And the painter deeply moved with high ideals as to subject matter, who neglects the form and colour through which he is expressing them, will find that his work has failed to be convincing.  The immaterial can only be expressed through the material in art, and the painted symbols of the picture must be very perfect if subtle and elusive meanings are to be conveyed.  If he cannot paint the commonplace aspect of our mountain, how can he expect to paint any expression of the deeper things in it?  The fact is, both positions are incomplete.  In all good art the matter expressed and the manner of its expression are so intimate as to have become one.  The deeper associations connected with the mountain are only matters for art in so far as they affect its appearance and take shape as form and colour in the mind of the artist, informing the whole process of the painting, even to the brush strokes.  As in a good poem, it is impossible to consider the poetic idea apart from the words that express it:  they are fired together at its creation.

Now an expression by means of one of our different sense perceptions does not constitute art, or the boy shouting at the top of his voice, giving expression to his delight in life but making a horrible noise, would be an artist.  If his expression is to be adequate to convey his feeling to others, there must be some arrangement.  The expression must be ordered, rhythmic, or whatever word most fitly conveys the idea of those powers, conscious or unconscious, that select and arrange the sensuous material of art, so as to make the most telling impression, by bringing it into relation with our innate sense of harmony.  If we can find a rough definition that will include all the arts, it will help us to see in what direction lie those things in painting that make it an art.  The not uncommon idea, that painting is “the production by means of colours of more or less perfect representations of natural objects” will not do.  And it is devoutly to be hoped that science will perfect a method of colour photography finally to dispel this illusion.

What, then, will serve as a working definition?  There must be something about feeling, the expression of that individuality the secret of which everyone carries in himself; the expression of that ego that perceives and is moved by the phenomena of life around us.  And, on the other hand, something about the ordering of its expression.

But who knows of words that can convey a just idea of such subtle matter?  If one says “Art is the rhythmic expression of Life, or emotional consciousness, or feeling,” all are inadequate.  Perhaps the “rhythmic expression of life” would be the more perfect definition.  But the word “life” is so much more associated with eating and drinking in the popular mind, than with the spirit or force or whatever you care to call it, that exists behind consciousness and is the animating factor of our whole being, that it will hardly serve