moderately full of paint of a consistency a little thinner than that
usually put up by colourmen. To thin it, mix a little turpentine and
linseed oil in equal parts with it; and get it into easy working
consistency before beginning your work, so as not to need any medium.
In the first column (No. 1), a touch firmly painted with an equal
pressure all along its course is given. This gives you a plane of tone
with firm edges the width of your brush, getting gradually darker or
lighter as your brush empties, according to the length of the stroke and
to whether you are painting into a lighter or darker ground.
In column No. 2 a drag touch is illustrated. This is a very useful one.
The brush is placed firmly on the canvas and then dragged from the point
lightly away, leaving a gradated tone. A great deal of the modelling in
round objects is to be expressed by this variety of handling. The danger
is that its use is apt to lead to a too dexterous manner of painting; a
dexterity more concerned with the clever manner in which a thing is
painted than with the truth expressed.
Column No. 3. This is a stroke lightly and quickly painted, where the
brush just grazes the surface of the canvas. The paint is put on in a
manner that is very brilliant, and at the same time of a soft quality.
If the brush is only moderately full, such touches will not have any
hard edges, but be of a light, feathery nature. It is a most useful
manner of putting on paint when freshness of colour is wanted, as it
prevents one tone being churned up with another and losing its purity.
And in the painting of hair, where the tones need to be kept very
separate, and at the same time not hard, it is very useful. But in
monochrome painting from the cast it is of very little service.
Another method of using a brush is hatching, the drawing of rows of
parallel lines in either equal or varying thicknesses. This method will
lighten or darken a tone in varying degree, according to whether the
lines are thick, thin, or gradated--somewhat in the same way that lines
of shading are drawn in line work. In cases where the correction of
intricate modelling is desired and where it would be very difficult to
alter a part accurately by a deft stroke of the brush, this method is
useful to employ. A dry brush can be drawn across the lines to unite
them with the rest of the work afterwards. This method of painting has
lately been much used by those artists who have attempted painting in
separate, pure colours, after the so-called manner of Claude Monet,
although so mechanical a method is seldom used by that master.
As your power of drawing increases (from the line drawing you have been
doing), casts of hands and heads should be attempted in the same manner
as has been described. Illustrations are given of exercises of this
description on pages 110 and 122. Unfortunately the photographs, which
were taken from the same study at different stages during the painting,
are not all alike, the first painting of the lights being too darkly
printed in some cases. But they show how much can be expressed with the
one tone, when variety is got by using the middle tone to paint into.
The two tones used are noted in the right-hand lower corner.
Try to train yourself to do these studies at one sitting. But if you
find you cannot manage this, use slower drying colours, say bone brown
and zinc white, which will keep wet until the next day.
When you begin studying from the life, proceed in the same way with
monochrome studies painted into a middle tone.
And what are you to do if you find, when you have finished, that it is
all wrong? I should advise you to let it dry, and then scumble a middle
tone right over the whole thing, as you did at first, which will show
the old work through, and you can then correct your drawing and proceed
to paint the lights and shadows as before. And if only a part of it is
wrong, when it is quite dry rub a little, poppy oil thinned with
turpentine over the work, as little as will serve to cover the surface.
If it is found difficult to get it to cover, breathe on the canvas, the
slightest moisture will help it to bite. When this is done, wipe it off
with the palm of your hand or an old piece of clean linen. Now paint a
middle tone right over the part you wish to retouch, being careful about
joining it up to the surrounding work, and proceed as before, drawing in
the light and shadow masses.
This form of drawing you will probably find more difficult at first. For
the reason already explained it seems natural to observe objects as
made up of outlines, not masses. The frame with cottons across it should
be used to flatten the appearance, as in making outline drawings. And
besides this a black glass should be used. This can easily be made by
getting a small piece of glass--a photographic negative will do--and
sticking some black paper on the back; turning it over the front to keep
the raw edges of the glass from cutting the fingers. Or the glass can be
painted on the back with black paint. Standing with your back to the
object and your painting, hold this glass close in front of one of your
eyes (the other being closed), so that you can see both your painting
and the object. Seeing the tones thus reduced and simplified, you will
be enabled more easily to correct your work.
I should like to emphasise the importance of the setting-out work
necessary for brush-drawing. While it is not necessary to put expressive
work into this preparatory work, the utmost care should be taken to
ensure its accuracy as far as it goes. It is a great nuisance if, after
you have put up some of your fair structure, you find the foundations
are in the wrong place and the whole thing has to be torn down and
shifted. It is of the utmost necessity to have the proportions and the
main masses settled at this early stage, and every device of blocking
out with square lines and measuring with your knitting-needle, &c.,
should be adopted to ensure the accuracy of these large proportions. The
variations and emphases that feeling may dictate can be done in the
painting stage. This initial stage is not really a drawing at all, but a
species of mapping out, and as such it should be regarded. The only
excuse for making the elaborate preparatory drawings on canvas students
sometimes do, is that it enables them to learn the subject, so that when
they come to paint it, they already know something about it. But the
danger of making these preparatory drawings interesting is that the
student fears to cover them up and lose an outline so carefully and
lovingly wrought; and this always results in a poor painting. When you
take up a brush to express yourself, it must be with no fear of hurting
a careful drawing. Your drawing is going to be done with the brush, and
only the general setting out of the masses will be of any use to you in
the work of this initial stage. Never paint with the poor spirit of the
student who fears to lose his drawing, or you will never do any fine
things in painting. Drawing (expressing form) is the thing you should be
doing all the time. And in art, "he that would save his work must often
lose it," if you will excuse the paraphrase of a profound saying which,
like most profound sayings, is applicable to many things in life besides
what it originally referred to. It is often necessary when a painting is
#nearly# right to destroy the whole thing in order to accomplish the
apparently little that still divides it from what you conceive it should
be. It is like a man rushing a hill that is just beyond the power of his
motor-car to climb, he must take a long run at it. And if the first
attempt lands him nearly up at the top but not #quite#, he has to go
back and take the long run all over again, to give him the impetus that
shall carry him right through.
Another method of judging tone drawing is our old method of half closing
the eyes. This, by lowering the tone and widening the focus, enables you
to correct the work more easily.
In tone drawing there is not only the shape of the masses to be
considered, but their values--that is, their position in an imagined
scale from dark to light. The relation of the different tones in this
way--the values, as it is called--is an extremely important matter in
painting. But it more properly belongs to the other department of the
subject, namely Colour, and this needs a volume to itself. But something
more will be said on this subject when treating of Rhythm.
We saw, in speaking of line drawing, how the character of a line was
found by observing its flatnesses and its relation to straight lines. In
the same way #the character of modelling is found by observing its
planes#. So that in building up a complicated piece of form, like a head
or figure, the planes (or flat tones) should be sought for everywhere.
As a carver in stone blocks out his work in square surfaces, the
modelling of a figure or any complex surface that is being studied
should be set out in planes of tone, painting in the first instance the
larger ones, and then, to these, adding the smaller; when it will be
seen that the roundnesses have, with a little fusing of edges here and
there, been arrived at. Good modelling is full of these planes subtly
fused together. Nothing is so characteristic of bad modelling as "gross
roundnesses." The surface of a sphere is the surface with the least
character, like the curve of a circle, and the one most to be avoided in
good modelling.
In the search for form the knowledge of anatomy, and particularly the
bony structures, is of the utmost importance. During the rage for
realism and naturalism many hard things were said about the study of
anatomy. And certainly, were it to be used to overstep the modesty of
nature in these respects and to be paraded to the exclusion of the
charm and character of life, it would be as well left alone. But if we
are to make a drawing that shall express something concrete, we must
know something of its structure, whatever it is. In the case of the
human figure it is impossible properly to understand its action and draw
it in a way that shall give a powerful impression without a knowledge of
the mechanics of its construction. But I hardly think the case for
anatomy needs much stating at the present time. Never let anatomical
knowledge tempt you into exaggerated statements of internal structure,
unless such exaggeration helps the particular thing you wish to express.
In drawing a figure in violent action it might, for instance, be
essential to the drawing, whereas in drawing a figure at rest or a
portrait, it would certainly be out of place.
[Illustration: Plate XXVI.
SET OF FOUR PHOTOGRAPHS OF THE SAME STUDY FROM THE LIFE IN DIFFERENT
STAGES
No. 1. Blocking out the spaces occupied by different masses in
charcoal.]
[Illustration: Plate XXVII.
SET OF FOUR PHOTOGRAPHS OF THE SAME STUDY FROM THE LIFE IN DIFFERENT
STAGES
No. 2. A middle tone having been scumbled over the whole, the lights are
painted into it; variety being got by varying the thickness of the
paint. The darks are due to the charcoal lines of initial drawing
showing through middle tone.]
[Illustration: Plate XXVIII.
SET OF FOUR PHOTOGRAPHS OF THE SAME STUDY FROM THE LIFE IN DIFFERENT
STAGES
No. 3. The same as the last, but with the shadows added; variety being
got by varying thickness of paint as before.]
[Illustration: Plate XXIX.
SET OF FOUR PHOTOGRAPHS OF THE SAME STUDY FROM THE LIFE IN DIFFERENT
STAGES
No. 4. The completed head.]
In the chapter on line work it was stated that: "Lines of shading drawn
across the forms suggest softness, lines drawn in curves fulness of
form, lines drawn down the forms hardness, and lines crossing in every
direction atmosphere," and these rules apply equally well to the
direction of the brush strokes (the brush work) in a painting.
#The brush swinging round the forms suggests fore-shortening, and
fulness of form generally, and across the forms softness, while the
brush following down the forms suggests toughness and hardness, and
crossing in every direction atmosphere#. A great deal of added force can
be given to form expression in this way. In the foreshortened figure on
the ground at the left of Tintoretto's "Finding of the Body of St.
Mark," the foreshortened effect helped by the brush work swinging round
can be seen (see illustration, page 236 [Transcribers Note: Plate
XLIX]). The work of Henner in France is an extreme instance of the
quality of softness and fleshiness got by painting across the form. The
look of toughness and hardness given by the brush work following down
the forms is well illustrated in much of the work of James Ward, the
animal painter. In his picture in the National Gallery, "Harlech
Castle," No. 1158, this can be seen in the painting of the tree-trunks,
&c.
The crossing of the brush work in every direction, giving a look of
atmosphere, is naturally often used in painting backgrounds and also
such things as the plane surfaces of sky and mist, &c.
It is often inconvenient to paint across the form when softness is
wanted. It is only possible to have one colour in your brush sweep, and
the colour changes across, much more than down the form as a rule. For
the shadows, half tones and lights, besides varying in tone, vary also
in colour; so that it is not always possible to sweep across them with
one colour. It is usually more convenient to paint down where the
colours can be laid in overlapping bands of shadow, half tone and light,
&c. Nevertheless, if this particular look of softness and fleshiness is
desired, either the painting must be so thin or the tones so fused
together that no brush strokes show, or a dry flat brush must afterwards
be drawn lightly across when the painting is done, to destroy the
downward brush strokes and substitute others going across, great care
being taken to drag only from light to dark, and to wipe the brush
carefully after each touch; and also never to go over the same place
twice, or the paint will lose vitality. This is a method much employed
by artists who delight in this particular quality.
But when a strong, tough look is desired, such as one sees when a
muscle is in violent action, or in the tendon above the wrist or above
the heel in the leg, or generally where a bone comes to the surface, in
all these cases the brush work should follow down the forms. It is not
necessary and is often inadvisable for the brush work to show at all, in
which case these principles will be of little account. But when in
vigorously painted work they do, I think it will generally be found to
create the effects named.
Drawing on toned paper with white chalk or Chinese white and black or
red chalk is another form of mass drawing. And for studies it is
intended to paint from, this is a quick and excellent manner. The
rapidity with which the facts of an appearance can be noted makes it
above all others the method for drapery studies. The lights are drawn
with white, the toned paper being allowed to show through where a darker
tone is needed, the white (either chalk or Chinese white) being put on
thickly when a bright light is wanted and thinly where a quieter light
is needed. So with the shadows, the chalk is put on heavily in the darks
and less heavily in the lighter shadows. Since the days of the early
Italians this has been a favourite method of drawing drapery studies
(see illustrations, page 260 [Transcribers Note: Plate LIV]).
Some artists have shaded their lights with gold and silver paint. The
late Sir Edward Burne-Jones was very fond of this, and drawings with
much decorative charm have been done this way. The principle is the same
as in drawing with white chalk, the half tone being given by the paper.
Keep the lights separate from the shadows, let the half tone paper
always come as a buffer state between them. Get as much information into
the drawing of your lights and shadows as possible; don't be satisfied
with a smudge effect. Use the side of your white chalk when you want a
mass, or work in parallel lines (hatching) on the principle described in
the chapter on line drawing.
X
RHYTHM
The subject of Rhythm in what are called the Fine Arts is so vague, and
has received so little attention, that some courage, or perhaps
foolhardiness, is needed to attack it. And in offering the following
fragmentary ideas that have been stumbled on in my own limited practice,
I want them to be accepted only for what they are worth, as I do not
know of any proper authority for them. But they may serve as a stimulus,
and offer some lines on which the student can pursue the subject for
himself.
The word rhythm is here used to signify the power possessed by lines,
tones, and colours, by their ordering and arrangement, to affect us,
somewhat as different notes and combinations of sound do in music. And
just as in music, where sounds affect us without having any direct
relation with nature, but appeal directly to our own inner life; so in
painting, sculpture, and architecture #there is a music that appeals
directly to us apart from any significance that may be associated with
the representation of natural phenomena#. There is, as it were, an
abstract music of line, tone, and colour.
The danger of the naturalistic movement in painting in the nineteenth
century has been that it has turned our attention away from this
fundamental fact of art to the contemplation of interesting
realisations of appearances--realisations often full of poetic
suggestiveness due to associations connected with the objects painted as
concrete things, but not always made directly significant as artistic
expression; whereas #it is the business of the artist to relate the
form, colour, and tone of natural appearances to this abstract musical
quality, with which he should never lose touch even in the most highly
realised detail of his work#. For only thus, when related to rhythm, do
the form, tone, and colour of appearances obtain their full expressive
power and become a means of vitally conveying the feeling of the artist.
Inquiry as to the origin of this power and of rhythm generally is a
profoundly interesting subject; and now that recent advances in science
tend to show that sound, heat, light, and possibly electricity and even
nerve force are but different rhythmic forms of energy, and that matter
itself may possibly be resolved eventually into different rhythmic
motions, it does look as if rhythm may yet be found to contain even the
secret of life itself. At any rate it is very intimately associated with
life; and primitive man early began to give expression in some form of
architecture, sculpture, or painting to the deeper feelings that were
moving him; found some correspondence between the lines and colours of
architecture, sculpture, and painting and the emotional life that was
awakening within him. Thus, looking back at the remains of their work
that have come down to us, we are enabled to judge of the nature of the
people from the expression we find in hewn stone and on painted walls.
It is in primitive art generally that we see more clearly the direct
emotional significance of line and form. Art appears to have developed
from its most abstract position, to which bit by bit have been added the
truths and graces of natural appearance, until as much of this
naturalistic truth has been added as the abstract significance at the
base of the expression could stand without loss of power. At this point,
as has already been explained, a school is at the height of its
development. The work after this usually shows an increased concern with
naturalistic truth, which is always very popular, to the gradual
exclusion of the backbone of abstract line and form significance that
dominated the earlier work. And when these primitive conditions are lost
touch with, a decadence sets in. At least, this is roughly the theory to
which a study of the two great art developments of the past, in Greece
and Italy, would seem to point. And this theory is the excuse for all
the attempts at primitivism of which we have lately seen so much.
Art having lost touch with its primitive base owing to the over-doses of
naturalism it has had, we must, these new apostles say, find a new
primitive base on which to build the new structure of art. The theory
has its attractions, but there is this difference between the primitive
archaic Greek or early Italian and the modern primitive; the early men
reverently clothed the abstract idea they started with in the most
natural and beautiful form within their knowledge, ever seeking to
discover new truths and graces from nature to enrich their work; while
the modern artist, with the art treasures of all periods of the world
before him, can never be in the position of these simple-minded men. It
is therefore unlikely that the future development of art will be on
lines similar to that of the past. The same conditions of simple
ignorance are never likely to occur again. Means of communication and
prolific reproduction make it very unlikely that the art of the world
will again be lost for a season, as was Greek art in the Middle Ages.
Interesting intellectually as is the theory that the impressionist point
of view (the accepting of the flat retina picture as a pattern of colour
sensations) offers a new field from which to select material for a new
basis of artistic expression, so far the evidence of results has not
shown anything likely seriously to threaten the established principles
of traditional design. And anything more different in spirit from the
genuine primitive than the irreverent anarchy and flouting of all
refinement in the work of some of these new primitives, it would be
difficult to imagine. But much of the work of the movement has undoubted
artistic vitality, and in its insistence on design and selection should
do much to kill "realism" and the "copying nature" theory of a few years
back.
Although it is perfectly true that the feelings and ideas that impel the
artist may sooner or later find their own expression, there are a great
many principles connected with the arranging of lines, tones, and
colours in his picture that it is difficult to transgress without
calamity. At any rate the knowledge of some of them will aid the artist
in gaining experience, and possibly save him some needless fumbling.
But don't for one moment think that anything in the nature of rules is
going to take the place of the initial artistic impulse which must come
from within. This is not a matter for teaching, art training being only
concerned with perfecting the means of its expression.
[Illustration: Plate XXX.
A STUDY FOR A PICTURE OF "ROSALIND AND ORLANDO"
_Ros._ "He calls us back; my pride fell with my fortunes."]
It is proposed to treat the subject from the material side of line and
tone only, without any reference to subject matter, with the idea of
trying to find out something about the expressive qualities line and
tone are capable of yielding unassociated with visual things. What use
can be made of any such knowledge to give expression to the emotional
life of the artist is not our concern, and is obviously a matter for the
individual to decide for himself.
* * * * *