nate and modify every color of his subject.
This is accomplished by either painting into a thin glaze of color,
administered to the whole canvas so that every brushful partakes of some
of it; or by modifying the painting subsequently by transparent glazes of
the same tone.
The conscientious impressionist, on the contrary, produces harmony by
juxtapositions of pure color. Harmony results when the three primary
colors are present either as red, yellow and blue or as a combination of a
secondary and primary: green with red, orange with blue or purple with
yellow.
The impressionist goes farther, knowing that the complementary of a color
will tend to neutralize it, supplying as it does the lacking element to
unity, he creates a vivid scheme of color on this basis. In representing
therefore a gray rock he knows that if red be introduced, a little blue
and yellow will kill it, and the three colors together at a distance will
produce gray. Instead, therefore, of mixing upon his palette three
primaries to produce the tertiary gray, he so places them on the canvas
that at the proper distance (though this consideration is of small concern
to him) the _spectator_ will _mix_ them--which he often does. The
advantage of this method of color presentation lies in the degree of
purity which the pigment retains. Its disadvantage appears in its
frequent distortion of fact and aspect of nature, sacrificed to a
scientific method of representation. An estimate of impressionism is
wholly contained in the reply to the question, "Do you like impressions?
Yes, when they are good;" and in the right hands they are.
They are good only when the real intention of impressionism has been
expressed, when the synthesis of color has actually produced light and
air, and an impression of nature is quickened. But the voice from the
canvas more frequently cries "nature be hanged--but this is impressionism."
The little people of impressionism finding it possible to represent more
light than even nature shows in very many of her aspects, delight in
exhibiting the disparity existing between nature and, forsooth,
impressionism. Thus we see attempts to "_knock out_" with these
scientific brass knuckles all those who refuse to fight with them. The
rumpus grows out of the different attitudes in which nature is approached.
The one, drawn by her beauty, kneels to her, touching her resplendent
garments; the other grasps her with the mailed hand, bedeck
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