CONCLUSION.
[Sidenote: Advice.]
We have then finished Book II., and we presume that the student has now
mastered his technique and practice, but the end is not yet. The student
may thoroughly understand the scientific side of photography, he may have
mastered completely the use of his tools and he may be able to produce
impressions on his plates such as he desires, but the end is not yet, for
now he has to learn the practice and principles of art, he has to prove
whether he can be an artist, for such is only given to a few. All can
learn to draw, to paint, to photograph, to etch, but they may remain
draughtsmen, painters, photographers, etchers all their lives, and never
become artists. The history of art shows indeed how few become artists at
all, and as for those who become great artists, they are as scarce as
great poets. The student then must study art in some form or other, as
well as his own technique and practice, which he could learn alone if he
followed our instructions. Art, however, cannot so be learned, and the
student should, if possible, attend some art classes. There are numerous
art schools throughout the kingdom, and our student cannot do better than
enter one of them and go through a course of drawing. Though no very
profound knowledge is to be obtained at such schools, what is taught is
better than nothing at all, and after all the student cannot expect to get
the best advice on the matter, that is given to but the very few and
fortunate.
In the next book we shall give what advice we can, but at the same time
our student must study practically some branch of art; unless, indeed, he
wishes to become one of the mighty band of art-ignorant craftsmen, or
unless he is so fortunate as to be cast amongst highly talented artists,
to whom he can easily apply for advice. For having learned his technique
and practice he has but learned how to speak, he can only show his calibre
by what he has to say and how he says it, just as all the world can write
yet only the highly trained can write artistically.
In a very few months the student will see, if he is fitted by nature to
become an artist, and if he is not our advice is give it up, or take up
one of the scientific special branches, and if he is incapable of doing
good work there, he must content himself to play at photography, as too
many photographers do now, but in our opinion the art is not worth playing
at, there are so many more satisfying games when play is the end and aim.
BOOK III.
PICTORIAL ART.
“He does not sufficiently understand that things are of value only
according to their fundamental qualities, and he still believes that
the care with which a thing is done, even if it is aimless, ought to
be taken into account. In fact it would be a good thing to make him
understand that things exist only to the extent of the stuff they
contain.”
J. FRANÇOIS-MILLET.
CHAPTER I.
EDUCATED SIGHT.
[Sidenote: Born blind.]
We are all born mentally blind, but almost immediately we detect light, as
can some of the lowest animals, then we _learn_ to distinguish the colours
and forms of objects as we grow older, and there the majority of us stop,
and yet we all think we can see equally well. That we cannot is a truism,
for after being able to distinguish colours and forms, but very few
persons go on to educate their sight more perfectly. [Sidenote: Trades.]
Some of us may learn to distinguish certain kinds of material, the
different aspects of these materials under different conditions, and so
they learn trades and are excellent judges of tea, coffee, hosiery and
paper. [Sidenote: Science.] Still higher come the scientific men who pay
more attention to the education of the sight. They learn to distinguish
the microscopic beings, the life-histories of the lower forms of animal
life, the histology of flowers, the structure of the trees, the aspects of
the skies, the physical and chemical phenomena of the elements, the
movements of the planets, so that in all their walks nature is full of
interest to them; they find wisdom in a pond, they revel in a marsh, or
they travel to a far country for the sake of rare birds' eggs, or spend
days and nights in their laboratories to solve new chemical problems, or
organize expeditions to study unusual phenomena of the heavenly bodies;
they see and love all these things. The man uneducated in science finds no
interest in a drop of muddy water, he finds nothing wonderful in the
vegetation of the country side, he passes unheeded the rarest birds, and
the rainbow, and storm cloud, and the blazing comet, all alike to him have
no interest, he is blind to them; or if he sees them at all, it is as
through a glass, darkly.
[Sidenote: Art.]
All this the world allows, and allows that no one save those who by hard
work have trained themselves can see these things. But mark the stupidity
of mankind, he allows he is blind to the pleasures of science and will
remain so, unless he studies the subject, but when it comes to art
matters, like a weathercock, he shifts round and thinks he can understand
all that without any training at all, yet he is born as blind and
incapable of understanding art as he is of understanding science until he
has trained himself to understand.
[Sidenote: The artist.]
The artist, like the scientific man, begins by studying closely his
subject—nature as a whole—he studies her in all her aspects, he seeks for
harmonies and arrangements in colour and form, for beautiful lines of
composition, and only after long and close observation do the scales drop
from his eyes and he sees a beautiful pose, even in a child digging up
potatoes, or a man throwing a hammer or running a race, or he sees subtle
beauties of colour in a reed-bed, or poetry and pathos in an old peasant
stooping under a load of sticks, and this is far more difficult to see
than it is to learn to see the scientific truths, and that is why there
are so few real artists and poets and so many more scientific men. Art,
alas, cannot be learned like science, hard work will not necessarily make
an artist. [Sidenote: Photographers art-blind.] Most photographers are
art-blind, but they are like the colour-blind old lady who did not know
it, and of course the only hope for them is to be convinced of their
blindness, then perhaps they may do something towards getting rid of the
defect.
[Sidenote: Necessary to cultivate artistic faculty.]
The student should now clearly understand why it is so necessary that this
faculty of artistic sight should be cultivated and trained, for since it
is our fundamental principle that all suggestions for pictures should come
from nature, we must first see the picture in nature and be struck by its
beauty so that we cannot rest until we have secured it on our plate; we
must therefore learn to see it in nature. If we see a beautiful pose, or a
beautiful effect in nature, we should at least make a note of it if we
cannot secure it. A slight sketch made at the time will do. Therefore,
amateur reader, if you have not trained yourself by study to see these
things in nature, blame no one but yourself, but remember you are blind,
blind, blind; but there is a remedy, and no surgical operation is required
either.
[Sidenote: Necessity of study.]
Study! You must ever be on the look-out for beauties, that is the
necessary mental attitude, otherwise they will never be seen. You must
look for a thing if you wish to find it, and it is only by showing us your
finds that you will prove you have artistic insight, we shall not believe
a word you say about art until we see it in your work. If you do not
study, or if you are incapable, you will remain blind in spite of your
looking, and there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth when you show to
the world commonplaces which you think are gems, for the world will soon
tell you they are commonplace. We once knew a person who was colour-blind,
who resented the suggestion as a personal insult, until one evening her
eyesight was tested, when her colour-blindness was proved.
Let the student then be assured that he is blind, he cannot _see_ art and
nature until he has studied them long and closely. He may be arrogant
enough to think he knows all about her without study. If that is so, as he
grows older let him refer back to his earlier works, and if he has
progressed meanwhile, let him recall how perfect he thought those early
works at the time he did them, and then let him lash himself for his
folly. A really good work will always bear looking back at, and will hold
its own however old the artist gets. [Sidenote: No royal road.] There is
no royal road to this appreciation of the beauties of art and nature, none
but incessant and loving study, and though the cockney, or sage of the
university, who dwells in towns and learns his art and his nature in the
National Gallery and British Museum, may lecture on nature and art, let
the student avoid him and his example. Lectures on art at any time are but
Dead Sea fruit.
The student then must educate his eyesight in order to see the beauties of
nature and art, and to do this he must study hard, for the true artist
wishes to see these beauties and to record them, that is all, nothing
more. The seers who see deeply, they are the poets! In science the
original discoverers are the seers, and since but few can aspire to become
seers, nevertheless let the rest be content to go on studying, for all of
us can see these things with an educated and intelligent eye, and seeing,
understand, and that reward is worth the pains.
CHAPTER II.
COMPOSITION.
[Sidenote: Composition.]
No chapter of this book has given us so much thought as this chapter on
composition.
[Sidenote: Laws of composition.]
We could easily, as most writers have done, have given a digest of Mr.
Burnet’s laws of composition, but we have no faith in any “laws of
composition.” A law, to be logical, must hold good in all cases; now the
so-called “laws of composition,” are often broken deliberately by great
artists, and yet the result is perfect. This is easily explained, for
these so-called laws are mere arbitrary rules, deduced by one man from the
works of many artists and writers; and they are no more laws in the true
sense than are the laws of Phrenology or Astrology.
[Sidenote: Our problem.]
The great question then, which presented itself to us, was this: Will the
study of these so-called rules do good or harm to the student? Will a
knowledge of them lead him to the production of conventional work, or will
it in any way help him in his future work? We had many earnest discussions
on this point with artists, and they seemed equally uncertain in the
matter, though one condemned all such laws as absurd and unnecessary.
[Sidenote: “Treatise on Painting.”] We most certainly feel inclined to
agree with that one dissentient, but in trying to place ourselves in the
position of the photographic student, with absolutely no knowledge of art,
we have come to the conclusion that, perhaps, the student had better study
Mr. Burnet’s “Treatise on Painting.” A cheap edition of this book is
published by Dr. E. Wilson, of 835, Broadway, New York, and every student
should get a copy of it. It can be thoroughly mastered in a week or two,
so that not much time will be lost. The numerous plates will at any rate
be of some use to the student.
[Sidenote: Our ideas on composition.]
Now, from these remarks, it must not be assumed that we are no believer in
“composition.” Composition is really selection, and is one of the most—if
not the most—vital matters in all art, certainly the most vital in the art
of photography. But the writer maintains there are no laws for selection.
Each picture requires a special composition, and every artist treats each
picture originally; his method of treatment, however, often becomes a
“law” for lesser lights.
It has been assumed by opponents to “Naturalism” that naturalistic artists
ignore composition, and portray nature “anyhow,” just as she happens to
present herself to them. Nothing could be further from the truth. None is
more careful in selection and arrangement than the naturalistic painter,
at the same time none is less conventional. Nature is not always suitable
for pictorial purposes, though she is often enough suitable, and it is
when she is propitious that the artist depicts her; hence the great
principle of naturalism, that all suggestions should come from nature. The
object of art training is to show these propitious moods, and to enable
the painter to portray them. We prefer, then, the word “selection” to
composition. The matter really stands thus, a good naturalistic artist
selects a composition in nature which he sees to be very fine.
By composition, as used in this paragraph, is meant the harmonious and
fitting combination of the various component parts of the picture which
shall best express the picture.
Our best method will be to follow Mr. Burnet’s division of his subject,
and offer a running commentary on the essentials of his work from a
photographer’s standpoint, giving our ideas on the subject when they
differ from those of the author of “A Treatise on Painting.”
“A TREATISE ON PAINTING,” by J. BURNET, F.R.S.
_Education of the Eye.—Measurement and Form._
[Sidenote: Burnet’s “Painting.”]
Omitting to comment on Mr. Burnet’s remarks, we put the matter thus, that
it is highly desirable for all photographers to learn drawing, and to
learn it intelligently. Nothing could be more lamentable than the way in
which drawing is taught in our schools, it is worse than useless. The
student should go to some good art school for a few months, and learn
drawing, for in that way are learned the analysis and construction of
objects, and, above all, the eye is trained to careful observation, which
will be invaluable in the study of tone and selection.
_Perspective._
[Sidenote: Perspective.]
This section the student should read over carefully, understanding
thoroughly the “point of sight” and the causes of violent perspective. For
in photography, though his lens may be true in drawing, he can as easily
obtain violent perspective as the draughtsman, by placing the lens too
close to his model. Fore-shortening, too, should be thoroughly understood.
Aërial perspective has been simply treated by us in this work, and the
various remarks of Burnet on this subject must be taken _cum grano salis_.
_Chiaro-oscuro._
[Sidenote: Chiaro-oscuro.]
This term means light and shade. Now the term “chiaro-oscuro” is very
misleading, for it is used by different artists to mean different things.
The whole of photography depends on the proper management of light and
shade, for our drawing is done for us; but we prefer to use the more
modern term, “tone,” to express what we mean by light and shade; that term
we have already fully explained. Chiaro-oscuro, as we understand it, is
the _arbitrary_ placing of masses of light against masses of shade to
produce certain desired effects; it is, therefore, conventional, and akin
to the _law_ which required all trees to be painted fiddle-brown. It is
needless to say the only way such a conventional chiaro-oscuro can be
obtained in photography is by arranging the objects in nature, or by
retouching, and both are against our principles. The student, then, must,
as we have said, master “tone,” that is his chiaro-oscuro, his light and
shade, and he must always remember to look for “breadth” in his treatment.
[Sidenote: Breadth.] Breadth is found in all good work, and it depends in
photography not entirely upon light and shade, but upon the focussing and
developing as well, as we have already indicated. Why are spotty-lighted,
sharply-focussed, brightly-developed negatives so “noisy” and garish and
inartistic? It is that they lack “breadth.” It must not be thought from
this that no sunny pictures have breadth; on the contrary, if the masses
are large, and the planes well rendered, and the tonality true, there can
be as much breadth in a sunny picture as in a grey-day effect. It has been
said that “breadth” is a device of the painters, but this is mere
nonsense. Let the student look well at a simple stretch of grass-land
bordering a still lake, on a damp, misty evening, and then he will see
breadth. Let him focus that scene as sharply as he likes, including a
portion of sky as well, and develop and print from it, and he will find
breadth, and he will probably have a clear understanding as to the meaning
of the word.
Mr. Burnet divides chiaro-oscuro into five parts, viz. light, half-light,
middle tint, half-dark, dark. This arbitrary division is hypercritical.
For working purposes, light, half-tone or middle tint, and dark, are quite
sufficient; other subdivisions are far too subtle and numerous to be
considered theoretically, and, practically, truth of tone is only to be
learned by long experience and study, and we believe all the directions
given by Mr. Burnet for producing relief, harmony, and breadth, to be
artificial and useless. An examination of the plates shows clearly how
futile are his deductions, and how untrue in light and shade, viz. tone,
they all are.
_Composition._
[Sidenote: Composition.]
Mr. Burnet opens with the statement that “geometric forms in composition
are found to give order and regularity to an assemblage of figures.” This
is the first principle on which is built his structure of geometrical
composition. We will omit the dicta of literary men on pictorial art which
Mr. Burnet is so fond of quoting, but which we consider too worthless to
do more with than mention. Let us then apply ourselves to the study of his
thesis.
His first remarks are upon angular composition, and as he finds that these
lead him into conventional methods, he goes on to say that this
conventionality can be rectified by balance. Even if we would follow this
form of composition our means are limited, for, unlike the painter, we
cannot alter and re-arrange. However, we have no wish to make “angular
compositions,” and consider them false in theory. Painters, on the other
hand, must settle these matters for themselves; we know how many settle
them, that is by ignoring all such teachings as nonsense. Next we come to
the “circular composition,” which, we are told, is “applicable to the
highest walks of art,” wherever they may be. Soon after this we come upon
the truest remark in the book. “Artists generally prefer the opinions of
untutored children to the remarks of the most learned philosophers,” and
we fear most modern artists prefer the teachings of nature to those of
that philosopher John Burnet, F.R.S. Finally, Mr. Burnet winds up with the
words, “I must also caution the young artist against supposing that these
modes of arrangements are given for his imitation. I merely wish him to be
acquainted with the advantages any particular composition possesses, that
in adopting any invention of his own, he may engraft upon it these or
similar advantages.”
Now this reads very oddly after talking of _rules_ of composition, for
what is the good of a rule if it is not to be followed? and it reads very
illogically when compared with the quotation from Reynolds (Brougham?),
which goes to back up the excuse for advocating rules as Burnet gives
them,—viz. “to those who imagine that such _rules_ tend to fetter genius,
&c.”
In short, the whole work is illogical, unscientific, and inartistic, and
has not a leg to stand on. It is very specious to say that all
compositions are made according to geometrical forms, for nothing can be
easier than to take arbitrary points in a picture and draw geometrical
figures joining them. The pyramid is a favourite geometrical form of
composition. Now take any picture, and take any three points you like, and
join them, and you have a pyramid, so does every composition contain a
pyramid, as does a donkey’s ear. But enough of this. The student is
distinctly warned against paying any serious attention to these rules; it
is, however, as we have said, well that he should know of them, and we
suspect he will learn something of design from merely looking carefully at
the plates. Of tone he will learn nothing.
With Mr. Burnet’s remarks upon colour we are in no way concerned.
But the student will say, how, then, can composition be learned? Our
answer to this is that composition, that is selection, cannot be learned
save by experience and practical work—there is no royal road to it, no
shilling guide. This subtle and vital power must be acquired if we are to
do any good work, for we are dumb until we do acquire it. We can no more
express ourselves in art without having mastered composition, than a child
can express himself in prose until he has learnt the art of writing. It is
for this reason that we must learn art practically, for no written “rules
or laws” can be given. Each picture is a problem in itself, and the
art-master can help the student to solve the problems as they arise, in
that way only can composition be learned. The proof of this is that young
painters who have been through the schools are very weak in composition,
it is only by continual failures that they acquire the necessary
knowledge. Let the student trace the development of any painter’s work,
and he will find that his early works are always poor in composition and
feeble in _motif_.
CHAPTER III.
OUT-DOOR AND IN-DOOR WORK.
It is presumed the student has thoroughly mastered and applied all that
has preceded this chapter, especially the matter of tone, otherwise it is
no use attempting to make pictures, which means attempting composition.
Presuming then the student is master of the subject as already treated, we
will now proceed to offer some suggestions on picture-making, but be it
distinctly understood they are only suggestions.
We shall divide the subject into two sections, beginning with out-door
work.
OUT-DOOR PORTRAITURE.
[Sidenote: Out-door portraiture.]
Very fine portraits and groups can be taken out of doors. In taking such
pictures, it is admissible to dictate the dress of the model, and to
arrange tea-parties, sporting, athletic, and other groups. But if the
student intends to make them artistic, he must be very particular with his
_types_, and see above all things that the sentiment is true. For example,
it is a fine parody on nature to photograph a gaunt and self-conscious
girl in æsthetic clothing, for dress it cannot be called, with a
tennis-bat in her hand. For a tennis picture, fine girls, physically
well-formed, should be chosen.
[Sidenote: Background.]
Next the student should choose a simple background, which with the dress
and flesh tints form a harmony or fine study in tone. The model’s dress
should be very simple and well-fitting, such dresses as were worn by
Botticelli’s women (dresses quite unlike the modern æsthetic gowns), being
very artistic for women, while flannel shirts or simple white trousers
will look well on the men. All monstrosities and exaggerations of fashion
should be avoided, such as flowers, chatelaines, wasp-waists, high heels,
and dress improvers. [Sidenote: Materials for dresses.] The best material
for dresses for pictures is a coarse, limp, self-coloured muslin
(butter-cloth is excellent for the purpose). [Sidenote: Jewellery.] All
jewellery should be eschewed, the only decoration of this kind that
photographs simply and well is perhaps a string of pearls, which looks
charming.
The work must be true in sentiment, and the student must choose an
appropriate treatment of the subject. The portrait being out of doors, we
must be made _to feel_ that fact; thus, a girl resting from tennis, a girl
in a riding-habit, or better still on horseback, would be very
appropriate. The background must be carefully selected to be in keeping
with the figure, and to help to tell the story fully and emphatically, and
yet it must be kept subdued.
[Sidenote: Groups.]
Groups are very difficult to treat artistically, and our never-failing
rule is to limit as much as possible the number of people in the group.
[Sidenote: Treatment of model.] Having now chosen his model and arranged
other matters, the student must remember to let his model stand or sit, as
he or she likes, and all suggestions for the pose should come from the
model; this is a fundamental principle of naturalism. A great friend of
ours, a well-known sculptor, assures us he would not dare to pose a model
according to any preconceived idea, but he watches the model pose in
different ways, and when he sees a striking and beautiful attitude be
seizes on that and makes a rapid sketch of it. That is the only true way
for the photographer to work, he must have the camera ready, focussed and
arranged, and when he sees his model in an _unconscious_ and beautiful
pose, he must snap his shutter. It is thus very evident how important is
art-knowledge and insight for all good photographic work, and it is thus
evident how a man who is sympathetic and of a refined temperament will
show his individuality in his work.
[Sidenote: Commercial Groups.]
With commercial groups of bands, football teams, &c., the student has
nothing to do, and let him never be induced to photograph anything which
he does not think will make a picture. He must have patience also, when
waiting for nature’s suggestions; we have waited a whole morning, rubber
ball in hand, for a suitable grouping of colts, but we finally got one of
the best things we ever produced. If our photographer be a smoker, let him
light his pipe and take it easy, talking meanwhile to the model; at length
his chance will come, but it may only come once, and then he must not
hesitate or the picture may be lost in a moment. It is preferable that all
out-door portraits should be taken on a grey day, or in the shade if the
sun be shining.
There is a wide field open to wealthy photographers for producing really
good pictures of their friends at country houses. But the student must
remember that to produce a perfect picture takes a long time and can only
be achieved by long and patient practice, coupled with artistic ability.
The hurried representations of shooting, boating, and family groups, which
are so often produced by industrial photographers, are artistically
beneath contempt. They are mere statements of facts, and as much akin to
art as the directions in a cookery-book are akin to literature.
Photography up to a certain point, and in a haphazard way, is so easily
learned now-a-days that there is absolutely no merit in producing such
work. Such photographs are only the confessions of untrained and
commonplace minds.
LANDSCAPE.
[Sidenote: Landscape.]
The student who would become a landscape photographer must go to the
country and live there for long periods; for in no other way can he get
any insight into the mystery of nature. All nature near towns is tinged
with artificiality, it may not be very patent but the close observer
detects it. Among fisher-folk this may be seen in the sealskin cap, in the
rustic it shows itself in the hard billycock hat, in landscape pure it may
be seen in some artificial forms of the river-banks, or in artificial
undergrowths; the mark of the beast, the stamp of vulgarity, that
hydra-headed monster which always appears whereever a few men are gathered
together, is sure to be found somewhere. For this reason then the would-be
landscape-photographer should pack up his things and go to some locality
with which he is in sympathy, just as a painter does. [Sidenote:
“Outings.”] Here let him be cautioned against taking part in any of those
“outings,” organized by well-meaning but mistaken people. It is laughable
indeed to read of the doings of these gatherings; of their appointment of
a leader (often blind); of the driving in breaks, always a strong feature
of these meetings; of the eatings, an even stronger feature; and finally
of the bag, 32 “Ilford’s,” 42 “Wrattens',” 52 “Paget’s,” &c.
Apply the same sort of thing to painting, and would it not indeed be
ridiculous? Would it not lower painting in the eyes of the world if say
thirty academicians with a leader for the day, assembled at Victoria
Station with pastels and boards, or with paint-tubes and small canvasses,
and went by train to some village and there proceeded to pastel or paint
what the leader suggested; then would follow the dinner (the best part, no
doubt), and next day how edified would be the world to read in the daily
papers of the most successful outing, the result of which was the covering
of 32 “Rowney,” 29 “Windsor and Newton,” and 40 “Newman” canvasses! All
these “playings” bring photography down to the level of cycling and
canoeing, and yet many photographers wonder that artists will have no
official connection with photography. We know well that it is for these
and similar reasons that serious artists will not allow their names to be
officially connected with photography, and we here earnestly appeal to all
who really have the advancement of photography at heart to do all in their
power to bring such trivial “play” to an end. [Sidenote: Choice of
district.] Having then decided to go to the country, let the student think
well with which kind of landscape he is most in sympathy, but let him
always remember this fact that all landscape is not suitable for pictorial
purposes; he must therefore learn to distinguish between the suitable and
the unsuitable. Landscapes there are full of charm, pleasant places for a
picnic or encampment, but when you come to put them into a picture, they
become tame and commonplace.
Again let the student avoid imitation. If he knows that an artist has been
successful in one place, do not let him, like a feeble imitator, be led
thither also, for the chances are, if his predecessor were a strong man,
that he will produce commonplaces where the other produced masterpieces,
and thereby confess his inferiority. It is far better to be original in a
smaller way than another, than to be even a first-rate imitator of
another, however great.
[Sidenote: Photographic haunts.]
For this reason the present method adopted by inartistic writers of
publishing “Photographic Haunts” is strongly to be deprecated, such guides
can but lead to conventional and imitative, therefore contemptible work.
The fact of the matter is nature is full of pictures, and they are to be
found in what appears to the uninitiated the most unlikely places. Let the
honest student then choose some district with which he is in sympathy, and
let him go there quietly and spend a few months, or even weeks if he
cannot spare months, and let him day and night study the effects of
nature, and try at any rate to produce _one picture_ of his own, one
picture which shall show an honest attempt to probe the mysteries of
nature and art, one picture which shall show the author has something to
say, and knows how to say it, as perhaps no other living person could say
it; that is something to have accomplished. Remember that your photograph
is as true an index of your mind, as if you had written out a confession
of faith on paper.
We will now offer a few remarks on the component parts of a picture.
THE “LINES.”
[Sidenote: “Lines.”]
As we have said there can be no rules for the arrangement of lines, yet
they are all-important and essential to the expression of harmony and
directness. The student must cultivate the habit of quickly analyzing the
lines of a picture, and coming to a decision whether they are harmonious
and pictorially suitable. For example, he must not have the lines of
different objects cutting each other and forming unpleasant angles, for if
he does this the eye of the observer will never get away from the
geometrical figure, however good the other part of the picture may be. He
should look for repeated line, and his lines should run into the picture,
thus all uncomfortableness is avoided. [Sidenote: Balance.] There is no
necessity for balance or the equal arrangement of masses on either side of
the picture, for this, though it may produce pretty pictures, will never
produce strong ones. Every line must help to tell the story and strengthen
the picture, otherwise it weakens it.
AËRIAL PERSPECTIVE.
[Sidenote: Aërial perspective.]
It is of vital importance that this be well rendered, the method for
obtaining it having already been shown.
The student must remember that he must give the true value to the separate
planes of the picture, or it is worthless for reasons already stated. The
state of the weather, has, as we have indicated, a wonderful modifying
effect on this perspective, and must be carefully studied.
TONE.
[Sidenote: Tone.]
Of vital importance is the relatively true rendering of tone as already
indicated. This is such a subtle subject that no directions can be given
for it, and the student can only master the subject by a long and ardent
study of nature. He can test his knowledge by his power of criticizing
pictures away from nature, for their truth or falsity of tone. The key in
which the picture is pitched should always be in keeping with the subject
rendered.
COMPOSITION.
[Sidenote: Composition.]
The objects must be arranged so that the thing expressed is told clearly
and directly, in short, the student should try to express his subject as
it has never been expressed before. All things not connected with the
subject should be removed, and all but the chief thing to be expressed
should be carefully subdued. The interest must not be divided, but all
must go to help the expression of the _motif_ of the picture. Thus a white
patch the size of a threepenny piece may ruin a twelve by ten inch plate,
as many a hat, a basket, as many a small article has done; just as a false
foot may ruin an otherwise fine stanza. Be most careful how you introduce
a detail, it may either make or mar your picture.
The sentiment and detail must always be appropriate or the result is a
travesty. Thus haymakers do not wear new-fashioned buttoned boots, nor do
rustics wear sun-bonnets and aprons all clean and fashionably cut. But
this is only a superficial matter, the artist must carry appropriateness
much deeper than in mere costume; for example, a flock of sheep on a
pasture may be made quite false in sentiment, if they are driven in a way
that suggests a march to the slaughter-house, and they very easily huddle
together in a manner that suggests that final procession. The student will
now see how subtle all these matters are, and how little yet how much
divides the masterpiece from mediocrity. Some photographers think
naturalism consists only in taking things as they are, and they will
exclaim, if you criticize their work, “Oh! it was just like that any way.”
True, oh ingenuous one, but it was just some other way as well, and
perhaps that other way might have given a work of art, whereas this way
has given a bald and uninteresting fact. Selection or composition is a
most subtle matter, and one very difficult to learn, but let the student
persevere, and if he has the ability he will find that the scales will
fall from his eyes as he goes on.
IMPRESSION.
[Sidenote: Impression.]
The impression must be true throughout, and if all the preceding
components are true the impression will be true.
Our student may now have carried out all these things and yet there may be
no picture, his mind may be commonplace. He may have wasted a good
technique on a commonplace subject, such as a yacht going in full sail, an
express train, some very ordinary dogs or horses, or some very
extraordinary men or women. We are then brought to a very important
matter, the subject.
SUBJECT OF THE PICTURE.
[Sidenote: Subject.]
The subject must have pictorial qualities, it must be typical, and must
give æsthetic pleasure. The student must look for elegance and a
_distingué_ air in his subject. You will find that the best pictures will
be of those subjects which hit you hardest in nature, those which strike
you so much that you feel an irresistible desire to secure them.
[Sidenote: Art of feeling nature.]
You must then train your feelings, for, as John Constable said, “the art
of feeling nature is a thing almost as much to be cultivated as the art of
reading the Egyptian hieroglyphics.” You must then, when you have felt
your subject, be resolute and only take in what is necessary to express
your subject; this is the text of the artist. Everything must be
harmonious and comfortable, but that alone will not suffice any more than
will the subject alone. Everything must be in keeping in the picture. The
artist must be in sympathy with his subject, “_entrer dans la même peau_,”
as the French say. He must have no preconceived notion of how he is going
to do a subject, but take all his suggestions from nature and humbly
follow them and lovingly portray them. Pure imitation of nature (even if
it were possible) won’t do, the artist must add his intellect, hence his
work is an interpretation. To photograph a “flying express” so that it
looks as if standing still is imitation, to render it with the suggestion
of motion by its smoke and steam is an interpretation. The great question
which the student should ask himself is: My aim, what is it? If that be
serious and honest, and not feeble and vainglorious, he is all right.
Remember that the aim of art is to give æsthetic pleasure, and that
artists are the best judges of this matter, and you will find that so good
is their training that they often elevate the meanest things they touch.
[Sidenote: Poetry in works of art.]
The highest expression is that of poetry, and therefore the best works of
art all contain poetry. What poetry is and how it is to be got is not to
be discussed in our present state of knowledge, suffice it to say that the
poet is born and not made, though the poet’s speech may be improved by
training.
[Sidenote: Qualities of a picture.]
Thus it will be seen how difficult a matter it is to produce a _picture_,
even when we have thoroughly mastered our technique and practice, for, to
recapitulate, in a picture the arrangement of lines must be appropriate,
the aërial perspective must be truly and subtily yet broadly rendered, the
tonality must be relatively true, the composition must be perfect, the
impression true, the subject distinguished, and if the picture is to be a
masterpiece, the _motif_ must be poetically rendered, for there is a
poetry of photography as there is of painting and literature.
Never rest satisfied then until these requirements are all fulfilled, and
destroy all works in which they are not to be found.
That it will be possible for comparatively few to succeed is evident, but
the prize is worth striving for, for even if we do not all attain to the
production of perfect works, we shall have gained a knowledge of art and
an insight into nature, that will be a never-failing source of pleasure to
us in our daily walks.
FIGURE AND LANDSCAPE.
[Sidenote: Figure and landscape.]
By far the most difficult branch of photography is that in which figures
occur in landscapes. All previous remarks apply to this branch of the art,
only here it is more necessary than ever that every detail be perfect.
This is a branch which we have perhaps studied and developed more than any
other, and yet even now we feel but a beginner in it. One thing you must
never forget, that is the _type_; you must choose your models most
carefully, and they must without fail be picturesque and typical. The
student should feel that there never was such a fisherman, or such a
ploughman, or such a poacher, or such an old man, or such a beautiful
girl, as he is picturing. It is a great mistake for photographers to
attempt rural subjects unless they have lived in the country for a long
time and are thoroughly imbued with the sentiment of country life. The
truth of this axiom is proved by the falseness of sentiment seen in most
country pictures done by painters even. The student who lives in town will
find good figure-subjects in the town, and if he has no sympathy with such
life, he should try such subjects as shooting parties, coursing meets,
riding subjects, and beautiful women. It is fallacious to try and
cultivate an unsympathetic field and is sure to end in mediocrity or
failure.
STUDIO PORTRAITURE.
[Sidenote: Studio Portraiture.]
The easiest branch of photography is portraiture in the studio, for all
conditions, including even the dress of the model, are in the
photographer’s hands. The lighting is also perfectly under control.
[Sidenote: Principles of lighting.]
The principles of lighting a face are briefly these: A top light gives the
best and subtlest modelling, and gives more relief than any other
lighting. But the aim of pictorial art is not to give relief to illusion,
therefore the top light effect is modified by a side light and by
reflectors. The principle of using a reflector is this: Light falling at
right angles on a plane surface gives the highest light, then as we turn
the reflector through a circle, we get all gradations up to full dark,
when the reflector is turned right round. This principle must be
remembered in lighting the planes of the face. The portraitist must work
as does the sculptor, in planes and tone, that is, he must quickly make an
analysis of the face and observe the most suitable treatment of the
subject, and then he must focus and develop so as to bring the planes well
out, and they must be broad in treatment and relatively true in tone.
These are the only principles which can be given for lighting, their
application can be learned by study first on a plaster cast, and
afterwards on the living model.
[Sidenote: Character or expression.]
The great thing to obtain is the character or expression of the model,
everything must be sacrificed for this in portraiture, and enough of the
figure must be taken in to thoroughly express the character. Thus the head
alone may do in some cases, in others it will be necessary to include the
hands, in others the whole body. It is needless to repeat that all
portraits should be taken by quick exposures. The best way is for the
student to have a very long elastic tube to his shutter, then he can walk
about and talk to the model, and when he sees a good natural pose, he can
expose, and his picture will probably be good. The present way of posing,
using head-rests, &c., is feeble and archaic, and nearly certain to result
in failure.
Another important hint is to place the lens on the same level as the eye
of the model, neither higher nor lower, especially if large heads are
taken. When the picture is to be full length or three-quarter length, the
head should still receive the principal attention, and all else be
subdued.
We have already treated of arrangements of backgrounds and dresses in
harmonies, and of the absolute necessity for using only suitable
accessories. In addition all other principles of composition, harmony,
breadth, as already described, must be remembered.
[Sidenote: Adam Salomon.]
Finally we give a quotation from M. Adam Salomon, sculptor and
photographer:—
“Each subject should be treated according to its own requirements, its own
individualism.... When the artist is interested in his work and believes
in his art, it becomes wonderfully plastic, and the materials wonderfully
tractable in his hands.”
CHAPTER IV.
HINTS ON ART.
[Sidenote: Practical hints.]
As practical hints for working cannot be woven into a continuous text, we
will give them separately.
[Sidenote: Prizes for “set subjects.”]
Never compete for prizes for “set subjects,” for work of this kind leads
to working from preconceived ideas, and therefore to conventionality,
false sentiment, and vulgarity.
[Sidenote: Man originally vulgar.]
Remember that the original state of the minds of uneducated men is vulgar,
you now know why vulgar and commonplace works please the majority.
Therefore, educate your mind, and fight the hydra-headed
monster—vulgarity. Seize on any aspect of nature that pleases you and try
and interpret it, and ignore—as nature ignores—all childish rules, such as
that the lens should work only when the sun shines or when no wind blows.
[Sidenote: Æolus.
Merit of photographs.]
Æolus is the breath of life of landscape.
The chief merit of most photographs is their diagramatic accuracy, as it
is their chief vice.
[Sidenote: Pseudo-scientific photographers and art.]
Avoid the counsels of pseudo-scientific photographers in art matters, as
they have avoided the study of art.
[Sidenote: Resolution.]
If you decide on taking a picture, let nothing stop you, even should you
have to stand by your tripod for a day.
[Sidenote: Point of sight.]
Do not climb a mast, or sit on the weathercock of a steeple, to photograph
a landscape; remember no one will follow you up there to get your point of
sight.
[Sidenote: Rembrandt pictures.]
Do not talk of Rembrandt pictures, there was but one Rembrandt. Light your
pictures as best you can and call them your own.
[Sidenote: “Artist photographers.”]
Do not call yourself an “artist-photographer” and make “artist-painters”
and “artist-sculptors” laugh; call yourself a photographer and wait for
artists to call you brother.
[Sidenote: Falsity of photographic portraits.]
Remember why nearly all portrait photographs are so unlike the people they
represent—because the portrait lens as often used gives false drawing of
the planes and false tonality, and then, comes along the retoucher to put
on the first part of the uniform, and he is followed by the vignetter and
burnisher who complete the disguise.
[Sidenote: Amount of landscape to be included in a picture.]
The amount of a landscape to be included in a picture is far more
difficult to determine than the amount of oxidizer or alkali to be used in
the developer.
[Sidenote: “Flat” and “weak” negatives.]
Pay no heed to the average photographer’s remarks upon “flat” and “weak”
negatives. Probably he is flat, weak, stale and unprofitable; your
negative may be first-rate, and probably is if he does not approve of it.
[Sidenote: Bad wood-cutters.]
Do not allow bad wood-cutters and second-rate process-mongers to produce
libels of your work.
[Sidenote: Broad and simple.
Work and faith.]
Be broad and simple.
Work hard and have faith in nature’s teachings.
[Sidenote: The propitious moment.]
Remember there is one moment in the year when each particular landscape
looks at its best, try and secure it at that moment.
[Sidenote: Procrastination.]
Do not put off doing a coveted picture until another year, for next year
the scene will look very different. You will never be able twice to get
exactly the same thing.
[Sidenote: Vulgarity.]
Vulgarity astonishes, produces a sensation; refinement attracts by
delicacy and charm and must be sought out. Vulgarity obtrudes itself,
refinement is unobtrusive and requires the introduction of education.
[Sidenote: Art and legerdemain.]
Art is not legerdemain; much “instantaneous” work is but jugglery.
[Sidenote: “Going in for photography.”]
Though many painters and sculptors talk glibly of “going in for
photography,” you will find that very few of them can ever make a picture
by photography; they lack the science, technical knowledge, and above all,
the practice. Most people think they can play tennis, shoot, write novels,
and photograph as well as any other person—until they try.
[Sidenote: Faith.
Sensational in nature.]
Be true to yourself and individuality will show itself in your work.
Do not be caught by the sensational in nature, as a coarse red-faced
sunset, a garrulous waterfall, or a fifteen thousand foot mountain.
[Sidenote: Prettiness.]
Avoid prettiness—the word looks much like pettiness, and there is but
little difference between them.
[Sidenote: On studying photography.]
No one should take up photography who is not content to work hard and
study so that he can take pictures for his own eye only. The artist works
to record the beauties of nature, the bagman works to please the public,
or for filthy lucre, or for metal medals.
[Sidenote: On “form.”]
At the University of Cambridge, in our student days, it was considered
“bad form” to give a testimonial to a tradesman for publication. This is
still “bad form;” let the student, therefore, never let his name appear in
the advertisement columns of photographic papers beneath a puff of some
maker’s plates or some printing papers. “Good wine needs no bush.”
[Sidenote: Value of a picture.]
The value of a picture is not proportionate to the trouble and expense it
costs to obtain it, but to the poetry that it contains.
[Sidenote: “Good art.”]
Good art only appeals to the highly cultivated at the first glance, but it
gradually grows on the uncultivated, or the half cultivated; with bad art
the case is otherwise.
[Sidenote: Life of the model.]
Give the _life_ of the model in a portrait, not his bearing towards you
during a _mauvais quart d’heure_.
[Sidenote: Reflections and shadows.]
Do not call reflections—shadows; learn to distinguish between the two.
[Sidenote: Beautiful poses.]
Always be on the look-out for a graceful movement when you are conversing
with a person, thus you will learn.
[Sidenote: Limits of art.]
Keep rigidly within the limits of your art, do not strive for the
impossible, and so miss the possible.
[Sidenote: On reproduction.]
Never judge of the merits of a painting or piece of sculpture from
reproductions.
[Sidenote: Quality.
Sentiment and poetry.]
Every good work has “quality.”
Do not mistake sentimentality for sentiment, and sentiment for poetry.
[Sidenote: Spontaneity.
Failure.]
Spontaneity is the life of a picture.
Continual failure is a road to success—if you have the strength to go on.
[Sidenote: Colour of landscape.]
The colour of a landscape viewed in the direction of the sun is almost
unseen; therefore turn your back on the sun if you wish to see nature’s
colouring, and you do!
[Sidenote: Christmas cards and “artistic” opals.]
Do not emulate the producers of photographic Christmas cards and
“artistic”(?) opals; they are all worthy of the bagman.
[Sidenote: Finish.
Mystery.]
Do not mistake sharpness for truth, and burnish for finish.
The charm of nature lies in her mystery and poetry, but no doubt she is
never mysterious to a donkey.
[Sidenote: Apparatus.]
It is not the apparatus that does the work, but the _man_ who wields it.
Say as much as you can, with as little material as you can.
[Sidenote: Good work.
Vanity.]
Flatter no man, but spare not generous praise to really good work.
Lash the insincere and petty _homunculi_ who are working for vanity.
[Sidenote: Artist and artist-photographer.]
Hold up to scorn every coxcomb who paints “artist-photographer” or
“artist” on his door, or stamps it on his mounts.
[Sidenote: On publishing.]
Remember every photograph you publish goes out for better for worse, to
raise you up or pull you down; do not be in haste, therefore, to give
yourself over to the enemy.
[Sidenote: On success.]
By the envy, lying and slandering of the weak, the ignorant, and the
vicious, shall you know you are succeeding, as well as by the sympathy and
praise of the just, the generous, and the masters.
[Sidenote: “Sharpness.”]
When a critic has nothing to tell you save that your pictures are not
sharp, be certain he is not very sharp and knows nothing at all about it.
[Sidenote: Interiors.]
Don’t be led away to photograph _bourgeois_ furnished interiors, they are
not worth the silver on the plate for the pleasure they will give when
done.
[Sidenote: Greatness.]
The greater the work the simpler it looks and the easier it seems to do or
to imitate, but it is not so.
[Sidenote: Photographs as historical records.]
Photographic pictures may have one merit which no other pictures can ever
have, they can be relied upon as historical records.
[Sidenote: Art at home.]
Art is not to be found by touring to Egypt, China, or Peru; if you cannot
find it at your own door, you will never find it.
[Sidenote: Nature and pictures.]
People are educated to admire nature through pictures.
[Sidenote: Science and art.]
Science destroys or builds up, and seeks only for bald truth. Art seeks to
give a truthful impression of some beautiful phenomenon or poetic fact,
and destroys all that interferes with her purpose.
[Sidenote: Topography.]
Topography is the registration of bald facts about a place; it is
sometimes confounded with Art.
[Sidenote: Art and culture.]
The artistic faculty develops only with culture. A man may be a Newton and
at the same time never get beyond the chromographic stage in art.
[Sidenote: Individuality.]
Without individuality there can be no individual art, but remember that
the value of the individuality depends on the man, for all the poetry is
in nature, but different individuals see different amounts of it.
[Sidenote: “Fiddle-brown” trees.]
Had Constable listened to rules we might have had “fiddle-brown” trees in
our pictures to-day.
[Sidenote: Naturalistic works.]
Nature is full of surprises and subtleties, which give quality to a work,
thus a truthful impression of her is never to be found in any but
naturalistic works.
[Sidenote: On opinion in art.]
The undeveloped artistic faculty delights in glossy and showy objects and
in brightly coloured things. The appreciation of delicate tonality in
monochrome or colour is the result of high development. The frugivorous
ape loves bright colour, and so does the young person of “culture,” and
the negress of the West Indies, but Corot delighted only in true and
harmonious colouring.
[Sidenote: Nature and sanity.]
Nature whispers all her great secrets to the sane in mind, just as she
delights in giving her best physical prizes to the sane in body.
[Sidenote: Busy insanity.] Nature abhors busy insanity.
[Sidenote: “Stolen bits.”]
Do not be surprised if you find “stolen bits” of your photographs in the
works of inferior etchers, aquarellists, and black and white draughtsmen;
it pays them to steal, while it does not hurt you, for they cannot steal
your “quality.”
[Sidenote: Nature and photography.]
Many photographers think they are photographing nature when they are only
caricaturing her.
[Sidenote: Sun and shadows.]
The sun when near the horizon gives longer shadows than when near the
zenith.
[Sidenote: Photography and art.]
When writers tell you photography is one thing and art another, find out
who they are, and you shall find their opinion on art-matters is
contemptible, and it is only their omniscient impudence and fanaticism
that allow them to contradict a sculptor like Adam Salomon, and a painter
like T. F. Goodall, to say nothing of others.
[Sidenote: Clearness.]
The shallow public like “clearness,” they like to see the veins in the
grass-blade and the scales on the butterfly’s wing, for does it not remind
them of the powerful vision of their periscopic ancestors—the Saurians.
[Sidenote: Japers at photography.]
When the vulgar herd jape at photography, stand firm and ask them if their
long-eared ancestors did not jape at water-colour painting and at etching.
[Sidenote: Criticism.]
Ask of critics only “fair play.” Much of the criticism of to-day consists
in the suppression of the truth of the author and the advocacy of the
falsity of the critic. Criticism is as yet in the metaphysical stage, but
it will one day become rational and of some worth. Then, critics will not
attempt the huge joke of “placing” people in order like a pedagogue, e.g.
Matthew Arnold between Gray and Wordsworth, as some wonderful person did
not long ago in one of the reviews; but criticism will show us how works
of art may serve to illustrate the life-history of different epochs. The
huge farce of “placing” criticism will be one of the stock jokes of the
twentieth century.
CHAPTER V.
DECORATIVE ART.
[Sidenote: Decorative art.]
By the term “decorative,” we mean the ornamentation of anything
constructed for some useful or special purpose as opposed to the
ornamentation whose object is to please _per se_. Thus, though both
sculpture and easel pictures are decorative in one sense, they are
executed with no consideration or regard for other purposes than to
please. As we have before shown, the humblest of the decorative arts may
be raised to the dignity of a fine art if an artist takes the work in hand
and succeeds, or the work may degenerate into mere craftsman’s work. For
decorative purposes, the various methods are modified and adapted to the
important considerations of the use and fitness of the object or place
decorated. Thus no good artist would paint a finished and studied
landscape on a dado, he would paint the scene flat, and colour it in
appropriate harmony with surrounding objects, for that is the aim; and a
workman not an artist would, of course, painfully elaborate and finish it
so that it was neither a decorative work nor a painting in the ordinary
sense. [Sidenote: Naturalism in decorative art.] In all good decorative
work the same old story of naturalism holds good; all the best decorative
work we have seen was _suggested_ by nature, and though, of course, it is
beyond the scope of decorative art to “copy nature,” as superficial folk
say, yet all patterns and forms and harmonies should be suggested by
nature. We have seen harmonies of sea-weed and sand which would have made
a beautiful colour scheme for decorative work. The best decorative work
has always been suggested by nature; geometrical patterns being taken from
crystals, microscopic drawings of vegetable cells, &c.
[Sidenote: Photography as applied to decorative art.]
However, we must omit a general discussion of this interesting subject,
for we are here only concerned with its photographic side. We are not
aware that this application of decorative art has ever received much
attention; and when we mention transparencies and enamels, we have said
all that has been done towards employing photography decoratively. By
enamels, of course, is not understood those glossed and raised productions
on paper, which by some extraordinary blunder have been erroneously called
enamels.
[Sidenote: Principles.]
Now the photographer, who studies and hopes to excel at decorative
photography, must remember that he must work on the same general
principles as he does in producing pictures, that is, he must pay
attention, in a broad way, to the tone of the room, to effects of
contrast, to harmonies, to the effect of artificial lights and of
complementary colours, and above all to naturalism. Thus a delicate
landscape must not be enamelled on a tea-cup, for it is obviously false in
principle to place a picture on a curved surface. Again, a palmetto leaf
must not be burned into the tiles of a fireplace, the two are incongruous
and incompatible. Taste and a regard for truth should govern all such
work.
We will now briefly enumerate the uses to which photography might be put
in decoration.
FOR PANELLING AND FRIEZES.
[Sidenote: Panelling and friezes.]
Much might be done in this direction by an appropriate choice of subject.
For panels bits of landscape of strongly marked types, sea pieces, dead
game, and plants might be admirably done. By landscapes of strongly marked
type, we mean such things as a dead or leafless tree overhanging a pond, a
pollarded willow in winter, and like subjects, where the elements are few,
the composition simple, and where there are no subtle atmospheric effects.
For this work the subject must be expressed with great terseness and
directness, for the form is what is required, not subtlety of tone or
mystery. A group of dead mallard or teal, or an arrangement of bulrushes
and water-lilies, are all suitable and admirable subjects. [Sidenote:
Negatives.] Negatives for this class of work should be rather dense, and
in some cases they may be as sharply focussed as possible, it being
remembered that for form (diagrammatic form) decision is what is required.
There are certain subjects, however, which will bear being only just
suggested, such as bulrushes, reeds, &c., which are full of character in
themselves. These objects should be photographed against flat-tinted
backgrounds, the colour chosen being ruled by the colour of the furniture
of the room. [Sidenote: Red carbon.] The best method of procedure would be
to sensitize the panel and print directly on to it by the platinotype
process, or perhaps by some of the carbon processes, red carbon being
especially suitable for this work. The Platinotype Company give directions
for sensitizing various surfaces, all of which can be obtained from their
offices in Southampton Row, High Holborn.
[Sidenote: Friezes.]
For friezes, beautiful arrangements could be made of suitably draped
figures of girls, of athletes, and of animals, the draped figures being in
white, taken against a black background. These subjects printed in red
carbon would look admirable if properly arranged. Enlargements could be
used in these cases, as it does not matter if the original negatives are
made microscopically sharp. Various subjects and methods of treatment will
suggest themselves to the thoughtful and artistic student.
[Sidenote: Tiles.]
We cannot help thinking there is a field for the photographic decoration
of tiles. For this purpose, as they are low down and seen close to, tone
pictures might be used; but any quality of landscape would not be
admissible for this work. Mr. Henderson’s method of enamelling is fully
given in the late Baden-Pritchard’s “Studios of Europe.” These tiles would
have to be cautiously used.
[Sidenote: Windows.]
There is little or nothing to be done in the decoration of windows by
photography. Of course, transparencies will immediately suggest
themselves, but they, like modern glass painting, are false art. The first
requisite of glass painting is that all the light possible shall pass
through the pane, and that the colours shall be flat. Modern
window-painters overstep the limits of the art, and try to render tone as
well, the result being bad artistically and bad decoratively, as utility
is affected. Glass transparencies and opals are, to our mind, worthless
for decorative purposes, and should not be encouraged.
[Sidenote: Enamels.]
M. Lafon de Camarsac was the first to apply photography to porcelain work,
in the year 1854. He worked with colours and produced some marvellous
results, applying gold, silver, and various pigments in this way. His
method was used for producing enamels for jewellery, but, of course, such
things could be utilized in decorative work. But to produce pictures on
tea-cups, saucers, brooches, &c., seems to us, against all principles of
truth. We think that with great care and taste this class of work might be
artistically utilized in decorative art, but none but an artist must
attempt it. So we shall give Poitevin’s method.
[Sidenote: Poitevin’s method.]
A positive on glass is obtained, and a glass plate is coated with gum
sensitized with bi-chromate of potash. The positive is then placed in
contact with the prepared plate and exposed to the light, the result being
invisible as in carbon printing. A very fine hair sieve is now taken, and
dry powdered charcoal is sifted over the coated plate, and it will be
found that the charcoal adheres to the parts acted upon by light. Thus is
produced a delicate portrait in as perfect tone as the original. This
portrait is temporarily secured by brushing it over with collodion. The
collodion film has now to be separated by delicate knives, and it brings
away with it the charcoal picture. This film is next placed on a white
enamelled copper plate, which plates are bought ready prepared, and a
fixing paste (that used by ceramic painters being employed) is spread with
a brush over the enamel. This paste combines with the charcoal image. All
is now ready for placing in the enamelling furnace, when vitrification
takes place, and all the organic bodies are destroyed, the vitrified
charcoal image alone remaining. We think that with taste even china
services might be decorated by means of photography. At any rate there is
a wide field for any one with taste and feeling.
[Sidenote: Wall-papers and hangings.]
We do not know whether or not photography has been applied to the
manufacture of either of these materials, but there is wide scope for it.
It must be remembered, however, that definite patterns are obtrusive and
undesirable. A rather monotonous geometrical pattern is required, the
suggestion, however, coming from nature. Thus a good pattern could be
obtained from a transverse section of a rose-bud, or from various
seed-cases, such as those of the convolvulus and rose. Histological
specimens also, and desmids and diatoms, all suggest beautiful and varied
forms of geometrical patterns. This has often occurred to us when
examining the wonderfully varied and beautiful forms of the diatom family.
It would, it seems to us, be very easy with multiplying backs to get large
numbers of a form on one plate, and then to reproduce them by cheap
photo-mechanical means, and though we have never yet heard of photographic
wall-papers, yet there is no reason why they should not be manufactured,
if made artistically.
[Sidenote: D'Oyleys.]
For hangings these same patterns might be woven in or even printed
directly upon the materials, by the platinotype process. The company who
brought forward that process keep prepared nainsook, why not other
materials? For small things, such as d'Oyleys, an endless and pleasing
variety might be introduced.
In short, photography can and should be made amenable to the principles of
decorative art, and employed legitimately in thousands of ways; but the
student must never forget that he must rigidly and resolutely keep within
the bounds of his art, which bounds we have briefly indicated here. Common
sense, taste, and study are his best safe-guards. In all attempts,
however, let him go to nature for his suggestions; she, if he be humble
and patient, will not be less lavish to him than to the painter. So we
find ourselves at the end of this chapter, and our considerations on
photography as applied to decorative art lead us to conclude that the form
in which it is at present chiefly applied, i.e. transparencies, is false
in principle, and therefore undesirable. We felt this long before we
studied art at all, and although we made many opals and transparencies at
one time, we soon gave them up as vanity and foolishness. Those, however,
who with training and artistic feeling care to explore the undeveloped
fields above indicated, will be sure to find many new treasures.
_L'ENVOI._
PHOTOGRAPHY—A PICTORIAL ART.
-------
It is easier to jape at the light-bearing goddess than to imitate her
works.
“In such an age as this, painting should be _understood_, not looked
on with blind wonder, nor considered only as poetic inspiration, but
as a pursuit, _legitimate_, _scientific_, and _mechanical_.”
JOHN CONSTABLE.
_L'ENVOI._
PHOTOGRAPHY—A PICTORIAL ART.
[Sidenote: The aim.]
We wish from the first to make it clearly understood as to what is our
object in comparing photography with the other pictorial arts. It is not
to condemn any of the other arts as inadequate for artistic expression,
for we hold that _good art_, as expressed even by a lead pencil, is better
than bad art expressed on the largest of canvases, but our object is to
inquire what position the technique of photography takes when regarded
side by side with the methods and limits of each of the pictorial arts.
[Sidenote: Rock scratchings.] The earliest pictorial expressions of the
human mind were, as we all know, rude rock-scratchings in the form of
outline. [Sidenote: Outline drawing.] This outline drawing served the
earliest nations, as it still serves children, to express in a
conventional way certain limited truths, for the power of seeing and
analyzing nature is of recent development, and is even now far from fully
developed. Keeping this in mind, we must nevertheless not allow ourselves
to despise these efforts of the undeveloped mind. Line drawing, it must be
remembered, has nothing to do with tone. If you look at a line drawing of
a figure by a great master, it suggests to you, in a certain limited way,
the real thing, for the lines bound spaces, hence there is a suggestion of
the solid figure. With almost any medium, even with pen, ink, and paper,
an artist will often draw a subject in outline, to see “how it will come.”
Sculptors nearly always do this, but these men do not consider these
outlines as finished works, but simply as an aid to their work,—mere brief
sketches suggestive of what shall be. Of course, such notes when done by a
great artist become invaluable, as suggesting great truth of impression.
Yet there are men who seem to stop at this stage, and revel in “beauty of
line,” or else they elaborate these drawings until they pass beyond the
legitimate limits of the art by which they are expressed.
We will now briefly enumerate these arts with their limitations.
[Sidenote: Lead pencil.]
Lead Pencil.—The scale between the white and black is very limited, for,
as any one who has drawn with lead pencil will remember, the lowest tones
are grey as compared with dead black. They are also shiny because light is
reflected by the plumbago. An artist can, however, express a suggestion of
tone within a limited scale, and, notwithstanding this limitation, a
first-rate lead pencil drawing may give a far truer impression of nature
than a bad painting, and will accordingly rank higher artistically.
[Sidenote: Pen and ink.]
Pen and Ink.—The scale in this case is also limited and there can be no
tone, but an artist, by shading can give an impression of tone, as can be
seen in the clever drawings by an artist in the “German _Punch_.” Of
course, as in lead pencil drawings, all subtle tonality is left out, the
lightest tones being lost in white, and the darkest in black, but the
suggestion may be a truthful impression if well done, and in such cases
the work commands the greatest respect, ranking far higher than inferior
work done with a more perfect technique. Sometimes washes are added to
pen-and-ink drawings to increase the impression of tone. Here, again, the
bad craftsman goes beyond the legitimate limits of the art, by the
pen-rendering detail, and by the wash-rendering tone, impossibilities
except in monochrome work. We have seen some detestable hybrids of this
class, the result of the misspent energies of amateurs and others.
[Sidenote: Chalk.]
Chalk.—This gives the artist greater scope, for his scale is greater, and,
in addition, chalk is not shiny and unnatural. This material is generally
used for large work, and is better suited to that purpose, for the line is
not so regular and has more of the decision and indecision of a natural
outline as seen in a figure standing against a background. By choosing an
appropriately colored chalk an artist can give a potent suggestion of
texture, and, therefore, of truthfulness. Chalk was formerly much used for
studies, but charcoal has now largely taken its place.
[Sidenote: Lithography.]
Lithography.—In this art a peculiar stone is chosen, which has an affinity
for water and grease. The stone is drawn upon with a greasy, specially
prepared lithographic ink. From this many copies can be taken. For
reproducing chalk drawings the method is worked a little differently. It
is of little use now for original work, on account of the introduction of
the cheaper, more certain, and more beautiful photographic processes. We
are all only too well acquainted with the outcome of this process of
lithography, chromo-lithographs,—monstrosities which, it is needless to
say, do not enter into the category of the fine arts. Chromo-lithography,
however, has a commercial value, being very useful in the reproduction of
patterns, &c.
[Sidenote: Line engraving.]
Engraving.—This is drawing on metal with a burin in a special manner; that
is by pushing the burin away from the operator. Considerable pressure must
be exerted; and it is evident that lines cut in this way must be formal.
It is, perhaps, for this reason that it is scarcely ever used for original
work, but only for copying. The scale in this case is limited between the
black ink and white paper, and is greater than in the arts above dealt
with; but there can be no subtleties of tone. Engravers supply this
suggestion of tone by cross-hatching, and so suggest a natural impression,
as can be seen in some of the landscapes engraved from nature by Albert
Durer. Personally we are but very little interested in engraving apart
from its historical interest. Artistically, the early work of Durer, and
some of that of the so-called “little masters” is, in our opinion, the
best ever done. All the work—and there is much of it—which has overstepped
the narrow limits of the art of line engraving is to us distasteful,
because it could have been so much better expressed by other methods.
Engraving with a burin, even when assisted by dry point work, is always
hard, formal, textureless, and without tonal subtlety; while the quality
of modern engravings, by which popular editions of well-known authors are
illustrated, is to us positively unpleasing and false. There is at the
present day a vigorous attempt to bolster up engraving, and give it a
fictitious value, but we feel sure it is doomed. Such a narrow, limited,
untrue method of expression could never live beyond the day of necessity,
when there was no better mode of expression. That day is already past, as
there exist more complete methods. A good pen-and-ink work by Du Maurier
is, artistically, far better than any engraving Cousins ever did; and as
for the fearful travesties exposed for sale in dealer’s windows, we can
only wonder who buys them. Perhaps the same mild imbeciles who collect
“old engravings” promiscuously, not for any art qualities they possess,
for the best of them are bad in many ways, but in order to collect, and
appear learned (?) and artistic (?) to their less gifted (in purse)
brethren. Of all the painters and sculptors we have known, we have never
found one really interested in the class of engravings we are now
describing.
Stippling, or engraving in dots, seems to us a yet worse device than
cross-hatching. It is done with prepared needles, or a toothed wheel
called a roulette. Stippling was by Bartolozzi and others combined with
etching, and a hybrid was produced which, like all hybrids, was doomed to
extinction.
As compared with photo-etching for the reproduction of pictures, no one
but a fanatic would maintain its superiority. By using orthochromatic
plates relatively, true values or tone, and true texture can be rendered,
and no translator steps in to add to, or subtract from, the originality of
the work. The student will soon find as he studies nature and the best art
together, that line engraving is but a sorry method, its artificiality
will soon disgust him, and no one with any real insight into the mysteries
of nature can derive much pleasure from engravings, except, perhaps, from
some of the best of the simple line engravings, such as some of Durer’s
works.
[Sidenote: Wood engraving.]
Wood engraving.—In wood cutting the parts left uncut print dark, and those
that are hollowed out or cut away do not print at all; thus, the white is
cut out from a dark ground. The workman cuts with special graving tools on
a block of box-wood, cut sectionally. Durer’s woodcuts are simply drawings
on wood, parts of the wood being cut away, for in this way many could be
readily printed. They were simply fac-similes of the lines of Durer’s
drawing, and had no artistic aim of their own. [Sidenote: Bewick.] With
Bewick, however, the matter was different. He saw the limits of wood
engraving, and kept resolutely within those limits, like the true artist
he was.
[Sidenote: American wood engravers.]
With Bewick the flat black and white spaces were the limitations, as we
consider they are and always will be for original work, notwithstanding
the American school of wood engraving, of which we shall have something to
say presently. The scale in wood engraving is limited by the ink and
paper, and the suggestion of tone is got by representing the light greys
as white, and the darker darks as blacks. There is no subtle tonality in
Bewick’s work, and though there is much suggestion of nature and truth,
the expression is limited. But here, as in other arts, directly the
legitimate limit is overstepped the work becomes bad. Bewick, of course,
and a few of his pupils, did original work, but the modern wood engraver,
though he expresses greater subtlety of tone, is, after all, only a
fac-simile worker. In the American magazines the perfection of this
fac-simile work is to be seen, and, in our opinion, this school started
with the intention of imitating the delicacies of photography. That such
work is most useful no one can doubt, but in our opinion it has outstepped
the proper limits of wood engraving, and therefore no longer interests us.
It must not be forgotten, too, that the works are fac-simile work and not
original. In fact, a good fac-simile wood engraver may be no artist at
all. It serves a certain use certainly, but, judged by artistic standards,
an intaglio copper-plate print produced by photography is far more
satisfactory. Would, however, that all the art-craftsmen who work in
fac-simile, kept up to the standard of the American engravers, for the
feeble works of this class to be seen in this country in the book and
paper illustrations of the day are lamentable. They are travesties of
nature; but what more can be expected when a block is often cut into
separate pieces, and engraved by different workmen? Lamentable, too, is it
that many a good photograph, brought home by travellers from abroad,
should be botched and ruined by these wood engravers.
A great deal of cant has been talked lately about the harm done to
engraving by photography. The harm was done long ago, when artists ceased
to practise the art of engraving as an original art, as was done by Bewick
and some few others, and when the work of cheap reproduction fell into the
hands of craftsmen. If photographic processes do anything, they will
either raise the standard of fac-simile art-craft by competition, or,
which would be, perhaps, as well, kill it altogether. For artists in wood
engraving like Bewick there is always room; and among the first to
appreciate such work and to foster it, will be the artist who works in
photography; he will understand the limits of the art, and appreciate any
artist who uses it artistically.
[Sidenote: Etching.]
Etching.—As the public become more educated in art matters, we find
etching rapidly replacing line engraving, just as we think original
photo-etching will in time replace etchings.
Etching is drawing on zinc or copper with a needle, the plate being first
prepared with a ground, the nature of which varies with different
practitioners. Wax, burgundy pitch, and asphaltum form a common
combination for producing a ground. This ground is often smoked to produce
a uniform surface, and then the artist sketches on it as freely and
lightly as he would on paper. The lines are afterwards bitten in by
immersing the plate in acid. Some etchers assert that they etch whilst the
plate is in the bath, but we cannot imagine such a method being very
successful, for want of proper control over the work. Tone is produced by
thickness of lines and by cross-hatching, and also by the printer in the
manner of wiping the plate, and finally touches are often added with a dry
point. In addition separate bitings can be given to a plate by “stopping
out” the portion not requiring further biting, with some substance which
resists the acid, usually a varnish. Another method is to silver the plate
and cover it with a white wax ground, so that the etcher gets a dark line
on a white surface. The plate is finally covered with a thin coating of
steel by electricity, this process being called “acierage.” This facing is
given to the plate to resist the wear and tear of printing.
Etching, it will be seen, is far more amenable to the artist’s will than
line engraving and wood-cutting. Still it has its limits, for in it all
the subtleties of tone are wanting, and there is, therefore, imperfect
modelling. The values cannot be relatively truly rendered, nor is texture
well rendered. All this great artists have recognized and have therefore
resolutely confined themselves within the legitimate limits. The masters
of etching, as Rembrandt in the past and Whistler in the present day,
never try for delicacies of tone in their plates, but by line and
cross-hatching, like an artist in pen and ink, they express themselves,
and their works are beautiful and priceless. But as with all the other
arts, so with etching, inferior men have tried by this method to rival
more complete methods, and the result has been failure. By complicated
line work and by printing flat tones, etchers are daily striving to
express in translation the perfect technique of painting, and the results
are unsatisfactory. Here, again, we find that the art-craftsmen, the
translators of pictures, and not original artists, are the chief sinners,
and this is a fact to be carefully remembered. A good etching by Rembrandt
or Whistler gives us a satisfaction we cannot well express; but carefully
elaborated etchings from pictures give us no satisfaction; on the
contrary, they have gone so far that they compel us to compare the work
with a more complete technique, and the result is great disappointment.
As mere art-craft for the translation of pictures, photo-etching will give
etching points (points not of taste but of artistic facts), and beat it
hollow, as any first-rate judge will allow. The best etchers we have met
are unanimous in condemning elaborated work in etching, and they
themselves work within the limits of its technique. Equally averse are
they to the hybrid process of combining etching with photo-etching, a
hybrid only practised by inferior men and appreciated by the untrained.
We must now leave line work, for though, as we have shown, very subtle
suggestions of tone can be obtained by the use of cross-hatching, still
true tonality and modelling cannot be obtained by any save more perfect
methods. Directly an artist has a method by which he can express subtle
tonality, he has a great additional power.
[Sidenote: Charcoal.]
Charcoal.—With this method the scale is limited as the black is not so
deep as many other blacks used in the arts, but by its means delicate
tonality can be obtained, but not the most delicate. The values too in a
charcoal drawing are not true for this reason, because the most delicate
light greys are lost; neither do we like the texture it gives. It is not
true; nevertheless the result is often very fine. We had quite lately the
opportunity of comparing the charcoal drawing of a very fine subject with
nature, and also with a very fine painting of the same subject, and our
opinion is that the charcoal drawing suggested the scene better than any
line method could have done, but the suggestion was very far off the
suggestion offered by the painting.
[Sidenote: Monochrome.]
Monochrome Painting.—A monochrome painting may be in any colour, but since
the scale is so limited, say in red for example, and the effect, except
for portraits, is so incongruous that no artist dares use it. Indian ink
and sepia are the commonest colours used. Monochrome painting, did it
portray the different colours, would follow the same laws as painting, and
would have to be considered from the same stand-point. Therein then lies
the difference, a good artist may express much in monochrome, and give the
suggestion of nature to a very great extent, but he is limited by this
method. Delicate tonality and modelling can be obtained, but there is an
unnaturalness of the middle tints and an artificial look in the textures.
Notwithstanding, very fine work is done in this way, especially by some of
the modern French and Dutch painters.
[Sidenote: Aquatint.]
Aquatint, as its name implies, is a form of engraving best suited to
reproduce water-colours. The plate is prepared in much the same way as it
is for photo-etching, the acid biting between the dots of resin. This
method is now rarely used.
[Sidenote: Mezzotint.]
Mezzotint.—In this process the plate is roughened all over by an
instrument called a “cradle” or _berceau_. This is really a broad chisel
with a cradle-shaped edge, on which are small rough edges. This is worked
by the hand all over the plate until it is rough enough to hold ink. The
scale in this method is wide, the blacks being very deep. The tones are
formed by scraping away the ink by the engraver, the highest light being
the deepest. It gives a very good tonality, and is really the only rival
to photo-etching, but the plate will not last well, thirty good prints
often being all that can be taken from a plate. The engraver, too, has not
sufficient control over his work. As a rule it is only used for fac-simile
work, and not for original work. It will in our opinion be the last form
of engraving to succumb to photo-etching. It is better suited for
portraiture than landscape work; the mezzotints from Constable’s paintings
are very feeble and untrue.
[Sidenote: Photography.]
Photography.—Now we come to photography, which possesses a technique more
perfect than any of the arts yet treated of. Photography, in fact, stands
at the top of the tone class of methods of expression; so nearly perfect
is its technique that in some respects it may be compared with the colour
class. The scale here, too, is limited, but less so than that of any other
black and white method. Its drawing is all but absolutely correct, that is
if the lenses are properly used, as has been shown. It renders the values
relatively correct if orthochromatic plates are used, and it renders
texture _perfectly_. Its one limitation is that it must always be worked
from models; but from what we have already said, we consider this no limit
of consequence when the end in view is artistic expression. When, on the
other hand, the end in view is utilitarian, this is, in certain cases, a
limitation, but as we are considering it only as a method for artistic
expression, we do not now consider that side of the question. As a
facsimile method, it is unrivalled, for some of the art-craftsmen who have
worked in this direction have so perfected it that little now remains to
be done so far as copperplate work goes, though much remains to be done in
connection with delicate blocks for the printing-press. As a recorder of
scientific facts and as an adjunct to the traveller, it has no equal, for
nothing need be allowed for the personal equation of the individual. Its
immense value in all the sciences and arts has been touched upon. Critics
opposed to photography, and they are now-a-days the old and prejudiced,
are fond of citing Mr. P. G. Hamerton’s reasons for not considering
photography one of the pictorial arts. Some of his arguments were
perfectly admissible when he wrote them, but as he has not taken the
trouble to correct them since, we suppose he still rests in the fancied
security of having slain photography for ever. But photography was not
killed by Mr. Hamerton. It could not resist him then, for it was but a
little child, but now that it is well grown and can resist him it will do
so through us here.
[Sidenote: Mr. Hamerton criticised.]
Mr. Hamerton says when any new art is under consideration, we must ask,
“Can it interpret nature? Can it express emotions? Can it express fact and
truth and poetry? Within what limit can it do these things? and finally
has any one with it expressed human knowledge and feeling? Will it record
the results of human observation? Has it ever been practised by great men,
or do they pay much regard to it?”
Beginning, then, with question I.:—
Can it interpret nature? Yes, that at any rate is the opinion of more than
one good sculptor, painter, and photographer, and plates can be produced
which we challenge any one to prove are not interpretations of nature in
the strictest sense of the word.
II. Can it express emotions? Yes, and so faithfully and subtilely that the
late Charles Darwin used it to illustrate from nature, his work “On the
Expression of Emotions in Man and Animals.” Of these photographs taken by
Rejlander, Mr. Darwin writes in the work mentioned, “Several of the
figures in these seven heliotype plates have been reproduced from
photographs, instead of from the original negatives; and they are in
consequence somewhat indistinct; nevertheless, they are faithful copies,
and are much superior for my purpose to any drawing, however carefully
executed.”
III. Can it express fact and truth? Yes, and there is no need to say any
more on this head, except that it can express fact and truth more
perfectly than any other black and white process. It is not absolutely
perfect, but no art is.
IV. Within what limits can it do these things? The answer to this we have
shown in this work.
V. Has it ever been practised by great men? Yes, and is practised now by
many of our greatest living painters and sculptors, whose names we could
give.
[Sidenote: Adam Salomon’s portraits.]
M. Adam Salomon, a sculptor of ability, a Chevalier of the Legion of
Honour, took the photographic world by storm, by his portraits exhibited
at the Paris Exhibition of 1867, and he continued to practise it up to
within a short time of his death. Let the best sculptors and painters be
asked how they regard photography—especially when they are at work on
posthumous works. Finally we will give here an opinion on photography as
written by an able landscape painter—namely, T. F. Goodall.
“Photography has undoubtedly played an important part in the development
of modern art, both in figure and landscape. In landscapes we are inclined
to think that the influence of photography was for a time hurtful, for
this reason, painters were apt to emulate the detail of the photograph,
and lose the breadth of man’s view of Nature in consequence. They did not
take into account the fact that the lens commonly used was a more powerful
mechanism than the human eye, or that it reproduced at once every detail
of a scene with more distinctness on the plate than the eye would on the
retina, even if the attention was concentrated on one part only at a time,
and that therefore the resulting picture was not a true representation of
Nature, as impressed on the mind by human vision. But for artistic
purposes this may be remedied, and it appears to us that photographers
must take the point into consideration if they would use the camera as a
means of artistic expression. Hitherto the chief aim of the photographer
seems to have been a biting sharpness of detail in the negative, which is
generally quite fatal to the result from an artistic point of view, for in
breadth lies the beauty and sentiment of landscape. To produce a picture
the photographer must select his lens and adjust his focus, so as to get
an expression as nearly identical with the visual one as possible, and he
must print in such good tone as will give the closest approximation to the
values in nature. In all these matters the result will depend on the taste
and intelligence of the author, and bear the impress of his mind. If that
be commonplace, his negative will be so also; if artistic, so will be his
picture. There is no reason why photography, in capable hands, may not be
made a means of interpreting nature second only in value to painting
itself, destined to supersede all other black and white methods in
bringing an extended knowledge of and taste for art to the masses of the
people. The prejudice existing against photography arises from the fact
that hitherto it has been worked merely as a mechanical process; but if by
results it can show that it is worthy, it will rank as a fine art. Dr.
Emerson was the first to advocate rationally the claims of photography to
this distinction, and, artists will admit, has by his subsequent work made
good his position so far as his own productions are concerned. There
should be a great future for photography if followed on really artistic
lines. It should be hailed as a most powerful ally by the modern school of
painting, as by means of it people may be taught to perceive how false are
many of the pictures they believe in, and how much more beautiful and
interesting is truth. From an art-educational point of view its value can
scarcely be overrated; much has been done, by photogravure and other
processes of reproduction, to spread a knowledge of pictures, and there is
no reason why the same methods should not be used for original work. A
good photogravure is to be preferred to a bad painting or second rate
engraving, and is incomparably better than the odious chromos and wretched
prints with which so many walls are disfigured.
If, instead of being satisfied with mere topographical views or foreground
sketches, the photographer has cultivated artistic feeling, means are at
his command for communicating to others what has impressed himself, and he
may produce work of permanent value. Everything depends on what he finds
to say and how he tells it. If the operator has artistic insight, it will
show itself in his negative, just as it would on his canvas, if he were a
painter. The mechanical and chemical processes, the practical judgment
necessary in timing his exposures, the skill and knowledge necessary in
developing his plates; these are his technique; but the art value of the
result will depend on what he communicates to us by its aid. As long as
his ideas of pictorial art are confined in landscape to views of churches
and ruins, rustic bridges and waterfalls, or topographical views of the
haunts of tourists, taken from the guide-book point of view, and in figure
to artificial compositions, reminding one of an amateur theatrical
performance, so long will his work be destitute of artistic qualities, and
therefore valueless, but if he brings to his work a genuine appreciation
of the picturesque in landscape and figure, and a knowledge of how so to
place a subject on his plate as to convey his impressions to others, he
may produce most beautiful and meritorious results. He must learn, as the
painter has to do, to distinguish what in nature is really suitable for
pictorial purposes, on account of beauty of form, or tone, from what
merely gives him pleasure by some quality which, however impressive in
nature, it is not possible to transfer to canvas. A picture being a design
enclosed by four straight lines, can only please and impress by certain
suitable decorative qualities in the subject. To know what will make a
picture is one of the most difficult secrets in landscape art; knowing
just how much of a scene to take in, where to begin and where to end,
decides whether the result will carry a distinct and complete impression,
or be merely a haphazard study.”
What great artists elsewhere have thought of photography is shown by the
following extract from one of J. F. Millet’s letters to his friend
Feuardent. After asking Feuardent to bring him some photographs from
Italy, Millet continues, “In fact, bring whatever you find, figures and
animals. Diaz’s son, the one who died, brought some very good ones, sheep
among other things. Of figures, take of course those that smack least of
the Academy and the model—in fact all that is good, ancient or modern.”
The daily use made of photography by artists is another proof of the good
opinion in which it is held by them. You could not get these men to say a
word in favour of chromo-lithography, because that is a hybrid craft with
few possibilities. These questions being disposed of, we will proceed to
discuss an assertion of Mr. Hamerton’s, that photography is like a
reflection in a mirror. Now from what we have shown in this book, means
are at the artist’s command to influence the final picture in every stage
of its development. If an artist such as Carolus Duran, say, were
thoroughly versed in photography, and a craftsman, like one of the
numerous operators employed by the large photographic firms, were to be
placed together, say on one of the Norfolk Broads for a week, according to
Mr. Hamerton’s _reflection theory_, they would both return with work of
the same quality, differing only in points of view; for Duran’s
reflections would be the same as the craftsman’s, point of view always
excepted. A theory that allows such an absurd application needs little
comment, one remark only will we put forward. In what ignorance of optics
Mr. Hamerton has allowed himself to remain! when every one knows that a
reflection in a mirror is a virtual image, and _does not exist_. By
pushing this theory to its logical conclusion, a monkey with a camera
could produce as good pictures as Mr. Hamerton could make with the same
instrument.
In “Thoughts on Art” Mr. Hamerton speciously compares photography with
painting. Why not compare it with etching? It can never be compared with
painting until photography in natural colours is an accomplished fact. Mr.
Hamerton, after speaking of the limited scale of light in all art, goes on
to say, “But look at poor photography’s scale compared with the scale in
painting.” Just so, but it has a _much greater_ scale than any other black
and white method, far greater than the scale of his pet etching. Why did
he not state this? Why did he ignore it? Further on Mr. Hamerton
enunciates that if we expose for the glitter of the sea, everything on the
bank will be without detail. It is unnecessary to say this is not so, and
any good photographer can easily prove this statement. Of course the only
excuse for these untrue statements is that such marvellous strides have
been made in what is called “instantaneous photography” since Mr. Hamerton
committed his last criticisms to paper (in 1873), that probably he does
not know that photographs can now be taken at midnight by a _flash of
light_ in a fraction of a second, and with very fair results, as any one
can prove for himself. Mr. Hamerton finds too that the _sum_ of detail in
good topographical drawings is greater than that in a good photograph.
Well, Mr. Hamerton may do so, just as some people see green as red, but
all good photographers will laugh at the statement, and we challenge Mr.
Hamerton that we will produce a greater _sum_ of detail in a photograph of
a set subject than he will by any amount of drawing, and consider it no
great feat either. But this has nothing to do with the artistic value of
photography, or with its comparison with painting. Mr. Hamerton is here
comparing it with architectural drawing.
Mr. Hamerton next says the drawing of mountains is false in photography.
If that were so in 1860, it was Mr. Hamerton’s fault for ignorantly using
his lens, for, as we have shown, lenses are true perspective delineators
_if correctly used_.
Finally Mr. Hamerton, in 1873, sums up _his_ objections to photography
from the purely artistic point, as follow:—
I. “It is false in local colour, putting all the lights and darks of
natural colouring out of tone.” With the aid of orthochromatic plates it
does no such thing, as any reader can prove for himself by getting a
chromograph with yellow, red, blue, or any other bright colours,
photographed by Mr. Dixon, of 112, Albany Street, London.
II. “It is false in light, not being able to make those subdivisions in
the scale which are necessary to relative truth.” This is not so. It is
false in light so far as all art is false in light, but photography can
make more subtle distinctions in the scale than any other known black and
white method.
III. “It is false in perspective, and consequently in the proportions of
forms.” It is not. This remark convicts Mr. Hamerton of ignorance of
optics and the proper use of photographic lenses. Vide Cap. II.
IV. “Its literalness, incapacity of selection, and emphasis, are
antagonistic to the artistic spirit.” Photography is not literal, as the
flexible technique shows; it is capable of selection almost to any extent,
though, of course, it is incapable of leaving out a tree, and putting in
an imaginary man. What an incapacity for emphasis means, we neither know
nor care to know.
[Sidenote: Answers to other criticisms.]
Following in Mr. Hamerton’s steps other critics have raised their
objections to photography, and these we shall discuss briefly.
“A photograph,” it has been said, “shows the art of nature rather than the
art of the artist.” This is mere nonsense, as the same remark might be
applied equally well to all the fine arts. Nature does not jump into the
camera, focus itself, expose itself, develop itself, and print itself. On
the contrary, the artist, using photography as a medium, chooses his
subject, selects his details, generalizes the whole in the way we have
shown, and thus gives _his_ view of nature. This is not copying or
imitating nature, but interpreting her, and this is all any artist can do,
and how perfectly he does it, depends on his technique, and his knowledge
of this technique; and the resulting picture, by whatever method
expressed, will be beautiful proportionately to the beauty of the original
and the ability of the artist. These remarks apply equally to the critics
who call pictures “bits of nature cut out.” There is no need to slay the
slain, and give any further answer to the objection that photography is a
mechanical process, if there were, it would be enough to remind the
objectors that if twenty photographers were sent to a district of limited
area, and told to take a given composition, the result would be twenty
different renderings. Photographs of any artistic quality have
individuality as much as any other works of art, and of the few
photographers who send artistic work to our exhibitions, we would wager to
tell by whom each picture is done. Of course, the ordinary art-craftsman
has no individuality, any more than the reproducer of an architectural or
mechanical drawing. But where an artist uses photography to interpret
nature, his work will always have individuality, and the strength of the
individuality will, of course, vary in proportion to his capacity.
Photography has been called an “irresponsive medium.” This is much the
same as calling it a mechanical process, and, therefore, disposed of, we
venture to think. A great paradox which has to be combatted, is the
assumption that because photography is not “hand-work,” as the public
say,—though we find there is very much “hand-work _and_ head-work” in
it—therefore, it is not an Art language. This is a fallacy born of
thoughtlessness. The painter learns his technique in order to speak, and
as more than one painter has told us, “painting is a mental process,” and
as for the technique they could almost do that with their feet. So with
photography, speaking artistically of it, it is a very severe mental
process, and taxes all the artist’s energies even after he has mastered
his technique. The point is, _what you have to say, and how to say it_. It
would be as reasonable to object to a poet printing his verse in type
instead of writing it in old Gothic with a quill pen on asses' skin.
Coupled with this accusation, goes that of want of originality. The
originality of a work of art, it should be needless to say, refers to the
originality of the thing expressed and the way it is expressed, whether it
be in poetry, photography, or painting, and the original artist is surely
he who seizes new and subtle impressions from nature, “tears them forth
from nature,” as Durer said, and lays them before the world by means of
the technique at his command. That one technique is more difficult than
another to learn, no one will deny, but the greatest thoughts have been
expressed by means of the simplest technique—namely writing.
As we have shown, all arts are limited, some in one way, some in another,
two limitations of photography are that it “cannot express an intention”
and “it must take whatever is before it.” We shall endeavour to answer
these objections, which we frankly allow are the only serious objections
to be brought against it. “It cannot express an intention.” This, at first
sight, seems an insuperable objection, but on reflection it is no real
objection at all when the object of photography is artistic expression. As
we pointed out in Book I., it is our opinion that all the best art has
been done direct from nature, and that no “intention” requires expression.
No artist worthy of the name ever drew a picture evolved from his inner
consciousness; if it is a brief note to see how a thing will come; it is
either from nature, or from his remembrance of nature. The photographer
then must compose on his ground glass or in nature, or if he wants to see
how it will come, he too can draw the lines on his ground glass. But the
great point is, such drawing is perfectly unnecessary for artistic
purposes; only for architectural uses is it necessary, for the architect
must draw a plan of his building before it can be built. This distinction
has either been overlooked or speciously suppressed by Mr. Hamerton. But
then we have nothing to do with architectural drawing; and if in this
instance photography cannot help the architectural draughtsman, yet there
are hundreds of instances in scientific studies in which _nothing can help
so well as photography_, for example, in astronomy, spectral analysis,
bacteriology, &c., &c. Finally, we are not aware that sculpture can help
the architectural draughtsman. The second objection that the camera will
take everything before it, is not of any vital importance. It only makes
the field to select from more limited, and gives the artist greater credit
when he does a good thing. And if we are true to one of our principles,
namely, that the subject should so strike the artist that he wishes only
to reproduce it, it is no objection at all, for a subject with an eyesore
marring it would not, or should not, appeal to the artist sufficiently to
make him wish to reproduce it. We will also give the opinion of a painter
on this point. Mr. Goodall writes:—“These two subjects serve well to
illustrate how unnecessary it is to alter the natural arrangement of
things in order to make a picture. Although they are literal transcripts,
it is hard to find a line in them which could be altered with advantage.
The designs presented by nature ready made, always interest us far more
than the artificial compositions of painters who pick and choose, arrange
and alter, the material around them in constructing their pictures. When a
picture is patched together, as it were, a bit here and a bit there,
whatever the gain in composition, there is always a more than
corresponding loss in those little subtleties which give quality to the
work. If the beauty of a subject in nature does not appeal to the painter
with sufficient force to make him wish to paint it exactly as it is, he
had better leave it alone altogether, and seek some other that does. A man
must be moved too deeply by something to dream of improving it by
alterations, before he can possibly paint a really good picture.” But has
not this very limitation its advantages as well as its disadvantages?
There can be no scamping or dishonest work, and the artist must always go
to nature. Had the ancient Greeks known and handed down photography—and a
sculptor friend of ours is inclined to think they did have something of
the kind—there would not have followed the terrible decadence in art which
came after them owing to the neglect of nature, as we have shown. Again,
an _immense power which photography possesses over any other art is the
rapidity with which an effect can be secured_. The painter is limited to a
portion of the day—his effect is only present at certain times, or his
model tires; but the artist working with photography, when he sees his
effect is right, can secure it in the twinkling of an eye. This advantage
over all the other arts far outweighs the limitation of the field of
selection.
It has been said, “The camera sees far more than the eye takes in at any
given moment, and sees it with an impartiality for which there is no
parallel in the human vision.” This objection has been answered in the
body of the work; it only holds true with bad work, and with that we are
in no way concerned.
A kindly critic, who did us the honour of reviewing us in the _Spectator_,
said if our “contention were true, painting would have said its last word,
and sculpture would no doubt soon be superseded by some mechanical
contrivance, which would be to clay and marble what the camera is to plane
surfaces.” Now we must break a lance with this reviewer and gentleman; we
wish all reviewers deserved the last title. We fail to see why painting
should have said its last word—for our contention _is true—pace_ our
reviewer. The great fact of colour alone places true painting as a method
of expression far above any other method. When photographs can be taken in
natural colours, then will be the time to discuss the probable dying
groans of painting. As to sculpture, it seems to us useless to discuss the
merits of “probable mechanical contrivances;” when they are invented the
time will come to discuss them. At present the only comparison that can be
made is that between a cast of, say, a hand from life, and a modelled
hand. When this comparison is made, the “cast from life” will be found
poor and mean—_it is not a true impression_. The modelled hand may be so,
if the sculptor is good. It is of course needless to point out that the
principle of tone holds in sculpture as in painting, but the cast from
life cannot have subtleties of tone for a very obvious physiological
reason, namely, reflex action. If you touch a hand with a foreign
substance, reflex action is set up, and there is an alteration in the
heights and depths of the modelling, and the play of light gives a
different impression. Now, when a living hand is covered with plaster a
rough model is obtained—a model of its structure merely, and all the
subtleties of tone are lost. Those subtleties would, however, all be given
in a photograph, for nothing is touched, and a true impression is rendered
of the hand. What more hideous travesty of nature is there than a cast
taken from a dead subject—the cast being merely an exaggeration of the
faults in a cast taken from life?
Here, then, we must leave photography _at the head of the methods for
interpreting nature in monochrome_, and we feel sure that any one who
comes to the study of photography with a rational and an unbiassed mind
will admit there is no case to be made out against it as a means of
artistic expression. This much has been allowed by very many of our
friends, who are at the same time accomplished artists—etchers, painters,
and sculptors.
The student must remember, then, that a first-rate photograph, like a
first-rate pencil drawing, pen-and-ink drawing, etching, or mezzotint, is
far and away superior to a second-rate painting. The greatest geniuses in
art will admire the one and will not tolerate the other; but the student
must also remember that a false “picture” is worse than nothing.
[Sidenote: Some masters of the minor arts.]
The student should acquaint himself with the best specimens of the various
pictorial arts mentioned in this chapter, and he can do this with little
difficulty by obtaining a ticket for the print-room at the British Museum;
while in the provinces there are no doubt good specimens at the local
galleries. Cambridge, we know, is very rich in Rembrandt’s work. The
masters in each department whose work we recommend for study are—
In Lead Pencil.—Harding and Bonington in England, and Ingres in France.
Pen and Ink.—Titian, Albert Durer, Rembrandt, Fortuny, Rousseau, abroad;
and among Englishmen—Leech, Caldecott, De Maurier.
Chalk.—Da Vinci, Andrea del Sarto, Rembrandt, Raphael, Titian, Constable
and Millet.
Lithography.—Harding.
Chromo-lithography.—Greg.
Line Engraving.—Albert Durer, and Cousins.
Wood Engraving.—Bewick, Thompson, and Linton.
Facsimile Wood Engraving.—“The Century,” Scribner’s, and Harper’s
Magazines.
Etching.—Rembrandt, Millet, Meryon, Rajon, and Whistler.
Facsimile Etching.—Brunet-Debaines.
Charcoal.—Lhermitte.
Monochrome Painting.—Mauve and Rossi.
Mezzotint.—Turner’s and Lupton’s reproductions of some of the plates of
Turner’s “Liber Studiorum,” Smith’s reproductions of Sir Joshua Reynolds'
pictures, and Lucas' plates after Constable.
Photography.—Adam Salomon, Rejlander, and Mrs. Cameron.
Photogravure in facsimile.—A. Dawson, W. Colls, and Scamoni.
[Sidenote: Final.]
It must not be forgotten that water-colour drawing and etching have both
been despised in their time by artists, dealers, and the public, but they
have lived to conquer for themselves places of honour. The promising young
goddess, photography, is but fifty years old. What prophet will venture to
cast her horoscope for the year 2000?
APPENDIX.
“_Very few poets_ get their inspiration from nature. The majority of
them have read other poets, and they use the same ideas, clothed in
different language. The painter has to go directly to nature, or he is
a mere copyist. He cannot paint his picture like somebody else. He
must tell his own story if he has any to tell. Please to look out of
the window! You’ll get something different from what you get out of
books, for it never has been seen before!”
W. HUNT.
APPENDIX I.
[Sidenote: Books on art.]
We are continually receiving letters from correspondents asking us to
recommend them some books on art.
Now we can deeply sympathize with these earnest fellow-workers, for at one
period we wasted much time in vexation of mind in reading the works of
“self-appointed preachers, who knew many things save their subject.” When
we endeavoured to learn something of art we put the very same question to
our teachers, and the answer came, “There is nothing worth reading; some
good things have been written by painters but they are old now, for art
has developed greatly of late years, one thing only we can advise you,
don’t read anything not written by a practical man.”
When we came to consider the writings of artists, we found that but very
little had been written by them, and we can only repeat to the student,
with the full conviction of experience, that he must read nothing save
that written by practical artists.
[Sidenote: Technique and Practice of art.]
The technique and practice of art can be taught in studios, and its
principles can be scientifically recorded, but the poetry of art cannot be
taught, only hints can be thrown out. The poetic qualities which make an
artist as distinguished from the craftsman are born in a man and cannot be
acquired by any amount of training. It is for this reason we must suppose
that artists have, as a rule, thrown out suggestions and hints rather than
enunciated any laws: these hints and suggestions, then, coupled often with
the rhapsodies of literary men, form the body of all writings on art.
The only books we know of from which the student will derive some benefit
are Leslie’s “Life of John Constable.”
[Sidenote: Books recommended.]
William Hunt’s “Talks about Art.”—This excellent little book is often
contradictory and illogical, but nevertheless we heartily recommend it.
[Sidenote: Photographic libraries.]
In the body of this work we spoke of recommending a few books which every
photographer should have in his library, and if he has no library he
should at once make a modest beginning. The library is, to the
intellectual man, the armoury wherein are kept the arms which he must
wield in the battle for truth.
Every photographic society in the world, worthy of the name, should
collect all journals, pamphlets, and books bearing on photography, as well
as all books illustrated by photography and photographic processes.
Scrap-books should be kept in which are pasted all newspaper and magazine
articles on photographic subjects. Photography is but young, and there is
plenty of time to make such a collection complete. If all the numerous
societies subscribed, it might be worth while to reprint whole volumes of
rare journals.
The numerous photographic societies in this country could easily get
library subscriptions, or even organize entertainments amongst their
members and friends to procure the necessary funds for a library.
[Sidenote: Books recommended.]
The Camera Club has set an admirable example in this direction which will
no doubt be followed. Among the books we should recommend the student to
begin with are—
Captain Abney’s _Treatise on Photography_, Longman and Co.
Professor Tyndall’s _Lectures on Light_, Longman and Co.
Dr. Lömmer’s _Optics and Light_ } International
Dr. Vogel’s _Chemistry of Light and } Science
Photography_ Series.
The late Mr. Sawyer’s _ABC of Carbon Printing_. The Autotype Company.
Dr. Eder’s _Modern Dry Plates_, Piper, Carter, and Co.
Dr. Ganot’s _Physics_, Longman and Co.
Professor Roscoe’s _Lessons in Elementary Chemistry_, Macmillan.
The late Professor Bloxham’s _Laboratory Teaching_, Macmillan.
Messrs. Hardwich and Taylor’s _Photographic Chemistry_, Churchill.
Mr. Jerome Harrison’s _History of Photography_, Trübner and Co.
Dr. Wilson’s edition of Burnet’s _Treatise on Painting_. This book can be
obtained of Messrs. Lund and Co., St. John Street, Bradford.
The late Mr. Baden Pritchard’s _Photographic Studios of Europe_, Piper,
Carter, and Co.
Mr. Bolas' Cantor _Lectures on Photo-mechanical Processes_, Piper, Carter,
and Co.
Mr. Hodgson’s _Modern Methods of Book Illustration_.—Mr. Hodgson’s was the
first book on photo-mechanical processes, and it still remains one of the
best.
Dr. Liesgang’s _Manual of Carbon Printing_, Sampson Low and Co.
Messrs. Welford and Sturmey’s _Photographer’s Indispensable Handbook_.
Iliffe and Son.
Mr. Chapman Jones' _Science and Practice of Photography_. Iliffe and Son.
_Traité Encyclopédique de Photographie_, par Dr. Charles Fabre. Paris,
Gauthier-Villars.
---------------------
APPENDIX II.
--------------
SCIENCE AND ART.
(_A Paper read at the Camera Club Conference, held in the rooms of the
Society of Arts, London, on March 26th, 1889._)
MR. PRESIDENT, LADIES, AND FELLOW-PHOTOGRAPHERS,—Before beginning this
paper I would fain ask of you two things,—your attention and your charity,
but especially your charity. The reception which you accord me, ladies and
gentlemen, assures me you will give both, and I thank you beforehand.
Since all mental progress consists, as Mr. Herbert Spencer has shown, for
the most part in differentiation,—that is in the analysis of an unknown
complex into known components,—surely it were a folly to confuse any
longer the aims of Science and Art. Rather should we endeavour to draw an
indelible line of demarcation between them, for in this way we make mental
progress, and Science and Art at the same time begin to gather together
their scattered forces, each one taking under its standard those powers
that belong to it, and thus becoming integrated, and necessarily stronger
and more permanent; for evolution is integration and differentiation
passing into a coherent heterogeneity. Now, I do not mean to premise that
this confusion between Science and Art exists everywhere,—it does not. But
I feel sure that it exists largely in the ever-increasing body of persons
who practise photography. The majority of them have not thoroughly, nay,
not even adequately, thought the matter out. It is obvious then, according
to the teachings of evolution, that, if we are to make progress, this
differentiation must be made, thoroughly understood, and rigidly adhered
to by every practitioner of photography. Each one must have his aim
clearly stamped upon his mind, whether it be the advancement of Science or
the creation of works whose aim and end is to give æsthetic pleasure.
Proceed we now to analyze the difference between the aims and ends of
Science and Art.
Let us first approach the subject from the scientific standpoint.
Assuming that we have before us a living man, let us proceed together to
study him scientifically, for the nonce imagining our minds to be virginal
tablets, without score or scratch. Let us proceed first to record the
colour of his skin, his hair and eyes, the texture of his skin, the
relative positions of the various orifices in his face, the number of his
limbs, the various measurements of all these members. So we go on
integrating and differentiating until we find that we have actually built
up a science,—ethnology. If we pursue the study, and begin to compare
different races of men with each other, we find our ethnology extends to a
more complex anthropology.
We next observe that the eyelids open and close, the lips open, sounds
issue from the mouth, and our curiosity leads us to dissect a dead
subject, and we find that beneath the skin, fat, and superficial _fasciæ_
there are muscles, each supplied with vessels and nerves. We trace these
vessels and nerves to their common origins, and are led to the heart and
brain. In short, we find the science of anatomy grows up under our hands,
and if we go on with our studies we are led into microscopy. Then we begin
to ponder on the reasons why the blood flows, on the reasons why the
_corrugator supercilii_ and _depressores anguli oris_ act in weeping, the
_musculus superbus_ in practical arrogance, and the _levator anguli oris_
in snarling or sneering. So we go on studying the functions of all the
organs we find in our man, and lo! we are deep in physiology; and if we go
deeply enough we find the thread lost in the most complex problems of
organic chemistry and molecular physics. And so we might go on studying
this man; and if our lives were long enough, and if we had capacity
enough, we should be led through a study of this man to a knowledge of all
physical phenomena, so wonderful and beautiful is the all-pervading
principle of the conservation of energy, and so indestructible is matter.
As we proceeded with our studies we should have been observing, recording,
positing hypotheses, and either proving or disproving them. In all these
ways we should have been adding to the sum of knowledge. And in the
greatest steps we made in our advancement we should have made use of our
_constructive imagination_,—the highest _intellectual_ power, according to
recent psychologists.
The results of these investigations, if we were wise, would have been
recorded in the simplest and tersest language possible, for such is the
language of Science. It is needless to point out that in these records of
our studies, as in the records of all scientific studies, _too many_ facts
could not possibly be registered. Every little fact is welcome in
scientific study, so long as it is true. And thus the humblest scientific
worker may help in the great work; his mite is always acceptable. Such is,
alas! not the case with that jealous goddess, Art: she will have nothing
to do with mediocrity. A bad work of art has no _raison-d'être_; it is
worse than useless,—it is harmful.
To sum up, then, “Science,” as Professor Huxley says, “is the knowledge of
the laws of Nature obtained by observation, experiment, and reasoning. No
line can be drawn between common knowledge of things and scientific
knowledge; nor between common reasoning and scientific reasoning. In
strictness, all accurate knowledge is Science, and all exact reasoning is
scientific reasoning. The method of _observation_ and _experiment_ by
which such great results are obtained in Science is identically the same
as that which is employed by every one, every day of his life, but refined
and rendered precise.”
Now let us turn to Art, and look at our imaginary man from the artistic
standpoint. Assuming that we have learned the technique of some method of
artistic expression, and that is part of the science we require, we will
proceed with our work.
Let us look at the figure before us from the sculptor’s point of view. Now
what is our mental attitude? We no longer care for many of the facts that
vitally interested us when we were studying the man scientifically; we
care little about his anatomy, less about his physiology, and nothing at
all about organic chemistry and molecular physics. We care nothing for his
morality, his thoughts, his habits and customs,—his sociological history,
in fact; neither do we care about his ethnological characters. If he be a
good model, it matters little whether he be _Greek_, _Italian_, or
_Circassian_. But we do care, above all, for his type, his build, and the
grace with which he comports himself; for our aim is to make a statue like
him, a statue possessing qualities that shall give æsthetic pleasure. For
the _raison-d'être_ of a work of art ends with itself; there should be no
ulterior motive beyond the giving of æsthetic pleasure to the most
cultivated and sensitively refined natures.