THE CRITICAL ATTITUDE

The Relation of the Critic to the Artist—and to the Public at Large

HENRY RUTGERS MARSHALL

THE artist who, reading this page, discovers that I am concerned to urge upon the public a fuller recognition of the importance of the critic's function, will not be likely to respond sympathetically; for he may well be one who, falling in line with the masses of his kind in the past, looks upon the critic as his natural enemy.

And this feeling of hostility may lead him to feel it to be utterly paradoxical to hold, as I shall do at the very start, that he himself should aim to become a well equipped critic, and to that end should attempt to master the fundamental principles of criticism.

The real paradox, however, is found in the striking prevalence of this attitude of hostility between critic and the artist, in the face of the fact that the artist is himself very frequently found to be a bitter critic of the work of those whose ideals differ from his own. Moreover the slightest consideration leads one to perceive that the artist is necessarily forced, from time to time, to become a critic; for, in the very nature of the case, if he is to attain to mastery, he is compelled to be critical of his own work in the intervals between the brief moments of his creative effort. And if he must perforce be a critic, it surely is worth his while to attempt to be a competent critic.

IT may be said that, while this is all very well in theory, there are real bases for the feeling of hostility above spoken of, in the fact that the critic seems very generally concerned with efforts to bind genius with the fetters of tradition; and that his praises are usually ignorant, and his condemnations unilluminating. "Does it pay to give so many free tickets to the dramatic critics of the press ?" I once heard a famous actor say, "I don't object in the least to hostile criticism. But only once in my career have I received from a critic any suggestion of real value to me in the development of my powers as an actor."

In this charge of incompetence there is much truth, but this should lead the artist to demand adequate training for the critics, rather than to discourage this training by proclaiming the worthlessness of the whole breed. For no critic worthy of serious consideration would, for a moment wish to limit ebullitions of genius by convention or tradition. We find Aristotle clearly stating that the artist can be bound' by no fixed rules; and from his day to ours sound criticism has always appreciated that the artist is necessarily an inventor,—an explorer. The modem psychologist indeed teaches us that no rules or principles can point to a royal road to beauty, for the simple reason that in the very nature of the case no such royal road can possibly exist.

THE competent critic does indeed emphasize the significance of traditions and conventions, but this merely because he sees in them the lessons taught by past experience, recorded, by the race of artists themselves as they have striven to discover beauty; because he sees in these traditions and conventions messages from the masters of the earlier time to the artist of our day, warning him lest he stray in what they have found to be false paths, and thus waste his effort. But beyond such warnings he does not go. He admires and sustains the courageous soul that dares to transgress in particulars these negative rules given by the artistic fathers, realizing that only through such boldness can we hope for artistic advance. But at the same time he points out that no great art has even developed as the result of mere original effort on the part of any artist, or group of artists; and deprecates the worship of originality as such; urging that the artist must not forget that, when he steps beyond tradition, he takes his artistic life in his hands.

BUT, it may be said, even the most competent critics habitually aim at prophecy as to the direction of advance in the arts with which they are concerned, and thus indirectly thwart the artist discoverer through their influence upon the public to whom they appeal. That such thwarting is a necessary result of the critic's activities is, however, to be sharply denied; even while one acknowledges that he deals in prophecy, and indeed holds that prophecy is part of his proper function. For, after all, the great gain to the world through criticism must appear in its influence upon the appreciation of beauty by those who must form the artist's audience; and the wise critic will ever strive, by reference to the lessons from the past, to indicate to his hearers the artistic characteristics in all new work that seem to him to be likely to remain of enduring worth. This implies a breadth of knowledge and of sympathy that is in truth difficult to attain. Lack of it all too often leads to resort to easy condemnation. Many of the so-called criticisms of our current exhibitions at the National Academy of Design, for instance, and on the other hand of the "Secessionist" movements of one kind or another, consist of little more than successions of damnatory phrases. Indeed this habit of writing has become so common that the average man takes it for granted that criticism means hostile criticism, rather than careful judgment, as is implied in the Greek form from which our English word is derived.

THIS leads us to consider, for a moment, the responsibility that rests upon the critic. Every effective work of art is a highly complex composition of elements, each one of which has its part in giving the total aesthetic impression. Such is the weakness of man, however, that not even the greatest artistic genius can hope to present each of these elements in perfection; he can hope for no more than the production of a work in which a preponderating proportion of the elements of the whole shall yield aesthetic delight; in all cases we must expect to. find failure in some particulars.

If the critic concentrates our attention upon the elements in a given art work that so yield this delight he may, lead us to overlook its weaknesses; but if, on the other hand, he concentrates it upon the elements that fail to give this satisfaction he may well lead us to overlook its beauties. Thus the influential critic, by the emphasis he gives, may make, or unmake, beauty for those who listen to his words. Excessive praise of certain elements in a work of moderate merit may thus result in giving to it a factitious value in the minds of those who trust the critic; and he may thus indirectly dwarf the development of a more perfect taste in his followers. On the other hand, this same critic by the emphasis he puts upon the insignificant elements of weakness in a work of great merit, may lower its value in the minds of those who listen to his word even after they have come to a partial recognition of its value. It is exceedingly easy to establish special standards of taste by encouraging special interest in special modes of thought. This the critic who has a following is directly in the way of effecting; and this indicates the measure of his responsibility; and should make him hesitate in speaking where he has not full knowledge of the artist's aims, and full breadth of aesthetic sympathies.

THIS turns our thought to the consideration of certain matters relating to the observer of beauty; for as I have already remarked, the greatest service a critic can render is found in the fostering in men of the appreciation of beauty in those forms that are likely to make permanent appeal to the highly cultivated man as he develops in the future. It is indeed for this reason especially that the artist should encourage, rather than discourage, thoughtful criticism; for evidently his own effort will be in vain unless he speaks to an appreciative audience. In our land, in our day especially, the wealth of the earth is being concentrated, and we have here and now, as has seldom before occurred, the opportunity to satisfy the demand of men for works of enduring beauty. Unless the purchasing public learns to discriminate the more, from the less, significant in works of art this opportunity may well be missed. But how shall this public gain the knowledge needful if such discrimination is to be made? It is all but blind, its eyes must be opened; surely it must be taught. And how can this result be reached except by the rise of, and the encouragement of, men whose lives are devoted to judicious criticism. We should indeed demand of the critic a full knowledge of his subject, and the greatest breadth of sympathy. We should insist further that our universities open ways for the fuller training of critics so that they may gain a broader historical background than they now commonly have, and a fuller knowledge of the works of great critics of the past, and of the bases of judgment they have brought to light. But the artist cannot expect to see the rise of any large group of such well equipped critics so long as he takes towards them the attitude of hostility he now so commonly maintains

WE are thus led to say a few words conceming the attitude of the observer of beauty, and his relation to the critic to whom he would look for guidance. As I have already remarked in speaking of the critic's responsibility it is possible to rivet our attention upon, and thus over-emphasize the significance of, any part of any complex mental field; and this of course holds true of any particular aesthetic field produced by the observation of a work of art. If this emphasized element be beautiful the total impression of beauty will be enhanced; if it be banal, or actually ugly as it may well be, the total impression of beauty will be lessened, and may even be lost altogether.

Here the observer must be on his guard against two difficulties of an opposite nature. He must learn to look for the golden mean. If on the one hand he concentrates his attention upon the value of certain elements that lack aesthetic dignity, if we may so speak, and are thus really of minor importance; and so emphasizes them that he is led to overlook entirely the commonplacenesses or weaknesses of other elements of equal or greater significance in the total impression, he is likely to run off into a "sickly sentimentality" that no one could wish to encourage. We have an example of those who have succumbed to this temptation in the "AEsthetes" who were prominent in England during the late Victorian era. If on the other hand he so far over-emphasizes the aesthetic failures, some of which must be found in any art work he may study, he will surely cut himself off from much legitimate enjoyment of beauty.

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THE first of these dangers is the less serious because it is likely to be met by intelligent criticism, and also by the ridicule of those who are gifted with a sense of humor, as was exemplified for instance in the subtle attack upon the "AEsthetes" made in Gilbert and Sullivan's operetta "Patience." The second of these dangers is the more serious because it is actually encouraged by those of critical bent; for it is to be remarked that in taking such a view the observer drops the role of the appreciator of beauty, and assumes the attitude of the critic, part of whose business it is to make judicious note of these weaknesses. The observer, however, as an appreciator of beauty, can afford to overlook much that the critic must take account of. He may quite legitimately search for beautiful elements, and try to overlook ugly ones. His aim is aesthetic enjoyment, and to this end all else should yield for the time being.

Thus I would urge upon the reader that he avoid the critical attitude in the moments when he aims at the appreciation of beauty.

Unfortunately emphasis of this lesson is greatly needed in our day, as it probably has been in all ages. Half the joy that might be gained in the presence of works of art is entirely lost by overlooking its teaching. Many people think it indicative of keen intelligence to be ever looking for faults in an artist's work; whereas in fact such a habit is indicative of lack of intelligence if one is desirous of gaining the joys that beauty alone can give.

One of my friends, the other day, came from a splendid performance of a Beethoven Concerto by Bauer, which had been quite spoiled for her by the striking of one chord which she, being a skilled musician, recognized to be erroneous. Her companion, equally knowing, said, "Yes," I noticed it; but anyone might have made such a slip. What a glorious creation that concerto is!" Which of the two was the better off I leave the reader to judge.

So one is likely to go to the Louvre Galleries in Paris eager to see the splendid collections there exhibited ; and while there forgets, and quite properly, all of the disconcerting elements which, if 'looked for, are quite obvious in certain of the pictures hung on the walls, gaining thus to the full the delights of the great masterpieces displayed. The same person, visiting some art collection in his own city, is wont to come away making remarks indicating that he has found nothing but dissatisfaction from the exhibit; and this merely because he has made his visit in critical mood.

When I myself, intent upon enjoying such beauties as I could find, have gone to one of these exhibitions that had been thus characterized by my friends, I have never failed to discover a large proportion of work that I could enjoy thoroughly, and in all sincerity.

BUT the loss from such an attitude is not limited to the failure to gain delight in connection with specific appreciations of beauty. The Muses are not more chary of their gifts to the artist than they are jealous of the disclosure of their treasures to the common man. We must search for beauties if we are to find them. Without making such search we can never hope to gain the basis of the obscurer sources of aesthetic delight. Beyond this the attitude here referred to all too soon develops a mental habit which precludes all such search and cuts one off from the broader sources of delight which are given to those who willingly give themselves up to the appreciation of beauty. We tend to lose our capacity to enjoy, and thus dwarf the development and perfecting of our taste.

EVIDENTLY we cannot discover the fullest value of the beauties of a given work of art unless we are able to appreciate the intent of the artist whose ideal of beauty it embodies; and this indicates that the observer should aim to gain the artist's point of view; to comprehend his aims and conceptions. And if one is to attain this insight he should take pains to comprehend the difficulties the artist has had to contend with, and has overcome. Many a thinker from Aristotle's day to our own time has been impressed by the strengthening of the sense of beauty found in connection with the recognition of the skill of the artist as displayed in his works; for we must not forget that the recognition of skill in the performance of any task is a marked source of pleasurable admiration; we seem to put ourselves imaginatively into the place of the performer, and to feel vicariously some of his elation of victory. To this end the one who would attain to the fullest aesthetic appreciation should acquaint himself as fully as possible with the technique employed by the artist. Indeed the ideally educated man might well give some time to learning to sketch in all the important divisions of the fine arts, even though he have no intention to devote his life to the career of the artist. Let him make attempt not only to draw or to paint, but to model in clay, to design a beautiful exterior for a building from a given plan, to compose some simple music, to write a worthy poem; only then, as he realizes how easy it is to produce the commonplace, and how difficult to create beauty, will he be able to gain a full sympathy with the artist's point of view, and a complete comprehension of his aims, and of the difficulties overcome in his attempts to embody his ideals.

TO reach the fullest appreciation of beauty in all fields involves the attainment of great breadth of culture. Our great end as observers of beauty should be to widen the sources from which we can gain pleasure, and this can only result from a very wide educational development. We are always liable to gain much from any associated elements that may be aroused by the impressions that are given to us; such, for instance, as the mythological and allegorical suggestions developed in painting and literature. The average thoughtful man finds much added delight in great works of architecture, when he learns to comprehend something of the nature of the structural forces involved, and of the functions of the parts of the buildings which are expressed in the visible forms of the exteriors. In fact, it has often occurred to me that it would be well if each one who makes the "grand tour" through France and Italy could take with him as a companion an architect, who could explain to him as he goes from place to place the steps in the development of the architectural forms displayed in the great buildings he visits, and the special directions given to this development by the structural necessities which limited the builders in their work.

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AND finally I would ask the reader to note that advance in the appreciation of beauty is necessarily dependent upon our own effort. We must ourselves search for the beautiful if we are to hope to be gainers in this appreciation. We can make no advance in this direction if we accept the dicta of the awesome connoisseur or critic, and pretend to find an object beautiful which he admires, when in fact it does not give us the true aesthetic thrill. Unfortunately we are all liable to face severe temptation in this direction, and too often fail to resist it. We all tend to be subservient to those who, indifferent before that which we find beautiful, claim to find beauty where we do not. Rather than be put to shame, we are often led to say that we do find the beauty they tell us they discover; and—that we may enhance our self-esteem—even convince ourselves that we actually find it.

This leads us into the evil habit of remaining content with what for us is a counterfeit of beauty, and in the end to an inability to tell the spurious coin from the pure gold. We not only are aesthetic pretenders and hypocrites; but in being willing to be such we eventually dwarf our capacity to appreciate beauty at its full worth. We can hope for no advance in this appreciation if we quench the (esthetic thrill when it occurs.

AS appears from my earlier words, I should be the last man to urge disregard of well informed critical opinion. But if the critic in whom we have confidence fails to find beauty where we do, or finds beauty where we do not, we should not pretend that our tastes agree with his; we should still accept with joy, and cling without shame to, the meed of beauty that is granted to us. And if we trust the critic's judgment, and believe him to have greater capacity than we have, or to have had larger opportunity for training than has fallen to our lot, then we should not rest content until by searching we find the beauty he has discovered, but which we do not yet know. If we are not to pay the price of the limitation of our power to gain the aesthetic thrill we must use care to be honest with ourselves.

THIS points to a lesson that may well be listened to by the instructors of the young. If objects are beautiful to an individual because they produce in him a sense of living, permanent, pleasure, then it is evidently impossible that he should perceive beauty in an object if he has not so developed that he is able to derive pleasure from the impression it gives. Each person's perception of beauty is necessarily limited by the nature of his capacities of associative emotion and ideation. It is useless to give meat to babes; as valueless as to feed vigorous men at the breast.

Do not too often expect youth, or those of average mental endowment, to appreciate beauties which can be grasped only by men of capacity who have given years to the acquirement of what makes this appreciation possible. Why should we expect average young children to obtain anything but ennui, and a sense of dislike, from concerts of symphonic complexity? Why should we think it possible to revolutionize the standards of taste of the "slum" dwellers by giving for their benefit exhibits of paintings of such merit as can only be really appreciated by men of full aesthetic development? Do we not deceive ourselves by the crowds drawn by such exhibits;—crowds which would be equally ready to gather at any free show whatever?

There may be a lesson of sympathy in such action by the so-called ''upper classes," but I fear there is little of aesthetic hope in it; for the development of taste is a slow process which involves many steps, few of which can be skipped. It is altogether futile to attempt to force aesthetic standards upon others; if we do we either produce disgust, or despair, both of which are seriously opposed to the development of a refined aesthetic judgment; or else,—and this all too often,—we produce an insincere pretence of appreciation which is aesthetically immoral. Our aim should be the encouragement within the young of capacities and activities which will not only enable them to appreciate art work of high value, but will lead them spontaneously to go out in search for it.