The Lesser Arts of Life by William Morris Preview
The Lesser Arts of Life by William Morris Preview
The Lesser Arts of Life by William Morris Preview
1882
William Morris
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their daily work, for in their very labour that they lived by lay the
material in which their thought could be embodied; and thus
though they laboured, they laboured somewhat for their pleasure
and uncompelled, and had conquered the curse of toil, and were
men.
Here, then, we have two kinds of art: one of them would exist
even if men had no needs but such as are essentially spiritual, and
only accidentally material or bodily. The other kind, called into
existence by material needs is bound no less to recognise the
aspirations of the soul, and receives the impress of its striving
towards perfection.
If the case be as I have represented it, even the lesser arts are
well worthy the attention of reasonable men, and those who
despise them must do so either out of ignorance as to what they
really are, or because they themselves are in some way or other
enemies of civilisation, either outlaws from it or corrupters of it.
As to the outlaws from civilisation, they are those of whom I
began by saying that there are or were people who rejected the
arts of life on grounds that we could at least understand, if we
could not sympathise with the rejecters. There have been in all
ages of civilisation men who have acted, or had a tendency to act,
on some such principle as the following words represent:—The
world is full of grievous labour, the poor toiling for the rich, and
ever remaining poor; with this we, at least, will have nought to do;
we cannot amend it, but we will not be enriched by it, nor be any
better than the worst of our fellows.
Well, this is what may be called the monk’s way of rejecting the
arts, whether he be Christian monk, or Buddhist ascetic, or
ancient philosopher. I believe he is wrong, but I cannot call him
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enemy. Sometimes I can’t help thinking, Who knows but what the
whole world may come to that for a little? The field of art may
have to lie fallow a while that the weeds may be known for what
they are, and be burnt in the end.
I say that I have at least respect for the dwellers in the tub of
Diogenes; indeed I don’t look upon it as so bad a house after all,
with a plane-tree and a clear brook near it, and some chance of
daily bread and onions, it will do well enough. I have seen worse
houses to let for £700 a year. But, mind you, it must be the real
thing. The tub of Diogenes lined with padded drab velvet, lighted
by gas, polished and cleaned by vicarious labour, and expecting
every morning due visits from the milkman, the baker, the
butcher, and the fishmonger, that is a cynical dwelling which I
cannot praise. If we are to be excused for rejecting the arts, it must
be not because we are contented to be less than men, but because
we long to be more than men.
For I have said that there are some rejecters of the arts who are
corrupters of civilisation. Indeed, they do not altogether reject
them; they will eat them and drink them and wear them, and use
them as lackeys to eke out their grandeur, and as nets to catch
money with, but nothing will they learn or care about them. They
will push them to the utmost as far as the satisfying of their
material needs go, they will increase the labour infinitely that
produces material comfort, but they will reach no helping hand to
that which makes labour tolerable; and they themselves are but a
part of the crowd that toils without an aim; for they themselves
labour with tireless energy to multiply the race of man, and then
make the multitude unhappy. Therefore let us pity them, that they
have been born coarse, violent, unjust, inhuman; let us pity them,
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art the classical nations relaxed the artistic severity that insisted
otherwhere on perfection of Figure-drawing in architectural work;
and we may partly guess what an astonishing number there must
have been of capable and ready draughtsmen in the good times of
Greek Art from the great mass of first rate painting on pottery,
garnered from the tombs mostly, and still preserved in our
museums after all these centuries of violence and neglect.
Side by side with the scientific and accomplished work of the
Greeks, and begun much earlier than the earliest of it, was being
practiced another form of the art in Egypt and the Euphrates
valley; it was less perfect in the highest qualities of design, but was
more elaborate in technique, which elaboration no doubt was
forced into existence by a craving for variety and depth of colour
and richness of decoration, which did not press heavily on the
peoples of the classical civilisation, who, masters of form as they
were, troubled themselves but little about the refinements of
colour. This art has another interest for us in the fact that from it
sprang up all the great school of pottery which has flourished in
the East, apart from the special and peculiar work of China.
Though the tactile art of that country is a development of so
much later date than what we have just been considering, let us
make a note of it here as the third kind of potter’s work, which no
doubt had its origin in the exploitation of local material joined to
the peculiar turn of the Chinese workman for finesse of manual
skill and for boundless patience.
Northern Europe during the Middle Ages, including our own
country, could no more do without a native art of pottery than any
other simple peoples; but the work done by them being very
rough, and serving for the commonest domestic purposes (always
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practiced there with very great success, but was not much taken
up by the nations of Northern Europe, who for the most part went
on making the old lead or salt glazed earthenware; the latter,
known as Grés de Cologne, still exists as a rough manufacture in
the border lands of France and Germany, though I should think it
is not destined to live much longer otherwise than as a galvanised
modern antique.
When Italy was still turning out fine works in the Majolica
wares, much of the glory of the Renaissance was yet shining; but
the last flicker of that glory had died out by the time that another
form of Eastern art invaded our European pottery. Doubtless the
folly of the time would have found another instrument for
destroying whatever of genuine art was left among our potters if it
had not had the work of China ready to hand, but it came to pass
that this was the instrument that finally made nonsense of the
whole craft among us. True it is that a very great proportion of the
Chinese work imported consisted of genuine works of art of their
kind, though mostly much inferior to the work of Persia,
Damascus, or Granada; but the fact is it was not the art in it that
captivated our forefathers, but its grosser and more material
qualities—the whiteness of the paste, the hardness of the glaze,
the neatness of the painting, and the consequent delicacy, or
luxuriousness rather, of the ware, were the qualities that the
eighteenth century potters strove so hard to imitate. They were
indeed valuable qualities in the hands of a Chinaman, deft as he
was of execution, fertile of design, fanciful though not imaginative;
in short, a born maker of pretty toys; but such daintinesses were of
little avail to a good workman of our race, eager, impatient,
imaginative, with something of melancholy or moroseness even in
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his sport, his very jokes two-edged and fierce, he had other work
to do, if his employers but knew it, than the making of toys.
Well, but in the time we have before us the workman was but
thought of as a convenient machine, and this machine, driven by
the haphazard whims of the time, produced at Meissen, at Sévres,
at Chelsea, at Derby, and in Staffordshire, a most woeful set of
works of art, of which perhaps those of Sévres were the most
repulsively hideous, those of Meissen (at their worst) the most
barbarous, and those made in England the stupidest, though it
may be the least ugly.
Now this is very briefly the history of the art of pottery down to
our own times, when styleless anarchy prevails; a state of things
not so hopeless as in the last century, because it shows a certain
uneasiness as to whether we are right or wrong, which may be a
sign of life. Meanwhile, as to matters of art, the craft which turns
out such tons of commercial wares, every piece of which ought to
be a work of art, produces almost literally nothing. On this dismal
side of things I will not dwell, but will ask you to consider with me
what can be done to remedy it; a question which I know exercises
much many excellent and public-spirited men who are at the head
of pottery works.
Well, in the first place, it is clear that the initiative cannot be
wholly taken by these men; we, all of us I mean who care about the
arts, must help them by asking for the right thing, and making
them quite clear what it is we ask for. To my mind it should be
something like this, which is but another way of putting those
principles of the art which I spoke of before:-
1st, No vessel should be fashioned by being pressed into a
mould that can be made by throwing on the wheel, or otherwise by
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hand.
2d, All vessels should be finished on the wheel, not turned in a
lathe, as is now the custom. How can you expect to have good
workmen when they know that whatever surface their hands may
put on the work will be taken off by a machine?
3d, It follows, as a corollary to the last point, that we must not
demand excessive neatness in pottery, and this more especially in
cheap wares. Workmanlike finish is necessary, but finish to be
workmanlike must always be in proportion to the kind of work.
What we get in pottery at present is mechanical finish, not
workmanlike, and is as easy to do as the other is hard: one is a
matter of a manager’s system, the other comes of constant thought
and trouble on the part of the men, who by that time are artists, as
we call them.
4th, As to the surface decoration on pottery, it is clear it must
never be printed; for the rest, it would take more than an hour to
go even very briefly into the matter of painting on pottery; but one
rule we have for a “rude, and whatever we do if we abide by it, we
are quite sure to go wrong if we reject it: and it is common to all
the lesser arts. Think of your material. Don’t paint anything on
pottery save what can be painted only on pottery; if you do, it is
clear that however good a draughtsman you may be, you do not
care about that special art. You can’t suppose that the Greek wall-
painting was anything like their painting on pottery—there is
plenty of evidence to show that it was not. Or, take another
example from the Persian art; it is easy for those conversant with
it to tell from an outline tracing of a design whether it was done for
pottery-painting or for other work.
5th, Finally, when you have asked for these qualities from the
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potters, and even in a very friendly way Boycotted them a little till
you get them, you will of course be prepared to pay a great deal
more for your pottery than you do now, even for the rough work
you may have to take. I’m sure that won’t hurt you; we shall only
have less and break less, and our incomes will still be the same.
Now as to the kindred art of marring glass vessels. It is on much
the same footing as the potter’s craft. Never till our own day has
an ugly or stupid glass vessel been made; and no wonder,
considering the capabilities of the art. In the hands of a good
workman the metal is positively alive, and is, you may say, coaxing
him to make something pretty. Nothing but commercial enterprise
capturing an unlucky man and setting him down in the glass-
maker’s chair with his pattern beside him (which I should think
must generally have been originally designed by a landscape
gardener)—nothing but this kind of thing could turn out ugly
glasses. This stupidity will never be set right till we give up
demanding accurately-gauged glasses made by the gross. I am
fully in earnest when I say that if I were setting about getting good
glasses made, I would get some good workmen together, tell them
the height and capacity of the vessels I wanted, and perhaps some
general idea as to kind of shape, and then let them do their best.
Then I would sort them out as they came from the annealing
arches (what a pleasure that would be!) and I would put a good
price on the best ones, for they would be worth it; and I don’t
believe that the worst would be bad.
In speaking of glass-work, it is a matter of course that I am only
thinking of that which is blown and worked by hand; moulded and
cut glass may have commercial, but can’t have artistic value.
As to the material of the glass vessels, that is a very important
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point. Modern managers have worked very hard to get their glass
colourless: it does not seem to me that they have quite succeeded.
I should say that their glass was cold and bluish in colour; but
whether or not, their aim was wrong. A slight tint is an advantage
in the metal, so are slight specks and streaks, for these things
make the form visible. The modern managers of glassworks have
taken enormous pains to get rid of all colour in their glass; to get it
so that when worked into a vessel it shall not show any slightest
speck or streak; in fact, they have toiled to take all character out of
the metal, and have succeeded; and this in spite of the universal
admiration for the Venice glass of the seventeenth century, which
is both specked and streaky, and has visible colour in it. This glass
of Venice or Murano is most delicate in its form, and was certainly
meant quite as much for ornament as use; so you may be sure that
if the makers of it had seen any necessity for getting more
mechanical perfection in their metal they would have tried for it
and got it; but like all true artists they were contented when they
had a material that served the purpose of their special craft, and
would not weary themselves in seeking after what they did not
want. And I feel sure that if they had been making glass for
ordinary table use at a low price, and which ran more risks of
breakage, as they would have had to fashion their vessels thicker
and less daintily they would have been contented with a rougher
metal than that which they used. Such a manufacture yet remains
to be set on foot, and I very much wish it could be done; only it
must be a manufacture; must be done by hand, and not by
machine, human or otherwise.
So much, and very briefly, of these two important Lesser Arts,
which it must be admitted are useful, even to Diogenes, since the
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introduction of tea: I have myself at a pinch tried a tin mug for tea,
and found it altogether inconvenient, and a horn I found worse
still; so, since we must have pottery and glass, and since it is only
by an exertion of the cultivated intellect that they can be made
ugly, I must needs wish that we might take a little less trouble in
that direction: at the same time I quite understand that in this case
both the goods would cost the consumers more, even much more,
and that the capitalists who risk their money in keeping the
manufactories of the goods going would make less money; both
which things to my mind would be fruitful in benefits to the
community.
The next craft I have to speak of is that of Weaving: not so
much of an art as pottery and glass-making, because so much of it
must be mechanical, engaged in the making of mere plain cloth; of
which side of it all one need say is that we should have as little
plain cloth made as we conveniently can, and for that reason
should insist on having it made well and solidly, and of good
materials; the other side of it, that which deals with figure-
weaving, must be subdivided into figure-weaving which is carried
out mechanically, and figure-weaving which is altogether a
handicraft.
As to the first of these, its interest is limited by the fact that it is
mechanical; since the manner of doing it has with some few
exceptions varied little for many hundred years: such trivial
alterations as the lifting the warp-threads by means of the
Jacquard machine, or throwing the shuttle by steam-power, ought
not to make much difference in the art of it, though I cannot say
that they have not done so. On the other hand, though mechanical,
it produces very beautiful things, which an artist cannot disregard,
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