anybody will be so impressed when they look at his work.

And the painter deeply moved with high ideals as to subject matter, who
neglects the form and colour through which he is expressing them, will
find that his work has failed to be convincing. The immaterial can only
be expressed through the material in art, and the painted symbols of the
picture must be very perfect if subtle and elusive meanings are to be
conveyed. If he cannot paint the commonplace aspect of our mountain, how
can he expect to paint any expression of the deeper things in it? The
fact is, both positions are incomplete. In all good art the matter
expressed and the manner of its expression are so intimate as to have
become one. The deeper associations connected with the mountain are only
matters for art in so far as they affect its appearance and take shape
as form and colour in the mind of the artist, informing the whole
process of the painting, even to the brush strokes. As in a good poem,
it is impossible to consider the poetic idea apart from the words that
express it: they are fired together at its creation.

Now an expression by means of one of our different sense perceptions
does not constitute art, or the boy shouting at the top of his voice,
giving expression to his delight in life but making a horrible noise,
would be an artist. If his expression is to be adequate to convey his
feeling to others, there must be some arrangement. The expression must
be ordered, rhythmic, or whatever word most fitly conveys the idea of
those powers, conscious or unconscious, that select and arrange the
sensuous material of art, so as to make the most telling impression, by
bringing it into relation with our innate sense of harmony. If we can
find a rough definition that will include all the arts, it will help us
to see in what direction lie those things in painting that make it an
art. The not uncommon idea, that painting is "the production by means of