COLOR (_Continued_)--TONE
We shall frequently hear the words tone, tonal, tonality, applied to
pictures. People say, for example, this picture is rich in tone; that
has fine tonal qualities; another has a delicate tonality. It is rather
difficult to explain what these words mean, for they do not seem to be
used in the same way by everybody. However, let us try.
It is clearly a word derived from music, where its meaning is more
definite. We speak of a piano’s tone, by which we mean that, though it
sounds the same notes as another piano, the quality of the sounds
differs. We shall be using the word quality often in the present
chapter, so let us be sure we understand its meaning. It is from the
Latin word _qualis_, which means of what kind. Of what kind is this
piece of dress goods; what is its quality, compared with another piece,
at first sight similar? Is it all wool, for example, while the other is
cotton mixture? Is it softer, while the other is harder and drier? Will
the one stand washing, while the other will shrink? Similarly, when the
same note is struck on two pianos the tone of one may be rich, mellow,
resonant, while that of the other is thin, raw, and metallic.
Why is the tone superior? You know, I suppose, that when a piano string
is struck it vibrates. That is to say, it ceases to be a straight line,
and becomes agitated into a series of waves. In order to increase the
volume of the sound a thin layer of wood, called the sound board, is
placed beneath the strings. As the string vibrates, this board vibrates
in sympathy, and so the volume of sound is increased and enriched. Now
the least thing may disturb the perfection of this sympathetic
vibration. Accordingly, the superiority of the one piano is due to the
fact that all its parts are of finer make and material, and are more
perfectly adjusted to one another. They are in so perfect a relation,
that there is no jar in any part, and thus the body of the instrument is
a united whole.
The tone of the piano, then, is due to the perfect relation existing
between the parts of the piano. Applying this idea to a picture: it
would seem that tone is the result of all the colors being so perfectly
related to one another, that the vibration or rhythm of the whole
color-harmony is increased.
Now this is certainly, in a general way, the meaning of the word tone.
So, although the word itself is new to you, the idea contained in it is
not. We have talked a good deal about color-relations, rhythm, and
harmony. You remember our talk on Vermeer’s picture. Well, his is a
tonal picture, because of the perfect relation of all the colors to one
another. It is beautiful in tone; its tonality is exquisite. And do you
remember one particular feature of its exquisiteness? I pointed out to
you that it is full of lighted atmosphere, and that the atmosphere seems
to vibrate; that its rhythm passes through and through the picture,
uniting all the masses of color into a harmonious whole. We noted the
difference between this kind of rhythm and that in Raphael’s
_Jurisprudence_, where the rhythm is the result of line. You could not
describe that picture as tonal; for in it color plays a very unimportant
part. Raphael was busied with the relations, not of color, but of line.
I have reminded you of the rhythm of atmosphere in Vermeer’s picture,
because some people describe tone, as the result of fusing all the forms
and colors into a whole by enveloping them in atmosphere. But I think,
if you have followed our talks carefully, you will see that this use of
the word tone is pretty much the same as the one we have arrived at. For
you cannot see the effects of atmosphere except in relation to the
coloring of nature. And I like our explanation better than this one,
because it is broader, and therefore includes more. It includes, for
example, all Japanese prints. Many of them exhibit no suggestion of
atmosphere; yet they are always tonal in the sense that their colors are
in perfect relation.
Now, let me tell you of another definition of tone, which again is
included in our own. Some people will tell you that a picture is tonal,
because there is some one prevailing hue of color in it. By
“prevailing” we mean that some one color plays the most important part.
In Vermeer’s picture, you may remember, it was blue. The girl’s skirt
made a strong spot of blue. We are aware of other colors in the picture,
but they play subsidiary parts. What we are most conscious of is a sense
of blue throughout the picture--a prevailing tone of blue. So in
Whistler’s _White Girl--Symphony in White, Number One_, there is a
prevailing tone of white.
But this is only another way of saying that in each picture the colors
are in a perfect relation to one another. Whether there are more or
fewer colors, and whether we receive an impression of many colors or one
in particular, does not really affect the question. When all is said and
done, tone is the result of color relations, so arranged that they
produce a rhythmic harmony.
* * * * *
An artist, when he paints a tonal picture, has in mind the relative dark
and light of colors, and their relative coolness and warmth. Let me
explain. First the relative coolness or warmth of colors. The artist
regards blue as the coolest hue. As a matter of fact violet reflects
even less light than blue; still, for his practical purposes, an artist
says that the cool hue is blue, and he associates with it violet and
green. On the other hand, yellow, he treats as warm, and associates with
it red and orange.
And, if you consider for a moment, the distinction of warm and cool
hues, which is practised by artists and founded on the nature of light,
appeals to our own experience. You will have no hesitation in feeling
that a bunch of violets, surrounded by green leaves, gives you a feeling
of coolness, as compared with another bunch composed of red and yellow
poppies.
Accordingly, if an artist has made up his mind that his tonal harmony
shall be a cool one, he either composes it entirely of cool hues, or
sees to it that some one or all of them shall “prevail.” The warmer hues
may be introduced for the sake of contrast, but very sparingly. And, of
course, he will reverse his use of the hues, if he wishes the tone to be
a warm one. This you could have guessed for yourselves; but I point it
out because most people, I believe, prefer a warm picture. If it
represents the sun setting in a mass of crimson over which the sky is
orange, passing to yellow; and the effect of this warm light is shown on
the surrounding trees and meadow, so that everything seems to be kindled
into a dreamy warmth, we easily find the picture very beautiful. It is
so attractive in its richness and mellow warmth, that the quiet coolness
of that picture opposite may seem tame by comparison, and we pass it by.
On the other hand, if, recognising the difference of the intention, we
study the latter picture carefully, we may very likely come to admire it
even more than the warmer one, by reason of the very quietness of its
appeal, or because of the purity and freshness of feeling that probably
pervade it.
And now for the artist’s other habit of considering the relative
lightness and darkness of hues. It comes into play, whether his tonal
arrangement be a cool one or a warm one. For by this means he introduces
contrasts of color; and as we have pointed out, it is by contrasts as
well as by similarities, that a harmony is produced.
There are two ways of considering the difference between light and dark.
One is to treat it as an arrangement of _chiaroscuro_, the other as an
arrangement of _values_. This is a distinction that I have already
explained; but I will refresh your memory of it, in its special
application to tone.
Chiaroscuro, as you remember, means light and dark. So it could be used
of the light and dark of values; but, as a matter of fact, it is applied
to the distribution of light and shadows, adopted by the artists of
older times, and still used by many modern ones. In applying it, they
represented the light, as coming from one direction, usually from behind
their backs; and as striking the objects and figures in the picture at
an angle, either on the right side or on the left. They also took care
that the light should be concentrated or particularly bright at one
spot. On the contrary, the artist who considers the light and dark of
values, sees the light _in_ the scene he is painting, and observes that
it pervades all parts of it.
But, to return to the chiaroscuro; its effect is to produce strong
contrasts of light and shade: high lights, nearly white in the parts
most exposed to the light, and shadows almost black, in the parts most
removed. To offset these strong contrasts the artist uses strong hues.
The pure colors of red, yellow, green, blue, may be used in large
masses. The result is a tonal harmony of great richness, striking
magnificence, or surprising impressiveness.
Of the last kind is Rubens’ _Descent from the Cross_. If you study a
photograph of it, you will see that the light _does_ come from within
the scene. It flows from the Saviour’s body; and the light, as it
spreads, illumines certain parts of the surrounding figures, especially
the heads and hands; just the parts in fact, in which there is most
expression of feeling. The sacred Body has the pallor of death, it is
almost white, while black prevails elsewhere throughout the picture, the
only other colors being the flesh tints of the faces and hands, and some
dull green and red. It is an admirable example of the strong contrast of
black and white, and, let me add, of the amazing effect that such
contrast has on the imagination. For it is a picture that arouses one’s
emotions of awe and pity and reverence to an extraordinary degree; and
the more you study it, the more you will realise that the source of its
appeal is the chiaroscuro. The latter, though the light is within the
scene, is purely arbitrary. Rubens, that is to say, did not try to
imitate the effects of real light and darkness; he chose to be the
arbiter or judge of how he would distribute them. And in the arrangement
he had three purposes. First, he wished to secure the modeling of the
figures; note the muscular force he has given to some of the men; the
pathetic droop of the Virgin’s figure; and the pitiable limpness of the
Saviour’s form. Secondly, he was able to make this composition of
contrasts one of most impressive grandeur. Thirdly, as I have already
hinted in speaking of the figures of the Saviour and the Virgin, he
could by means of this superb invention of light and darkness, fill us
with profound emotion.
So much for the older method of considering the relations between light
and dark. The modern one, depending on the light and dark of values,
derived from the example of Velasquez and of Vermeer and other Dutchmen
of the Seventeenth Century, I have recently explained in connection with
Whistler’s _White Girl, Symphony in White Number Two_. So I will only
remind you that in this picture there is practically no contrast of
shadow. The whole scene is bathed in a uniform light. But the contrast
of dark is obtained by putting in certain objects, the red box, the blue
vase, and so on, the values of which are lower than that of the white
dress. The artist has thought of darkness, not as the result of shadow,
but of certain colors being darker in themselves, because they reflect
less light than others. If this is not quite clear to you, perhaps it
will be, if you refer to the chapter in which this picture is discussed.
On the other hand, the modern artist, even if he works by values rather
than by chiaroscuro, must often wish to paint a scene that does involve
shadows. We know that the scene may be filled with light and yet there
will be certain places where the light is intercepted, so that shadows
are formed. Our lawn in summer is aglow with warm light, but every tree
and bush casts its shadow. Or the same spot in winter is covered with
snow and the air is bright with cool light; yet here and there a trunk
of a tree spreads a thin layer of shadow.
But the difference is in the way the modern artist regards shadow. He
has studied nature for the purpose of representing the actual effects of
nature; and, in so doing, has discovered that the secret of all effects
is due to the action of light. So he has learned to look at everything,
shadows included, in its relation to light. A shadow to him, then, is
not something different from light; it is a lessening of the light. Some
of the light has been intercepted by the foliage of the tree, so that
less light reaches the ground. It may be that very little light filters
through the leaves. But, whether more or little, the spot from which the
light has been intercepted, still contains some light. Even what we
usually call the shadows have light in them.
So, while chiaroscuro is a contrast of light and dark, the contrast of
values may better be described as one of light and less light.
Observe how this works. Since the modern artist sees light in shadows,
he also sees color in them. And their color varies according to the
quality of the light and according to the local color of the spot
affected. The local color of your lawn is green; therefore, even under
the trees, where little light reaches the grass, the latter will still
contain a greenish hue, though the value of it will be much lower than
that of the sunlit lawn. On the other hand, the hue of the shadow will
also be affected by the quality of the light, differing according as the
light is dull or brilliant, and as it inclines to white or yellow. This
is too intricate a subject to attempt to discuss here, but I mention it
in order that, if you are wide awake and interested, you may amuse
yourself by studying these effects in your walks abroad.
A simple way of starting the subject is to study the hue of the shadow
cast by your hand on a sheet of white paper. I am working by the light
of a Welsbach burner, and the shadow of my hand is a pale reddish
purple. The other day, on a bright February morning, I laid my hand on a
piece of white paper and the shadow was bluish. In each case, owing to
the amount of light reflected from the white paper, the shadow was very
transparent, and beautiful in its delicacy and softness.
Well, this little example illustrates what artists have discovered about
shadows lying on snow. They are very transparent, very delicate, and
tend toward a hue of blue or plum color, according to the quantity of
light.
Now to sum up our remarks on tone. When we speak of a picture having
tonal qualities, we mean that the artist has so combined the related
darks and lights and the related coolness and warmth of his colors that
he has produced a harmony, threaded through and through with a
suggestion of rhythm or vibration. And the vibration will be most felt,
when the suggestion of atmosphere pervades the picture.
In the case of the _Descent from the Cross_ we have already hinted at
the power of tone to arouse emotion. I may add that tone always makes a
strong appeal to feeling--to abstract feeling. The tonal harmony of an
opal, whose pinks and greens are suffused with creamy atmosphere,
arouses in us delight, quite apart from any suggestion to our mind. The
delight is one of pure feeling. Can you not see that, if an artist uses
the tonal harmony of the opal as a color scheme for a picture, the
harmony would still delight us in an abstract way? It would be
interwoven now with the subject of his picture, and we need not try, nor
do we wish to separate them. But the sentiment of the figure or the
scene will be all the more tender and lovely for the harmony with which
it is suffused.
I have in mind, for example, the pictures by the American artist, Thomas
W. Dewing. They show you one or two women standing or sitting,
apparently lost in reverie, while placed beside them may be a table and
a vase and on the wall a mirror. If you ask me what the picture is
about, I will say: Nothing. There is no subject to them in the sense
that you can describe: who the girl is, why she is there, and what she
is doing. So, instead of talking to you about the figures, I should try
to draw your attention to the subtlety and beauty of the tonal harmony.
I should recommend you to look at it with a mind as free from outside
thoughts, as when you were looking at the opal. Then by degrees,
perhaps, as the beauty of the tone winds itself about your imagination,
you will begin to find some sentiment of beauty suggested by the girl
herself.
What I wish you to understand is that an artist, who has the gift of
composing tonal harmonies, employs them to express the abstract feelings
or emotions that he has regarding his subject. A celebrated example is
Whistler’s _Portrait of the Artist’s Mother_, that now hangs in the
Luxembourg Gallery, in Paris. I expect you have seen photographs of it
and remember that it represents an oldish lady, in a white lace cap and
black gown, with her hands folded over a handkerchief on her lap. We see
her figure seated in profile, in front of a grey wall. On it are two
little black-framed pictures, and on one side hangs a dark green
curtain.
When it was first exhibited the artist called it “An Arrangement in
Black and Grey.” It may be that he did not wish to drag his Mother into
publicity or make a parade of his feelings as a son. But there was
another reason, a much greater one. The abstract feelings that he had
for his Mother--the love, reverence, and appreciation of her dignity and
tenderness--took color in his artist’s mind in an arrangement of black
and grey. What a poet might have put into the rhythm and harmony of his
verse, Whistler has expressed through the rhythm of a tonal harmony of
color.
Another artist who was not a tonalist, might have contrived to put into
the face and hands and into the lines of the figure as much dignity and
gracious tenderness. But his picture would not move us so deeply as this
one. For Whistler--how shall I describe it?--has woven the dignity and
tenderness into every part of the canvas. The mother sits alone with her
own thoughts, but all about her is the music of color, choiring the love
and reverence of her son. No wonder the picture takes its hold upon us;
until we see in it not a mother, but the _type_ of what the conception
of Mother means to us.
Its tonal harmony is one that is distinguished by sobriety and
reticence. It consists of quiet and sober colors; it does not talk to
our hearts in brilliant glowing words. It moves us rather by its silence
and reserve, its reticence. I mention this because, at first, perhaps,
you will be more attracted by brilliant and glowing harmonies; and they
are beautiful too. They may fill us, as those of Rubens do, with
triumphant joy; or plunge us into poignant emotion as do Rousseau’s
sunsets. But, just as our capacity of feeling knows no limits, so there
is no limit to the variety of the tonal harmonies that may stir it. And
we shall grow to find some of the most exalting and beautiful sensations
in those harmonies that are very quiet, subtle, and that speak to our
imagination in a “still small voice.”
As a farewell illustration, to sum up the meaning of the quality and
expression of tone, let me return to sound tones. Have you ever thought
of quality and expression in the case of your own voice? I do not mean
the singing voice. Many of us do not possess this kind of voice; but we
all have a speaking and reading voice. What are the quality and
expression of yours? I am thinking now of the way you use it; of the
quality and expression of the sounds you utter.
When you speak; do you drawl “through your nose” or chatter very
quickly? Are the sounds shrill or harsh or monotonous? Perhaps you have
never stopped to consider. It is astonishing how few people do. Most
people think of their voice only as a contrivance for uttering words:
they turn it on and off like a faucet and let the words run. How
frequently one sees a pretty girl or woman, tastefully dressed and of
charming manners, who is altogether pleasing as long as she keeps her
mouth shut. But the moment she opens it, half her charm vanishes. There
is no tone in her voice; no varieties of light and shade in the pitch of
the sounds, no varieties of quietness or warmth in her speech; no rhythm
of effect. Even if it is not harsh, it is disagreeably monotonous.
Or somebody else reads a passage from Shakespeare, say _The Balcony
Scene_ in “Romeo and Juliet.” He is not as bad a reader as he might be;
for example, he does not stumble over the words or jump over the
punctuation. In fact, he reads intelligently, with considerable
attention to the meaning of the speeches. And yet, after all, he reads
very badly, for his voice fails entirely to bring out the music of the
verse. The scene is one of the loveliest ever written, and it was
written to be spoken aloud, so that the loveliness of the thought might
be conveyed in sounds of corresponding loveliness. But of this our
reader seems ignorant. He does not appear to know that Shakespeare
intended every vowel sound to be uttered in such a way as to bring out
the particular quality of its beauty; and arranged the sequence of the
sounds, so that one should flow into another in an exquisite rhythm of
rising and falling melody. This reader “murders” the beauty of the
scene, because there is no quality in the tone of his voice and no tonal
expression. Do you understand what I mean?
If you have not thought of this before, I hope you will give it some
attention in future. For it is in the power of everyone of us to improve
the quality and expression of our voices.