heavily on the idea in order to get his point across, his view
was that the mind might suitably be brought to bear on pro-
blems words alone can offer no solution to, but which brushes
and pigments can.

And what he thought he carried out in actual practice. Though
in the early days he was a familiar figure at the gatherings at the
Café Guerbois, he seldom took an active part in the talk, and
was not long in showing his true colors. Renoir had a horror
not only of art theories, but of all that might encroach on the
time he set aside for his work--which, to his mind, was the
only way of coming to grips with the real problems of art.
"Without actually falling out with them, I have had to break
with many good friends. They could never be on time, never go
home to bed, and held forth on art far too eloquently. I have
no use for that nonsense."

The same distaste came out repeatedly in his conversation.
"Don't ask me whether painting ought to be objective or subjec-
tive. All I can say is I don't give a damn, one way or the other.
I am always bowled over when young painters come to me and
blandly inquire what the ends of painting are. Some of them even
explain to me why I happened to put on red or blue at such and
such a spot on my canvas... Our craft is not an easy one by any
means, and I can understand the doubts and anxiety it gives
rise to. But after all a little simplicity, a little sincerity!"

His own simplicity and sincerity were as genuine as Corot's,
and they are the stuff of his greatness, both as a man and an
artist. He rejoiced in being alive, and painting was his way of
expressing love of life. The forces within him clamored for
fulfillment. And so he painted, with no thought for analyzing
the creative act.

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