REPRESENTATION
Although much has been said about the theoretical and abstract side of
painting, and the importance of the aesthetic elements in art have been
insisted upon, it is not to be supposed for a moment that painting
does not deal with actual things. All painting which is not purely
conventional must deal with and represent nature and natural facts.
These are the body of the picture; the aesthetic elements are the heart
of it. I believe that it is important that you should know that there
is that side to painting, and should have some insight into it; that
you should see that there is something else to think of than the
imitation of natural objects. I would have you think more nobly of
painting than to believe that "the greatest imitation is the greatest
art." Beneath the imitation of the obvious facts of nature are the
deeper facts and truths, and in and through these may you express
those qualities of intellectual creation by means of which only,
painting is not a craft, but an art.
But for all that, painting does, and always must, deal with those
obvious facts; and however much you may give your mind to the problems
of composition and color, you must base it on a foundation of ability
to represent what you see. Represent well the external objects, and
you are in a position to interpret the spirit of them. For as nature
only manifests her inner spirit through her outward forms and facts,
you must be able to paint these well before you can do anything else.
The intellectual action which perceives and constructs is the art, the
skill which represents and reproduces is the science, of painting.
Painting is the art of expression in color. The fact of color rather
than form is the fundamental characteristic of it. The use of pigment
rather than other materials is implied in its name. Therefore the
science of painting deals with the materials with which to produce on
canvas all manner of visible color combinations; and those processes
of manipulation which make possible the representation of all the
facts of color and light, of substance and texture, through which
nature manifests herself.
It is not enough to have the pigment, nor even that it should get
itself onto the canvas. Different characteristics call for different
management of paint. Luminosity of light and sombreness of shadow will
not be expressed by the same color, put on in the same way. Different
forms and surfaces and objects demand different treatment. The
science of painting must deal with all these.
It has been said that there are as many ways of painting as there are
painters. Certainly there are as many ways as there are men of any
originality. For however a painter has been trained, whatever the
methods which he has been taught to use, he will always change them,
more or less, in adapting them to his own purposes. And as the main
intent of the art of an epoch or period differs from that of a
previous one, so the manner of laying on paint will change to meet the
needs of that difference. The manner of painting to-day is very
different from that of other times. Some of the old processes are
looked upon by the modern man as quite beneath his recognition. Yet
these same methods are necessary to certain qualities, and if the
modern man does not use or approve of those methods, it is because he
is not especially interested in the qualities which they are necessary
to.
There is probably no one statement which all fair-minded painters will
more willingly acquiesce in, than one which affirms that the method by
which the result is attained is unimportant, provided that the result
_is_ attained, and that it is one worth attaining. Every man will,
whether it is right or not, use those methods which most surely and
completely bring about the expression of the thing he wishes to
express. In the face of this fact, and of the many acknowledged
masterpieces, every one of which was painted in defiance of some rule
some time or other alleged to be the only right one, it is not
possible to prescribe or proscribe anything in the direction of the
manipulation of colors. The result _must_ be right, and if it is, it
justifies the means. If it be not right, the thing is worthless, no
matter how perfectly according to rule the process may be. As Hunt
said, "What do I care about the grammar if you've got something to
say?" The important thing is to say something, and if you do really
say something, and do really completely and precisely express it, as
far as a painter is concerned it will be grammatical. If not to-day,
the grammar will come round to it to-morrow. Henry Ward Beecher is
reported to have answered to a criticism on grammatical slips in the
heat of eloquence, "Young man, if the English language gets in the way
of the expression of my thought, so much the worse for the English
language!" In painting, at any rate, the _complete_ expression of
thought _is_ grammatical, and if not, so much the worse for the
grammarians.
=Try Everything.=--Know, then, all you can about all the ways of
manipulating paint that have ever been used. Use any or all of those
ways as you find them needful or helpful. There is none which has not
the authority of a master behind it, and though another master may
decry it, it is because, being a master, he claims the very right he
denies to you.
Experiment with all; but never use any method for the sake of the
method, but only for what it is capable of doing for you in helping
expression.
=Safety.=--The only real rule as to what to use and what not, applies
to the effect on the permanence of your canvas. Never use pigments
which will fade; nor in such a way that they will cause others to
fade. Avoid all such using of materials as you know will make your
picture crack, or in any other way bring about its deterioration.
=Good Painting.=--But for all I have just said, there is an
acknowledged basis of what is good painting. If any man or school lays
on paint in a frank, direct way, getting the effect by sheer force of
putting on the right color in just the right place, with no tricks nor
affectations, that is good painting; and the more simple, direct, and
frank the manner of handling, the better the painting.
Let us understand what direct painting is first, and then consider
varieties of handling. For whatever may be the subsequent
manipulations, the picture is generally "laid in" with the most direct
possible manner of laying on paint, and the other processes are mainly
to modify or to further and strengthen the effect suggested in the
first painting. And generally, also, in all sketches and studies
which are preliminary preparations for the picture, the most direct
painting is used, and the various processes are reserved for working
out more subtle effects on the final canvas.
=Old Dutch Painting.=--Probably there are no better examples of frank
painting than the works of the old Dutchmen. You should study them
whenever you have a chance. Waiving all discussion as to the aesthetic
qualities of their work,--as _painters_, as masters of the craft of
laying on paint, they are unexcelled. And in most cases, too, they
possessed the art of concealing their art. You will have to use the
closest observation to discover the exact means they used to get the
subtle tones and atmospheric effects.
The only obvious quality is the perfect understanding and skill of
their brush-work. In the smoothest as well as in the roughest of their
work, you can note how perfectly the brush searches the modelling, and
with the most exquisite expressiveness and perfect frankness, follows
the structural lines. No doubt there were often paintings, glazings,
and scumblings; but they always furthered the meaning of the first
painting, and never in the least interfered with or obscured the
effect of _naivete_, of candor of workmanship.
It is, however, this simple and sincere brush-work that you should
strive to attain as the basis of your painting. Learn to express
drawing with your brush, and to place at once and without indecision
or timidity the exact tone and value of the color you see in nature at
that point. Until you are enough of a master of your brush to get an
effect in this way, do not meddle with the more complex methods of
after-painting. You will never do good work by subsequent
manipulation, if you have a groundwork of feebleness and indecision.
Direct painting is the fundamental process of all good painting.
Let me take the type of old Dutch painting to represent to you this
quality of direct painting. First of all notice a basis of perfect
drawing,--a knowledge, exactness, and precision which admits of no
fumbling, no vagueness, but only of a concise and direct recognition
of structure. Note that this drawing is as characteristic of the
brush-work as of the drawing which is under it. Observe that the
handling of the whole school, from the least to the greatest, is
founded on a similar and perfect craftsmanship,--the same use of
materials; the same deliberateness; the same simple yet ample palette;
the same use of solid color candidly expressing the planes of
modelling, freely following the lines of structure; the absence of
affectation or invention of individual means. Whatever the
individuality of the artist, it rests on something else than
difference of technique. From the freest and most direct of painters,
Frans Hals, to the most smooth and detailed, Gerard Dou, the
directness and ingenuousness of means to ends is the same, and founded
on the same technical basis of color manipulation. The one is more
eager, terse, the other more deliberate and complete; but both use the
same pigments, both use the same solid color, are simple, lucid, both
occupied solely with the thing to be expressed, and the least degree
in the world with the manner of it. That manner comes from the same
previous technical training which each uses in the most
matter-of-course way, with only such change from the type, as his
temperament unconsciously imposes on him.
There is nothing like it elsewhere. Study it; notice the
unaffectedness of brush-stroke in Rembrandt. See how it is the same as
Hals, but less perfunctory. See how the brush piles up paint again and
again along the same ridge of flesh, taking no notice of its
revelation of the insistence of attempt at the right value, nor of its
roughness of surface. To get that drawing and that color in the
freest, frankest, most direct way: that is the aim. The absolute
conviction of it: that is the essence of this technique of the old
Dutch masters. And whatever else it may have or may not have, you will
find in it all that you can find anywhere of suggestion of direct and
frank and sincere painting, and nothing I can say will give you any
such clear idea of what you should strive for as the basis of all the
different sorts of brush-work necessary or useful in the production of
an oil painting.
[Illustration: =The Fisher Boy.= _Frans Hals._
To show the directness and sureness of brush-stroke, and candor and
simplicity of means, always present in Dutch work, though never so
free as with Hals.]
=Detail.=--The question of detail may well come in here. How far are
you to carry detail in your painting? The Dutch painters went to both
extremes. Gerard Dou worked two weeks on a broom-handle, and hoped to
finish it in a few days more. Frans Hals would paint a head in an
hour. The French painter Meissonier paints the high light on every
button of a trooper's coat, and De Neuville barely paints the button
at all. What way are you to turn? Which are you to choose? We have a
great deal said nowadays against detail in painting. Much is said of
breadth and broad painting. Which is right?
=True Breadth.=--The answer lies in the central idea of the picture.
There are times when detail may be very minute, and times when the
greatest freedom is essential. True breadth is compatible with much
even minute detail in the same canvas. For breadth does not mean
merely a large brush. It never means slap-dash. It is the just
conception of the amount of detail necessary (and the amount necessary
to be left out) in order that the idea of the picture may be best
expressed.
Detail is out of place in a large canvas always, and in proportion to
its size it is allowable. A decorative canvas, a picture which is to
be seen from a distance, or is to fill a wall space, wants effect,
much justness of composition and color. Largeness of conception and
execution, and only so much detail as shall be necessary to the best
expression compatible with that largeness. On the other hand, a
"cabinet picture," a small panel, will admit of microscopic detail if
it be not so painted that the detail is all you can see. And just here
is the heart of the whole matter. Whether you use much or little
detail, it is not for the sake of the detail, not for any interest
which lies in the detail itself, but for what power of expression may
lie in it. If the picture, large or small, be largely conceived, and
its main idea as to subject and those qualities of aesthetic meaning I
have spoken of are always kept in view, and never allowed to lose
themselves in the search for minuteness, then any amount of detail
will take its place in true relation to the whole picture. If it does
not do this it is bad.
The relations of parts to the whole are the key to the situation
always.
Nothing is right which interferes with the true relations in the
picture. This is where the working for detail is most likely to lead
you astray. It takes great ability and power to keep detail where it
belongs. Detail is always the search for small things, and they are
almost sure to obtrude themselves to the neglecting of the more
important things. Details which do not stay in their places had better
be left out of the picture. There is such a thing as _values_ in
_facts_ as well as other parts of your work. And this applies to
breadth as well as to detail.
[Illustration: =Boar-Hunt.= _Snyders._
To show relation of detail to the whole picture. The detail is carried
far, yet does not interfere with emphasis of action and life. The
picture is broad in spirit and effect if detailed in execution.]
Gerard Dou remains a great painter, and even a broad painter, strange
as it may sound, in spite of his microscopic work. But only because of
his breadth of eye. The detail is not the most important thing with
him. It is in the picture, and you can see it when you look for it.
But as you look at the picture it is not peppered all over with
pin-points of detail, until the picture itself cannot be seen. Every
detail stays back as it would in nature; loses itself in the part to
which it belongs; modestly waits to be sought out; is not seen until
it is looked for. This is broad painting, because the main things are
emphasized; and if the details are painted they are seen in their true
relations, and the power of the whole is not sacrificed to them.
With much or little detail, this is what is to be aimed at. Whether
with big brushes or little ones, the expression of the main idea, of
the important, the vital things,--this is broad painting, and this
only.