ing to art.

I lay down each book with a feeling of disappointment.
I say to myself, ‘What's the use?” These critics philosophise grandly
and delight in sparring and foiling but they never touch the vitals.
They all, however, stress one point, that is, ‘moving form, mag-
nificently conceived.”
We are awake to that in our work and are practising it. We are try-
ing to offset the weaknesses and sentimentalities that flesh seems
blessed and cursed with, by clear active thinking and impersonal
vision.
A few days ago, possibly owing to the springtime, I had the desire
to make myself more presentable and commenced by cleaning out
my bulging pockets of numberless odds and ends, pockets like those
of a school boy with the addition of thumb-tacks, chalks and stumps
of charcoal. I found part of an envelope much soiled and crumpled.
Seeking the reason for its existence, I discovered, almost obliterated,
these astounding words, Plato says, ‘“God geometrises!”’
In a flash I realised those two words made unnecessary all the bab-
lings of writers on Art.
Glancing through ‘‘Vanity Fair’’ on my way to the studio I read
extracts from the philosophy of Schnitzler. He speaks of spiral think-
ing. We may rise higher but we never get nearer to the universal

TOs: I have been a glutton for all kinds of literature relat-

* centre.

Exalted by my subject, I deluged Mildmay, who entered my studio,
in a cataract of swift flowing words. I continued my downpour upon
him and to my amazement, found that I was talking to the north,
east, south, west of the man, to all sides of him, for he was slowly
and solemnly, turning round and round. I wondered what set him in
motion.
Dizzy and breathless I watched him.
“Yes, yes,” he muttered, still revolving. ‘‘I remember Aristotle say-
ing, ‘God revolves perpetually.’ ”’
Later in Vanderpant’s studio I heard the conflict of question and
answer in the Symphony of Czsar Franck, which theme Beethoven
also used in his last composition and when trying to express in words
the fullness of its meaning to him, exclaimed, “‘It it music? Music it
ist
Moving form, majestically conceived.

F. H. VARLEY.

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