IN the previous three chapters we have been considering Design under
various conditions of use and material. The present may be considered
as a continuation of the same line of thought in somewhat different
directions.
We may consider conditions in the general sense as those general
æsthetic laws governing the place and purpose of designs, and their
position in relation to the eye and hand, such as height, plane of
extension, and scale; or in the more particular sense which includes
all these, as well as more strict technical conditions which, being
accepted by the artistic faculty, influence the form and character of
all design, the object being, of course, the attainment of the greatest
beauty consistent with such conditions.
All design is necessarily conditioned, from the purely graphic and
pictorial to the most abstract forms of decoration. We cannot set
pencil to paper even without committing ourselves to a kind of compact
with conditions. Here is a white expanse--a plain surface; here is
something to make black marks with.
The artistic realization of or presentment of our thought, or our
rendering of a piece of nature or of art will depend upon our
frank acceptance of the natural limits of the capacity of pencil
and paper--of plane, surface, line, and tint as conditions of
representation, and on our faithfulness to them, by means of which we
shall attain the most truth and beauty in drawing.
[Illustration: CEILING PAPER. DESIGNED BY WALTER CRANE.]
[Illustration: CEILING PAPER. DESIGNED BY WALTER CRANE.]
It is the recognition of this which gives distinction to all drawing,
according to the individuality, invention, and character of the artist.
We recognize his style and personality by his manner of dealing with
the conditions of the work, and nowhere does this come out more
emphatically than when those conditions are reduced to the simplest. So
that in a line drawing in pen or pencil, in the economy of the means,
and in the skill and mastery by which facts of nature, character,
life, action, or beauty of line and ornamental effect are rendered by
the simple use of outline, or tint, or solid black, we can recognise
the artist of power just as clearly as we recognize a friend's
handwriting.
[Illustration: CEILING PAPER. DESIGNED BY WALTER CRANE.]
The suavity and grace of Raphael, the energy of Michael Angelo, the
learning and finish of Leonardo, the sculptor-like definition of
Mantegna, the firmness and care of Dürer, the breadth and richness of
Holbein; all these qualities come out clearly enough in the studies
and drawings of these masters in pen, pencil, and chalk. For beauty of
style, treatment, and decorative feeling in pencil and chalk, perhaps
few come near the studies of our modern master, Burne-Jones.
[Illustration: REPEATING PATTERN WALL-PAPER. DESIGNED BY WALTER CRANE.]
In making studies, too, another condition comes in, important enough
in its effects--that of _time_. In general practice no means to ends
are more useful than rapid sketches and notes of passing actions and
transient effects. In order to seize the essential facts quickly great
economy of means is necessary, and practice and experience alone can
teach us facility in selecting the leading points and most expressive
lines. Given a limited time in which to note facts, the problem is how
to set down the most truth in the simplest and most forcible way.
The conditions which govern the making of a sketch or study upon paper
are sufficient as tests of artistic capacity, of draughtsmanship, of
taste, and the other fine qualities which go to the making of a work of
art, having what may be termed an independent or individual interest
and value; but in adapting any kind of design to a definite ornamental
purpose other conditions immediately come into play over and above
those belonging to the conditions of draughtsmanship alone, conditions
which at once influence the _style_ of draughtsmanship and determine
the treatment.
Again, everyone who attempts designs for different kinds of
decorative purpose, for different materials, for different planes
of extension, for different positions and uses, must perceive that
such considerations are important factors in determining the plan,
construction, and spirit of the design.
The ornamental conditions, for instance, which govern the design of
wall-papers and hangings, demand patterns which climb upwards and
spread laterally without any apparent effect or flaw in the repeat.
Frieze designs, again, demand horizontal extension and definite rhythm,
which latter is an important element in all border design.
[Illustration: PATTERN PLANS & MOTIVES CONTROLLED BY CONDITIONS OF
POSITION AND PURPOSE.]
[Illustration: PLAN OF AN ORDINARY WALL-PAPER PATTERN REPEAT.]
[Illustration: PLAN OF A DROP REPEAT.]
[Illustration: MURAL MOTIVE-FIELD & FRIEZE.]
[Illustration: TEXTILE MOTIVE--BROKEN BY FOLDS.]
[Illustration: CEILING MOTIVE.]
[Illustration: FLOOR MOTIVE WITH BORDER.]
[Illustration: FLOOR MOTIVE. SKETCH DESIGN FOR INLAID WOOD, SOUTH
LONDON FINE ART GALLERY. DESIGNED BY WALTER CRANE.]
Designs for extension upon floors and pavements, where the effect of
perspective distorts forms as they recede from the eye, require their
own special planning and treatment, square, circular, diamond, and
fish-scale plans being generally the safest, as bases, since they
preserve their form in perspective better than irregular non-geometric
or more complex plans.
Much the same kind of considerations control ceiling decoration, where,
in addition, suggestions may be taken from constructive conditions,
as, in flat ceilings, the design following parallel beams and joists
and their interstices; the panelled arrangement of a coffered ceiling;
or radiating spring of lines from constructive centres, as in vaulted
ceilings.
Where a pattern will be broken by deep folds, as in textiles, in
hangings, and curtains, the conditions favour the recurrence of bold
masses, richer points, and more strongly defined forms, at intervals,
than would be agreeable in a pattern for extension on a plane surface,
unless we except carpets, where boldness of form and richness of colour
are desirable.
Such conditions as these influence every department of decorative
design, and in proportion to the completeness with which they are
satisfied will depend the success of designs; and a design which may
have less actual beauty, perhaps, than another, but which completely
fulfils the conditions of its existence, is likely to have a longer
life.
[Illustration: DROP REPEAT WALL-PAPER. DESIGNED BY WALTER CRANE.]
The persistence of certain well-known types of pattern is probably
due to this--such as the continual reappearance of the Greek fret in
various forms as a border design in all sorts of work.
Questions of scale in design are less absolute, perhaps, since, though
one may say as a rule that large types of design and detail belong
to large rooms and large scale buildings, there may be interesting
exceptions, when large patterns might suit even in a small room, if a
particular artistic effect were sought.
The main condition in the matter of scale appears to be that we cannot
afford to ignore the average human standard. As we may say that
the human frame itself contains the elements and principles of all
ornamental design, so its proportions and scale control the proportions
and scale of all design. Objects intended for human use and service are
bound to be of certain fixed or average sizes--seats and couches about
eighteen inches from the ground, for instance; ordinary domestic doors
not much over six feet high, and three feet six inches or four feet
wide. The size of casements, again, is strictly related to the power of
the hand to open them; while the sizes of all movable objects of use
are in like manner strictly governed by the average size, height, and
strength of mankind.
Pursuing the influence of such conditions, we find that there are in
every direction natural limitations in every department of design: in
the first place of scale and position in relation to eye and hand, in
the second place of method and material.
Take the page of a printed book, for instance. The body of type
impressed upon the paper, gives the proportions and dimensions of the
page. The double page, when the book is opened to show the right and
left hand pages (or recto and verso, as they are termed), is the true
unit, not the single page.
[Illustration: DROP REPEAT WALL-PAPER. DESIGNED BY WALTER CRANE.]
The type should be placed so as to leave the narrowest margin at the
top and the inside, the broader on the outside, and the broadest of
all at the foot. And this for obvious reasons, since in holding a book
in our hand we naturally want the type brought well under the eye,
the pages being set as close together as the necessities of joining
down the middle will allow conveniently, so that the eye need not have
to jump across a large brook of margin in travelling from one to the
other, while the deep margin below enables the book to be held in the
hand well set up before the eye, without touching the type.
In taking up a book with the intention of decorating or illustrating
it, we must accept frankly these conditions, which indeed are, properly
considered, a substantial help to the artist, just as the necessities
of the ground plan give suggestions for the elevation in architectural
design. These conditions, we may take it, are the architectural
conditions of book-page construction.
The size, then, of our page-panel being fixed, as well as the page of
type necessary to the book (sizes of books are, of course, determined
by folding of the paper--folio, quarto, octavo, duodecimo, and so on),
we are free to deal with it decoratively in a variety of ways, subject
only to the acknowledgment of the essential condition that it _is_
a book-page, and not a random sheet of paper to make blots of ink
upon--or a stereoscope, or a card-basket, for instance, as some modern
treatments of illustration in books suggest.
We may use the whole page for the design, surrounding it with a line
or border. Or for the sake of richer and more ornate effect, while
confining our picture or illustration to the limits of the type-page,
we may use our margin for a decorative framework or border. As also
in using ornamental initial letters the side borders can be utilized
for ornaments branching up and down from the letter to emphasize the
chapter or paragraph, in the manner of mediæval illuminated MSS., and
in the way adopted by William Morris in his Kelmscott Press books.
Or, again, limiting our decoration to the actual type-page, we may
divide the page at the opening of a chapter by a frieze-shaped panel or
heading across the top, placing the initial letter below; or insert a
picture in the text, occupying a half-page or quarter-page; or at the
ending of a chapter design a tailpiece to fill the page where the type
ends, treating any space within the limits of the type-page, which the
type does not occupy, as a field for design, or placing one's pictures
and ornaments in the midst or in place of the type.
The title-page, again, is capable of an immense variety of treatment,
and great ornamental use can always be made of the lettering, whether
accompanied by design or not.
I think, too, that it is obvious that the conditions of surface
printing point to line-drawing as the most harmonious in effect
for book illustration and decoration, as well as most practical
mechanically, since type and blocks which decorate a page must be
subjected to the same pressure. The form of letters, too, in movable
type, being linear, whether Gothic or Roman letters, line-drawing is in
direct decorative relation with the type.
[Illustration: OPEN FOLIO BOOK TO SHOW PROPORTIONS OF TYPE PAGE &
MARGIN, KELMSCOTT PRESS, WILLIAM MORRIS.]
[Illustration: TITLE PAGE FAERIE QUEENE WALTER CRANE W.C.]
[Illustration: W.C. W.C.]
[Illustration: PAGE PLANS SHOWING VARIOUS ARRANGEMENTS OF TEXT &
DECORATION.]
In proportion to the solidity or heaviness of the letters, too, as a
general principle, stronger effects of black and white may be ventured
on, while if the type is light and elegant, finer and more open-like
work would be the most harmonious treatment. With the use of handmade
paper, again, upon which a printed book always looks best, openness
of line is a necessary condition in design work to be reproduced as
surface printing blocks with the type, since the quality of the paper
requires considerable pressure to bring up bright impressions, and
under such pressure (with the grain and rough surface of the paper,
which gives the richness to the lines and blocks of type or woodcut)
fine and broken lines would print up too strong, and not look well. Pen
or brush drawing, therefore, in firm and unbroken lines is the most
adapted to the conditions in this case because they work and look the
best, and lead to a distinct character and style.
Nothing looks worse, to my mind, than heavy toned and realistically
treated wash drawings used with a thin and light type, such as we
constantly see in newspapers and magazines.
The facility of the photographic processes for reproducing drawings
of all kinds (as well as the decline of printing as an art before
that, and the decline of good facsimile engraving), have no doubt
tended to destroy the sense of style and harmony in combining
text and illustration, since the two have come to be considered so
entirely apart; but of late years there have been many indications of a
return to sounder taste, which is sure to influence the printer's and
illustrator's art more and more widely.
[Illustration: Chapter II. Evil tidings come to hand at Cleveland
NOT long had he worked ere he heard the sound of horse-hoofs once more,
and he looked not up, but said to himself, "It is but the lads bringing
back the teams from the acres, and riding fast and driving hard for joy
of heart and in wantonness of youth" But the sound grew nearer and he
looked up and saw over the turf wall of the garth the
FROM "THE GLITTERING PLAIN," KELMSCOTT PRESS. DESIGNED BY WILLIAM
MORRIS AND WALTER CRANE.]
[Illustration:
O SACRED hunger of ambitious mindes,
And impotent desire of men to raine!
Whom neither dread of God, that devils bindes,
Nor lawes of men, that common-weales containe,
Nor bands of nature, that wilde beastes restraine,
Can keepe from outrage and from doing wrong,
Where they may hope a kingdome to obtaine:
No faithe so firme, no trust can be so strong,
No love so lasting then, that may enduren long.
Witness may Burbon be; whom all the bands
Which may a Knight assure had surely bound,
Untill the love of Lordship and of lands
Made him become most faithless and unsound:
And witness be Gerioneo found,
Who for like cause faire Belgè did oppresse,
And right and wrong most cruelly confound:
And so be now Grantorto, who no lesse
Then all the rest burst out to all outragiousnesse.
FROM SPENSER'S "FAERIE QUEENE." DESIGNED BY WALTER CRANE.]
From books let us turn for further illustration to another source of
illumination, namely, windows; where, in the design of leaded and
stained glass, we shall find examples of another strictly conditioned
and very beautiful province of design.
In the course of its historical development stained glass seems to show
much the same or corresponding general characteristics at different
periods as to style, as may be traced in other branches of art. The
windows of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries were characterized by
geometric pattern, and made up of small pieces of glass, the figure
subjects small, set in geometric inclosures or quatrefoil panels and
showing Byzantine influence in their treatment.[5] It may be, too,
that the windows of the early Gothic period were influenced by the
rich mosaic work of the Byzantine artists, but in the fourteenth and
fifteenth centuries, as windows became larger and more important
features in architecture, and stone tracery enabled very large
openings to be filled with coloured and leaded glass, both the figures
and the pieces of glass became larger, the general design more
pictorial, till in the early sixteenth century we get perspectives and
heavily-shaded figures, and large masses of light and dark, until the
art perished in eighteenth century transparencies.
[5] I give some reproductions from photographs of the beautiful
fragments from the Sainte Chapelle, now in the South Kensington Museum,
as types of the earlier glass, and from Winchester College for the
later, and two cartoons of Ford Madox Brown's as examples of good
modern design, showing leading.
[Illustration: THIRTEENTH CENTURY GLASS FROM THE SAINTE CHAPELLE, PARIS
(SOUTH KENSINGTON MUSEUM).]
[Illustration: THIRTEENTH CENTURY GLASS FROM THE SAINTE CHAPELLE, PARIS
(SOUTH KENSINGTON MUSEUM).]
It perished because the essential fundamental conditions were ignored
or not made important decorative use of. Leading, instead of being
regarded as the backbone of the design, its fundamental anatomy, and
essential decorative as well as mechanical characteristic, was rather
looked upon as an awkward if necessary interruption in the picture, and
the glass-painter, in endeavouring to follow the painter on canvas in
his effects of relief and chiaroscuro, lost all the peculiar beauty and
character of his own art without gaining the distinction of the one he
would fain have rivalled.[6]
[6] Winston, in his well-known work on glass-painting, a very good and
particular account both of the characteristic historic periods and
the methods and materials of glass-painting, says: "In the eighteenth
century glass was painted with enamels, very much as canvas is with oil
colours, that is to say, in little patches, and the shadows were not
produced merely with enamel brown, but with deeper tints of various
local colours. In this way the shadows are almost imperceptibly blended
with the lights, scarcely any part of the glass being left perfectly
free of colour, or the marks of the brush."
It has only been by artists going back to the fundamental conditions,
and keeping faith with them, that a revival of glass-painting has taken
place in our time.
Now we might divide design in glass into two parts:
1. Design in lead line.
2. Design in coloured light.
[Illustration: THIRTEENTH CENTURY GLASS FROM THE SAINTE CHAPELLE, PARIS
(SOUTH KENSINGTON MUSEUM).]
Both demand the full light of the sky to do them justice, but
especially the colour work, and therefore can only effectively be used
for windows placed high, or above the level of the eye, in the wall
like church windows, for it is only the full strength of light which
brings out the full beauty and depth which the best work in glass
always possesses; and in some qualities of glass, indeed, only full
sunlight will discover their inner heart of jewel-like colour.
Very beautiful effects in window glazing are produced by patterns
formed of plain leads, and their value has of late been perceived by
architects, who largely use them in domestic work. Either seen from
within or without the effect is pleasant, and suggests a sense both
of comfort and romance which refuse to be associated with large blank
squares of plate glass and heavy sash windows, which require a Samson
or a Sandow to lift.
Inside, the effect of large panes of plate glass is cold. Outside, it
forms great holes in the architecture, but, with the use of leads, if
the opening is large, there need be scarcely any diminution of light
inside, while the network of lead forms a pleasant relief to the window
surface and unites it by pattern with the architecture of the building.
The pliant grooved strip of lead, then, is the glass designer's
outline. With it he weaves his plain pattern, which he can enrich with
spots of colour or by jewels of light in escutcheons and roundels; and
when he comes to planning an elaborate figure panel he is bound to
contrive a well-constructed basis of leading to hold his colour and
form together, and by means of its bold black bounding lines to define
the masses of his pattern, each different tint of glass being inclosed
by a lead line, and shading, faces, hands, and small details being
added with brush drawing in brown upon the coloured glass.
[Illustration: SIXTEENTH CENTURY GLASS. FROM WINCHESTER COLLEGE CHAPEL
(SOUTH KENSINGTON MUSEUM).]
Apart from good design, well-planned leading and colour scheme, nearly
everything depends upon the careful choice of tint in the glass itself,
and immense pains and trouble are well spent in this way, since beauty
of total effect, as well as particular harmonies, depend upon choice of
the degree, depth, and quality of the coloured glass.
Now glass for colour work, called antique, is made in small sheets
about 22 in. × 17 in. The sheets of one maker do not exceed 8 in. × 5
in. They may be classified as tints and whites. These form the palette
of the stained glass artist, and furnish him with an immense range of
tint and tone from which to select. But these, again, are divisible
into two sorts: (1) what is called _pot-metal_ self-colours, or sheets
that are of the same metal throughout; and (2) that known as _flashed_,
that is, when a thin skin of ruby, gold, pink, or blue is flashed upon
a sheet of blue, white, pink, or amber. This flash may be lightened or
removed at pleasure by fluoric acid.
The object of the maker of these small sheets of glass is to get as
much variety as possible, not only in _light and dark_, which in the
pot-metals is due to the varying thickness of the sheet, and in the
flashed colours to the varying thickness of the flash, but in some
cases a mixture of two or more colours in the same sheet, by which
it will be seen that no two sheets even out of the same pot of metal
are alike. It is the use of this variety and unexpectedness that are
amongst the charms of stained glass.
We speak of _stained glass_, but in reality there is _only one stain_,
properly speaking; other colours used on glass are enamels, the
real colour being incorporated in the glass when made (pot-metal or
flashed), and not painted on. This stain is a preparation of silver,
and is mixed with a vegetable colour, yellow lake, to weaken it. It
is principally used upon the whites to stain diapers, hair, etc., and
when fixed in the kiln the yellow lake is burnt away, leaving a slight
residue which is easily removed, and the silver is vitrified into the
glass, the depth of yellow being varied according to the strength of
the stain and the susceptibility of the glass.
In setting to work to design a stained glass window, it is usual first
to make a coloured design to scale--1½ inch to the foot is the best.
A window may be composed of one light or of many, each separate panel
inclosed by the masonry or mullions being termed _a light_. The
question of treatment of subject as a single design extending across
several lights, or as separate panels, must depend first upon the
particular subject, or subjects, to be treated, then the scale of the
window, and the general character of the architectural setting.
Supposing it is a subject like the Nativity, with the Adoration of the
Magi, it would lend itself to treatment as a single subject extending
across several lights, and to great richness and splendour of colour.
The colour design in such a case would be the most important, but, as I
have before said, it must be perfectly combined with, and built upon,
a well-designed network of lead lines, those lines forming themselves
essential elements in the design, defining the forms in bold outline,
and uniting and giving value to the masses of colour. For while we
may separate the problem into two parts, the design of lead lines and
colour design, the window must be conceived as a whole, not merely as
composition in line to be tinted.
Having made our scale sketch, the next step is to work out the
full-sized cartoons, which, of course, demand more attention to drawing
and detail. Many artists make as many elaborate studies for figures,
drapery, and details as they would for a highly-wrought picture in oil,
or mural painting. As a matter of fact, however, though any amount of
good drawing and invention may be put into glass design, it should not
be forgotten that beauty of pattern and effect and symbolic suggestion
are the objects and not pictorial naturalism.
For main definition in the design the essential lead line is all
important. It would not do to sketch in a figure in a casual way, and
then surmount it with lead lines; it should be carefully considered as
a piece of bold and massive outline design.
In leading we may use a bolder line for bounding and defining the main
masses, and a thinner sort for subsidiary fittings; in this much will
depend upon the scale of the work. The lead, which has a double groove,
may be said to serve several functions. Its primary office is to hold
the pieces of glass together: it forms the linework of the design,
surrounding the figures and forms, separating them from each other
and the background, as well as defining the secondary forms, as of
drapery and other detail. Then, too, the lead joints ease the cutting
of awkward shapes in the glass, which however should be avoided in
planning the cartoon. Again, it may be used to obtain greater variety
into large masses, as a piece of drapery, for instance.
[Illustration: THIRTEENTH CENTURY GLASS GRISAILLE, SALISBURY CATHEDRAL.]
[Illustration: CARTOON FOR GLASS, SHOWING LEAD DESIGN, BY FORD MADOX
BROWN.]
[Illustration: CARTOON FOR GLASS, SHOWING LEAD DESIGN, BY FORD MADOX
BROWN.]
The cartoon being made, the next thing is to make the working drawing.
This is done by laying a semi-transparent piece of paper over the
cartoon, and tracing _merely_ the lead lines and thus obtaining the
skeleton of the window.
The glass is cut from this drawing, the cutter cutting the glass just
within the lines, thus allowing for the heart of lead. The same drawing
serves also for the leadworker to glaze the finished work upon.
The shapes of the whites and light colours are seen when the sheets are
laid on the drawing; but the shapes of the dark colours, through which
it is impossible to see the lead lines, must be obtained in another way.
The best way is to cut the shape in thin sheet glass, which is then
placed on the dark sheet of antique glass held up to the light, and
moved about until the most suitable part of the sheet is found. They
are then laid on the bench together, and the piece of sheet glass is
pounced with a small bag of fine whitening, which, when removed, leaves
its shape on the dark sheet to be followed by the cutter's diamond.
We now come to the all-important task of selecting the glass.
The ordinary trade way of doing this is to number the outline, which
indicates to the cutter certain racks correspondingly numbered
containing the different colours. But if it is to be really careful
artistic work the designer ought himself to select each piece for his
work.
The principle and idea of colour in glass design, dealing as the
artist does with pure translucent colour, is necessarily distinct
from those obtaining in other kinds of painting, such as mural, when
opaque colours and a variety of half-tones are used. The glass designer
does not attempt to shade his figures and draperies by the light and
dark parts of a sheet of coloured glass. He desires to express the
jewel-like quality--the quintessence of colour in every piece of
glass--by the force of contrast, not in the juxtaposition of dark and
light pieces of one colour merely, but by the bold arrangement of
various colours, having the effect of one, but with a richness and
sonorousness that the single tint does not possess.
For example, in a yellow drapery we should take a rich decided yellow
as keynote. Obviously if the adjoining pieces were of the same colour,
the effect would be flat and tame; but if we take a low toned yellow or
neutral colour, the keynote will be screwed up to concert pitch, as it
were, and if the neutral colour is followed by a reddish tone of yellow
and that by another variation of yellow, that again by a decided green,
and so on, we shall achieve that desideratum in stained glass--_variety
in unity_.
The general effect will be warmer or colder as reddish or greenish
tones predominate in the scheme. Care, of course, must be taken to
bring these contrasted--even discordant--component parts into a
harmonious whole: indeed every piece should be selected, not only to
agree with and help its neighbour, but with reference to the harmony
of the whole. Any undue abruptness of contrast may be brought into
sufficient relation by the after painting.
The white must be treated in the same way, a mixture of warm and cold
tints as a rule, the general effect of each mass being made warmer or
colder as found necessary. Great care must be taken with the masses of
white to prevent them looking like holes in the window: for instance,
a white coming next to a dark colour would have to be a tint (or very
low in tone, as we should say in painting) to hold its proper place.
Only by actual experience, however, can the artist learn how one colour
affects another, and how certain combinations will look in their place.
We have now reached the painting stage. All the glass has been cut and
laid out on the outline. It is now looked over to see if there are
any pieces that will not stand the fire--that is, that would change
colour or lose brilliance. The gold pinks, brown rubies, and some sorts
of pure ruby are liable to do this. Pieces of plain sheet glass may
therefore be cut to the same shape to paint on, to be afterwards glazed
behind the coloured pieces, so that the full brilliance is preserved.
The wings of the angel in the panel by Mr. J. S. Sparrow (to whom I am
indebted for this detailed account) have been treated in this way.
The outline was made in colours ground in turpentine, fattened and made
workable with japanner's gold-size, in order to stand the matte of
water-colour to be added afterwards.
[Illustration: MODERN GLASS, DESIGNED AND EXECUTED BY J. S. SPARROW.]
When the figure is drawn in this way all the pieces are stuck upon
an easel glass (a large stout piece of sheet) with a composition of
bees-wax and resin. As this is the first time all the pieces have been
seen together the panel is carefully looked over, as a whole, to see
that each piece is of a right colour and value. Some pieces may have to
be cut over again; others strengthened or modified _by the addition of
another piece of glass_. This last method is called plating, by which
rich and beautiful deep toned effects can be produced.
A strong flat matte of water-colour is now laid all over the figure.
This forms the half-tones, and the lights are taken out (when dry) with
hog-hair brushes, the colour being first loosened by modelling the
broad lights with the finger, which indeed is the best implement, and
as much of the modelling should be done by it as possible.
A quill may be used to take out sharp lights. The work should now be
ready for the kiln, but before firing it should be again stuck up, and
looked over, and any strengthening or definition added in shadows on
details by oil-colour with the addition of fat turpentine to keep it
open; the dry surface of the glass being first treated with a wash of
oil of tar to make the colour flow easily.
Then the diapers and hair are stained on the back of the glass, and it
is ready for the kiln.
After being leaded up, the leads soldered together at the junctions,
the panel is again placed on the easel, and further alterations or
improvements may be made, as the leaded panel looks very different
from the glass by itself. The panel is next cemented, the leads filled
up with putty or cement to make it firm and water-tight. The cement is
like a very thick paint, a mixture of white lead, whitening, red lead,
lamp-black, dryers and raw and boiled oil.
The window may require to be supported by horizontal iron bars, if it
extends over two feet. They are usually placed about fifteen inches
apart, as the leaded glass might bend under the pressure of wind
without extra support.
From this account we may realize what care and taste are necessary to
carry out really artistic work in stained glass. The whole subject
affords us a good illustration of one of the highest and most
beautiful of the arts of design, severely controlled by well-defined
conditions--conditions which, if followed faithfully, give it all its
peculiar character, strength, and beauty. The necessities of leading
and cutting the glass demand a certain severity and simplicity of
design--from which a new beauty is evolved, capable in its turn of
influencing other forms of art for good, as in easel painting--which
harmonizes with its symbolic and religious intention as well as with
the architectural and monumental character of its surroundings in its
noblest forms in public and college halls and churches; while its glow
and colour, suggestive symbolism, or heraldic adornment, may cheer and
vivify domestic interiors with a touch of poetry and romance.