parate individuality is lost. Out of the union of the two
principles, the spirit of man and the beauty of the object, is born the
_idea,_ which is to come to expression as a work of art.

But the artist is a mind as well as a temperament. Experience
is a swing of the pendulum between the momentary ecstasy of
immediate contact and the subsequent reaction upon the moment,
which is consciousness of it. In order to make his vision actual, the
artist rises out of the domain of feeling into that of thought. The
landscape has compelled him; it is now he who must compel the
landscape. To the shaping of his work he must bring to bear all his
conscious power of selection and organization and all his knowledge
of the capabilities and resources of his means. Art springs out of
emotion; painting is a science. The artist's command of his subject
as the symbol of his idea derives from the stern and vigorous
exercise of mind. The rightness of his composition is determined by
a logic more flexible, perhaps, but no less exacting than the laws of
geometry. By the flow of his line and the disposition of his masses,
the artist must carry the eye of the beholder along the way he wants
it to travel until it rests upon the point where he wants it to rest.
There must be no leaks and no false directions; there must be the
cosmos within the frame and nothing outside of it. The principles of
perspective have been worked out with a precision that entitles them
to rank as a science. Color has its laws, which, again, science is able
to formulate. These processes and formulas and laws are not the
whole of art, but they have their place. The power to feel, the
imaginative vision, and creative insight are not to be explained. But
knowledge too, acquired learning and skill, plays its part, and to
recognize its function and service is to be helped to a fuller
understanding of the achievement of the artist.

Gifted with a vibrant, sensitive temperament, endowed with
discriminating and organizing power of mind, equipped with a
knowledge of the science and the mechanics of his craft, and trained
to skill in manual execution, the artist responds to the impulse of his
inspiration. His subject is before him. But what is his subject? A
scene in nature furnishes him the objective base of his picture, but
properly his work is the expression of what he feels. A storm may
convey to different men entirely different impressions. In its
presence one man may feel hims