer and more subtle forms of expression. IMAGINATION AND EXPRESSION* Every mode of expression, no matter how mechanical, no matter how fantastic, no matter how impressionistic, has these two sides idea and technique. The architect's drawing of the plan of a house, the engineer's working plan for the construction of a machine, have an idea to be expressed, or else any series of lines drawn with a ruler would serve as well. And the crudest attempt of a child to illustrate "Hickery, Dickery, Dock" has also its technique, its mode of reali- zation. It is also clear that in its process of expression the pri- mary function belongs to the idea, the secondary to the technique ; they are related as content and form, as material to be conveyed or delivered, and as mode of conveyance, as what and as how. But lest this statement be misinterpreted, as it often is, let me add that to say one is primary and the other secondary, one is the end and the other the means, does not mean that attention is to be concentrated upon the one and the other is to be neglected. If one is thoroughly interested in the idea as something to be ex- pressed he must also be interested in the mode of expression. A lack of interest in the form or process always marks something crude, hazy, or unreal in the grasp of the idea or content. We must be interested in the expression just in proportion to the in- tensity, the controlling character of our interest in the idea. But on the other hand this interest in the idea, in the story to be told, the thought to be realized, is the true basis for an artistic interest in the technique. A mode of expression separated from some- thing to express is empty and artificial, is barren and benumbing. It is comparatively simple to abstract the technique, to make the command of certain physical and mental tools the end and aim ; it is comparatively easy to start from the image, the story, and allow that to find its own unaided outlet, and under the claim of the superiority of the idea to the technique to allow simply a crude and unformed result to pass as a matter of no importance *Report of address given before the Western Drawing Teachers' As- sociation in 1896, revised by Dr. Dewey for insertion in the Chicago public school study course. IMAGINATION AND EXPRESSION 7 in itself ; but to do so is to encourage crude and slovenly habits of expression to grow up, which becomes an exceedingly important matter. The via media is a difficult path to find ; the straight and narrow way which makes for artistic righteousness goes in neither of these directions ; but attempts on the one hand to make the in- terest in the idea the vital image, to extend itself to the mode of conveyance, and thus to make the entire interest in technique a functional and not an isolated one, while on the other hand it rec- ognizes the necessity of having the mode of expression react back into the idea, to make it less cloudy, more definite, less haphazard, more accurate, less the product of momentary undeveloped in- terest and thought, and more the outcome of natural reflection and comprehensive interest. So much for the practical problem. Now for its psychologi- cal equivalent. What corresponds to idea, what corresponds to technique in the natural psychical process ; how are these related to each other; how do they interest in a mutually helpful way? We cannot accept one apparently simple way of answering this question. We cannot say that the idea is imaginative, is spiritual, while what corresponds to the technique is physical and mechani- cal. The simplicity of such an answer is at the cost of reality. The mental occurrence which represents the form or mode of ex- pression is just as much an image as is the. idea itself. It is not the problem of the relation of a spiritual image to a physical organ of expression, but of one sort of imagery to another. While this perhaps is an unusual putting of the matter we must recognize that after all it is because the whole process is one of imagery that the problem is a soluble one in an educative sense. If on one side the idea were alone a matter of the imagina- tion, and the technique were simply a matter of delicate and physi- cal control of the eye and the muscle, we could get a genuine harmonizing of the two factors in the problem. We should be compelled simply to alternate from one side to the other, or to make the best compromise we could. In saying that the side of technique is itself a matter of imag- ery I refer to what the psychologists term motor imagery, and to the well-known fact that imagery of all kinds has a tendency to 8 IMAGINATION AND EXPRESSION overflow in the motor channels, and that thus there is a continual tendency to reproduce through action and experience, or to put forth in expression whatever has been gained in impression and then to assimilate it into an idea. I refer, moreover, to the fact that a great deal of motor expression is not something done with an idea already made in the child's mind, but it is necessary to the appreciation of the idea itself. If there is one principle more than another upon which all educational practice (not simply education in art) must base itself, it is precisely in this: that the realization of an idea in action through the medium of move- ment is as necessary to the formation of the mental image as is the expression, the technique, to the full play of the idea itself. We cannot speak of an idea and its expression. The ex- pression is .more than a mode of conveying an already formed idea, it is a part and a half of its formation. The so-called mechanical action in the world is necessary to the production and formation of the spiritual. To realize this is the first part in the psychology of expression. Here we have a natural physical origin for drawing as well as for all other forms of expression. There is a natural tendency for every image to pass into movement ; an inert image, an image which does not tend to manifest itself through the medium of action, is a non-existence. In later life we have learned to suppress so many sugges- tions to action, and have learned to delay the expression of so many others, that this fundamental law has become somewhat obscured; but a study of child life and growth reveals it in its purity and intensity, and reveals also that the suppression of mani- festation of an image, or delay in its passage into action, is an acquired habit, a later acquisition. In the early period, the ten- dency of every image to secure realization for itself through the medium of action is witnessed in play and in the incessantly urgent desire of the child for conversation; his impulse to tell every- thing, to communicate. The fundamental meaning of the play is the proof it furnishes that mere absorption, or accumulation, or impression, does not suffice ; and it is never a complete or self-suf- ficing mental condition, but must always be fulfilled in ex- pression by translation into activity. It requires very little ob- IMAGINATION AND EXPRESSION 9 servation for a child to reach the conclusion that he does not get hold of any impression or any idea until he has done it; the im- pression is alien, is felt as inadequate, as unsatisfactory, until the child makes it his own by turning it over into terms of his own activities. He gains his ideas and makes them truly his own, a part of himself, by reproducing them, and this reproduction is literal and not metaphorical. He acts it out before he really takes it in. In infancy this manifests itself in the continual handling, pulling, punching and throwing of all objects with which he comes in contact. How are we to account for this instinct of imitation except on the basis that it is not enough to see or hear as an observer, and that the child gets hold of what he sees and hears as he him- self reproduces, which from his standpoint is creation. In all these earlier reproductive activities it is clear that there are not two sides to the child, an image and its expression ; the image is only in its expression, the expression is only the image moving, vitalizing itself. Drawing as a motor development has, however, one distinct mark ; it marks a growing inhibition or control on the part of the child. The whole image at first moves the whole organism by the principles of irradiation or expansion. Drawing marks the limi- tation to certain channels ; moreover, it is directed more imme- diately by the image in terms of the eye, not by the whole; it makes, therefore, relatively an analysis. However, even here we must recognize the principle of broad outlines ; the whole must be imaged and not the mere detail. CULTURE AND INDUSTRY IN EDUCATION* There may have been a time when the problem of the relation of industry and education had to be read in this way : What shall the school do for industry ? But now the question has to be read the other way about : What is industry to do for the school ? or rather What is it to do with the school ? Business is the dominat- ing force in modern life. It underlies and shapes the activities and enjoyments, the possibilities and the achievements, of even those who have least to do with it who perhaps pride themselves on having nothing to do with it. In politics, recent revelations have brought it to the minds of the American people that our public life is in the dominion of business methods and aims. The political amateur may have whiled away his time with discussing what the government should or should not do for business and commerce. The average voter imagined himself voting in accordance with principles which regu- lated the activities of political parties. But to-day the average man has a suspicion that political parties, their leaders and plat- forms, are agencies administered by commercial forces. The serious question is not what politics is to do for business, but what business is to do with our politics. In like way, the academician within the walls of his own study, dreaming that he is a spiritual leader of the forces of which he is in fact a tamed parasite, may conceive modern busi- ness and education as two independent institutions ; and may con- sider whether the ties between them should be loosened here or tightened there. Meantime unconsciously if not consciously, by force of conditions if not by intention, the ideals and methods that control business take possession of the spirit and machinery of our educational system. If there is to be any result save blind conformity, passive re- production, it must proceed from facing the overlordship of in- dustry in modern life, with all that it imports. The question as respects education is how the school is to secure the good and *From Proceedings of the Joint Convention of the Eastern Art Teachers' Association and the Eastern Manual Training Association, 1906. CULTURE AND INDUSTRY IN EDUCATION II avoid the ill. of this sovereignty; how it may select and perpetuate what in it is significant and worthy for human life and may re- ject and expel what is degrading and enslaving. This problem is the more urgent because the notions of both education and industry which exist in the minds of the cultivated classes of the community, the ideas that are the signboards of the traditional path of culture in Europe and America, are survivals of a belief in the separation, even opposition, of education and industry. Pardon me if I take you to the fountain head of these ideas to Aristotle, who formulated them. He, speaking not for himself, but for the marvelous life of Greece, saw life divided into two parts, one the superior, the intrinsically valuable realm that of ends, good in themselves ; the other, secondary, necessary, yet base because intrinsically not- valuable ; the region of means. The aim of human life is cultivated leisure in the possession of final goods; to exercise reason, to enjoy knowledge, to share in the results of the arts, to take some part in the formation of the ideas that regulate public life, to engage, that is, in the communi- cation, the exchange of thought. But such a life must be underpinned and buttressed with the needful means. It exists only when based upon command of the necessities of life: food, clothing, shelter, in short, enough of economic wealth to safeguard and to adorn life. The life of cul- tured leisure which alone is worthy in itself, the life of the spirit, requires the substructure of the economic, the material life. Work exists for the sake of leisure, industry for the sake of cul- ture, as war exists for the sake of peace, but one and the same person cannot have both. Work is needful for the existence of the higher life, the aim of education, and yet it is incompatible with it. Separation of classes was the source and the outcome of this scheme. Artisans, craftsmen, mechanics, handworkers of all sorts, since engaged in activities having their worth beyond them- selves, are menial, servile. Their occupations disfigure and de- grade the body as they distort and harden the soul. They fill the mind with utilitarian and mercenary interests. They make such demands on time and energy as to leave no leisure for culture and participation in the public life of ideas. It is impossible, so Aris- 12 CULTURE AND INDUSTRY IN EDUCATION totle sums up the matter, to live the life of a laborer and devote one's self to the pursuit and exercise of excellence. No one un- less base in soul or compelled by hard necessity will consent to such a life. A true education is a liberal education : that is, an education designed to prepare one to share in the free life of leisure; de- signed to form the habits that have to do with the practice of things excellent in themselves. Its aim is not preparation for liv- ing, but for noble living, enjoying, without engaging in industrial production, science, art and the direction of public affairs. Such an education keeps itself as far as may be from everything in- dustrial, utilitarian, professional. The functions of an artisan are not such, says Aristotle, as should be learned by any good man, except occasionally for the satisfaction of his own wants. To labor for others is slavish. Nor was a distinction put between the artist and the artisan. Pupils are to be educated in the perform- ance of the arts only so far as is necessary to secure to them abil- ity to appreciate the results of the performance of others. Any- thing else is professional, that is, servile. The fact that stands out here, a fact as obvious as a pyramid on a plain, is that the separation in education between culture and labor, between a liberal and a professional training, is the reflex of a more funda- mental social difference between a working class and a leisure class. 1 Educational division lines grew out of social stratifica- tions just as they perpetuate them. It is not that Aristotle created these distinctions. But he honestly looked the social facts of his times in the face, and translated what he saw into their intellectual equivalents. This report was the differentiation of workers and thinkers, the busy and the leisured, those occupied with material and with ideal things, and the corresponding division of education into that which is for use and that which is for culture. So far as the social differentiation still persists, so far it still fixes the fundamental cleavage in educational theory and practice. It cannot be denied that the social separation continues. In many respects the objectionable qualities which led Aristotle to condemn 1 This did hot mean necessarily a separation between the rich and the poor. In fact, Aristotle speaks of the industrial class as likely to be rich. The fact that they continue in business in spite of being well-to-do is only another proof of the debased character of their minds. CULTURE AND INDUSTRY IN EDUCATION 13 the life -of labor and commerce have increased. Physical con- straint with its evil mental and bodily results, division of labor, with accompanying lack of initiative and lack of knowledge of the basis and aim of the activity in which one is engaged, the fierce- ness of competition and desire to exploit others, the importance attached to sheer money possession these things have increased, not decreased since Aristotle's time. For some years, I preserved a little piece of cast iron taken from a typical American factory, one of our large agricultural machinery works. I preserved it as a sort of Exhibit A of our social and educational status. The iron came out of the casting with a little roughness upon it which had to be smoothed off be- fore it could become a part of the belt for which it was designed. A boy of fifteen or sixteen spent his working day in grinding off this slight roughness grinding at the rate of over one a minute for every minute of his day. When we consider the stupefying monotony of such activity, its, total lack of intellectual and im- aginative content, its absolutely routine character, one can con- ceive how far the present day is justified in throwing stones at Aristotle for his frank description and appreciation of the indus- trial situation. Practically, we have established a universal system of school- ing at the public expense. In theory this extends from kinder- garten to or even through college. But we know that many boys and girls leave at the end of their fourth or fifth grade. And why? To go to work, and in the cities, for the most part, to go to work at relatively unskilled forms of labor. We know that our present scheme of industry requires a large supply of cheap, unskilled labor at hand. We know that this precludes special training; that the education which should develop initia- tive, thoughtfulness and executive force would not turn out the facile recruits for our present system. And, if we are honest, we know that it is not intended that these qualities shall be secured more than is required to take charge of running the machinery to which the masses are subordinate. In short, we are engaged in training a comparatively small number for an academic life of leisure and culture; we are en- gaged in failing to train the great number so that anything but a 14 CULTURE AND INDUSTRY IN EDUCATION life of somewhat passive and dulled participation in unidealized labor shall be possible to them ; we are permitting a few to train themselves so as to control the labor of these masses to their own ends. It is this which makes me say that the question is not so much what the schools are to do for industry, as what our industrial system is to do with the schools. There are, after all, fundamental differences of a more favor- able sort between the Greek situation and ours. In the first place, the ideal of an interdependent life has taken the place of that of an independent life. The world market, world commerce, the system of production for wide distribution with its vast mechan- ism of exchange, have bound us closely together in one whole. The idea of a self-contained, self -sufficient life in economic isola- tion has become impossible. As Carlyle grimly remarked when a contagious disease starting in slum sweatshops had found its way to the homes of the well-to-do to whom the poor laborers pur- veyed, industry has made all the world one, if not for good, then for evil. In the second place, ancient industry rested on routine and custom, as ancient commerce, carried on almost solely in objects of luxury, rested on adventure and semi-piracy. Modern in- dustry and modern distribution rest on science on the applica- tion of ideas to the management of nature's energies. The in- dividual workman may have but little cognizance of this intellec- tual foundation and outlook, but it is there and controls the whole process. In the third place, the laboring classes are no longer excluded from participation in the management of public affairs. In prin- ciple, and increasingly in fact, the division into fixed social classes, one superior, the other inferior, has given away. These are con- ditions making for fluidity, transfer and circulation. Each one of these changes means something typically im- portant for education. With the substitution of interdependence for independence goes the idealization of work, of labor. The merely leisure life appears to our present conscience to be a vain, an idlejife. To render service to others is not now the badge of servility, but the insignia of moral nobility. The dependence of modern methods of production and distribution upon applied CULTURE AND INDUSTRY IN EDUCATION 15 science renders impossible the fixed separation of theory and prac- tice with exaltation of the former and contempt for the latter, inevitable enough where industry meant blind routine and com- merce blind adventure. Industry has henceforth inherent backing in intelligence, inherent outlook upon the things of the spirit. It is elevated to the place of reason, of truth; and speculative of theoretic intelligence is found to be crippled and halting until se- curing its outlet and test in the fuller reality of action. The third change noted, the extension of suffrage and of public power to the masses, is equally fraught with educational import. When laboring people are excludeci from political activi- ties, it is possible to maintain a double system of education, one sort for cultured leisure called liberal, the other sort for work, called professional, mechanical, utilitarian. But now that our final political destinies have been put in charge of those who labor, it is foolish to imagine either a conserved or a progressing society without due and large education which should give the maximum of insight and appreciation. To borrow a phrase from English political history: "We must educate our masters/' and unless we wish to be badly mastered we must educate them well. Such are some of the motives which are back of the per- sistent effort, along the whole line of educational activity, to break down inherited traditions as to what constitutes a liberal educa- tion, to fill the gulf between vocation and culture. Quite apart from the truth of the generalizations in which I have indulged myself, one has only to look at the present educational situation from the kindergarten to the university, to see that whatever be the theoretical explanation, the most interesting and vital prob- lems in educational practice to-day are such as concern the con- nection of play and work of the intellectual and informational and the dynamic and motor factors; of instruction from books and teachers and from self-guided productive activities; such as concern in short the development of a type of education which shall make both a man or a woman and a worker. Our higher education is hastening to introduce schools of commerce as well as schools of technology ; our secondary educa- tion is transforming itself through schools or courses for the man- ual arts and for commerce ; the effort is put forth not merely to 1 6 CULTURE AND INDUSTRY IN EDUCATION enrich but to reconstruct elementary education by the introduction of constructive and productive activities and these not as frills but as fundamentals. There is an agitation for trade schools, or for the development of industry in education till it becomes a more serious factor in preparation for the realities of economic life; or at least for some educational method which shall do the work of the dying apprentice system. I have spoken of industry in relation to our traditional ideas of a cultural education. It would not be seemly to speak to a joint meeting of art and manual training teachers without also a few words regarding art in education. Fortunately for me those few words are just those necessary to the integrity of my 'argument. The instinct of the Greek in classifying together artist and artisan, was, I think, correct and prophetic; not that the artist is to be pushed down to the plane assigned by the Greek to the craftsman, but that the laborer is to be brought up to the level assigned by us to the creative artist. For, after all, is there any way in which the life of industry can avoid the ethical taint of servility save through informing itself with the spirit of art? On the educa- tional, as on the social side, this is perhaps our supreme, our test question. Recent educational theory has tended increasingly to centralize itself about the idea of the fundamental importance of the pro- longation of infancy ; the period of relief, of leisure, from th& stresses and strains of independent economic activity. Childhood is, we have learned to say, preeminently the play time ; education, play and freedom from direct economic pursuits are all syn- onymous terms. There is, then, something almost ludicrous, .something at least paradoxical, in our situation. We proclaim the growing importance of industry as an educational factor at the very time that we have discovered that play is the key to educa- tion. We are fighting, on one hand, child labor in the factory, while 'we are urging child industry in the school. In truth this situation would present an insoluble contradiction were it not for the intervention of art. Art is always the mean term, the connecting link, of play and work, of leisure and indus- try. Even Aristotle admitted that it was not so much what was done as it was the spirit in which it was done that made it free or CULTURE AND INDUSTRY IN EDUCATION 17 servile. The very freedom of childhood from direct economic responsibility gives all the more opportunity for reproduction and mastery of the typical industries which maintain and forward social life, free from mercenary and competitive associations and satur- ated with their human and their scientific significance. To accom- plish this is to raise the industrial factor in education to the artis- tic, and thereby to cover the distance between work and culture. Play is not amusement ; the play of childhood is not recreation. Amusement and recreation are ideas which require a background of monotony, of enforced toil, to give them meaning. Play as work, as freely productive activity, industry as leisure, that is, as occupation which fills the imagination and the emotions as well as the hands, is the essence of art. Art is not an outer product nor an outer behavior. It is an attitude of spirit, a state of mind one which demands for its own satisfaction and fulfilling a shap- ing of matter to new and more significant form. To feel the meaning of what one is doing and to rejoice in that meaning, to unite in one concurrent fact the unfolding of the inner emotional life and the ordered development of material external conditions that is art. The external signs of its presence rhythm, symme- try, arrangement of values, what you please these things are signs of art in which they exhibit the union of joyful thought and control of nature. Otherwise they are dead and mechanical Art, in a word, is industry unusually conscious of its own meaning -adequately conscious, emotionally and intellectually. In the impact of economic life under present conditions, there is slender opportunity for such consciousness hence our art itself is corrupt with the separation of beauty from use, of leisure from work. But the period of education is just the period in which the play of productive and manipulating activities may become surcharged in their performance with such fulness o social and scientific meaning that the association, once established, shall never be lost. There is always danger that an educational prepar- ation for industry shall become over-technical and utilitarian, carrying back into the school the most undesirable features of the present industrial regime. Our protection lies in making the industrial activities of the school artistic. Or there is danger that the harshly utilitarian will be escaped only at the risk of an l8 CULTURE AND INDUSTRY IN EDUCATION obviously amateurish fooling with occupations a reduction of the play idea to make-believe and idle pretense. The remedy once more is to make the play of childhood productive, efficient of re- sults ; to make it art. This alone refines and idealizes the harsher and duller features of labor while it directs and articulates the play spirit, which pursued apart from productive control of phys- ical materials, becomes weak and sentimental. Art is like industry in that it must achieve visible and tangible embodiment minister- ing to human use a result so visible and tangible as to involve judgment by palpable standards, while it so ministers to the human spirit as to carry its own standard with it in the joy that it expresses and feeds. Like industry, it needs definite tools, ac- curate processes, an exact technique of control and aim. But in elevating the materials, the technique, the outward means and ends, into the region of personal imagination, it gives an educa- tion which educates not alone to specific utilities and commodities, but to the widest of all uses ; to the just apprehension of values wherever and whenever presented. So I end as I began. Let us cease asking ourselves what the school can do for industry, and /let us begin asking ourselves what industry, conceived in the spirit of art, may do for the school. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY BERKELEY Return to desk from which borrowed. This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. IMbliffiiiiUljt/lKl i M c APf< 5 DEC 2 6 1958 BEC17RECB MAR 1 9 1957 1 MAY1 1957 APR 2 5 RECD LD 21-100m-9,'47(A5702sl6)476 ONE MONTH USE PLEASE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED EDUCATION-PSYCHOLOGY LIBRARY This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. 1-month loans may be renewed by calling 642-4209 Renewals and recharges may be made 4 days prior to due date. ALL BOOKS ARE SUBJECT TO RECALL 7 DAYS AFTERDATE CHECKED OUT. rw n Q 198S UNIV. OF CtALfpr o. General Library California U.C. BERKELEY LIBRARIES