Where Art Begins

e the matter specially), can realise what an important factor art has become to the most trivi

imitation of nature as far as it is possible for us to copy or translate the beautiful and p

is for food, but the second will be for ornament; it cries for its mother's milk first, and when satisfied with this craving, next be

aby has yet been born who would be satisfied with a plain, unadorned bit of stiff indiarubber, if it c

als of Australia or the natives of New Guinea-we find the same instinct for art and observa

in their taste, the nearer they are to nature and each other; it is the half-civilised only who de

mpted by what they see; and the same directness and simplicity are the sign-marks on all the most perfect work of the finished artist, wh

he woman who comes to him for advice in this all-important matter, see how she walks backwards and forwards, studying as she does so all her good points and defects; then, being a poet in his own line, he imagines her as the ideal woman, and, without troubling himself about her own tastes or inclinations, he

iss with either the tone or shape. Nature had not been over kind to her either in form or colour, and her dressmakers, as she did herself, alway

icant, who had lingered about the threshold of his palace of

de her walk before him twice, and, telling her 'that would do,' consigned her to an assistant, who to

lady remarked, 'It was the plainest and shabbiest-looking frock that ever I

y for her, but ten chances to one it would not have suited

he one who is important enough to bring it into vogue, but it ca

different in nose, eyes, mouth, expression, and gait; it is wonderful how it can be, but s

being a portion of this great originality, and try to imitate some of it with confidence: for, depend upon it, this infinite variety does not stop with outside objects, but is carried on within to our minds, thoughts, and observa

ate to make their mark in the world. We are never too late for anything unless we make ourselves too late through sloth or timidity; as long as we work with an intent

ng up fresh and new, fitting exactly to the day which has been made for them. In Solomon's day the countless daisies opened their petals to greet the sunbeam and closed them again at nightfall, each daisy different from all other daisies, while the sparrows hopped about in all their subtle v

as they did. We have all our limit, as they had theirs, for Solomon proved that he had reached his limit, else he would never

still a student of the wonders all around him; and this is the religion which we must all seek to embrace if we would advance in wisdom. We must begin, continue, and end as students, with our

istinct in the shadowy distance. What does this suggest, if not the grand cathedrals with their pillars and arched domes? and this is what the early Fathers saw and tried to reproduce in their churches and abbeys. We

of Australia, the South Sea Islanders, and the Maoris. I had no better reason for going at first than a boy's wish to se

s would have been of much service to me. I also had a habit of not only sketching what struck me a

glaze of lake, lower half purple spreading out to dun, upper space ochre to orange with lemon; light edges of clouds near the sun, and shadow sides of w

d look like trees; then I thought what kind of tree they resembled, or it might be a flying figure, with a distorted hunchback rushin

mplishments. He asked me if I never tried to write poetry, and I said, 'I

rules, and had no subject, I cudgelled my brains for words and rhymes without considerin

in love, and had no woman to stand before me as a model, and no experience to serve me for the emotio

iting about what I saw and kne

to do-that is, never to depend altogether upon inspirations; have the object first vividly before me, and then it is not diff

recognisable, if faulty, shape whatever stood before my eyes, or the feelings which I myself experienced-in fact, I learnt that what we call imagination is not the gift

on and in his direct simplicity of expression, and that the great charm of his c

beyond the necessity of using my eyes if I desired to do anything fine. It was all very well for sketches to look somewhat like nature and to be particular with them, but for finished work much more than thi

anging about the white settlements, clad in fantastic rags, the cast-off garments of the white fellow, and taking, with the rags, all the

dians and Peruvians, Chinese and Japanese, before our eyes became opened to their wonderful arts and ancient mysteries, their sciences, philosophies, and spiritualisms. N

osities which the opium-smoking children of the sun delight in. Fortunately, we can purchase specimens of these eccentric artists cheaply, and, for the money,

early past all excitements except such as are monstrous and beastly, the demoralising refinement of decay. Artistic?-yes; we must grant to them the praise of artistic exe

cts of their veneration by obscure symbols, never by blasphemous caricatures; it is the unbelievers of the East and the demon-worshippers who give us these nightmare creations, and who have gone beyond the dreams of Paradise. No flower-land opens up to them in their periods of opium-stupor; it is a lan

ibed in small doses, until the strength and clearness of daylight look garish to us, the direct colouring of nature appe

erstitious. Witness such pitiful exhibitions as those impostors, so-called 'Aissouas,' who recently disgraced London with their disgusting and fraudulent tricks-such-like flimsy performances as we

upon our daily lives, and why we should be caref

le we sink step by step, the more morbidly vivisecting must we become, and as we have grown accustomed to the study and contemplation of distortion, the more distorted will be our views of everyday life: humanity will represent only a field for the investigation of developed or undeveloped

intellectual qualities-but who have the same aspirations, and develop in action as the others do in thought-become by u

mple which nature sets before it, the result of which is fait

the healthy life they come to comprehend the causes for the unhealthy more quickly than do those who morbidly brood upon the blighted portions only-i.e. their comprehensions become more vivid, and their minds more robust, for our he

ous. Some of their rites appeared contemptible, but even these rites perhaps appeared so owing to my own imperfect knowledge of their origin and the secretiveness of the natives themselves regarding them; yet some of their laws were clear enough

of homes or villages and the rudeness of their places of shelter. Where people are compelled to shift often, they do not care to adorn their temporary homes-a few shards of gum-tree bark are good enough to keep the dew from them at nights, and the sun-rays are never too strong for them during the day. They are a

ge to the light, and when it falls from the tree circles in its descent as do those formidable implements of defence; that in their songs and dances they told a tale of nature as they saw it; and then I began to understand that

s, and so I began to see how much stronger brevity is than ornate and laboured phraseology, and how much finer an ornament is when standing isolated

those medicinal leaves which look so sparse, but are so closely put together, the density of which can only be seen when the hurricane blows them about until they are like o

to see. I might have overlooked his ignorant remark, but I found it difficult to forgive his sending my drawing to another artist, who took the serpentine appearance out of the branches, and so made them appear l

ing four hundred feet into the blue-grey sky, and large enough in girth to make good-sized houses, yet appearing beside their giant brethren j

all its many varieties, and yet I feel so much more than I can ever ex

eading as the glorified tree of the Druids, as mighty as the gigantic pine of California, with a character all its own and stamping it alone as a king of trees; an iron monarch against which the

th each outline sharply defined, while the strong-beaked laughing jackass bent, over a bare, snowy limb, and watched keenly amongst the underwood for its victim, the venomous snake; and I have been often startled by the bird's uncanny burst of mockery, w

n row, mile after mile, as I rode along, without seemingly a termination, some with the leaves drooping in black masses, while in other parts great tracts of country were covered with dead wood, where the forest fires had passed and sh

he Maoris of New Zealand, the punctilios and ceremonies of the South Sea Islanders, and always getting my attention turned back to na

nts when I tried to take my eyes from the face of nature; she had proved herself all-sufficient for every imagination which I could ever hope

ng regarded as original; an ever-varied series of lessons, the chief charm of which is that each student

borrow or try to wear their jewelry, for on you they will be second-hand adornments; besides, to do so will be as foolish an act on your part as if you w

to strict training, so as to learn the laws and rules which these masters all had to learn first, and improve upon as

h a stiff training with different masters; in fact, I cannot remember the time when I began to study drawing and painting, but it must have

milies for generations, as well as the taste for travelling; many of my ancestors had been great trave

rte was flowers and fruit; so that I had the benefit of watching them, and getting trained almost insensibly to myself. I painted my first landscape in oils when I was six years old, a copy

so much that he broke it over my head as a warning to me to be more careful; the second attempt must have been better, for, although he did not praise it (he never prais

pencil, and cartridge paper. At first it was straight and curved lines only; next ornaments and friezes in relief; in my third year he allowed me to draw leaves and blades of grass from nature also in the

al only from the life. Then I painted the same in monochrome in oils (I did not attempt wate

s, I went out on Saturdays sketching. We formed a club, and saved up our pocket-money to reward the best painte

de me read all sorts of books on the theory of art in its many branches. He used to mark off portions which he wished to impress upon my memory and make

book and that of Leonardo da Vinci. Ships had always a great fascination for me, and I used to read and cop

e from being poisoned, through his knowledge of plants. He used to tell me about the stars and their distances, and how, by the aid of mathematics, he was able to measure sp

took me nearly eight years to write the twelve parts of my 'Life and Nature Studies,' after I had gone over the world for the first time, and in this book I have tried to write what I had learn

e facile his hand will grow), five years to anatomy and the life, and the rest of the time to the countle

aking of a free and pure draughtsman and writer. By-and-by, when persevered with, these lines become a positive pleasure to indulge in; so much so, that the veteran artist when he is idling an hour away, if he has a pie

all the rest of the body inactive. I would rather advise students to exercise all their faculties as well-colours, gradation, outside sketching from nature, copying in galleries and fro

ory, romance; in every walk of life which we may enter upon, it must be ennobled

nt, and symmetry. A tailor? If you can draw well you will become a cutter-out. In fact, I do not kn

ich it gives to the lucky possessor to do good to his less fortunate fellow-creatures. Where art comes in and fulfils its highest mission is the almost limitless range which it imparts to the votary of intellectual pleasure and ethic enjoyments. We are al

e hills and valleys. Art makes them take exquisite pleasure in forms and colours, a keener appreciation i

lly touched by the purifying kiss of art can no more go back to the fog-land of debased desires or commonplace than can the butterfly return to her caterpillar state of crawling. He must soar over the heads of the grubs,