encourage artists to give of their best, and to foster a good tradition,
than any of which modern history bears record. But my interest in this
movement, and my admiration for much of the art it has produced, does
not blind me to the greatness of the products of other movements;
neither, I hope, will it blind me to the greatness of any new creation
of form even though that novelty may seem to imply a reaction against
the tradition of Cézanne.

Like all sound revolutions, Post-Impressionism is nothing more than a
return to first principles. Into a world where the painter was expected
to be either a photographer or an acrobat burst the Post-Impressionist,
claiming that, above all things, he should be an artist. Never mind,
said he, about representation or accomplishment--mind about creating
significant form, mind about art. Creating a work of art is so
tremendous a business that it leaves no leisure for catching a likeness
or displaying address. Every sacrifice made to representation is
something stolen from art. Far from being the insolent kind of
revolution it is vulgarly supposed to be, Post-Impressionism is, in
fact, a return, not indeed to any particular tradition of painting, but
to the great tradition of visual art. It sets before every artist the
ideal set before themselves by the primitives, an ideal which, since the
twelfth century, has been cherished only by exceptional men of genius.
Post-Impressionism is nothing but the reassertion of the first
commandment of art--Thou shalt create form. By this assertion it shakes
hands across the ages with the Byzantine primitives and with every vital
movement that has struggled into existence since the arts began.

Post-Impressionism is not a matter of technique. Certainly Cézanne
invented a technique, admirably suited to his purpose, which has been
adopted and elaborated, more or less, by the majority of his followers.