our highest and black paint as our lowest notes. It is never advisable
to play either of these extremes, although you may go very near to them.
That is to say, there should never be pure white or pure black masses in
a picture. There is a kind of screaminess set up when one goes the
whole gamut of tone, that gives a look of unrestraint and weakness;
somewhat like the feeling experienced when a vocalist sings his or her
very highest or very lowest note. In a good singer one always feels he
could have gone still higher or still lower, as the case may be, and
this gives an added power to the impression of his singing. And in art,
likewise, it is always advisable to keep something of this reserve
power. Also, the highest lights in nature are never without colour, and
this will lower the tone; neither are the deepest darks colourless, and
this will raise their tone. But perhaps this is dogmatising, and it may
be that beautiful work is to be done with all the extremes you can "clap
on," though I think it very unlikely.
In all the quieter aspects of lighting this range from black to white
paint is sufficient. But where strong, brilliantly lit effects are
wanted, something has to be sacrificed, if this look of brilliancy is to
be made telling.
In order to increase the relationship between some of the tones others
must be sacrificed. There are two ways of doing this. The first, which
was the method earliest adopted, is to begin from the light end of the
scale, and, taking something very near pure white as your highest light,
to get the relationships between this and the next most brilliant tone,
and to proceed thus, tone by tone, from the lightest to the darkest. But
working in this way you will find that you arrive at the greatest dark
you can make in paint before you have completed the scale of
relationships as in nature, if the subject happens to be brilliantly
lit. Another method is to put down the highest light and the darkest
dark, and then work your scale of tone relatively between them. But it
will be found that working in this way, unless the subject in nature is
very quietly lit, you will not get anything like the forceful impression
of tone that nature gives.
The third way, and this is the more modern, is to begin from the dark
end of the scale, getting the true relationship felt between the
greatest dark and the next darkest tone to it, and so on, proceeding
towards the light. By this method you will arrive at your highest light
in paint before the highest light in nature has been reached. All
variety of tone at the light end of the scale will have to be modified
in this case, instead of at the dark end as in the other case. In the
painting of sunlight the latter method is much the more effective, a
look of great brilliancy and light being produced, whereas in the
earlier method, the scale being commenced from the light end, so much of
the picture was dark that the impression of light and air was lost and a
dark gloomy land took its place, a gloom accentuated rather than
dispelled by the streaks of lurid light where the sun struck.
Rembrandt is an example of beginning the tone relationships from the
light side of the scale, and a large part of his canvas is in
consequence always dark.
Bastien Lepage is an example of the second method, that of fixing upon
two extremes and working-relatively between them. And it will be noticed
that he confined himself chiefly to quiet grey day effects of lighting,
the rendering of which was well within the range of his palette. The
method of beginning from the dark side, getting the true relations of
tones on this side of the scale, and letting the lights take care of
themselves, was perhaps first used by Turner. But it is largely used now
whenever a strong impression of light is desired. The light masses
instead of the dark masses dominate the pictures, which have great
brilliancy.
These tone values are only to be perceived in their true relationship by
the eye contemplating a wide field of vision. With the ordinary habit of
looking only at individual parts of nature, the general impression being
but dimly felt, they are not observed. The artist has to acquire the
habit of generalising his visual attention over a wide field if he would
perceive the true relation of the parts to this scale of values. Half
closing the eyes, which is the usual method of doing this, destroys the
perception of a great deal of colour. Another method of throwing the
eyes out of focus and enabling one to judge of large relationships, is
to dilate them widely. This rather increases than diminishes the colour,
but is not so safe a method of judging subtle tone relationships.
It is easier in approaching this study out of doors to begin with quiet
effects of light. Some of those soft grey days in this country are very
beautiful in tone, and change so little that careful studies can be
made. And with indoor work, place your subject rather away from the
direct light and avoid much light and shade; let the light come from
behind you.
If very strong light effects, such as sunlight, or a dark interior lit
by one brilliant window, are attempted, the values will be found to be
much simpler and more harsh, often resolving themselves into two
masses, a brilliant light contrasted with a dark shadow. This tone
arrangement of strong light in contrast with dark shadow was a favourite
formula with many schools of the past, since Leonardo da Vinci first
used it. Great breadth and splendour is given by it to design, and it is
one of the most impressive of tone arrangements. Leonardo da Vinci's
"Our Lady of the Rocks," in the National Gallery, is an early example of
this treatment. And Correggio's "Venus, Mercury, and Cupid," here
reproduced, is another particularly fine example. Reynolds and many of
the eighteenth-century men used this scheme in their work almost
entirely. This strong light and shade, by eliminating to a large extent
the half tones, helps to preserve in highly complete work a simplicity
and directness of statement that is very powerful. For certain
impressions it probably will never be bettered, but it is a very
well-worn convention. Manet among the moderns has given new life to this
formula, although he did not derive his inspiration directly from
Correggio but through the Spanish school. By working in a strong, rather
glaring, direct light, he eliminated still further the half tones, and
got rid to a great extent of light and shade. Coming at a time when the
realistic and plain air movements were destroying simple directness, his
work was of great value, bringing back, as it did with its insistence on
large, simple masses, a sense of frank design. His influence has been
very great in recent years, as artists have felt that it offered a new
formula for design and colour. Light and shade and half tone are the
great enemies of colour, sullying, as they do, its purity; and to some
extent to design also, destroying, as they do, the flatness of the
picture. But with the strong direct light, the masses are cut out as
simply as possible, and their colour is little sullied by light and
shade. The picture of Manet's reproduced is a typical example of his
manner. The aggressive shape of the pattern made by the light mass
against the dark background is typical of his revolutionary attitude
towards all accepted canons of beauty. But even here it is interesting
to note that many principles of composition are conformed to. The design
is united to its boundaries by the horizontal line of the couch and the
vertical line of the screen at the back, while the whole swing hangs on
the diagonal from top left-hand corner to right; lower corner, to which
the strongly marked edge of the bed-clothes and pillow at the bottom of
the picture is parallel.
[Illustration: Plate XLV.
CORREGGIO. VENUS. MERCURY, AND CUPID (NATIONAL GALLERY)
A fine example of one of the most effective tone arrangements; a
brilliantly-lit, richly-modelled light mass on a dark background.
_Photo Hanfstaengl_]
Large flat tones give a power and simplicity to a design, and a
largeness and breadth of expression that are very valuable, besides
showing up every little variety in the values used for your modelling;
and thus enabling you to model with the least expenditure of tones.
Whatever richness of variation you may ultimately desire to add to your
values, see to it that in planning your picture you get a good basic
structure of simply designed, and as far as possible flat, tones.
In speaking of variety in mass we saw how the #nearer these tones are in
the scale of values, the more reserved and quiet the impression
created#, and the #further apart or greater the contrast, the more
dramatic and intense the effect#. And the sentiment of tone in a
picture, like the sentiment of line and colour, should be in harmony
with the nature of your subject.
Generally speaking #more variety of tone and shape in the masses of
your composition is permissible when a smaller range of values is used
than when your subject demands strong contrasts#. When strong contrasts
of tone or what are called black and white effects are desired, the
masses must be very simply designed. Were this not so, and were the
composition patterned all over with smaller masses in strong contrast,
the breadth and unity of the effect would be lost. While when the
difference of relative values between one tone and another is slight,
the oneness of effect is not so much interfered with by there being a
large number of them. Effects of strong contrasts are therefore far the
most difficult to manage, as it is not easy to reduce a composition of
any complexity to a simple expressive pattern of large masses.
This principle applies also in the matter of colour. Greater contrasts
and variety of colour may be indulged in where the middle range only of
tones is used, and where there is little tone contrast, than where there
is great contrast. In other words, you cannot with much hope of success
have strong contrasts of colour and strong contrasts of tone in the same
picture: it is too violent.
If you have strong contrasts of colour, the contrasts of tone between
them must be small. The Japanese and Chinese often make the most
successful use of violent contrasts of colour by being careful that they
shall be of the same tone value.
And again, where you have strong contrasts of tone, such as Rembrandt
was fond of, you cannot successfully have strong contrasts of colour as
well. Reynolds, who was fond both of colour and strong tone contrast,
had to compromise, as he tells us in his lectures, by making the
shadows all the same brown colour, to keep a harmony in his work.
[Illustration: Plate XLVI.
OLYMPIA. MANET (Louvre)
A further development of the composition formula illustrated by
Correggio's "Venus". Added force is given by lighting with low direct
light elimination half-tones.
_Photo Neurdein_]
There is some analogy between straight lines and flat tones, and curved
lines and gradated tones. And a great deal that was said about the
rhythmic significance of these lines will apply equally well here. What
was said about long vertical and horizontal lines conveying a look of
repose and touching the serious emotional notes, can be said of large
flat tones. The feeling of infinity suggested by a wide blue sky without
a cloud, seen above a wide bare plain, is an obvious instance of this.
And for the same harmonic cause, a calm evening has so peaceful and
infinite an expression. The waning light darkens the land and increases
the contrast between it and the sky, with the result that all the
landscape towards the west is reduced to practically one dark tone,
cutting sharply against the wide light of the sky.
And the graceful charm of curved lines swinging in harmonious rhythm
through a composition has its analogy in gradated tones. Watteau and
Gainsborough, those masters of charm, knew this, and in their most
alluring compositions the tone-music is founded on a principle of
tone-gradations, swinging and interlacing with each other in harmonious
rhythm throughout the composition. Large, flat tones, with their more
thoughtful associations are out of place here, and are seldom if ever
used. In their work we see a world where the saddening influences of
profound thought and its expression are far away. No deeper notes are
allowed to mar the gaiety of this holiday world. Watteau created a dream
country of his own, in which a tired humanity has delighted ever since,
in which all serious thoughts are far away and the mind takes
refreshment in the contemplation of delightful things. And a great
deal of this charm is due to the pretty play from a crescendo to a
diminuendo in the tone values on which his compositions are based--so
far removed from the simple structure of flat masses to which more
primitive and austere art owes its power.
[Illustration: Diagram XXIV.
SHOWING THE PRINCIPLE ON WHICH THE MASS OR TONE RHYTHM OF THE
COMPOSITION REPRODUCED ON THE OPPOSITE PAGE IS ARRANGED]
[Illustration: Plate XLVII.
L'EMBARQUEMENT POUR CYTHÈRE. WATTEAU (LOUVRE)
A typical example of composition founded on gradated tones. (See
analysis on opposite page.)
_Photo Hanfstaengl_]
But Watteau's great accomplishment was in doing this without
degenerating into feeble prettiness, and this he did by an insistence on
character in his figures, particularly his men. His draperies also are
always beautifully drawn and full of variety, never feeble and
characterless. The landscape backgrounds are much more lacking in this
respect, nothing ever happened there, no storms have ever bent his
graceful tree-trunks, and the incessant gradations might easily become
wearisome. But possibly the charm in which we delight would be lost, did
the landscape possess more character. At any rate there is enough in the
figures to prevent any sickly prettiness, although I think if you
removed the figures the landscape would not be tolerable.
But the followers of Watteau seized upon the prettiness and gradually
got out of touch with the character, and if you compare Boucher's heads,
particularly his men's heads, with Watteau's you may see how much has
been lost.
The following are three examples of this gradated tone composition (see
pages 210 [Transcribers Note: Diagram XXIV], 213 [Transcribers Note:
Diagram XXV], 215 [Transcribers Note: Diagram XXVI]):
Watteau: "Embarquement pour L'Île de Cythère."
This is a typical Watteau composition, founded on a rhythmic play of
gradated tones and gradated edges. Flat tones and hard edges are
avoided. Beginning at the centre of the top with a strongly accented
note of contrast, the dark tone of the mass of trees gradates into the
ground and on past the lower right-hand corner across the front of the
picture, until, when nearing the lower left-hand corner, it reverses the
process and from dark to light begins gradating light to dark, ending
somewhat sharply against the sky in the rock form to the left. The rich
play of tone that is introduced in the trees and ground, &c., blinds one
at first to the perception of this larger tone motive, but without it
the rich variety would not hold together. Roughly speaking the whole of
this dark frame of tones from the accented point of the trees at the top
to the mass of the rock on the left, may be said to gradate away into
the distance; cut into by the wedge-shaped middle tone of the hills
leading to the horizon.
Breaking across this is a graceful line of figures, beginning on the
left where the mass of rock is broken by the little flight of cupids,
and continuing across the picture until it is brought up sharply by the
light figure under the trees on the right. Note the pretty clatter of
spots this line of figures brings across the picture, introducing light
spots into the darker masses, ending up with the strongly accented light
spot of the figure on the right; and dark spots into the lighter masses,
ending up with the figures of the cupids dark against the sky.
Steadying influences in all this flux of tone are introduced by the
vertical accent of the tree-stem and statue in the dark mass on the
right, by the horizontal line of the distance on the left, the outline
of the ground in the front, and the straight staffs held by some of the
figures.
In the charcoal scribble illustrating this composition I have tried
carefully to avoid any drawing in the figures or trees to show how the
tone-music depends not so much on truth to natural appearances as on
the abstract arrangement of tone values and their rhythmic play.
[Illustration: Diagram XXV.
SHOWING THE PRINCIPLE ON WHICH THE MASS OR TONE RHYTHM IS ARRANGED IN
TURNER'S PICTURE IN THE NATIONAL GALLERY OF BRITISH ART, "ULYSSES
DERIDING POLYPHEMUS"]
Of course nature contains every conceivable variety of tone-music, but
it is not to be found by unintelligent copying except in rare accidents.
Emerson says, "Although you search the whole world for the beautiful
you'll not find it unless you take it with you," and this is true to a
greater extent of rhythmic tone arrangements.
Turner: "Ulysses deriding Polyphemus."
Turner was very fond of these gradated tone compositions, and carried
them to a lyrical height to which they had never before attained. His
"Ulysses deriding Polyphemus," in the National Gallery of British Art,
is a splendid example of his use of this principle. A great unity of
expression is given by bringing the greatest dark and light together in
sharp contrast, as is done in this picture by the dark rocks and ships'
prows coming against the rising sun. From this point the dark and light
masses gradate in different directions until they merge above the ships'
sails. These sails cut sharply into the dark mass as the rocks and ship
on the extreme right cut sharply into the light mass. Note also the
edges where they are accented and come sharply against the neighbouring
mass, and where they are lost, and the pleasing quality this play of
edges gives.
Stability is given by the line of the horizon and waves in front, and
the masts of the ships, the oars, and, in the original picture, a
feeling of radiating lines from the rising sun. Without these steadying
influences these compositions of gradated masses would be sickly and
weak.
Corot: 2470 Collection Chauchard, Louvre.
This is a typical example of Corot's tone scheme, and little need be
added to the description already given. Infinite play is got with the
simplest means. A dark silhouetted mass is seen against a light
sky, the perfect balance of the shapes and the infinite play of
lost-and-foundness in the edges giving to this simple structure a
richness and beauty effect that is very satisfying. Note how Corot, like
Turner, brings his greatest light and dark together in sharp contrast
where the rock on the right cuts the sky.
[Illustration: Diagram XXVI.
TYPICAL EXAMPLE OF COROT'S SYSTEM OF MASS RHYTHM, AFTER THE PICTURE IN
THE LOUVRE, PARIS]
Stability is given by the vertical feeling in the central group of trees
and the suggestion of horizontal distance behind the figure.
It is not only in the larger disposition of the masses in a composition
that this principle of gradated masses and lost and found edges can be
used. Wherever grace and charm are your motive they should be looked for
in the working out of the smallest details.
* * * * *
In concluding this chapter I must again insist that knowledge of these
matters will not make you compose a good picture. A composition may be
perfect as far as any rules or principles of composition go, and yet be
of no account whatever. The life-giving quality in art always defies
analysis and refuses to be tabulated in any formula. This vital quality
in drawing and composition must come from the individual artist himself,
and nobody can help him much here. He must ever be on the look out for
those visions his imagination stirs within him, and endeavour, however
haltingly at first, to give them some sincere expression. Try always
when your mind is filled with some pictorial idea to get something put
down, a mere fumbled expression possibly, but it may contain the germ.
Later on the same idea may occur to you again, only it will be less
vague this time, and a process of development will have taken place. It
may be years before it takes sufficiently definite shape to justify a
picture; the process of germination in the mind is a slow one. But try
and acquire the habit of making some record of what pictorial ideas pass
in the mind, and don't wait until you can draw and paint well to begin.
Qualities of drawing and painting don't matter a bit here, it is the
sensation, the feeling for the picture, that is everything.
If knowledge of the rhythmic properties of lines and masses will not
enable you to compose a fine picture, you may well ask what is their
use? There may be those to whom they are of no use. Their artistic
instincts are sufficiently strong to need no direction. But such natures
are rare, and it is doubtful if they ever go far, while many a painter
might be saved a lot of worry over something in his picture that "won't
come" did he but know more of the principle of pictorial design his work
is transgressing. I feel certain that the old painters, like the
Venetians, were far more systematic and had far more hard and fast
principles of design than ourselves. They knew the science of their
craft so well that they did not so often have to call upon their
artistic instinct to get them out of difficulties. Their artistic
instinct was free to attend to higher things, their knowledge of the
science of picture-making keeping them from many petty mistakes that a
modern artist falls into. The desire of so many artists in these days to
cut loose from tradition and start all over again puts a very severe
strain upon their intuitive faculties, and keeps them occupied
correcting things that more knowledge of some of the fundamental
principles that don't really alter and that are the same in all schools
would have saved them. Knowledge in art is like a railway built behind
the pioneers who have gone before; it offers a point of departure for
those who come after, further on into the unknown country of nature's
secrets--a help not lightly to be discarded.
But all artifice in art must be concealed, #a picture obviously composed
is badly composed#. In a good composition it is as though the parts had
been carefully placed in rhythmic relation and then the picture jarred a
little, so that everything is slightly shifted out of place, thus
introducing our "dither" or play of life between the parts. Of course no
mechanical jogging will introduce the vital quality referred to, which
must come from the vitality of the artist's intuition; although I have
heard of photographers jogging the camera in an endeavour to introduce
some artistic "play" in its mechanical renderings. But one must say
something to show how in all good composition the mechanical principles
at the basis of the matter are subordinate to a vital principle on which
the life in the work depends.
This concealment of all artifice, this artlessness and spontaneity of
appearance, is one of the greatest qualities in a composition, any
analysis of which is futile. It is what occasionally gives to the work
of the unlettered genius so great a charm. But the artist in whom the
true spark has not been quenched by worldly success or other enervating
influence, keeps the secret of this freshness right on, the culture of
his student days being used only to give it splendour of expression, but
never to stifle or suppress its native charm.
XV
BALANCE
There seems to be a strife between opposing forces at the basis of all
things, a strife in which a perfect balance is never attained, or life
would cease. The worlds are kept on their courses by such opposing
forces, the perfect equilibrium never being found, and so the vitalising
movement is kept up. States are held together on the same principle, no
State seeming able to preserve a balance for long; new forces arise, the
balance is upset, and the State totters until a new equilibrium has been
found. It would seem, however, to be the aim of life to strive after
balance, any violent deviation from which is accompanied by calamity.