No one, however, wishes to deny the existence of the immediate object of aesthetic emotion—­combinations of lines and colours.  For my suggestion that there may be a remote object I shall probably get into trouble.  But if my metaphysical notions are demolished in a paragraph, that will not matter in the least.  No metaphysical notions about art matter.  All that matter are the aesthetic emotion and its immediate object.  As to the existence of a remote object and its possible nature there have been innumerable theories, most, if not all, of which have been discredited.  Though a few have been defended fiercely, they have never been allowed to squeeze out art completely:  dogma has never succeeded in ousting religion.  It has been realised always to some extent that the significance of art depends chiefly on the emotion it provokes, that works are more important than theories.  Although attempts have been made to impose dogmas, to define the remote object and to direct the emotion, a single original artist has generally been strong enough to wreck the spurious orthodoxy.  Dimly it has always been perceived that a picture which moves aesthetically cannot be wrong; and that the theory that condemns it as heretical condemns itself.  Art remains an undogmatic religion.  You are invited to feel an emotion, not to acquiesce in a theory.

Art, then, may satisfy the religious need of an age grown too acute for dogmatic religion, but to do so art must enlarge its sphere of influence.  There must be more popular art, more of that art which is unimportant to the universe but important to the individual:  for art can be second-rate yet genuine.  Also, art must become less exclusively professional.  That will not be achieved by bribing the best artists to debase themselves, but by enabling everyone to create such art as he can.  It is probable that most are capable of expressing themselves, to some extent, in form; it is certain that in so doing they can find an extraordinary happiness.  Those who have absolutely nothing to express and absolutely no power of expression are God’s failures; they should be kindly treated along with the hopelessly idiotic and the hydrocephalous.  Of the majority it is certainly true that they have some vague but profound emotions, also it is certain that only in formal expression can they realise them.  To caper and shout is to express oneself, yet is it comfortless; but introduce the idea of formality, and in dance and song you may find satisfying delight.  Form is the talisman.  By form the vague, uneasy, and unearthly emotions are transmuted into something definite, logical, and above the earth.  Making useful objects is dreary work, but making them according to the mysterious laws of formal expression is half way to happiness.  If art is to do the work of religion, it must somehow be brought within reach of the people who need religion, and an obvious means of achieving this is to introduce into useful work the thrill of creation.