PRINCIPLES OF ART Man, since the earliest period of which there is knowledge, has striven to give his impressions form and meaning. At times, as in the great fifth century in Greece or in the European Renaissance, he has produced work after work astonishingly excellent ; and even when culture seemed nearly dormant, as in the early Middle Ages, the urge to represent the impressions and creations of his mind continued in the individual.
A feeling of pleasure is evident on the countenance of a child who has made marks, signifying nothing, in sand. Soon his marks represent familiar objects: a crude circle indicates the sun, an oval supported by straggling lines a dog, and the human form ap pears with a circle for the head, an inverted Y for the body and legs, and a cross-line for the arms. (See DRAWING.) These figures are crude, for not only does the child lack skill but his models are imperfect memories of his impressions. In a similar way, prehistoric man would seem to have begun to carve and draw on stone, wood, bone and whatever other materials were available, slowly developing his art until it culminated in the figurines and cave-paintings found in Europe.
The desire to incorporate movement in such figures follows their first representation closely. Life itself is movement; even plant life moves, as the Chinese artist who studies the aspiring quality of grass knows ; bodies without this movement are dead and uninspiring. In the minds of savages, movement is asso ciated with life so vitally that to them animals may not seem themselves unless moving in a characteristic way. A snake, for instance, is represented by a wavy or zigzag line; often there is no attempt to indicate the more static details; the movement alone suffices.
Rhythm is almost a necessary element of movement. In the line representing a snake curve follows curve. In cave-paintings animals in groups are often inclined upward and downward to indicate movement. Rhythm was soon used simply to create pleasing movement in the relation of various figures, one to an other. No one knows what may have been the development of the rhythmical motives which through countless generations have been built up in the minds of the American Indians, the natives of the Pacific islands and other primitive peoples. Such symbol ism as adheres to them is often conflicting and vague. The rhythm counts for itself alone. It is satisfying and beautiful.
Once man began to decorate the handles of his weapons, a wall space, skins or his utensils, composition began and proportion was born. If in Europe a prehistoric man wished to carve a reindeer on a dart-thrower, he confined the scope of his work within definite limits and had to evolve a ratio between the length and height of the reindeer and the length and breadth of the dart-thrower. In time, simple direct proportions became tiresome, more involved relationships formed more intricate compositions, and from the application of an already pleasing quality of art to a given area or form, another pleasing quality, valuable in itself, resulted. Later this was highly developed until, in such works as the sculpture filled tympana in the pediments of the Parthenon or Leonardo's "Last Supper," the artist utilized his minor figures, each in itself exquisite, to enhance the one on which he wanted attention focused, seeking variety for the individual figures but unity for the whole composition. Often in the history of the arts—though rarely in the East, for the Eastern artist holds tenaciously to fundamental principles in art and is not easily led astray by a new phase—men, becoming interested in other means of making their work beautiful and pleasing, have lost sight of the possibil ities in composition. Composition, in a sense, is related to move ment and to rhythm, for identical arrangements of lines located differently in given frames produce very different movements, and rhythm can be set up between the structural lines of a composition, or between a structural line and a boundary.
No other important principle in art appeared until the European Renaissance. Meanwhile, the grace of prehistoric carving had been forgotten and sculpture had taken on the stiffer forms of Egypt and Western Asia, whence it came to Greece and flourished in the human form idealized; architecture, in Greece and mediaeval Europe, on the basic structural principles of the post and lintel and the masonry arch, had developed compositions with rhythm, movement and proportions still unequalled ; poetry, beginning with the folk-song, had assumed the epic, then shorter, more con ventional forms ; in Greece the drama had risen to great heights of character portrayal and expression but only its form continued to grow during the period of Imperial Rome, and even that with ered during the Middle Ages ; and music, in the early days always allied closely with religion, had found in Christianity an energy that ever drove men to seek new ways of using its enchantments to glorify their destiny. In these arts, it will be seen, representa tion, movement, rhythm, composition and proportion, govern, as in painting.
In the fifteenth century men in Italy attained an efficient knowl edge of perspective. Painting achieved a new dimension, depth, and the impetus given to the art was like that given to literature by the invention of printing, to music by Bach's system of equal temperament enabling it to move freely in all keys, or to architec ture by steel-skeleton construction. People could now look into a picture. Painters tried to grasp not only the outline of the object portrayed but its three-dimensional mass. They strove not so much for the appearance of the object as to portray it as they knew it to exist. On the other hand, they found reason to portray much that they saw but knew to be untrue. It might be argued that the road as it penetrated the distance maintained a constant width; the painter could reply that it looked as though it were growing narrower. Enthusiasm for the possibilities of represent ing three-dimensional form continues even among modern painters, artists like Cezanne seeking to realize on canvas the basic rela tionships between` solids. Perspective is not essential to enjoy ment of a work of art. A picture can be beautiful if painted in the mariner of the East, perhaps without perspective. Movement, rhythm, composition and proportion, the elements that from childhood up the race has learned instinctively to watch for and to want, yield most enjoyment in the arts.
With the breaking down of the restraint imposed by mediaeval Christianity, men's minds were freed to realize, unhampered by tradition, their pagan heritage. Equally important, finding again the joy of mental conquest, they sought all forms of knowledge with almost unbelievable persistence. Often, artists were in ventors, too. Science entered inextricably the tangled skein of forces influencing art. Its ever-widening field has since continu ously fed the artist with more accurate knowledge of the nature of the objects that he represents, better materials and tools with which to execute his work and, through its agencies, a larger audi ence. Research has revealed the elements of sound. From the machine, architects and sculptors have learned new harmonies in form and line. The resources of modern invention enhance the drama.
Poetry that expresses the beauties of modern science in ex quisite language and form may well capture such beauty and artistic truth as has been rarely known. But the application of scientific principles in art can best be seen in painting. Leonardo da Vinci, himself a scientist, understood that as the subject in question recedes from the eye delicate changes in illumination and hue call for reproduction. Study of chiaroscuro continued, but, although Newton first explained the dispersion of light in 1666, the significance of his discovery for painting was not fully real ized until the time of Monet, in the nineteenth century. Monet, understanding that white light is made up of many colours, and that two colours may blend to form a third, achieved his effects by amassing small patches of different colours in close juxtapo sition, to be blended by the eye of the observer to produce the colours that he wished to represent ; his work carries broken colour to extremity.
Behind all art lie certain fundamental causes. A work of art, whether it is a symphony, a poem or a painting, requires of its creator broad and deep understanding of the elements represented, fused with extraordinarily skillful technique by an impelling and emotional urge to create. Whether artistic understanding is in herited or acquired is hardly ascertainable. Technique can be achieved through study, but the physical attributes of the indi vidual artist, such as the hearing of a musician or the eyesight of a painter, affect his facility according to their degree of excel lence.
That emotional urge which spurs civilized men to create art has at different times and in different individuals been caused by different influences, but it is safe to say that, analyzed, it may be resolved into a will either to represent nature, as in the early Chinese artists, or to idealize its forms, as in Greece ; into a will to escape from this life by exalting symbols of the world to come, by fashioning guardians against its evils, or by propitiating spirits, as in Egypt and in mediaeval Europe ; or into a will to exalt an individual or group, as in Imperial Rome and in Renaissance Europe. To-day each of these is present. (A. DEW.) Faure, History of Art (192I-24) ; J. Pijoan y Soteras, History of Art (1927) ; O. F. Hagen, Art Epochs and their Leaders (1927) ; Pliny, Chapters on the History of Art; L. W. Tolstoi, Tolstoy on Art (1924) ; O. W. F. Lodge, What Art Is (1927) ; W. Orpen, Outline of Art (1923) ; F. W. Ruckstuhl, Great Works of Art what makes them Great (1925) ; S. H. Butcher, Aristotle's Theory of Poetry and Fine Art; A. Symons, Studies in Seven Arts (1925) ; H. Gardner, Art Through the Ages (1926) ; A. Blum, Short History of Art from Prehistoric Times to the Present Day (5926) ; E. Govett, Art Principles (1919) ; A. Fenn, Design and Tradition (1921) ; J. W. Beatty, Relation of Art to Nature (1922) ; R. A. Cram, Ministry of Art W. Lubke, Outlines of Modern Art (1924) ; H. B. Cotterill, History of Art (1923-24) ; R. Cortissoz, Art and Common Sense.
The art of the Far East aims to depict the spirit, rather than the semblance, of a thing. So the mission of an oriental artist is not necessarily to represent, but to interpret, the inner meaning of his subject. Vain, indeed, is an attempt to reproduce with paint a phenomenon of Nature. A picture of a wild flower, for example, may be true to form and colour, but where are the inher ent purity and the fragrance of the blossom? Realizing the utter impossibility of imitation, the eastern painter seeks, instead, to express the impression which he has gained through admiration of nature or to give form to an ideal, by means of his brush, even as the poet expresses himself in words. The mood of the artist, then, is one of self-forgetfulness, since he is merely an interpreter of the beautiful and the mysterious in nature.
It has been said that "art is a tryst," for in the joy of it maker and beholder meet. In the West, this epigram is explained as the reproduction, on the part of the beholder, of the artist's mood at the time of his conception of a work of art. But this dual process, when applied to the art of the Far East, assumes a deeper signifi cance; for in the East art becomes a whole only when the be holder's imagination co-operates with the suggestion conveyed by the artist in his work. The aesthetic nature of the oriental first seeks intrinsic beauty and then evolves extrinsic completeness. The function of a picture, therefore, is not to display but to sug gest ; the beautiful is present but it is concealed. After all, a painted twig is important in that it invites one to reconstruct, by exercise of the imagination,' a towering tree through which the joy of life flows, and a painted figure is interesting if it depicts the inner nature with its striving for the highest. Hence, the sug gestive quality of the art of China and Japan is a vital factor ; the more emphatic the suggestion on the part of the artist, the more profound the appeal to the beholder.
It is true that in the pictorial art of the Far East there are vari ous schools or styles, as in the art of the West : idealistic, impres sionistic, romantic, realistic, etc. ; then, too, the subjects treated by eastern artists include all things religious and secular, animate and inanimate. Yet, taken as a whole, one may note that oriental paintings are distinct, not only in aesthetic expression, but also in technical achievement. In creating a picture, the Far Eastern artist, before all else, grasps the spirit of his subject, then conveys this mood to the brush. He paints, not what he sees, but what he feels. This does not mean an occult treatment of the theme, for in presenting it an intelligible delineation of the subject is demanded. Broadly speaking, the external form is but a mask under which reality hides and this reality the artist attempts to reveal. The importance of the embodiment of soul in a picture was mentioned in China as early as the 4th century; emphasis on this point, how ever, may be said to date from the 5th century when Hsieh Ho laid down his celebrated "Six Canons of Painting," which have been the basis of art criticism in the Far East throughout the sub sequent centuries. The canons, translated freely, are (I) life motion engendered by spiritual harmony; (2) use of the brush in rendering bone-structure; (3) delineation of forms in conformity with the objects; (4) application of colours appropriate to the kinds; (5) spacing based on proper planning; (6) copying of classic pictures, thereby preserving tradition. A masterpiece should exemplify all six points. It is to be noted that spiritual expression, or life-quality, in art is the prime requisite of the canons. Turning to the remaining five canons, all of which refer to technique, it will be seen that the use of the brush is placed before imitative accuracy in form and colour, composition or tradition; for "brush-strokes" are considered in the light of the bodily structure of that which encases the spirit, while "form" and "colour" are but the flesh and the skin. The term "spacing" means embellishment of the design, and "copying" refers to the transfusion of principles established by past masters. But brush strokes are more than bone-structure; they are the nerve system as well, for they suggest force, in that they invoke living motion. Motion being durative in nature is best conveyed in uninterrupted lines made by a feeling hand. The strokes, therefore, are more than mere outlines or spots indicating shapes or areas; by their very vigour, they express the life-quality of the subject pictured. Brush-strokes at the same time are an index to the character of the individual who made them, the more inspired the artist, the more spontaneous their response. If the painter is noble-minded, the spiritual expression in his handwork is abundant, and if the spiritual expression is abundant, the picture causes life-motion; otherwise, mere dexterity in brush-manipulation is but the skill of an artisan.
Ordinarily an oriental artist does not use an easel when painting or drawing, since he works seated with paper or silk spread before him. As he paints, his head is bent down, the shoulders supported by the left arm, of which the hand rests on the table or floor. By long and unceasing practice in handling the brush, he becomes efficient in producing strokes thin or heavy, light in touch or abrupt in force. The brush-strokes in a painting are often com pared to those employed in the calligraphy of China and Japan. In fact, in the matter of the use of the brush there exists but little distinction between the two arts. That much attention has been paid to brush-strokes in the Far East is evidenced by careful studies of various types of brush-marks which have been made by great and old masters. There are collections of strokes used in delineating figures, rocks, water, trees, etc., which are referred to as either "wrinkles" or "touches." For drawing and painting the manifold contours of mountains and rocks, there are 16 (or i8) kinds of strokes, each of which is known by a fancy name such as rain-drops, scattered brushwood, alum crystals, demon skin, large axe, horse's teeth, folded belt, hemp fibres, lotus leaf veins, unrav elled rope, bullock hair, eddying water, etc. Again, in drawing figures, especially their draperies, there are "touches" known as "harp string," "moving cloud and flowing water," "rat-tail," "wil low leaf," etc. These have always been useful guides to painters, and have served to deter beginners from attempting crude and meaningless styles. It must be understood, however, that over emphasis on classification of this sort and strict adherence to it is detrimental to initiative.
Having acquired a certain amount of facility in manipulation of the brush, the student is next taught the value of ink-tones. The ink used in Far Eastern painting is a mixture of lampblack or pine soot with glue, moulded into cake form. Upon a slate like slab with a depression at one end to hold a small amount of liquid, the cake of ink is rubbed, with an admixture of water, until the latter becomes a solid black. This process takes place just before painting. When light shades of black are desired, the liquid ink is mixed with water by means of the brush, in a white porcelain saucer, according to the requirement. The much-valued lustre of the ink when dry on paper or silk depends largely upon the quality of the ink itself, as well as upon the stone employed for grinding. It is said that an artist who thoroughly understands the proper use of ink is able to ascertain the shade immediately upon dipping his brush without testing it on the white saucer or on paper.
Like the quality of the brush-strokes themselves, the quality of the ink-tones differs according to the painter, and determines his artistic ability. It is important that a good painting in ink should show proper relation of light and dark tones varying from lustrous black to delicate grey. Satisfactory results demand that various shades be applied in harmonious order, so that there may be no violent break in gradual tone-scales. Indeed, a correct use of ink produces a sense of natural colours, and atmospheric per spective, colours being after all but intermediaries between black and white, and differences in distance but degree of visibility. It must be pointed out that dark ink does not necessarily suggest strength, nor light ink weakness, nor does a heavy stroke always indicate vitality or a thin stroke lack of it. A proper combination of brush-power and ink-tone creates life-motion in a picture. The duration of an inspired mood is but temporary; hence the trans ference of this mood into ink with the brush must be relatively spontaneous.
There are, roughly, two types of brush-strokes--one broad and often massive, which in itself forms a component part of a pic ture; the other thin and crisp which is used in the nature of an outline. On both alike, the technical demand of expressiveness is imposed. The brushes used naturally differ in size, but because all except the flat varieties, are so made, of the hair of a deer, goat, fox, badger or rabbit. as to possess needle-like points when wet, and because generally the tips only touch the surface for painting, a small drawing may be made with a comparatively large brush. It may be remarked in passing that painters of certain schools use almost the entire length of the hair when it is desired to reproduce an effect of light and shadow in a single stroke. First the brush is allowed to absorb a light shade of ink; then, after touching the tip of the hair to the thick black, a leaf, for example, is immediately painted, the brush being used side wise and a little pressure being exerted as the drawing is made. The running of the dark ink into the light automatically results in gradation producing in a single stroke the effect of chiaroscuro. A variety of paper which absorbs ink very quickly is used in practising manipulation of the brush, which includes making strokes and producing ink-tones. Because of the bibulous nature of this paper and of the ink used, blurring is likely to occur, unless the amount of ink held on the brush is carefully gauged and the brush-marks made swiftly. The paper admits of no erasing or retouching, thus compelling the pupil to be certain of his every movement prior to actual execution of a picture. Having been instructed in proper use of the brush and in quality of ink-tones, the pupil is allowed to study and sketch from nature.
Sketching and Colouring.—Generally speaking, in the art of the Far East sketching from actual objects does not mean working from a model so much as training an artist in the observation of that which is real. According to the Chinese idea, the spirit of all phenomena originated in Heaven and was formed into shape on earth; every phenomenon is endowed with spirit and is a worthy subject for a picture; each is an inspiration for a painter who, by searching inquiry into its peculiar nature, may succeed in grasping its very spirit. Thus an artist is urged to examine every significant feature of his subject and to imagine himself to be it before delineating it. By this means and this alone may he be able to express its spirit. So a sketch-book of an artist may be a jumble of unrelated and incomplete parts of all kinds of plants, land scapes, figures, etc. Useful though these actual sketches are, their importance is insignificant in comparison to the deep mental notes which he has made. For example, a bamboo under different atmospheric conditions, in wind or in rain, in sunlight or in moon light—how preserve the impression except by mental notes? A great master, in painting a bamboo leaf, though it hang downward, would still indicate its longing to point to the sky; and a story is told of a Chinese painter who, finding that his sketch of caged insects did not adequately picture them, freed the insects in their natural haunts, and himself lying on the ground for purposes of close observation, succeeded in catching the spirit of his subject. Indeed, orientals doubt the desirability of employing, for the sake of anatomical correctness, an ordinary man as a model for a pic ture of a king. For painting a horse trotting, a study of an animal in a stall is of little value; accordingly, the artist of the Far East tries to delineate his impression of the appearance the horse pre sented when in motion. It is said that a good picture must needs be truthful, but in reality an attempt at faithful reproduction in paint and with brush is futile; so a painter's aim should be to cre ate a picture which will make on the beholder a deeper impression than the original itself.
The same observations apply to the use of colour. It is true that all visible phenomena have shape and colour, but in making pictures of them, a painter is not concerned with the idea of reproduction. If he were, a sculpture in the round with appropri ate colouring would be the ideal medium for his purpose. For this reason, the art of the Far East considers colour but an accessory which adds a certain decorative value to a picture. In introducing colours the artist merely intends to approximate the colour-aspect of the object depicted. Some Eastern connoisseurs argue that since "China ink" correctly used creates a sense of chromatic beauty and the presence of pigments in a painting suggests artifi ciality, the latter are therefore detractive to the minds of those who love purity. In any case, the palette of the eastern artists is limited, the colouring materials being drawn chiefly from mineral, earth and vegetable substances compounded with fine glue. The medium is water, which fact contributes toward the free move ment of the brush, a rigid requirement in order to illustrate motion at the sacrifice of realism.
Conception and Composition.—In their pictures, the artists of the Far East attempt to present a certain space and time within a comparatively small area. Oriental painters seek first to grasp the essential attributes of their subjects and then to depict them with the utmost economy of brush-strokes. Landscapes provide the subjects most often treated. The artist feels that a landscape shows Nature with her manifold mysteries and that therefore it is worthy to be his pictorial theme. He considers it his mission, as well as his privilege, to interpret and present this large subject in a small space, so that both he and the beholder may enjoy and admire nature in her varied forms. Majestic mountain peaks, rambling brooks, gnarled trees shrouded in mists, a solitary hermit —all may be brought to one's home by the artist. In order to rep resent such a vast scene, it is not possible to depict every detail, so there are suggestions for the right proportions of component parts : "In painting a landscape, make the mountain ten feet high, the tree one foot, the house one-tenth of a foot and the human figure the size of a pea." Then there are conventions which show the oriental attitude toward perspective (q.v.). "A mountain at a distance shows no ledge-marks; water at a distance, no waves; a man at a distance, no eyes. Not that these things are absent, but they appear as if they were absent." In executing a painting, the idea of perspective is indicated by three successive planes, one above the other, nearest objects being represented in the lowest plane. The general tones of ink or colour also indicate variations in distance—dark tones for the foreground, light for the far dis tance and medium tones for the intermediate spaces. The effect, therefore, is not linear but aerial perspective. Instructions in land scape painting deal, not with methods whereby to copy real scen ery, but with suggestions how to compose such a picture. As the oriental conception of a landscape is "mountains accompanied by water," the artist who attempts such a theme cannot escape from introducing water in some phase, be it a river, a lake or a water fall. He selects interesting parts from several scenes for his land scape, and then groups them to form complete unity, thereby cre ating an entirely new world. However, there should always be a clear distinction between the principal and the subordinate parts. Essays on the subject of landscape speak further of the general characteristics to be associated with scenery in the different sea sons : "Mountains in spring should appear as if smiling; in summer as if freshly bathed ; in autumn, bedecked ; in winter, as if sleep ing." In the Far East, trees, plants, fruits, animals, insects and even fish are often included in the category of "Flower-and-Bird" paintings. The mode to follow in treating these motives is, first, to observe the innocence or the elegance of the flowers, or the in stincts of the birds and animals, and then to paint the character or spirit of the subjects. Attempts have been made to establish rules governing the order for making the component parts. Both in China and Japan there are guide-books for painting orchids, chrysanthemums, plum blossoms and bamboos which, because of their virtuous characteristics, are together called the Four Sages. Rules explain the general arrangement of compositions, in par ticular showing the relation between the principal (or guest) and the subordinate (or host). The former is the chief portion of the design and the latter its adjunct. Broadly speaking, by principal is meant that portion of the design which occupies the centre of attraction, larger in size and more abundant in details. The subordinate, which is small in proportion, supports the principal by maintaining proper balance in a composition. Balance, in this case, does not denote a symmetrical arrangement of parts, but agreeable spacing in relation to the shape of the paper or silk on which the painting is done. There are also instructions which prescribe the order of brush-strokes to be followed when develop ing the theme. In painting a picture of bamboo, for example, the main stalk is drawn first in light ink, from the bottom upward, in a few sections which are graduated in length, the lowest being the shortest. The next step is to make the joints with darker ink. Then follow strokes for the branches, in light ink, each drawn by starting from one of the joints. The leaves are painted next, and the artist must hear in mind that each one grows from a branch; they are executed in a variety of ink-tones, due attention being paid to differences in distance, those nearer being drawn in dark ink. Among painters there are those who would define vari ous arrangements or combinations of leaves by their resemblance to Chinese ideographs, a fact which proves the fastidious manner in which some rules have been formulated. In the main, it is important that a painter of bamboo or of other plants should always remember the natural order of growth, from the root gradually heavenward, and that he should follow in painting the same orderly process. Furthermore, the artist must strive to convey the characteristics of his subjects—the stern quality of the ever-bending but never-yielding bamboo, the courage of the plum which blossoms in winter, the purity of the orchid which unfolds its beauty in solitude and the nobility of the chrysan themum which possesses the mind of a hermit. Likewise in paint ing birds, animals, etc., the artist must try to understand their special attributes—the beak and claws of an eagle, the plumage of a peacock, the horns of a deer, etc. ; and he must emphasize their significance almost to the point of exaggeration.
Portrait and figure-painting have never attained, in China and Japan, a height corresponding to landscape or flower-and-bird subjects. Painting a figure merely for the sake of showing physical beauty, or a portrait from a model, has not been cus tomary. On the other hand, portraying ideal or imaginary like nesses of historical or legendary persons has been common, which explains the existence of treatises on figure-painting. The latter, however, refer to types of features and facial expressions: an emperor should always look dignified; a general, brave; a recluse, noble ; a lady, refined ; a farmer, rustic ; etc. In addition to this generalization, the essays discuss appropriate accessories to be included in these pictures—palaces, chairs, mountain-scenery, ponds, farms, etc. They also give scales of proportion for a figure: the height of a body in standing pose should be seven times the size of the head ; the body when seated should be three times the size of the head ; the size of the head itself should be twice the open palm of the subject's hand, etc. Further, the discussion covers varieties of brush-strokes to be used in depicting the dra peries of figures, mention of which has already been made. Of course stress is laid upon the importance of revealing the soul of the subjects, but there is no reference to anatomical correctness. The absence of modelling in portraits, as in all subjects, is one of the peculiarities of oriental paintings. The contours of the face, the features and the muscles are indicated by lines. This linear treatment in two dimensions, though it fails to suggest a sense of relief, nevertheless produces a state of animation. In a composition, a figure or a tree often lacks indication of the ground on which it stands; the reason being that the artist, as well as the beholder, prefers that such an obvious element be disregarded entirely. A "filled-up picture" is wearisome, while an empty space allows the beholder's imagination to roam about. When asked what part of a painting is most difficult of execution, a Japanese painter replied : "The space which is to be left un painted." Far Eastern paintings are executed in ink and water-colours, usually on either paper or silk that has been sized with a thin solution of a mixture of transparent glue and alum. On the re ceptive surface of either paper or silk, the work of the artist is executed by one of three methods : by painting immediately without any preliminary sketch; (2) by indicating in charcoal a skeleton of the design; or (3) by preparing a careful outline drawing of the design on a sheet of paper and tracing it upon the surface proper.
Copying and Tradition.—In the art of the Far East certain pictorial subjects frequently recur, each bearing a well-appointed title, usually somewhat fanciful and often poetic. Moreover, their treatment is similar, if not identical. The reason is not far to seek, for the artists of the Orient come of races which not only view the old with reverence, but always revert to the past for inspiration. It has been remarked that a pupil's training consists in copying and recopying his master's works and that there are model-books which show the proper methods of painting various subjects. So much stress upon tradition, at once a safeguard against radicalism and an obstacle to free development, naturally gave birth to pronounced school mannerisms and to restrictions which extend even to choice of subject and result in inevitable repetition. It may be added that artists of the East often select themes which cannot be studied from nature or observed at first hand; consequently, dependence upon old pictures for general guidance is necessary. It is probable, however, that the special reference in the "Six Canons" to copying old masters was not intended to mean mere copying; rather it should be interpreted as emphasizing the importance of preserving that part of tradition which ever lives as an eternal principle and of transmitting it to the next generation. A work of art may betray its maker's in dividuality, and however hard he may try, he cannot free himself from the influence of the past ; so that orientals praise, rather than condemn, one who turns to classic pieces as models. A Chinese in the 4th century pointed out that the art of painting may be developed from copying old masters. There are four recognized methods of copying (I) tracing; (2) reproduction which consists in faithfully copying the original without resorting to the process of tracing; (3) interpretation, being a near copy of the design and characteristics of the original but embodying much of the copyist's personality; (4) reduction, which is usually sketchy in nature. The third method must have been the type of copying recommended by the formulator of the canons. There by the copyist preserves what is good of the past and develops it to meet his ideals as well as the conditions of his time. The art of the Far East has been evolving in this manner from the time of its inception.