ulness and truth of its graphic
record, in the penetrating force of observation of fact, and the
representative power by which they are reproduced on paper or canvas,
clay or marble.

[Illustration (f118a): 1 and 2, Mountain and Crag Sculpture: Coast
Lines, Gulf of Nauplia.]

[Illustration (f118b): Lines of Movement in Water: Shallow Stream Over
Sand.]

The image of the inner vision is also a record, but of a different order
of fact. It may be often of unconscious impressions and memories which
are retained and recur with all or more than the vividness of
actuality--the tangible forms of external nature calling up answering,
but not identical, images in the mind, like reflections in a mirror or
in still water, which are similar but never the same as the objects they
reflect.

But the inner vision is not bound by the appearances of the particular
moment. It is the record of the sum of many moments, and retains the
typical impress of multitudinous and successive impressions--like the
composite photograph, where faces may be printed one over another until
the result is a more typical image than any individual one taken
separately.

The inner vision sees the results of time rather than the impressions of
the moment. It sees _space_ rather than landscape: race rather than men:
spirits rather than mortals: types rather than individuals.

The inner vision hangs the mind's house with a mysterious tapestry of
figurative thoughts, a rich and fantastic imagery, a world where the
elements are personified, where every tree has its dryad, and where the
wings of the winds actually brush the cheek.

The inner vision re-creates rather than represents, and its virtue
consists in the vividness and beauty with which, in the language of
line, form, and colour, these visions of the mind are recorded and
presented to the outward eye.

There is often fusion here again between two different tendencies,
habits of mind, or ways of regarding things. In all art the mind must
work through the eye, whether its force appears in closeness of
observation or in vivid imaginings. The very vividness of realization
even of the most faithful portraiture is a testimony to mental powers.

The difference lies really in the _focus_ of the mental force; and, in
any case, the language of line and form we use will neither be forcible
or convincing, neither faithful to natural fact nor true to the
imagination, without close and constant study of external