Nature has taken many a revenge on civilization through art. Although
no one should demand that these appeals be entirely excluded, yet when
they operate alone, without the sublimation of insight, they are
flagrantly unaesthetic in their influence, because they deprive the
work of art of its freedom.

Another means which the artist may employ in order to win us is the
appeal of sense. However repellent be the objects which he represents,
if he can clothe them in a sensuous material which will charm us, he
will have exerted a powerful countervailing force. We have already had
occasion to observe this in our first chapter. Through the call of
sense we are invited to enter and are made welcome at the very threshold
of the work of art. Engaging lines, winsome colors and tones, and
compelling rhythms can overcome almost any repugnance that we might
otherwise feel for the subject-matter. Their primary appeals are
superior to all the reservations of civilization. No wonder that the
stern moralists who would keep beauty for the clean and holy have been
afraid of art! Yet the delight of sense, because its emotional effect
is diffused, does not interfere with the contemplative serenity of
art, as unbridled passion does; it even quiets passion by diverting
the attention to itself; hence may always be employed by the artist.
A good example of the aesthetic fascination of sensation is Von Stuck's
"Salome" in the Art Institute of Chicago. For all normal feeling,
Salome dancing with the head of John the Baptist is a revolting object;
yet how beautiful the artist has made his picture through the simple
loveliness of gold and red!

It would be a mistake, however, to infer the indifference of the
subject-matter in art. The creation of a work of art is based on a
primary aesthetic experience of nature or human life, and not everything