ART AND SIMPLICITY.
“Ability to live without furniture, without impedimenta, with the least possible amount of neat clothing, shows more than the advantage held by this Japanese race in the struggle of life; it shows also the real character of some weaknesses in our civilization. It forces reflection upon the useless multiplicity of our daily wants.”Kokoro, Lafcadio Hearn.
Lookingover some colour prints from Japan, I have been much impressed by the extreme simplicity which characterizes the interiors of Japanese houses as depicted in them. Print after print shows us a room almost bare, the walls in some delicate brown or grey tint, with the wood framing exposed: this latter consists of bamboo cane or simple squared posts and beams, with now and then a door head slightly arched. For the elaborately ornamented screens and bric-à-brac which are associated with Japan one searches these prints in vain: the rooms are characterized by an almost complete absence of mere ornament. There is in one a single panel of the wall or screen adorned with a landscape very slightly suggested; in another a blind or hanging of some sort bears a text or painted floral decoration; or a vase standing on a slightly raised dais, holds a carefully arranged spray of flowers; or ajar on the centre of a wall displays a single peony or chrysanthemum exquisitely poised; but beyond this there is no ornamentation.
There is considerable variety in the shape of therooms shown, none seemingly being just four-square. A complete absence of furniture characterizes them, and only such things as are actually being used find a place there. Yet the whole suggestion conveyed is one of refined and elegant life: the lady arranging flowers does not have the sprays from which she is to select on the floor by her, but on a beautifully lacquered tray; while all the utensils one sees represented, such as boxes, candle-sticks, tea-cups, or platters, are elegant in shape and colour and often much ornamented. They are quite obviously in the room for use however, not for ornament.
Judging from these prints, the refinement of Japan seems to result in no desire for beautiful ornaments or elaborate decorations, but rather in the demand that everything that is required for use shall be elegant or even highly ornamental. Their æstheticism evidently does not bring a craving to be always surrounded by innumerable articles ofvertu, but rather a demand that such things as must come to their hands justified by their use, shall come also graced by beauty.
In contrast with the extreme simplicity of the rooms is a lavish display of bright colour and ornament on the dresses of the ladies, as they are represented chatting or working; this tells with wonderful effect against the soft grey or brown, or the pale green of the dried rush matting, which are the prevailing colours shown on the walls and floors.
Such rooms as these are obviously thought ofmainly as the back-ground to the people and their life. There is evidently in the Japanese no lack of love for the beauty of Nature and of ornament; only there is a dignity which makes them demand a suitable setting for their lives; and a very rare refinement which teaches them to prefer the complete realization and enjoyment of the beauty of a few simple things, to the superficial appreciation of many elaborately beautiful ones; which leads them to spend their thought rather in showing to the best advantage the utmost beauty of one spray, than in finding places for a basketful of rare flowers.
How different is the common estimate of art and refinement here in the west. When we think of the elaborately upholstered houses of our ‘artistic circles,’ the people of taste—crowded as they are with costly decorations and ornaments; when we find that one of the most refined of our modern painters is in danger of being remembered as much for the gorgeous palace in which he lived as for the works of art he painted; what wonder if philosophers and moralists tell us that art is the enemy of simplicity, the fosterer of luxury!
If the love of art did really result in making more and more elaborate collections of beautiful things necessary to us, then indeed it would be the enemy not alone of simplicity but of liberty also. Then would it be but an added burden, still more terribly dividing those who work from those who enjoy, and further enslaving the one to the other; but another millstone hung about the neck ofmiserable man to keep him from rising above the slough of mere material wants and entanglements, in which he is already well-nigh engulfed. But the accumulation of beautiful things from all the ends of the earth is no sign that a deep love for art exists, and the admiration of them in itself is no sign of much refinement. Rather does this result from our utter lack of true art, from our complete inability to make the things we need beautiful. It is a sign too of our entire want of refinement that we are content to use such ugly things as we do make, if only we may have a few of the beautiful things that other people have made, to look at. Fancy a Greek carrying water in a galvanized iron pail, and thinking it artistic to put his pitcher on a bracket in his hall! The Greek required his pitchers for water carrying, and made them for that purpose, made them as comfortable and easy to carry as possible; and that his work in the making of them might be to him somewhat of an interest, he made them as beautiful as he could in form, and decorated them with suggestions of the things his mind loved to dwell upon. And so was art to him both a solace to labour and an expression of his interest in his work. And to the one who used the things made, what was it but a pure added joy in his life; suggesting to him the pleasure of that worker, and starting in his mind thoughts of gods or heroes on which he also liked to dwell. This is the origin of all true art, springing from some joy in the maker and giving to all who use the thing made some suggestion of this joy. Or it maybe, in the higher branches, springing from some great thought demanding expression or great emotion yearning for sympathy, & in the beholder ever after stimulating something of that thought or emotion. Instead of being an added burden to men it may be an added joy; may gladden the hours of toil to the maker; and for the user may lift the every-day affairs of life out of the commonplace, satisfying his taste with the comeliness of all the implements he uses and cheering him with the beautiful suggestions of their ornament.
Art such as this must be in close touch with simplicity; for, under its influence, ornament that has no message of suggestion, that conveys no memento of a maker’s pleasure, would not exist; and if you come to think of it, why should it? There is no virtue in mere ornament: far otherwise. It is not easy to create a decoration more beautiful than the play of sunlight or firelight on a whitewashed wall; and unless some one has joy in doing it, or can give us something more constantly pleasing or suggestively helpful, why should it be attempted? Certainly refinement does not demand it; for it is refinement that teaches us to appreciate the subtle colouring of the varying light and to be content with it.
In other ways also the growth of the æsthetic faculty will lead to simplicity, & will help to produce those changes in the conditions of life and work, without which there is no hope for any great revival of art on the lines just sketched. Until recently the beautiful feathers of the heron, theso-called ospreys or egrets, were a favourite decoration for the head dress; but since the cruelty attendant on the obtaining of them has been generally known, they have vanished alike from the plume of the soldier and the bonnet of the gentle lady. Their beauty brings no more pleasure; it is marred by the mental picture of the bleeding heron and its starving young: none but the ignorant or vain can wear them now. As our appreciation of beauty becomes, if I may so use the term, intensive as well as extensive, many similar changes will be brought about. For one must not forget that the appeal of beauty, of art, to us is not solely a matter of the senses. A work of art does not cease to touch us the moment it is out of our sight; nay, we may even get more pleasure and help from it after than when actually gazing at it. But if it is to continue to please us, beauty must bear to be thought about. If we cannot dwell with satisfaction on the origin or production of the beautiful object, its beauty ceases to please, we feel it to be superficial.
This desire for such a harmony in our life and surroundings as will not alone delight the eye, but will also satisfy and please the mind and heart, springing as it does from a deeper appreciation of beauty, will have far-reaching results in the direction of wedding art and simplicity together. There are many who can no longer enjoy an artistic life above stairs, undisturbed by the lack of what art could add, in the life below stairs on which it rests; for they feel that no beauty in the drawing room can make up for the want of beauty in the lives ofthose in the kitchen; no refinement in the study compensate for the utter lack of it in the workshop. In fact we are coming to realize that although we may have the right and the power to create for ourselves a costly palace to dwell in, and to gather around us all the luxuries and refinements we can think of, and may moreover have plenty of servants to wait on us and plenty of labourers to help us to support our costly life; yet art will not make such a life beautiful, simply because of that want of harmony between the life and all that goes to support it. However right and just such a life may be thought to be, it cannot be beautiful.
And so those to whom beauty really appeals are seeking a simpler form of life, one which need not cost so much of the labour of others to maintain, or so much of their own to procure. And the more they come to love & enjoy beauty, the greater must this tendency to simplicity of life become, not from any virtue or asceticism, but simply as a matter of choice. Why should one having such tastes encumber himself with an elaborate household, which but offends his inner love of harmony, and takes his time and energy from the enjoyment of so much greater pleasure? He knows that the art in a picture belongs to all who can appreciate it, not solely to the purchaser of it, who buys not the art but the right to shut it up; and he realizes that the beauty of a landscape is a pleasure open to all who can see it, and that it cannot be conveyed in the title deed. Such an one does not barter away his time and his freedom to enjoy these solid pleasures, for the sakeof a fine house, fine society, or any other fictitious refinements. He minds not how simple his surroundings, if only he may be able to dwell in thought on everything he handles or sees about him without any painful suggestion of drudgery in the making of them, or squalor in the maintaining of them, marring his pleasure in their simple elegance. The most humble house will content him, so only he may have time and quiet to appreciate the beauties of nature and art, and opportunity for the sharing with others of like taste the enjoyment of these things. For the love of beauty is not selfish, it grows by sharing: we all love to make others see the beauty that we enjoy.
It is true that such a man may be fastidious, that he may hate all ugly or sordid things, and may demand that everything he has shall be the best of its kind. But this must not be confounded with a desire for many things, or a dislike of simple ones. The musician too, is hurt by harsh sounds and requires his music to be of the best, but he does not ask that an orchestral concert shall be for ever going on.
This general dependence of beauty on simplicity, at any rate in the private dwelling house, is of special interest to those whose function it is to give an artistic setting to the lives of clients by so designing their homes that they shall be comfortable for those who are to occupy them and comely for all who shall behold them. The architect is astonished to find how very conventional generally are the reasons which dictate the size and arrangementof the house. He is impressed by the great difference that exists between what are considered to be suitable houses for different classes of people: and he begins to wonder whether there are not discoverable some factors determining what is a suitable size for a man’s shell having more intimate relation to his life than the depth of his pocket, or some reason for its form and adornment less conventional than those usually accepted.
For example, an architect receives a commission to design some labourers’ cottages. The cost is the first stipulation: this must be low enough for the cottages to yield a fair return on the outlay when let at such rents as the labourers can afford to pay out of their present wages. Probably the next stipulation is that each house must have a parlour, kitchen, and three bedrooms. The usual result of such instructions is a design for a row of cottages, all alike, each having a small parlour in front with a front door into it, a kitchen behind—it is well if this is not smaller still—with the stairs going up between the two and a little larder under: the kitchen has a back door leading into the yard, a sink under the only window, and a copper between that and the fire. Here we have as the living-room for a family a place twelve to fifteen feet square, containing three doors, a sink, and a copper. True there is a sitting-room; but that is of little use. The occupants will have neither money to find coal for a second fire, nor energy to keep the fire going and the room tidy for use, nor will there be any inclination for the family to divide for the littletime they are all at home. But a false convention of respectability demands this sitting-room; and the stern limits of cost preclude the possibility of having a scullery or washhouse in addition.
How an architect must wish he could attack this commission from another standpoint. How he must long to design a house to fit the habits of life of those who are to occupy it. Then he would work on quite different lines. Knowing that the family will practically live in the kitchen, he would think out the space needed to give room for doing work, taking meals, and resting. He would consider what of the work which must be done most tends to make the living-room uncomfortable and dirty; and he would banish that to a scullery or wash-house. In the living-room he would plan so that there might be warm seats round the fire in winter, free from draughts, and seats for summer near the window; a good dresser for work, well lighted and supplied with cupboards, plate-rack, and perhaps a small washing-up sink for the crockery. Then he would allow space for a table for meals, and a few shelves for books; perhaps he might even find a corner for a piano or desk, in case either should be wanted. Instead of the sitting-room, he would either build a little den for quiet reading or writing, if any member of the family desired to study, or more probably so plan one of the bedrooms that a portion of it could be made cosy for such a purpose, about the only one for which a sitting-room would be at all likely to be wanted. Remembering too that cleanliness has been placed onlysecond among virtues, and that probably most of the labourers would have dirty and arduous work, he would contrive to give a bath; and if nothing better could be done might put it in the scullery. In this way he would have obtained a cottage as nearly as possible fitted to the lives of the people. It would take no more daily labour and expense to keep up than the conventional one, and would not cost such a great deal more to build—in fact, omitting the bath, and keeping within the total size, need cost no more.
Perhaps the next commission is for a country house. It is stipulated that there shall be dining-room, drawing-room, and library, a good entrance hall and six bedrooms, together with kitchen, scullery, two servants’ bedrooms, butler’s pantry, china pantry, larder, laundry, a lavatory and cloak-room on the ground floor, and a bathroom on each bedroom floor. Such requirements have probably as little real connection with the lives of the people who are to live in the house, as the conventions which dictated the two roomed cottage. The size of the house has more to do with the social position assumed by its owner, than with the number of his household; and the library quite as likely is due to the length of his purse, as to the number of his books or his literary pursuits.
Somewhere between these two extremes must lie the sort of house which the lover of art and beauty would desire for himself. Somewhere, in each case, must the two opposing tendencies of comfort and simplicity meet. Up to a certain point it willadd to a man’s real pleasure in life to enlarge upon the bare shelter of the labourer’s cottage; but beyond that point any gain there may be will be too dearly bought. This point is fixed for any individual, but must of course vary widely with the temperament and circumstances of each. It is sufficient for our purpose to realize that there is such a point, and that the development of a man’s love of beauty and art will in the long run give more and more force to the tendencies which make for simplicity. Those whose main desire is for beauty in their lives, are coming to see that to the rational cottage as sketched above, with its ample living-room and the other absolute necessaries of a decently comfortable life, they must add with great caution and reluctance, and only as dictated by really pressing needs. Every extra room is an added care, means further demands on time and energy, and makes it harder to maintain the home without introducing additional inharmonious elements in the way of service. It is possible, though not easy, to introduce one helper into the home life on equal terms, but very difficult indeed to do this with two. The increase of the house must be zealously resisted, if it is to be kept within the limits of one helper doing a fair share of work. And not only must the size be watched: the furnishing and decorating likewise need to be kept simple. It is a good rule in such a house to add nothing until actually needed, and to think well whether the pleasure and comfort it can give will repay the care and dusting it will require.
Working on these lines there will be a good chancethat our homes will grow beautiful, that they will fit our lives and be really filled with life. When we try how few things we can do with, we also begin to try how beautiful those few may be made. When we value our time, and the time of our helpers, by the pleasure which may be had from a wise use of it, we shall take care that any adornment we have, shall at least give pleasure equal to any other use we might have made of the time required to obtain it. Therefore none but good decoration will tempt us. We shall be content with our bare coloured walls, until perhaps some artist friend comes along and adorns them for us with some true ornament, which will be an abiding satisfaction, not only in the direct suggestion which it conveys, but also in the memories it revives of a pleasant visit and a guest happy in a congenial task.
RAYMOND UNWIN.