Having one's portrait taken is no longer an isolated event in one's
life. It has become a kind of domestic and social duty, to which even
though personally opposed, one must gracefully submit, unless he would
incur the odium of neglecting the wishes of his family circle and the
complimentary requests of his acquaintances.
It would seem at first sight that nothing is easier than to go to a
photographer's and get a good likeness. Nothing is really more
uncertain and disappointing. In turning over the albums of our
friends, how often we pass the faces of acquaintances and don't know
them at all! How is this? Simply because, at the moment when the
picture was taken, the original was unlike herself. She was nervous,
her head was screwed in a vise, her position had been selected for
her, and she had been ordered to look at an indicated spot, and keep
still. Such a position was like nothing in her real life, and the
expression on the face was just as foreign. The features might be
perfectly correct, but that inscrutable something which individualizes
the face was lacking.
Now if the amenities of social life require us to have our pictures
done, "it were as well they were well done," and much toward this end
lies within the sitter's choice and power.
First as to the selection of the artist. It is a great mistake to
imagine that photography is a mere mechanical trade. There is as much
difference between two photographers as between two engravers. Nor
will a fine lens alone produce a good picture. The pose of the sitter,
the disposition of lights and shadows, the arrangement of drapery, are
of the greatest consequence. A good artist has almost unlimited power
in this direction. He can render certain parts thinner by plunging
them into half-tone or by burying their outline in the shade, and he
can deepen and augment other portions by surrounding them with light.
Thus, if the head is too small for beauty, he can increase its size by
throwing the light on the face; and if it is too large, he can
diminish it by choosing a tint that would throw one half of the face
into shadow.
If the artist has a lens which perpetually changes its focus, the
result is a portrait in which the outlines are delicately soft and
undefined. A _view lens_, or one that is perfectly flat, occupies
nearly two minutes to complete the likeness, and the consequence is,
the sitter moves slightly, and the required softness is obtained in an
accidental manner. It is evident, therefore, that the most rapidly
taken pictures are not necessarily the best. Then people have a
hundred different aspects, and to seize the best and reproduce it is
the function of genius, and not of chemicals.
Having selected a good artist, and one, also, whose position has
enabled him to secure the best tools, the next duty of the sitter
regards herself and her costume. In photography a good portrait may be
quite nullified by the choice of bad colors in dress. Finery is the
curse of the artist, but if he works in oils he can leave it out or
tone it down. In photography, as the sitter comes, so she must be
taken, with all her excellences or her imperfections on her head.
The colors most luminous to the eye, as red, yellow, orange, are
almost without action; green acts feebly; blue and violet are
reproduced very promptly. If, then, a person of very fair complexion
were taken in green, orange, or red, the lights would be very
prominent, and the portrait lack energy and detail. The best of all
dresses is black silk,--_silk_, not bombazine, or merino, or any
cottony mixture, as the admirable effect depends on the gloss of the
silk, which makes it full of subdued and reflected lights that give
motion and play to the drapery. A dead-black dress without this
shimmer would be represented by a uniform blotch; a white dress looks
like a flat film of wax or a piece of card-board; but a combination of
black net or lace over white is very effective, though rarely ventured
upon. An admirable softness and depth of color are given to
photographs by sealskin and velvet.
Complexion must be considered with dress. Blondes can wear much
lighter colors than brunettes. Brunettes always make the best pictures
when taken in dark dresses, but neither blondes nor brunettes look
well in positive white. Are any pictures so universally ugly as bridal
ones? All violent contrasts of color spoil a picture, and should be
particularly guarded against; and jewelry imparts a look of
vulgarity.
Blondes suffer most in photographic pictures; their golden hair loses
all its brilliancy, and their blue eyes, so lovely to the poet, are
perplexity to the photographer. Before facing the lens, blondes should
powder their yellow hair nearly white; it is then brought to about the
same photographic tint as in nature.
Freckles, which are hardly any blemish in the natural face, become, on
account of their yellow tint, very unpleasantly distinct in a
photographic picture, and often give to the face a decidedly spotted
look. They are easily disguised for the occasion. There ought to be in
the dressing-room of every studio a mixture of a little oxide of zinc
and glycerine; this is to be thinned with rose-water till of the
consistence of cream, and applied to the face with a piece of sponge
previous to the photographing process. It leaves the skin a delicate
white color, and masks all freckles and discolorations. Let a lady
with freckles try her picture first without this mixture, and again
after the sponge and the cosmetic, and the value of the receipt will
be at once appreciated. Its use has long been advocated by the
_British Journal of Photography_.
In connection with this fact we may offer a few words of advice to
ladies whose skins are apt to tan and freckle when exposed to the
summer sun. Blue is, of all colors, most readily affected by light;
and yellow is, of all colors, the least readily susceptible to it. If,
then, a fine complexion is desired, the blue veil must be rigorously
discarded, however becoming. Green could take its place, but a little
yellow net would be better to save a delicate complexion than all the
washes and Kalydors ever invented. Freckles and tan are nothing more
than the darkening of the salts of iron in the blood by the action of
light; and as blue is, of all colors, most easily affected by it, as
we have said, any one can see how destructive to a fine skin a blue
veil must be in sunny weather.
If the photograph is to be colored, the shade of the costume is not
nearly of so much importance; but it may always be borne in mind that
close-fitting light garments increase the size of the head, hands, and
feet, and that a flowing ample dress renders these parts light and
delicate. The advantage of coloring photographs is very great, if the
artist be an able and judicious one, for that _hardness_ of outline,
which is more artificial than natural, may be in a great measure
remedied by a clever brush; only, always object to _solid_ colors; the
most transparent water-colors alone should be used. However, it is a
disputed question whether artificial coloring, however well done,
improves photographs, since it certainly, in some measure, robs them
of that accuracy and that air of purity which are the distinctive
claims of the art. The next improvement in this method of limning
faces will undoubtedly be the compelling of the sun--the source of
all color--to paint the pictures he draws; and a number of recent
facts point to this improvement as very probable within a short time.
Never permit yourself to be the lay figure of a photographer's ideal
landscapes. The cutting up of a portrait with balustrades, pillars,
and gay parterres is fatal to the effect of the figure, which should
be the only object to strike the eye. No photographic portrait looks
so well as one with a perfectly plain background, but if some
accessory is desired, then see that it does not turn the central
figure into ridicule. If you have always lived in some modest home, do
not be made to stand in marble halls or amid splendid imaginary
domains. Young ladies reading in full evening costume, with water and
swans behind them, or standing in trailing silks and laces in a
mountain pass, are ridiculous enough. We saw a few days ago the face
of a lovely girl looking out of a Champagne basket. The picture was
artistically taken, but the extravagant conceit of the surroundings,
utterly at variance with the original's character, completely spoiled
the picture. We have in mind also a famous belle sitting in an
elaborate toilet in a room full of books and materials for writing and
study, though all her little world knows that she never reads aught
but the lightest of novels, and never writes anything but an
invitation or a love-letter. Actresses taken in character may require
an elaborate artificial background in order to assist the illusion,
but private ladies, as a rule, look infinitely better without it.
In ladies' portraits the setting-off of beauty is the thing to be
borne in mind. This, in a photograph, is, in a great measure, a
question of lights and shadows, and of their distribution. For every
face there is a light and a shadow to be specially selected as the one
that will show it to the best advantage. The most becoming light is
one level with, or even somewhat beneath, the face, it being a great
mistake to suppose the foot-lights on the stage unbecoming. A top
light, such as we get in ordinary photographic rooms, augments the
projection of the forehead, and throws a deep shadow over the eyes.
The bridge of the nose, the lower lip, and chin separate themselves,
as it were, in clear lights, from the rest of the face, and such an
effect is very unbecoming and inappropriate for a young girl.
If the features are prominent, a clear bright light increases very
decidedly that prominence, and also imparts a peculiar hardness to the
expression that has probably no existence in the model. Therefore
insist that, as far as possible, the light from above shall be got rid
of, and a light from the side brought into use.
There is as much character in the human figure as in the face;
consequently full-length portraits are best, because they add to the
facial resemblance the attitude and peculiarities of the figure. If
the portrait is half-size, then the attitude ought to indicate the
position of the lower extremities. In bust portraits the head is
everything, the bust merely sustains and indicates its size and
proportion. The head, however, should never be represented without the
bust, for the effect of such a portrait is a total want of unity; it
offers no point of comparison by which the rest of the body can be
judged,--a matter of great importance, as this is one of the most
striking characteristics of the individual.
A _carte de visite_ is a more agreeable likeness than a larger one,
because it is taken with the middle of the lens, where it is truest;
hence it is never out of drawing. Also, it hides rather than
exaggerates any roughness of the face; and, again, it is so moderate
in price that we can afford to distribute the pictures generously.
Photographs have a bad name for durability, and when we look over our
albums and see those that were once strong and expressive now pale and
faded, we are forced to admit that their beauty is evanescent. But
this disadvantage is very much the fault of the artist. There is
nothing in the chemical constitution of photographs--formed as they
are by the combination of the precious metals--to make them
evanescent. The trouble lies in the last process through which they
pass. This process leaves them impregnated with a destructive
chemical, and the removal of all traces of it is a difficult and
tedious thing. To be finished effectually, the pictures ought to be
bathed for a day in a good body of water constantly agitated and
changed. Artists who are jealous of their art and of their personal
reputation insist on this process being thoroughly attended to, but
with inferior photographers the temptation to neglect it is very
great, especially as in many cases the vicious chemical adds to the
present brilliancy of the picture. They are further tempted by the
impatience of sitters, who are often importunate for an immediate
finish of their pictures. But if a durable portrait is wanted, ladies
must allow the artist time for the proper cleansing of their
photograph.
To the large majority of people the first interview with their
photographic portrait is a heavy disappointment. They express
themselves by an eloquent silence, turn it this way and that, hold it
near and far off. After a little while they become used to it in its
velvet frame, though they never in their heart acknowledge its
truthfulness. Again, there are others to whom photography is very
favorable, and they show to more advantage in their pictures than
ever they did in reality. These last are people whose features
are well balanced and proportioned, but who are not generally
considered beautiful. Faces dependent for beauty on their mobility
and expression suffer most, and are indeed, in their finer moods,
almost untranslatable by this process.
Still, setting aside all artistic considerations, photographic
portraits have a great social value, not only because they fairly
indicate the _personnel_ of their models, but because they so
faithfully represent textures that we can form a very good idea from a
_carte de visite_ of the social position of the sitter, and
incidentally, from the cut, style, and material of the dress, a very
good notion also of their moral calibre.
Many things are permissible in photographic portraits--which may be
retaken every few months--that would justly be deprecated in a
finished oil portrait destined to go down with houses and lands to
unborn generations. In such a picture any intrusion of the imagination
is an impertinence if made at the slightest expense of truth.
The great value of an oil portrait is this: the divine, almost
intangible light of expression hovering over the face is seized on by
living skill and intellect, and imprisoned in colors. The sitter is
not taken in one special moment, when his eyes are fixed and his
muscles rigid, but in a free study of many hours the characteristics
of the face are learned, and some felicitous expression caught and
fixed forever. This is what gives portrait painting its special value,
and drives ordinary photographic portraits out of the realms of art
into those of mechanism.
Artists have various ways of treating their sitters. Some throw them
into a Sir-Joshua-like attitude, and put in a Gainsborough background.
Others compass the face all over, and map it out like a chart, taking
elevations of every mole and dimple. But whenever an artist feels
unsafe away from his compasses, and cannot trust himself, sitters
should not trust him.
There is a real pleasure in sitting to a master in his art, a real
weariness and disgust in sitting to a tyro. It must be remembered that
not only is the best expression to be caught, but that the _features_
of any face vary so much under physical changes and mental moods that
their differences may actually be measured with a foot-rule. An
ordinary artist will measure these distances; an extraordinary artist
will catch their subtle effects, and will draw the features as well as
the expression at their very best.
A really fine oil portrait should look as well near by as it does at a
distance.
Suffer no artist to leave out blemishes which contribute to the
character of the original; ugly or pretty, unless a portrait is a
likeness, it is worthless. There are very clever artists who cannot
paint a true portrait, because they leave every picture redolent of
themselves. Thus Bartolozzi in engraving Holbein's heads, made
everything Bartolozzi. But in a portrait the individuality of the
sitter should permeate and usurp the whole canvas, so that in looking
at it we should think only of the person represented, and quite forget
the artist who brought him before us.
It is an axiom that every full-length portrait requires a curtain and
a column, every half-length a table, every kit-kat a full face. But
surely such rules betray barrenness of invention. Every good position
cannot be said to have been exhausted. Why should not every portrait
be treated as a part of an historical picture in which the sitter's
position and background and accessories produced the tone and feeling
most suitable to his ordinary life? Raphael in his portrait of Leo the
Tenth exhibits a faithful study of such subordinates. There is a
prayer-book with miniatures, a bell on the table, and a mirror at the
back of the chair reflecting the whole scene. One of Rembrandt's most
charming portraits is that of his mother cutting her nails with a pair
of scissors.
Never suffer any artist to slur over or hide the hand. The hand is a
feature full of beauty and individuality. Any one who has noticed how
Vandyck studied and worked out its peculiarities, what beauty and
expression he gave to it, will never undervalue its power as an
exponent of personality again.
The portraits of men or women occupying prominent positions should
always have their name and that of the artist on the back. If this
had been done in times past, how many nameless portraits, now of
little value, would be held in high estimation! From the time of Henry
the Eighth to the time of Charles the First it was usual to insert in
a corner the armorial bearings of the person represented. This did
not, indeed, accurately identify the individual, but it made it easier
to determine. There is a masterpiece of Vandyck's in the National
Gallery of England that goes by the name of "Gevartius." But no one
knows who Gevartius was. Here is an old man's head made memorable for
all time,--a head which would be thought cheap at $10,000, and which,
if it were for sale, would attract connoisseurs from all parts of the
civilized world, and it is without a name. How much more valuable and
interesting it would be if its history were known! Therefore no
feeling of modesty should prevent eminent characters from insuring the
identity of their pictures. Let us imagine a picture of Abraham
Lincoln and one of Professor Morse two hundred years hence, with the
name attached in one case, and a mere tradition of identity in the
other, and it will be easy to estimate the difference in value.
Americans have been accused of an undue taste for portraiture; the
taste has its foundation in the character of the nation. It
corresponds with that estimation of the personal worth of a man, and
that full appreciation of individual independence, which form such
important elements in our national character.