the ear far better than they deceive the eye. For every picture has a
surface which, unless very carefully lighted, must immediately destroy
the illusion, even if it were otherwise perfect. Nevertheless, Duerer in
the foregoing passage seems to accept Hokusai's verdict that the aim of
his painting is to deceive the eye; forgetful of all that he has
elsewhere written about the necessity of beauty, the necessity of
composition, the superiority of rough sketches over finished works.

When a painter has conceived in his heart a vision of beauty, whether he
suggests it with a few strokes of the pen or elaborates it as thoroughly
as Jan Van Eyck did, he wishes it to be taken as a report of something
seen. This is as different from wishing to deceive the eye as for some
one to say "and then a dog barked," instead of imitating the barking of
a dog. A circumstantial description in words and a picture by Van Eyck
or Veronese are equally intended to pass as reports of something
visually conceived or actually seen. Pictures would have to be made
peep-shows of before they could veritably deceive; and Jan Van Beers, a
modern Dutchman, actually turned some of his paintings into peep-shows.
Duerer in the following passage is speaking of the separate details or
objects which go to make up a picture, not of the picture as a whole; he
never tried to make peep-shows; his signature or an inscription is often
used to give the very surface that must destroy the peep-show illusion a
definite decorative value. The rest of his remarks have become
commonplaces; nor has he written at such length as to give them their
true limitations and intersubordination. They will be easily understood
by those who remember that art is concerned with producing the illusion
of a true report of something seen, not that of an actual vision. Such a
report may be slight and brief; it may be stammered by emotion; it may
have been confused or tortured to any degree by the mental condition of
him who delivers it: if it produces the conviction of his sincerity, it