FIG. 96.

THE LAST SUPPER.

BY ANDREA DEL SARTO.

IN THE CHURCH OF SAN SALVI, ROVEZZANO, NEAR FLORENCE.

Next to the picture of the same subject by Leonardo, in Milan, this is the most dramatic and effective rendition of this subject ever made. But the two figures in the centre window are a mistake in composition, attracting the

eyes too much.

CHAPTER VIII

A STANDARD OF ART MEASUREMENT

SECTION Two

COMPOSITION

Appeared in the March, 1917, issue of "The Art World"

IN the last chapter we discussed the first of the six elements of art power, CONCEPTION: that is the high or low plane on which a subject, once chosen, may be conceived. We said, in substance, that no work of art can enter the category of great art, unless it is technically of a high order, unless its craftsmanship indicates that its author was an accomplished workman; but that then, when the workmanship of the work reveals a first class craftsman, if the drawing, movement and surfacetechnique, are of a high order, then the question of the relative dignity and nobility of the subject and the elevation of the spirit in which the subject is conceived, become the most important; and that, once the subject, and the conception of how it should be expressed, is established, the artist, in all the arts, begins the real work of expressing the subject. We also said that, while originality, beneficence, and expressive power, should be the first care in the conceiving of a subject, the highest and ultimate object in every work, intended to be a great work of art, is not originality, but BEAUTY. This beauty may be either picturesque and amusing, graceful and delight-giving, or sublime and exalting, in varying degrees.

Now, this beauty, whatever be its nature, depends principally upon the COMPOSITION, which let us now discuss:

Composition is the second element of art power. It is a subject that has given rise to much dispute among artists and critics; and, to please these, one might be tempted to go into

the theme extensively. But, as we are writing principally for layman alone we shall notice only the salient and most important phases of the subject.

Most of the beauty of the work of art, we repeat, results from its composition-of lines, forms and colors. That is: a given subject may be rendered with a wonderful amount of expression and painting-skill, and yet be devoid of emotion-stirring beauty. Now, this beauty depends mostly upon the arrangement of its lines. Some men say No! it depends upon color. Says John C. van Dyke:

As a matter of fact there is no such thing in nature as line. Objects may appear in strong relief when seen against the opposing backgrounds, or they may be so blended as to be almost imperceptible; they may have a round edge, a square edge or a flat edge; but the supposed line is nothing more than the distinction between different colors. A human hand resting across the front of a black coat may appear to have its sharp outline; but this is because of the contrast between the coloring of the flesh and the coloring of the cloth.

This is strange thinking! For, while it is true that there are few lines upon the surface of objects in nature, it is not true that there are no such lines. A horse's mane is full of lines, so is a striped tulip, so is a leaf and the hollow of a man's hand.

But it is true, that what we call lines in nature are, as a rule, only the contours or edges of forms. But then, to represent these forms in art, lines are absolutely necessary. Van Dyke recognizes this also, for he continues:

Still, we need not push that point too far, for, in the art of painting, line may be said to have a real existence, and its correct drawing is certainly of importance. But then (he continues) the statement that this is primary and all other features secondary or subordinate to it is only one of those extravagant assertions which occasionally emanate from partisan lips.

This is more strange thinking. For it is absolutely true: that, in all objective art, the line is King, as we said before, and that all else is positively of secondary importance compared to it.

The proof of this is: that our enjoyment of a great picture is scarcely less in a good etching or a good engraving, of a painted picture, than in the picture itself. The additional enjoyment that we get from the beauty of the color is so small, that it needs hardly to be quarrelled over. Especially is this true of