Page 640 - women-in-love

tence in giving herself away.
‘What do you mean by ‘it is a picture of a horse?‘‘ she
cried at her sister. ‘What do you mean by a horse? You mean
an idea you have in YOUR head, and which you want to see
represented. There is another idea altogether, quite another
idea. Call it a horse if you like, or say it is not a horse. I have
just as much right to say that YOUR horse isn’t a horse, that
it is a falsity of your own make-up.’
Ursula wavered, baffled. Then her words came.
‘But why does he have this idea of a horse?’ she said. ‘I
know it is his idea. I know it is a picture of himself, real-
ly—‘
Loerke snorted with rage.
‘A picture of myself!’ he repeated, in derision. ‘Wissen
sie, gnadige Frau, that is a Kunstwerk, a work of art. It is
a work of art, it is a picture of nothing, of absolutely noth-
ing. It has nothing to do with anything but itself, it has no
relation with the everyday world of this and other, there is
no connection between them, absolutely none, they are two
different and distinct planes of existence, and to translate
one into the other is worse than foolish, it is a darkening of
all counsel, a making confusion everywhere. Do you see,
you MUST NOT confuse the relative work of action, with
the absolute world of art. That you MUST NOT DO.’
‘That is quite true,’ cried Gudrun, let loose in a sort of
rhapsody. ‘The two things are quite and permanently apart,
they have NOTHING to do with one another. I and my art,
they have nothing to do with each other. My art stands in
another world, I am in this world.’

640 Women in Love