File:The artistic side of photography in theory and practice (1910) (14595539397).jpg

Identifier: artisticsideofph00ande (find matches)
Title: The artistic side of photography in theory and practice
Year: 1910 (1910s)
Authors: Anderson, A. J. (Arthur James), b. 1863
Subjects: Photography
Publisher: London, S. Paul & Co
Contributing Library: Smithsonian Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: Smithsonian Libraries

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feel hissubject unless he feels it strongly himself ? I havesaid this before under the headings of Selection,of An Essay on Nature, of Sympathy, and nowI wish to drive the fact home. To load the dark slides, take down the camera, andgo out with the intention of making a picture cannever lead to work that is virile, individual, and con-vincing. The artist must feel some beauty or somequality of his subject very strongly, to start with ;and since an artist is one of those creative beings whocrave to express themselves, he instinctively tries totranslate his feelings into poetry, or paint, or photo-graphy, or whatever medium he favours. If thisman be blessed with sympathy, he may succeed inmaking others feel something of what he feels. Last summer I was staying in a country-house, and,as soon as the junketing of the day was over anddinner finished, I walked on the terrace with myhostess. After a time, our conversation lapsed intosilence, and we instinctively leant over the balustrade 242
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243 jfe Some Essentials of Expression of the terrace. The valley was flooded with coolmoonlight. I think, she said presently, death must belike moonlight. All the silly vanities, all the im-patiences, all the emotions will have been forgotten,and we shall look back calmly on the motives—Imean the great big motives—which have made usdo things. Yes, I said softly. And I think God is like the moonlight, shecontinued— calm and impassionate. I think Heburies all our petty vanities, all our wretched littleemotions in the shadows ; and looks down on themotives which make us do things. She stood there in the moonlight, herself lookinglike the incarnation of her thoughts. And the sunshine ? I asked. f< The sunshine is like life—it peers into all theshadows. She gave a shudder. And its like theworld—it spies out all the dust. I do not profess that I am religious. I do not pretendthat I am sympathetic ; and yet the earnestness of myhostess has made me see something more in moonlight

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