lost. Parts militate against the whole. Through abbreviation, suggestiveness is created and withal a curious impression of liberation from the real that no artist can help sensing. A world of "intentions" arises, as an aesthete might call it, indeed, a true world of art. By treading in the footprints of the ancient Hopi the writer felt he had, to a certain extent, caught their gait. He wanted to test his theory. As the primitive decorator proceeded so should he. Having reproduced their steps he wanted to see how far, by a sort of technical mimicry, a craftsman's progress, he had regained their style. Simplified motives were assumed as intermediate between realistic forms and the more complicated abstract wholes. It might be objected that abstract wholes can be derived immediately from realistic representations without having to go through the intermediate stage of disassociated parts. A glance at the plates accompanying the studies of Fewkes and Holmes would not here be amiss. The point is generally granted that simplification is a result, not a start, a final, not a primary stage. First, a photograph of a flying eagle was selected, closely studied, and greatly simplified in reproduction. Immediately, the following parts assumed importance: the bill, the wings, the tail, the claws. For the first motive the wing was selected. It yielded a form not unlike the drops characteristic of the Paisley shawls. Within that drop certain motives were arranged to fit, like the bill, the feathers, the claws. These organized themselves into a system of curves, breaking one another at various angles so that a pattern of irregular areas resulted. This pattern was enhanced by washing certain areas black and leaving the rest white. Further interest was added by the use of a third value, dark red, suggested by Hopi pottery. In some cases stippling was resorted to, also an aboriginal idea. These systems of curves eventuated at first quite unsymmetrically; balance had to be secured through the interplay of black and red spaces. Formal composition was also attempted. It was found that a certain motive, such as the wing with head inside, was susceptible of elaboration only to a certain point. Then it became almost imperative to return to a semi-realistic interpretation and get a fresh start in a new direction which, in due course of abstraction, yielded new forms. This sterilization of a motive, however, ceased to be a remora as soon as a fair degree of complexity was reached. At that stage the writer found himself in possession of a medium, so to speak, and began to use it to translate subjective moods. Each picture represented a bird, but the placing of parts, the sweep and breaking of the curves, the general system of elaboration and decoration, it soon became apparent, offered endless variations; emotions could be suggested. At a third stage the writer was making portraits of people he knew. In the same manner as emotions it appeared possible to suggest personality. The artist's emotion in regard to a person was substituted for objective representation.1 For what the writer was then in possession of was a language. Certain features became immediately conventionalized. The head was, except in some early ventures, definitely painted black, the eye being left white and so the bill. A large claw came to identify males, a slender one females. Indian motives such as the swastika, the mountain steps, the double curve, the hourglass, were to some extent used. The representation of volume was attempted; it may not yield anything. As to color, it conflicts with the special effect of illumination derived from the combination of black, red, white, and stippled spaces. It destroys the line pattern. It was abandoned except in formal compositions. Color is a language in itself and when spoken will be heard above all others. At this point the writer of this article and joint-author of the accompanying designs stands. What does it all mean? Let us, for the sake of additional illustration, return to the primitive, this time, to another province of North American 1 After all, is it likeness that makes a portrait? In some cases the color harmony in which it is painted is certainly more expressive of the personality of the sitter, more poetically expressive-and expression is nothing if not poetry-than the more finely limned likeness. A likeness aims at deception. It vies with the real. It is therefore not a language. Art instead of being helped by it has to contend against its sway. |