Conservation in ContextHome | Newell mural | student mural | history projects | archive | credits | links |
New Shapes
A man can no more rip from himself the stamp of his age than the skin from his body. The more he may rebel against it, the greater will be his submission, for he must unavoidably live on, and by the mood and tempo of his age. Since change brings about a new age, no two ages are fundamentally the same. Their artistic expressions, however, resemble one another insomuch as they feel for the finest, simplest, and deepest qualities. The strength of these qualities asserts itself in their ability to over-sprout the bad matter of softness, forever threatening them. The expression of the qualities is not a copy of their lines and features, but an interpretation of their character, which is their form. The portrayal of one artist is more powerful than that of another because he sees not only the outward form, but also holds within his mind what surges beneath it, and molds it into a creation of his own. The spirit of the art of a race or region is for the most part influenced by the nature of its geography. Since people conform materially with their geography, this influence would first concentrate upon the construction of the useful arts, which grow as the body becomes adjusted to its location and the mind is opened raw to perception and appreciation. This beginning of a great art is probably its greatest stage. Now, it knows no obstacles because it has shoved them aside in its material purpose. Its beauty is eager and unconscious, filling every line of its primitive crudeness. It is awkward, uncertain, and strange, and has an amazing clarity. It is deepest in its simplicity. Above all, it has grown out of the growth of its nature, made and loved by a man dependent upon and hence influenced by nature. Hence it can never be misfit when its roots are grounded with the government of nature. A strong, sincere race can breed a long-lasting civilization. An intelligent civilization with arts and industries loves its intelligence. The eye ever quick for defects, soon tiring of the bare and shameless outline, seeks to embellish it. This first awareness, though good in itself, has already begun unwittingly to undermine its own dam. It is the youthful, confident, uninterrupted stream grooving its way to old age. Once graded, it bursts the dam, choking the land with debris of weakness an softness. But, in sluggish old age, just active enough to adorn and hide all original form, there is an accident; the land rises dizzily. Not all have been drowned; a few are left to blink in shame at the meaninglessness of their heritage, which they fail to recognize, and hence deny. A new stream is born in these productive heights. Its waters are clear and rushing; it is young, branded with experience. Its course slopes and it runs unheeding, gleaming in sharp nakedness. It is only too eager to live in health. The veneer of tradition has been lifted and new shapes rise in wonder. Its strength develops daily, but slowly, for its new work is tremendous, it must not overstrain itself. Everyone of it movements streams with rebirth. It enjoys a season of plenty, the rain feed it with new streams. These pristine waters, once drained by a traditional sun, leap, impregnated with fresh scouring organs. Creative channels flow with strong life and broaden into maturity. Then ripeness becomes rankness and form is lost in the mazes of the baroque. But changes of art do not exist in a detached sphere, they follow changes in civilization to become its representative. Thus it depicts it upon an invisible natural base. This life-giving base supports a subtle structure. The lines of the building shine with movement, they almost leap from the ground. But it turns majestic, satisfied, and comfortable This will not do for movement and satisfaction are hostile. The building rises higher and higher till it shivers in its fineness. Those on the ground rebel. To them the base is visible because the, touch it with an ancient feeling. With a single stroke they crack the weak, glimmering Babel. Their superstructure stretches with unrestrained earthy movement, they have been cowed too long. They fight, desperate with resentment and hate. They clamor for the greatest beauty which is the essential, which was long before them. In this return to natural character they do not make the mistake of rejecting their civilization, but unite the two in the hope of further discovery and understanding. They do not mind the gibes of the potentially defeated. They realize theirs will be the creation of creations, its spirit will be timelessly fresh. They set now in their minds the universal body of their making. Theirs is the Kingdom of Art, the tireless light of discontent, striving, and hope.
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