procedure will be to _print in skies_ from separate negatives, either
taken from nature or from drawings made for the purpose by an artist
that thoroughly understands art in all its principles. By these means,
especially the latter, skies may be introduced into the photographic
picture that will not only be adapted to each individual scene, but
will, in every instance where they are employed, increase the artistic
merit and value of the composition. But to return to the subject chiefly
under consideration.
Clouds in landscape pictures, like "man in his time," play many
parts--"they have their exits and their entrances." And it is almost
impossible to say enough in a short paper on a subject so important to
all landscape photographers. I will, however, as briefly and lucidly as
I can, endeavour to point out the chief uses of clouds in landscapes.
Referring to their use for effects in light and shade, I wrote, at the
commencement of this paper, that the engraved translations of Turner
afford the most familiar and beautiful examples, which they undoubtedly
do. But when I consider that Turner's skies are nearly all sunsets, the
study of them will not be so readily turned to practical account by the
photographer as the works of others,--Birket Foster, for instance. His
works are almost equal to Turner's in light and shade; he has been
largely employed in the illustration of books, and five shillings will
procure more of his beautiful examples of sky effects than a guinea will
of Turner's. Take, for example, Sampson Low and Son's five shilling
edition of Bloomfield's "Farmer's Boy," or Gray's "Elegy in a
Churchyard," profusely illustrated almost entirely by Birket Foster; and
in them will be seen such a varied and marvellous collection of
beautiful sky effects as seem almost impossible to be the work of one
man, and all of them profitable studies for both artist and photographer
in the varied uses made of clouds in landscapes. In those works it will
be observed that where the lower part of the picture is rich in variety
of subject the sky is either quiet or void of form, partaking of one
tint only slightly broken up. Where the terrestrial part of the
composition is tame, flat, and destitute of beautiful objects, the sky
is full of beauty and grandeur, rich in form and masses of light and
shade, and generally shedding a light on the insignificant object below,
so as to invest it with interest in the picture, and connect it with the
story being told.
From both of these examples the photographer may obtain a suggestion,
and slightly tint the sky of his picture, rich in objects of interest,
so as to resemble the tint produced by the "ruled lines" representing a
clear blue sky in an engraving. Hitherto that kind of tinting has
generally been overdone, giving it more the appearance of a heavy fog
lifting than a calm blue sky. The darkest part of the tint should just
be a little lower than the highest light on the principal object. This
tint may either be obtained in the negative itself at the time of
exposure, or produced by "masking" during the process of printing. On
the other hand, when the subject has little to recommend it in itself,
it may be greatly increased in pictorial power and interest by a
judicious introduction of beautiful cloud effects, either obtained from
nature, or furnished by the skill of an artist. If the aid of an artist
be resorted to, I would not recommend painting on the negative, but let
the artist be furnished with a plain white-sky print; let him wash in a
sky, in sepia or india ink, that will most harmonise, both in form and
effect, with the subject represented, take a negative from that sky
alone, and put it into each of the pictures by double printing. This may
seem a great deal of trouble and expense, and not appear to the minds of
some as altogether legitimate, but I strenuously maintain that any means
employed to increase the artistic merit and value of a photograph is
strictly legitimate; and that wherever and however art can be resorted
to, without doing violence to the truthfulness of nature, the status of
our art-science will be elevated, and its professional disciples will
cease to be the scorn of men who take pleasure in deriding the,
sometimes--may I say too often?--lame and inartistic productions of the
camera.
THE USE OF CLOUDS AS BACKGROUNDS IN PORTRAITURE.
There has long been in the world an aphorism that everything in Nature
is beautiful. Collectively this is true, and so it is individually, so
far as the adaptability and fitness of the object to its proper use are
concerned; but there are many things which are truly beautiful in
themselves, and in their natural uses, which cease to be so when they
are pressed into services for which they are not intended by the great
Creator of the universe. For example, what can be more beautiful than
that compound modification of cloud forms commonly called a "mackerel
sky," which is sometimes seen on a summer evening? What can be more
lovely, or more admirably adapted to the purposes of reflecting and
conducting the last flickering rays of the setting sun into the very
zenith, filling half the visible heavens with a fretwork of gorgeous
crimson, reflecting a warm, mysterious light on everything below, and
filling the mind with wonder and admiration at the marvellous beauties
which the heavens are showing? Yet, can anything be more unsuitable for
forming the background to a portrait, where everything should be
subdued, secondary, and subservient to the features of the individual
represented--where everything should be lower in tone than the light on
the face, where neither colour nor light should be introduced that would
tend to distract the attention of the observer--where neither accessory
nor effect should appear that does not help to concentrate the mind on
the grand object of the picture--the likeness? Still, how often do we
see a photographic portrait stuck against a sky as spotty, flickering,
and unsuitable as the one just described! How seriously are the
importance and brilliancy of the head interfered with by the
introduction of such an unsuitable background! How often is the interest
of the spectator divided between the portrait and the "overdone" sky, so
elaborately got up by the injudicious background painter! Such
backgrounds are all out of place, and ought to be abandoned--expelled
from every studio.
As the photographer does not possess the advantages of the painter, to
produce his effects by contrast of colour, it behoves him to be much
more particular in his treatment of light and shade; but most
particularly in his choice of a background that will most harmonise
with the dress, spirit, style, and condition in life of his sitter. It
is always possible for a member of any class of the community to be
surrounded or relieved by a plain, quiet background; but it is not
possible, in nine cases out of ten, for some individuals who sit for
their portraits ever to be dwellers in marble halls, loungers in the
most gorgeous conservatories, or strollers in such delightful gardens.
In addition to the unfitness of such scenes to the character and
every-day life of the sitter, they are the most unsuitable for pictorial
effect that can possibly be employed. For, instead of directing
attention to the principal object, they disturb the mind, and set it
wandering all over the picture, and interfere most seriously with that
quiet contemplation of the features which is so necessary to enable the
beholder to discover all the characteristic points in the portrait. When
the likeness is a very bad one, this may be advantageous, on the
principle of putting an ornamental border round a bad picture with the
view of distracting the attention of the observer, and preventing the
eye from resting long enough on any one spot to discover the defects.
When clouds are introduced as backgrounds to portraits, they should not
be of that small, flickering character previously alluded to, but broad,
dark, and "massy," so as to impart by contrast more strength of light to
the head; and the lighter parts of the clouds should be judiciously
placed either above or below the head, so as to carry the light into
other parts of the picture, and prevent the strongly-lighted head
appearing a spot. The best examples of that character will be found in
the engraved portraits by Reynolds, Lawrence, Gainsborough, and others,
many of which are easily obtained at the old print shops; some have
appeared in the _Art Journal_.
As guides for introducing cloud effects, accessories, and landscape bits
into the backgrounds of carte-de-visite and cabinet pictures, no better
examples can be cited than those exquisite little figure subjects by R.
Westall, R.A., illustrating Sharpe's Editions of the Old Poets. The
engravings are about the size of cartes-de-visite, and are in themselves
beautiful examples of composition, light, and shade, and appropriateness
of accessory to the condition and situation of the figures, affording
invaluable suggestions to the photographer in the arrangement of his
sitter, or groups, and in the choice of suitable accessories and
backgrounds. Such examples are easily obtained. Almost any old bookstall
in London possesses one or more of those works, and each little volume
contains at least half-a-dozen of these exquisite little gems of art.
Looking at those beautiful photographic cartes-de-visite by Mr. Edge, I
am very strongly impressed with the idea that they were suggested by
some such artistic little pictures as Westall's Illustrations of the
Poets. They are really charming little photographs, and show most
admirably how much the interest and artistic merit of a photograph can
be enhanced by the skilful and judicious introduction of a suitable
background. I may as well observe, _en passant_, that I have examined
these pictures very carefully, and have come to the conclusion that the
effects are not produced by means of any of the ingeniously contrived
appliances for poly-printing recently invented and suggested, but that
the effects are produced simply by double printing, manipulated with
consummate care and judgment, the figure or figures being produced on a
plain or graduated middle tint background in one negative, and the
landscape effect printed on from another negative after the first print
has been taken out of the printing-frame; the figures protected by a
mask nicely adjusted. My impressions on this subject are strengthened
almost to conviction when I look at one of Mr. Edge's photographs, in
particular a group of two ladies, the sitting figure sketching. In this
picture, the lower part of the added landscape--trees--being darker than
the normal tint of the ground, shows a _line_ round the black dress of
the lady, as if the mask had overlapped it just a hair's breadth during
the process of secondary printing. Be that as it may, they are lovely
little pictures, and afford ample evidence of what may be done by skill
and taste to vary the modes of treating photography more artistically,
by introducing natural scenery sufficiently subdued to harmonise with
the portrait or group; and, by similar means, backgrounds of clouds and
interiors may be added to a plain photograph, which would enrich its
pictorial effect, and enable the photographer to impart to his work a
greater interest and beauty, and, at the same time, be made the means of
giving apparent occupation to his sitter. This mode of treatment would
enable him, in a great measure, to carry out the practice of nearly all
the most celebrated portrait painters, viz., that of considering the
form, light, shade, and character of the background _after_ the portrait
was finished, by adapting the light, shade, and composition of his
background to the pose and condition of life of his sitter.
I shall now conclude my remarks with a quotation from Du Fresnoy's "Art
of Painting," bearing directly on my subject and that of light and
shade:--
"Permit not two conspicuous lights to shine
With rival radiance in the same design;
But yield to one alone the power to blaze,
And spread th' extensive vigour of its rays;
There where the noblest figures are displayed,
Thence gild the distant parts and lessening fade;
As fade the beams which Phoebus from the east
Flings vivid forth to light the distant West,
Gradual those vivid beams forget to shine,
So gradual let thy pictured lights decline."
* * * * *
"LUX GRAPHICUS" ON THE WING.
Dear Mr. Editor,--I have often troubled you with some of my ideas and
opinions concerning the progress and status of photography, and you have
pretty often transferred the same to the columns of the _Photographic
News_, and troubled your readers in much the same manner. This time,
however, I am going to tell you a secret--a family secret. They are
always more curious, interesting, and important than other secrets,
state secrets and Mr. McLachlan's photographic secret not excepted. But
to my subject: "_The_ Secret." Well, dear Mr. Editor, you know that my
vocations have been rather arduous for some time past, and I feel that a
little relaxation from pressing cares and anxieties would be a great
boon to me. You know, also, that I am a great lover of nature, almost a
stickler for it, to the exclusion of _prejudicial art_. And now that the
spring has come and winter has fled on the wings of the fieldfares and
woodcocks--that's Thomas Hood's sentiment made seasonable--I fain would
leave the pent-up city, where the colour of the sky can seldom be seen
for the veil of yellow smoke which so constantly obscures it, and betake
myself to the country, and inhale the fresh breezes of early spring;
gladden my heart and eyes with a sight of the bright blue sky, the
glistening snowdrops and glowing yellow crocuses, and regale my ears and
soul with the rich notes of the thrush and blackbird, and the earliest
song of the lark at the gates of heaven.
It is a pleasant thing to be able to shake off the mud and gloom of a
winter's sojourn in a town, in the bright, fresh fields of the country,
and bathe your fevered and enfeebled body in the cool airs of spring, as
they come gushing down from the hills, or across the rippling lake, or
dancing sea. I always had such a keen relish for the country at all
seasons of the year, it is often a matter of wonder to me that I ever
could bring my mind to the necessity of living in a town. But bread and
butter do not grow in hedgerows, though "bread and cheese" do; still the
latter will not support animal life of a higher order than grub or
caterpillars. "There's the rub." The mind is, after all, the slave of
the body, for the mind must bend to the requirements of the body; and,
as a man cannot live by gazing at a "colt's foot," and if he have no
appetite for horseflesh, he is obliged to succumb to his fate, and abide
in a dingy, foggy, slushy, and bewildering world of mud, bricks, and
mortar, instead of revelling in the bright fields, fresh air, and
gushing melodies which God created for man, and gave man senses to enjoy
his glorious works.
But, Mr. Editor, I am mentally wandering among "cowslips," daises,
buttercups, and wild strawberry blossoms, and forgetting the stern
necessity of confining my observations to a subject coming reasonably
within the range of a class journal which you so ably conduct; but it is
pardonable and advantageous to allow mind to run before matter
sometimes, for the latter is more frequently inert than the former, and
when the mind has gone _ahead_, the body is sure to follow. Melancholy
instances of that present themselves to our notice too frequently. For
example, when a poor lady's or gentleman's wits are gone, _lettres des
cachets_, and some kind or _un_kind friends, send the witless body to
some retreat where the wits of all the inmates are gone. I must,
however, in all sober earnestness, return to my subject, or I fear you
will say: "He is going to Hanwell." Well, perhaps I am, for I know that
photography is practised at that admirable institution; and now that I
have struck a professional chord, I may as well play on it.
Lenses and cameras, like birds and flowers, reappear in spring, and, as
the season advances and the sun attains a higher altitude, amateurs and
professionals are quickened into a surprising activity. Renewed life is
imparted to them, and the gregarious habits of man are developed in
another form, and somewhat in the manner that the swallows return to
their old haunts. At first, a solitary scout or reconnoitering party
makes his appearance, then another, and another, until a complete flock
of amateur and professional photographers are abroad, seeking what food
they can devour: some preferring the first green "bits of foliage" that
begin to gem the woods with emeralds, others waiting till the leaf is
fully out, and the trees are thickly clothed in their early summer
loveliness: while others prefer a more advanced state of beauty, and
like to depict nature in her russet hues, when the trees "are in their
yellow leaf." Some are contented with the old-fashioned homesteads and
sweet green lanes of England for their subjects; others prefer the
ruined abbeys and castles of the feudal ages, with their deeply
interesting associations; others choose the more mythical monuments of
superstition and the dark ages, such as King Arthur's round tables,
druidical circles, and remains of their rude temples of stone. Some
delight in pictorializing the lakes and mountains of the north, while
others are not satisfied with anything short of the sublime beauty and
terrific grandeur of the Alps and Pyrenees. Truly, sir, I think it may
be safely stated that photographers are lovers of nature, and, I think,
they are also lovers of art. If some of them do not possess that art
knowledge which is so necessary for them to pursue advantageously either
branch of their profession, it is much to be regretted; but there is now
no reason why they should continue in darkness any longer. I know that
it requires years of study and practice to become an artist, but it does
not require a very great amount of mental labour or sacrifice of time to
become an artistic photographer. A little hard study of the subject as
it appears in the columns of your journal and those of your
contemporaries--for I notice that they have _all_ suddenly become alive
to the necessity of imparting to photographers a knowledge of art
principles--will soon take the scales off the eyes of a man that is
blind in art, and enable him to comprehend the mysteries of lines,
unity, and light and shade, and give him the power to compose his
subject as readily as he could give a composing draught to an infant,
and teach him to determine at a glance the light, shade, and atmospheric
effects that would most harmonize with the scene to be represented.
Supposing that he is master of the mechanical manipulations of
photography, he has acquired half the skill of the artist; and by
studying and applying the rules of composition and light and shade to
his mechanical skill, he is then equal to the artist in the treatment of
his subject, so far as the means he employs will or can enable him to
give an art rendering of nature, fixed and immovable.
I do not profess to be a teacher, but I do think it is much more genial
in spirit, and becoming the dignity of a man, to impart what little
knowledge he has to others, than to scoff at those who do not know so
much. If, therefore, Mr. Editor, in the course of my peregrinations, I
see an opportunity of calling your attention, and, through you, the
attention of others, to any glaring defects or absurdities in the
practice of our dearly beloved art, I shall not hesitate to do so; not,
however, with any desire to carp and cavil at them for cavilling's sake,
but with the more laudable desire of pointing them out, that they may be
avoided. During the coming summer I shall have, or hope to have, many
opportunities of seeing and judging, and will endeavour to keep you duly
advised of what is passing before me.
My letters may come from all parts--N., E., W., and S.--so that they
will, in that sense at least, harmonize with the nomenclature of your
periodical. Where I may be at the date of my writing, the post-mark will
reveal to you. And now I must consider my signature: much is in a name,
you know. I can hardly call myself your "Special Correspondent"--that
would be too much _a la Sala_; nor can I subscribe myself an "Old
Photographer," for that would be taking possession of another man's
property, and might lead to confusion, if not to difficulties; neither
can I style myself a "Peripatetic Photographer"--though I am one--for
that name sometimes appears in the columns of a contemporary; and my own
name is such a long one, consisting of nearly half the letters of the
alphabet. Well, I think, all things considered, I cannot do better than
retain my old _nom de plume_. And with many apologies for this long,
roundabout paper, and every expression of regard, I beg to subscribe
myself your obliged and humble servant,
Lux Graphicus (J. Werge).
_March 27th, 1868._
* * * * *
"LUX GRAPHICUS" ON THE WING.
Oxford and Cambridge--Cabinet Portraits--Mr. McLachlan's Secret.
Dear Mr. Editor,--Do not let the above heading alarm you. I have no
desire to convert the columns of your valuable journal into a kind of
photographic _Bell's Life_ or _Sporting Chronicle_. Although the great
University boat race has just been decided for the eighth consecutive
time in favour of Oxford, it is not of that aquatic struggle that I am
going to write, but of another matter in which the Cantabs seem to be
behind the Oxonians in the race of life, or the pursuit of novelties.
Not only are the Cantabs short in their stroke with the oars, and unable
to obtain the first place in the contests on the Thames, they are also
slow in giving their orders for a certain article of commerce which is
of very great importance to professional photographers, especially those
in the neighbourhood of the University of Cambridge. It is a remarkable
fact, that while Oxford has gone in with a rush for those very charming
portraits technically named "cabinets," Cambridge holds aloof. How is
this, I wonder. There are as good photographers in Cambridge--Mr.
Mayland, to wit, whose work is all of the first class--as in Oxford; the
sun shines as brightly in the region of the Cam as he does in that of
the Isis. Have the Cantabs made up their minds not to be _cabinet_ men
in opposition to Oxford? or is the fact due to the lukewarmness of the
Cambridge photographers themselves? It seems somewhat strange that two
places likely to be so similar in tastes and a refined appreciation of
the beautiful should so differ in this respect. Are the men of the two
great seats of learning in this country opposed in matters of
photographic proportion as they are in other matters of minor
importance--as in the proper pronunciation of either and neither, for
instance? Not having graduated at either, I do not know which is
correct, neither do I care; but I am concerned in this question of
photography. While at Oxford the cabinet picture has taken deep root,
and has grown into a strong and vigorous article of demand, it is a
well-known fact that at Cambridge it is "sicklied o'er with the pale
cast of thought," and languishes on in a state trembling between life
and death. Whether the producers or consumers are to blame for this
langour in the demand for an article that is certainly worth being
cultivated, is more than I can say. I know that the discrepancy exists,
and the rest I leave to those most immediately interested. It cannot,
however, be supposed that a demand for any particular size or style can
spring up spontaneously; that must be created by the producer, by
popularising the style in some attractive and judicious manner, and the
cabinet size is well deserving of a very strenuous effort being made in
its favour.