W HEN we attempt to study art, or especially to describe an art to those unfamiliar with it, we find that, while it is comparatively easy to discuss colors, materials, and subjects, a brief and satisfactory characterization of its style is exceedingly difficult of accomplishment. Yet it is this very style that so completely distinguishes the work of one artist or group from that of another, much more than employment of pigments or other materials, or subjects chosen for expression. Exactly the same condition exists in music. All the arts have certain features in common, in that they are supplied at the outset by nature with certain working materials and it is quite possible that over wide areas the same or very similar elements may be encountered. But it is the way in which the artists play with the material that is furnished that gives us the styles, and it seems to me that the most important of the plays is not the selection from the mass of materials of those which the artist favors, for usually all that are available are chosen at one time or another, but the patterns or designs that the artist creates from them. When local styles become sufficiently fashionable and fixed they form types. They may be the result of the acceptance by many of sudden departures from other types (and I think this fact is not often taken sufficiently into consideration), or they may mark the gradual accumulation of lesser divergences. This whole question of the growth of variants and the determinants of the beginnings of new styles, while recognized as important by many thoughtful students, has not, for lack of time and sufficient material from which to draw, been as yet adequately studied. Nor do we always detect the influence of religion upon artendeavor, which has too often resulted in its marked restraint or warping, a fact not only evident in primitive arts, but even in classical arts and in that of Christianity.
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