第 11 节
作者:
热 更新:2022-06-15 11:22 字数:9321
my young days I praised the master whose pictures I liked; but as my
judgement matured I praised myself for liking what the masters had
chosen to have me like。〃 It is to be deplored that so few of us really take
pains to study the moods of the masters。 In our stubborn ignorance we
refuse to render them this simple courtesy; and thus often miss the rich
repast of beauty spread before our very eyes。 A master has always
something to offer; while we go hungry solely because of our own lack of
appreciation。
To the sympathetic a masterpiece becomes a living reality towards
which we feel drawn in bonds of comradeship。 The masters are immortal;
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for their loves and fears live in us over and over again。 It is rather the
soul than the hand; the man than the technique; which appeals to us;the
more human the call the deeper is our response。 It is because of this
secret understanding between the master and ourselves that in poetry or
romance we suffer and rejoice with the hero and heroine。 Chikamatsu; our
Japanese Shakespeare; has laid down as one of the first principles of
dramatic composition the importance of taking the audience into the
confidence of the author。 Several of his pupils submitted plays for his
approval; but only one of the pieces appealed to him。 It was a play
somewhat resembling the Comedy of Errors; in which twin brethren suffer
through mistaken identity。 〃This;〃 said Chikamatsu; 〃has the proper
spirit of the drama; for it takes the audience into consideration。 The
public is permitted to know more than the actors。 It knows where the
mistake lies; and pities the poor figures on the board who innocently rush
to their fate。〃
The great masters both of the East and the West never forgot the
value of suggestion as a means for taking the spectator into their
confidence。 Who can contemplate a masterpiece without being awed by
the immense vista of thought presented to our consideration? How
familiar and sympathetic are they all; how cold in contrast the modern
commonplaces! In the former we feel the warm outpouring of a man's
heart; in the latter only a formal salute。 Engrossed in his technique; the
modern rarely rises above himself。 Like the musicians who vainly
invoked the Lungmen harp; he sings only of himself。 His works may be
nearer science; but are further from humanity。 We have an old saying
in Japan that a woman cannot love a man who is truly vain; for their is no
crevice in his heart for love to enter and fill up。 In art vanity is equally
fatal to sympathetic feeling; whether on the part of the artist or the public。
Nothing is more hallowing than the union of kindred spirits in art。 At
the moment of meeting; the art lover transcends himself。 At once he is and
is not。 He catches a glimpse of Infinity; but words cannot voice his
delight; for the eye has no tongue。 Freed from the fetters of matter; his
spirit moves in the rhythm of things。 It is thus that art becomes akin to
religion and ennobles mankind。 It is this which makes a masterpiece
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something sacred。 In the old days the veneration in which the Japanese
held the work of the great artist was intense。 The tea…masters guarded
their treasures with religious secrecy; and it was often necessary to open a
whole series of boxes; one within another; before reaching the shrine
itselfthe silken wrapping within whose soft folds lay the holy of holies。
Rarely was the object exposed to view; and then only to the initiated。
At the time when Teaism was in the ascendency the Taiko's generals
would be better satisfied with the present of a rare work of art than a large
grant of territory as a reward of victory。 Many of our favourite dramas
are based on the loss and recovery of a noted masterpiece。 For instance;
in one play the palace of Lord Hosokawa; in which was preserved the
celebrated painting of Dharuma by Sesson; suddenly takes fire through the
negligence of the samurai in charge。 Resolved at all hazards to rescue
the precious painting; he rushes into the burning building and seizes the
kakemono; only to find all means of exit cut off by the flames。 Thinking
only of the picture; he slashes open his body with his sword; wraps his
torn sleeve about the Sesson and plunges it into the gaping wound。 The
fire is at last extinguished。 Among the smoking embers is found a half…
consumed corps; within which reposes the treasure uninjured by the fire。
Horrible as such tales are; they illustrate the great value that we set upon a
masterpiece; as well as the devotion of a trusted samurai。
We must remember; however; that art is of value only to the extent that
it speaks to us。 It might be a universal language if we ourselves were
universal in our sympathies。 Our finite nature; the power of tradition
and conventionality; as well as our hereditary instincts; restrict the scope
of our capacity for artistic enjoyment。 Our very individuality
establishes in one sense a limit to our understanding; and our aesthetic
personality seeks its own affinities in the creations of the past。 It is true
that with cultivation our sense of art appreciation broadens; and we
become able to enjoy many hitherto unrecognised expressions of beauty。
But; after all; we see only our own image in the universe;our particular
idiosyncracies dictate the mode of our perceptions。 The tea… masters
collected only objects which fell strictly within the measure of their
individual appreciation。
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One is reminded in this connection of a story concerning Kobori…
Enshiu。 Enshiu was complimented by his disciples on the admirable
taste he had displayed in the choice of his collection。 Said they; 〃Each
piece is such that no one could help admiring。 It shows that you had
better taste than had Rikiu; for his collection could only be appreciated by
one beholder in a thousand。〃 Sorrowfully Enshiu replied: 〃This only
proves how commonplace I am。 The great Rikiu dared to love only those
objects which personally appealed to him; whereas I unconsciously cater
to the taste of the majority。 Verily; Rikiu was one in a thousand among tea…
masters。〃
It is much to be regretted that so much of the apparent enthusiasm
for art at the present day has no foundation in real feeling。 In this
democratic age of ours men clamour for what is popularly considered
the best; regardless of their feelings。 They want the costly; not the
refined; the fashionable; not the beautiful。 To the masses; contemplation
of illustrated periodicals; the worthy product of their own industrialism;
would give more digestible food for artistic enjoyment than the early
Italians or the Ashikaga masters; whom they pretend to admire。 The
name of the artist is more important to them than the quality of the work。
As a Chinese critic complained many centuries ago; 〃People criticise a
picture by their ear。〃 It is this lack of genuine appreciation that is
responsible for the pseudo…classic horrors that to…day greet us wherever we
turn。
Another common mistake is that of confusing art with