lled
Significant Form.

That is the problem. It is not quite so simple as I have had to make it
appear. Some day I hope to answer the pertinent questions raised by Mr.
Roger Fry and other critics. In my book I have examined my own
experience in the hope of inducing my readers to examine theirs. What do
they say? Are they really talking nonsense when they speak of "works of
art," including under that head pictures, pots, buildings, textiles,
etc.? If they are not, what characteristic distinguishes the species? Do
they not feel as much emotion for a picture of a round of beef as for a
picture of the Crucifixion, and do they feel less for a Sassanian
textile? If what they had taken for a jug turns out to be a
paper-weight; if, as sometimes happens in a battered fresco, what was
said to be the Heavenly host is proved to be a pack of licentious
Florentines, do they really have to readjust their aesthetic attitude? If
people who are capable of feeling and of analysing their feelings will
give me honest answers to these questions, I shall be even more grateful
to them than I am to Mr. Davies for his facetious advertisement of my
book.

FOOTNOTE:

[18] I wonder what Mr. Davies really said. Any one who cares to know has
only to consult the _New Statesman_ for March 7 or 14, 1914. I have not
a copy by me. It looks as though there had been a pretty firm offer of
some sort: it came to nothing, alas!

PICTURE SHOWS

I

THE LONDON SALON

[Sidenote: _Athenaeum_ _July 1912_]

There are many reasons for approving of the London Salon. For one thing
it is the only place in England where pictures are hung without any
selection being made. The fate of the Salon d'Automne, formerly the most
interesting exhibition in Europe, could be cited to discredit the jury
system, were it not that the system had discredited itself even more
effectually in this country by making it appear that British art had
ceased to exist. No matter how good the intentions of a jury may be,
inevitably it comes to be dominated by a clique of painters who imagine
that they are setting a high standard by rejecting all pictures
sufficiently unlike their own. In France, therefore, "Les Independants"
have become the representatives of contemporary art, while English
people who hope to discover something vital at home must betake
themselves to the Albert Hall.

But there is more than this to be said for the London Salon: its
standard of painting is