Orange, Green, and Purple; and these produce Olive, Brown, and Slate,
making nine.
'Yellow, Red, and Blue, make Black.
'And this is the compendium and whole of the system of the degradation
of colours into Black, or perfect darkness.
'WARM EFFECT is produced by
'White, Yellow, Orange, Red, Purple, Indigo, Black.
'COLD EFFECT is produced by
'Black, Indigo, Blue, Green, Yellow, Pale Yellow, White.'
* * * * *
The Three Primitive Colours, by the _endless_ varieties of their
solvents, regulate, more or less, the whole economy of a picture; and
the abundant stores of nature are faithfully imitated by their agency.
Thus, the Primitives being red, blue, and yellow, the colours produced
by their combination are purple, orange, and green; these, in their
turn, may be extended to every tint that exists. The junction of the
Three Primitives absorb _all_, and form neutral tint, which, by the
addition of quantity, produces black.
All the contrasts are rendered from the same.
And here it may not be out of place to remark how men will devote
themselves to many idle pursuits that return them nothing, while a
little study of the noble theory of colour would enable them, without
pushing the matter far, to bring to their firesides reminiscences of
their travels, or, otherwise, spots endeared by circumstances, together
with a thousand other agreeable associations. They would learn in time
to look at nature through the medium of art, and find a delightful
interest in it they never anticipated; while every hour so spent would
more and more exercise and mature the judgment.
A knowledge of the natural chalks, or colours of black, white, and red,
is indispensably necessary. So, a perfect acquaintance with the Three
Primitives, blue, red, and yellow, is of equal consequence; that blue
and yellow are brought together by red; and that all mixtures are the
scientific result of the union of these three, no _two_ of which will
produce the _third_. The result of the mixture of any _two_ gives the
_contrast_ to the absent _one_:--as red and blue, producing purple, is
the opposite to yellow; blue and yellow make green, the contrast to red;
red and yellow, producing orange, contrasts blue; the three, blended
together, gives us black: neutral tint is the result of the same
mixture. A perfect knowledge of mixing tints, from this scale, will
produce all the _compounds_ necessary to art, and their admixtures may
be varied _ad infinitum_.
The neutral tint mentioned may be so varied, as to act in perfect union
as the _shadow_ to any one of the colours composing it.
The modes or systems of obtaining these results of colour, as practised
by the greatest schools, are exceedingly different. Sir Joshua Reynolds
says: 'They may be reduced to three. The first may be called the Roman
manner, where the colours are of a full and strong body, such as are
found in the Transfiguration. The next is that harmony which is produced
by what the ancients called the corruption of colours, by mixing and
breaking them till there is a general union in the whole: this may be
called the Bolognian style. The last manner belongs properly to the
ornamental style, which we call the Venetian, being first practised at
Venice; but it is perhaps better learned from Rubens. Here the brightest
colours possible are admitted with the two extremes of warm and cold,
and those reconciled by being dispersed over the picture, till the whole
appears like a bunch of flowers.
'As it is from the Dutch school the art of breaking colour may be
learned, so we may recommend here an attention to the works of Watteau,
for excellence in the florid style of painting.
'To all these manners there are some _general_ rules, that never must be
neglected. First, that the same colour which makes the largest mass be
_diffused_, and appear to revive in different parts of the picture; for
a single colour will make a spot or blot. Even the dispersed
flesh-colour, which the faces and hands occasion, requires a principal
mass, which is best produced by a naked figure. But where the subject
will not allow of this, a drapery, approaching to flesh colour, will
answer the purpose; as in the Transfiguration, where a woman is clothed
in drapery of this colour, which makes a principal to all the heads and
hands of the picture. And for the sake of harmony, the colours, however
distinguished in their light, should be nearly of the _same_ simple
unity in their shadows; and to give the utmost force, strength, and
solidity to the work, some part of the picture should be as _light_, and
some as _dark_ as possible. These two extremes are, then, to be
_harmonized_ and reconciled to each other. Pure black, in these
instances, is opposed to the contrary extreme of brightness.
'If to these different manners we add one more, that in which a _silvery
grey_, or pearly tint, is predominant, I believe every kind of harmony
that can be produced by colours will be comprehended. To see this style
in perfection we must again have recourse to the Dutch school,
particularly to the works of the younger Vandervelde, and the younger
Teniers, whose pictures are valued by connoisseurs in proportion as they
possess this excellence of a silver tint.
'Which of these different styles ought to be preferred, so as to meet
every man's ideas, would be difficult to determine, from the
predilection which every man has to the mode which is practised by the
school in which _he_ has been educated; but, if any pre-eminence is to
be given, it must be to that manner which stands in the highest
estimation with mankind in general, and that is the Venetian style, or
rather the manner of Titian, which simply considered as producing an
effect of colours, will certainly eclipse, with its splendour, whatever
is brought in competition with it.'
In landscape painting, the routine of placing one colour by the side of
another according to any known or understood systems, is not so
imperative as when applied to historical painting, and where the manner
and effect of any particular school is to be produced.
To institute a comparison between all who have excelled in colouring,
would be useless here, differing so entirely. But of _Tone_:--The rich,
and the mellow, and the silvery grey, are cared most for, as regards
this expression. It involves all colours in its meaning, as well as the
depth and power of the light and shade, when divested of colour. It is
frequently produced after the picture is painted, by glazing or toning
over it until the required depth and expression of colour is obtained,
and mostly adding richness, splendour and variety. In water colour it is
highly and essentially prized.
A beautiful quality of tone is obtained from drawing on grey or coloured
paper, with black, white, and red chalks, the colour of the paper
supplying the middle tint, (which should always pervade the largest
space). It is likewise an admirable principle to adopt in water colour,
as it qualifies the whole appearance of the work, and the student will
proceed with greater certainty.
Of the situations in which a colour appears most beautiful, Leonardo
says, 'Black is the most so in the shade; white, in the strongest light;
blue and green in the half tint; yellow and red in the principal light;
gold in the reflexes, and lake in the half tint:' and 'the lighter a
colour is in its nature, the more so it will appear when removed to some
distance; but with dark colours it is quite the reverse.'
Some colours are rather unsociable, and, not mixing well with others,
are best used by themselves, producing the required tint by glazing one
over the other.
When any transparent colour is laid over an opaque one, or another of
its own quality, it produces a mixture different to either of those that
compose it; as lake over blue gives purple; yellow on blue produces
green, and so on. In many cases this is a superior method to that of
mixing them at once to the colour desired.
White is the receiver of all colours; black of none.
Any single colour appears most beautiful and brilliant when near the
same colour, but not having so much density in it. Observe how colours
are blended or contrasted in the plumage of birds, the wings of
butterflies, &c.
The shifting, blending, and comparing a number of coloured cards, has
always been found a useful and amusing way of instructing children in a
knowledge of colours.
Different coloured pieces of glass held up against a landscape, will
serve to show, through their medium, the varieties of hot and cold
effects.
Certain colours impart value to others, principally by contrast; thus,
the brilliant and rich glow of an autumnal evening is rendered most
intense when the dark brown and neutral masses of foliage are brought up
against it: it is only to their relative situations that they owe their
power.
That part of a white object which is nearest to a dark one, will appear
the whitest, and the less so as it is removed from it. The same occurs
by a dark one.
All colours will appear most perfect in themselves when contrasted with
their _opposites_--a green against red; blue against yellow; black
against white, &c.
Where one colour terminates on another, that is its contrast, there will
be greater strength exhibited at the junction than in the middle.
Great darkness is only obtained by the opposition of bright light, and
bright light by contrasting it with density of shadow.
Colours should recede in proportion to the _size_ of objects, as they
retire from the eye.
Too frequent a repetition of the same colour will produce monotony; so
will too much contrast.
Contrasts in colouring must be used with great caution, or the absence
of all keeping will be the result. At the same time, the beauty of a
colour is only fully developed by being placed by the side of its
opposite, or the one from which it is farthest removed.
If the blacks in a picture are kept firm and decided, they _clear up_
the general effect, and give _lightness_ and buoyancy to the whole work.
A colour is often left single, and standing by itself, in some principal
object; in which case, it is so contrived, by its density, or some other
quality, to bring together and harmonize all the rest.
If colours are not placed in _harmony_ with each other, they must be in
contact with such as give them value; as red against a cold, or green
against a warm colour. In short, the grand principle, in all its
constituent parts, simply amounts to this.
The strongest darks, brought in contact with the strongest lights,
increase their brilliance, by giving to the lights the utmost force and
clearness they can receive.
_Richness_ of colouring can only be adopted when the general tone of the
picture is sufficiently _dark_ to support it.
All colours retire in proportion to their negative or neutral character;
and as they develope themselves, gradually approaching to their
brightest point, so they reach the prominent parts of the foreground.
Rich, warm, and deep shadows, will support the strongest colours; and if
the browns are kept cool, the greys and cold colours retain their purity
better. The colours that _unite_ the hot and cold parts of a picture
require the nicest judgment: thus, white and black may be brought
together by grey, (grey being _made of_ white and black); blue and red,
by the interposition of purple, (purple being formed of blue and red.)
The larger the mass employed of neutral and _obscure_ colours, the
greater will be the force and illumination in the _clear_ ones, which,
being in their natures most attractive, should always be employed in
parts intended to create the greatest sensation.
ON GENERAL NATURE.
THE magic of art does not consist in an exact resemblance of an
object:--'An exact resemblance,' says Sir Joshua, 'may be even
disagreeable. The effect of figures in wax-work, for instance, is
disgusting to the eye accomplished to judge of Fine Art, yet it
approaches reality. We are pleased, on the contrary, by seeing ends
accomplished by seemingly inadequate means; but to express distances on
a plain surface, softness by hard bodies, and particular colouring by
materials which are not singly of that colour, produces that magic which
is the prize and triumph of Art. The power of a few well-chosen strokes,
which supersede labour by judgment and direction, produce a complete
impression of all that the _mind_ demands in an object; we are charmed
with such an unexpected happiness of execution, and begin to be tired
with superfluous diligence, which, in vain solicits an appetite already
satiated.'
We do not desire those who look on our pictures to suppose them real men
and women, or that they are real landscapes; but to admire the art
through the _means_ by which it is performed.
I have always observed the most exact imitations of nature to be
peculiarly within the sphere of the illiterate and uninformed; and the
more debased and vulgar the mind, the more will it admire such
productions. On the other hand, Fine Art has its own peculiar modes of
imitating Nature and of deviating from it, for the attainment of its own
purpose--'Nature to advantage dressed:' the great end of Art is to make
an impression on the imagination and the feelings. The imitation of
nature frequently does this; sometimes it fails, and sometimes else
succeeds. 'I think, therefore,' says Sir Joshua, 'the true test of all
Art is not solely whether the production is a true copy of Nature, but
whether it answers the end of Art, which is to produce a pleasing effect
upon the mind.'
Of the contracted ideas of high-finishers, I think excessive labour is
excessive weakness, and vigour can never come from such a source: making
every brick of a house appear, has nothing to do with the harmony of the
architecture; nothing is so monotonous as these detail and 'bit
painters;' their works, taken collectively, are universally effectless
and good for nothing; it is, at best, overwrought ingenuity--not Art.
The combinations must be generalized; some object in the foreground may
partake of this quality of finish, but if other parts of the composition
be not proportionably slighted, there will be a want of general harmony.
No separate part should possess any preponderance sufficient to absorb
the interest of the rest. An analogous combination will alone invest the
whole with the charm it conveys collectively, and infinite labour is
saved. The high excellencies of painting belong invariably to harmonious
combinations.
We frequently observe in the best works, the great effect produced by
slightness, which, by a sort of magic, at a distance, assumes complete
forms: this is scarcely ever the effect of chance or accident, however
it may be made to appear so, but the result of deep and matured study,
and a steady attention to the _general_ effect, produced, perhaps, by a
few happy scratches, and is 'more laborious to the mind than the highest
finishing would be,' accomplishing the purpose intended by a seemingly
intuitive perception of what was required, and communicating a lively
and vigorous impression to the minds of others by the energies of their
own. Extreme labour seldom fails to produce heaviness, while that
fascinating lightness of effect is universally occasioned by the absence
of it. The slightest and most undetermined manner of treatment often
succeeds in producing the best _general_ effect, which effect is as
often wholly defeated in the attempt at _finishing_ and blending the
colours and details. Some morsel or other is beautifully preserved, but
the _whole_ is lost.
The _general_ effect of the stars is all order--all repose; but the
_means_ by which this effect is produced is nowhere to be traced!
'The highest style has the least common nature in it:' 'Good sense is
not always _common_ sense.'
'We may depart from Nature for a greater advantage. Nature is frequently
narrow and confined in her principles, and must as frequently be
departed from. Pictures should be painted to give pleasure, and every
object which stands in the way of that pleasure _must_ be removed!'
Rubens thought the eye should be satisfied above all other
considerations; he, therefore, painted his reflects stronger than Nature
would warrant; thereby producing harmony from contrast and variety.
Reynolds, speaking of Claude Lorraine, says, 'Claude Lorraine was
convinced that taking nature as he found it seldom produced beauty: his
pictures are a composition of the various draughts which he had
previously made from various beautiful scenes and prospects.'
The harmony proceeding from contrast and variety of colour is more
conspicuous in the landscapes of Rubens, and the gorgeous colouring of
the landscapes of Titian, than in Claude--'departing from Nature for a
greater advantage!' As in the moonlights of Vanderneer, the pictures of
Cuyp and Both, and our own glorious Wilson, Gainsborough, &c. In
choosing from among these great manners, we must lean on the observation
of Reynolds, when he says, 'An artist is obliged for ever to hold the
balance in his hand, by which he must decide the value of different
qualities; that when some fault must be committed, he may choose the
least.'
There is, beyond all doubt, a grandeur in _general_ ideas, that the
narrow conceptions of _individual_ nature can never attain to.
Any subject, however mean or degraded in itself, but painted on a great
principle, will acquire splendour and dignity from association.
'Look at Nature! Nature is the true school of Art!' is the universal cry
of the vulgar and uneducated. But before their perception is capable of
_even seeing Nature_, as it is spread out before them, they will have
much to acquire of _Art_: for although Nature is before their eyes, to
them it is a closed book! This is no new position, for, says Sir Joshua,
'If our judgment is to be directed by narrow, vulgar, untaught, or
rather ill-taught reason, we must prefer a portrait by Denner, or any
other high finisher, to those of Titian or Vandyck; and a landscape by
Vanderheyden to those of Titian or Rubens; for they are certainly more
_exact_ representations of Nature. If we suppose a view of nature
represented with all the truth of the camera obscura, and the same
scene represented by a great artist, how _little and mean_ will the one
appear in comparison of the other, when no superiority is supposed from
the choice of the subject.'
And again,--'Amongst the painters, and writers on painting, there is one
maxim universally admitted and continually inculcated. Imitate Nature is
the invariable rule; but I know none who have explained in _what manner_
this rule is to be understood: the consequence of which is, that every
one takes it in the most obvious sense, that objects are represented
naturally when they have such relief that they seem _real_. It may
appear strange perhaps to hear this rule disputed; but it must be
considered that, if the excellence of a painter consisted only in this
kind of imitation, painting must lose its rank, and be no longer
considered as a liberal art, and sister to poetry--this imitation being
merely _mechanical_, in which the slowest intellect is always sure to
succeed best! for the painter of genius cannot stoop to drudgery, in
which the understanding has no part;--and what pretence has the art to
claim kindred with poetry, but its powers over the imagination? To this
power the painter of genius directs _his_ aim; in this sense _he studies
Nature_, and often arrives at the end, even by being unnatural, in the
confined sense of the word. The grand style of painting requires this
minute attention to be carefully avoided, and must be kept as separate
from it as the style of poetry from that of history. Poetical ornaments
destroy that air of truth and plainness which ought to characterize
history; but the very being of poetry consists in departing from this
_plain narration_, and adopting every ornament that will warm the
imagination.
'The Italian attends only to the invariable--the great and general ideas
which are fixed and inherent in _universal_ Nature; the Dutch, on the
contrary, to _literal_ truth, and a minute exactness in the detail, as I
may say, of Nature _modified_ by accident. The attention to these petty
peculiarities is the very cause of this naturalness, so much admired in
the Dutch pictures, which, if we suppose to be a beauty, is certainly of
a lower order, that ought to give place to a beauty of a superior kind,
since one cannot be obtained but by departing from the other.'
With the most practised hands, in painting from Nature on the spot, the
_hue and character of the artist_ will frequently pervade all his
efforts to paint nothing but what _he sees_ spread out before him; and
his system, prevailing even to this extent, has this advantage, that
accustomed as he is to consider Nature _generally_, his performance may
resemble Nature _more at another time_ than that one he painted it at!
as Nature seldom looks the _same_ two hours together.
The simple music of a bird may as well be compared to the most refined
compositions of the Italian school, that requires the most industrious
efforts to reach: both originate in Nature, but the latter is 'Nature to
advantage dressed.'
Nature, the best source we can go to for instruction, is '_always at
hand_!'--'but Nature herself is not to be too closely copied. There are
excellencies in the art of painting beyond what is commonly called the
imitation of Nature. A mere copyer of Nature can never produce any thing
great; for the works of Nature are full of disproportion.' It is the
_beau ideal_ of the mind alone that reaches this great end. It is
_comparing_ our observations _on_ Nature, that enables us to acquire
this ideal perfection. It is to skill in _selection_, and the separating
her beauties from her defects, that qualifies us to reach this grand
acquisition, which cannot be reduced to practical principles; but, by
being enabled to discover those defects, we learn the art of supplying
her wants. 'Correcting Nature by herself--her imperfect state by her
more perfect,'--'and Nature denies her instructions to none who desire
to become her pupils.'
Young people, and even men and women, who make respectable, and often
very excellent _copies_ from the works of others, frequently show me
their 'sketches from Nature;'--Oh, if Nature could see them--for, to say
they are in general perfectly frightful, is to use the gentlest
expression. I invariably trace, in these productions, their
_individuality_ is the cause of their unsuccess; and the incapacity to
_even see Nature generally_, which must be necessary before they can
paint her so.
Thus to abstract as it were her beauties, and to form _one general idea_
of them, in that abstract, is to enlarge the sphere of our
understandings, and invest our works with that intellectual grandeur
which _alone_ lifts them above the efforts of common minds, by the
nobleness of conception, and a higher degree of excellence: while the
student may be assured that his reputation will become permanent and
universal, from this system of contemplating Nature in the abstract, and
ennoble all he undertakes. His picture will have a mental effect over
all that is mechanical.
Dr. Johnson has most ably explained the hypothesis, so much urged by his
friend, of the necessity of _generalizing_ our ideas of Nature, when he
says, 'It is not to examine the individual, but the species; to remark
general properties and large appearances: he does not number the streaks
of the tulip, nor describe the different shades of the forest; he is to
exhibit in his portraits of nature such permanent and striking features,
as recall the original to _every_ mind; and must neglect the minuter
discriminations, which are alike obvious to vigilance and carelessness.'
The idleness of laborious _finish_, opposed to the overwhelming majesty
of _breadth_, cannot be better explained.
ON RULES.
RULES are not principles: Polite learning is only a more specious
ignorance: it may do something to make a connoisseur, but will never
make a practical painter; while a little knowledge of _principles_ will
go farther to make a connoisseur!