30 



HORSES AND MOVEMENT 



colour are to be observed by the eye. Is, then, the 

 expression of movement a blunter and a coarser art ? 

 Does true refinement occur only in quiet things ? Is 

 not the answer yes and no ? For if refinements of form 

 and spacing and delicate gradations of colour and tex- 

 ture are best to be enjoyed through the contemplation 

 of things at rest under an even lighting, there are other 

 refinements of beauty which are only born of movement. 

 An artist must decide for himself what rhythmic 

 patterns will best express his impressions of particular 

 movements, and how far he shall make use of such 

 phenomena as we have been discussing. That is, he 

 should let his eye decide for him. It wiU select by 

 recollection what it was that interested him, and what, 

 therefore, he will need to master for his work. Accord- 

 ingly, he may prefer only to observe figures under move- 

 ment and never to make studies from the model, or he 

 may decide to study anatomy in order to acquire a 

 knowledge of the bones and underlying structures, or, 

 again, rely for such knowledge on observation of the 

 surface alone. Instantaneous photography, which is the 

 anatomy of movement, bearing much the same relation 

 to it that the skuU does to the face we see, might be 

 useful to him, but it would be, I should say, a 

 treacherous ally. If we look at the studies and sketches 



of those who could seize nature on the wing and render 

 her effects, we shall find that they mostly worked through 

 unflagging observation helped out with quick notes, 

 shorthand records often legible to themselves alone. They 

 amplified such slight notes through knowledge of the 

 form and the movements of the figure, either taking such 

 knowledge from their general stock or specially acquiring 

 it for a particular subject. For this purpose some of 

 them make minute and elaborate studies from the model, 

 like Degas ; others, like Daumier, depend apparently 

 upon repeated observation and memory alone. 



Observation seems to be the keynote, the passive 

 observation which does not start out, having settled in 

 advance what it wants to see, but is ready to see what 

 nature will disclose. Nature, as a great artist said, 

 will give to each man according to his powers, if he will 

 but sit humbly at her feet. 



Such an attitude is surely the right one in all arts, 

 and the fun of it is that the artist whose preference is 

 against movement will be led, quite rightly, to turn his 

 back upon it and upon aU that we have been discussing, 

 and perhaps go off with the gentle Chardin to share the 

 charm of contemplation almost Oriental in its quiescence. 



As movement, however, can only be perceived through 

 recollection of its phases, it is not possible, as has been 



