pigments are our emotions; their chiaroscuro the light of joy,
the shadow of sadness. The masterpiece is of ourselves, as
we are of the masterpiece.

The sympathetic communion of minds necessary for art
appreciation must be based on mutual concession. The
spectator must cultivate the proper attitude for receiving
the message, as the artist must know how to impart it. The
tea-master, Kobori-Enshiu, himself a daimyo, has left to us
these memorable words: "Approach a great painting as thou
wouldst approach a great prince." In order to understand a
masterpiece, you must lay yourself low before it and await
with bated breath its least utterance. An eminent Sung critic
once made a charming confession. Said he: "In my young
days I praised the master whose pictures I liked, but as my
judgement matured I praised myself for liking what the masters
had chosen to have me like." It is to be deplored that so few of
us really take pains to study the moods of the masters. In our
stubborn ignorance we refuse to render them this simple
courtesy, and thus often miss the rich repast of beauty spread
before our very eyes. A master has always something to offer,
while we go hungry solely because of our own lack of
appreciation.

To the sympathetic a masterpiece becomes a living reality
towards which we feel drawn in bonds of comradeship. The
masters are immortal, for their loves and fears live in us over
and over again. It is rather the soul than the hand, the man than
the technique, which appeals to us,--the more human the call
the deeper is our response. It is because of this secret