Light and Shade

Tell the young artist that he wants a black piece here or there, when he

sees no such black piece in nature, and that he must continue this or

that shadow thus, and break this light into this or that other, when in

nature he sees none of these things, and you will puzzle him very much.

He is trying to put down what he sees; he does not care two straws about

composition or light and shade; if he sees two tones of such and such

relative intensity in nature, he will give them as near as he can the

same relative intensity in his picture, and to tell him that he is

perhaps exactly to reverse the natural order in deference to some canon

of the academicians, and that at the same time he is drawing from nature,

is what he cannot understand.

I am very doubtful how far people do not arrange their light and shade

too much with the result with which we are familiar in drawing-masters’

copies; it may be right or it may not, I don’t know—I am afraid I ought

to know, but I don’t; but I do know that those pictures please me best

which were painted without the slightest regard to any of these rules.

I suppose the justification of those who talk as above lies in the fact

that, as we cannot give all nature, we lie by _suppressio veri_ whether

we like it or no, and that you sometimes lie less by putting in something

which does not exist at the moment, but which easily might exist and

which gives a lot of facts which you otherwise could not give at all,

than by giving so much as you can alone give if you adhere rigidly to the

facts. If this is so the young painter would understand the matter, if

it were thus explained to him, better than he is likely to do if he is

merely given it as a canon.

At the same time, I admit it to be true that one never sees light but it

has got dark in it, nor vice versa, and that this comes to saying that if

you are to be true to nature you must break your lights into your shadows

and vice versa; and so usual is this that, if there happens here or there

to be an exception, the painter had better say nothing about it, for it

is more true to nature’s general practice not to have it so than to have

it.

Certainly as regards colour, I never remember to have seen a piece of one

colour without finding a bit of a very similar colour not far off, but

having no connection with it. This holds good in such an extraordinary

way that if it happens to fail the matter should be passed over in

silence.

The Note-Books of Samuel Butler · 第 222 / 602 题