possibility which should be noted. Non-naturalistic objects in a
picture may have a "literary" appeal, and the whole picture may
have the working of a fable. The spectator is put in an
atmosphere which does not disturb him because he accepts it as
fabulous, and in which he tries to trace the story and undergoes
more or less the various appeals of colour. But the pure inner
working of colour is impossible; the outward idea has the mastery
still. For the spectator has only exchanged a blind reality for a
blind dreamland, where the truth of inner feeling cannot be felt.

We must find, therefore, a form of expression which excludes the
fable and yet does not restrict the free working of colour in any
way. The forms, movement, and colours which we borrow from nature
must produce no outward effect nor be associated with external
objects. The more obvious is the separation from nature, the more
likely is the inner meaning to be pure and unhampered.

The tendency of a work of art may be very simple, but provided it
is not dictated by any external motive and provided it is not
working to any material end, the harmony will be pure. The most
ordinary action--for example, preparation for lifting a heavy
weight--becomes mysterious and dramatic, when its actual purpose
is not revealed. We stand and gaze fascinated, till of a sudden
the explanation bursts suddenly upon us. It is the conviction
that nothing mysterious can ever happen in our everyday life that
has destroyed the joy of abstract thought. Practical
considerations have ousted all else. It is with this fact in view
that the new dancing is being evolved--as, that is to say, the
only means of giving in terms of time and space the real inner
meaning of motion. The origin of dancing is probably purely