d upon as a title of honour.

6th: That innate complementariness is an absolute necessity in
painting, just as free metre in poetry or polyphony in music. Oh, ass
who wrote this! Polyphony is not a modern invention. A man named Bach,
Johann Sebastian Bach, wrote fugues of an extraordinary beauty and
clearness in their most complicated polyphony. But polyphony (or many
voices) is new in painting, and to the Futurists must be conceded the
originality of attempting to represent a half dozen different things
at the same time on canvas--a dog's tail, a woman's laughter, the
thoughts of a man who has had a "hard night," the inside of a
motor-bus, and the ideas of its passengers concerning its bumping
wheels, and what-not!

7th: That universal dynamism must be rendered in painting as a dynamic
sensation.

8th: That in the manner of rendering nature, the essential is
sincerity and purity (more copy-book maxims for us!).

9th: That movement and light destroy the materiality of bodies (a
truism in art well known to Watteau, Rembrandt, Turner, and latterly,
to Claude Monet and the earlier group of Impressionists). And now for
the milk in the cocoanut.

We fight, concludes the manifesto: 1st: Against the bituminous tints
by which it is attempted to obtain the patina of tone upon modern
pictures. (The chief objection against this statement is its absolute
superfluousness. The Impressionists forty years ago attacked
bituminous painting and finally drove it out; now it is coming back as
a novelty. The Futurists are gazing backward.) 2d: Against the
superficial and elementary archaism founded upon flat tints, which, by
imitating the linear technique of the Egyptians, reduces painting to a
powerless synthesis both childish and grotesque. 3d: Against the false
claims of belonging to the future put forward by the Secessionists and
the Independents, who have installed new academies no less trite and
attached to routine than the preceding ones. 4th: We demand for ten
years the total suppression of the nude in painting.

There are thirty-four pictures in the show, the catalogue of which is
a curiosity. Boccioni's The Street Enters the Home has a note in the
catalogue which points out that the painter does not limit himself to
what he sees in the square frame of the window as would a simple
photographer, but he also reproduces what he would see by looking out
on every side from the balcony. Isn't this lucid? But you ought to see
the j