ON THE IMPORTANCE OF COOPERATION BETWEEN
BUILDER AND CARVER
The Infinite Multiplicity of Styles--The "Gothic" Influence: Sculpture
an Integral Element in its Designs--The Approach of the so-called
"Renaissance" Period--Disturbed Convictions--The Revival of the
Classical Style--The Two Styles in Conflict for a Time; their
Respective Characteristics Reviewed--Carvers Become Dependent
upon Architects and Painters--The "Revival" Separates "Designer"
and "Executant" 249
NOTES ON THE COLLOTYPE PLATES 265
THE COLLOTYPE PLATES 271
INDEX 305
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Page
A Suggestion from Nature and Photography Frontispiece
FIG. 1. 37
FIG. 2. 37
FIG. 3. 39
FIG. 4. 43
FIG. 5. 46
FIG. 6. 46
FIG. 7. 47
FIG. 8. A. ANGLE FOR SOFTWOOD
B. ANGLE FOR HARDWOOD 52
FIG. 9. C. GOOD CUTTING EDGE
D. BADLY FORMED EDGE. 54
FIG. 10. 58
FIG. 11. 61
FIG. 12. 68
FIG. 13. 74
FIG. 14. 74
FIG. 15. 78
FIG. 16. 88
FIG. 17. 91
FIG. 18. 94
FIG. 19. 94
FIG. 20. 96
FIG. 21. 100
FIG. 22. 103
FIG. 23. 105
FIG. 24. 111
FIG. 25. 113
FIG. 26. 113
FIG. 27. 116
FIG. 28. 119
FIG. 29. 120
FIG. 30. 120
FIG. 31. 120
FIG. 32. 123
FIG. 33. 123
FIG. 34. CARVING IN PANELS OF FIG 33 126
FIG. 35. 127
FIG. 36. 127
FIG. 37. 131
FIG. 38. 131
FIG. 39. _a._ 131
FIG. 39. _b._ 131
FIG. 40. 133
FIG. 41. 133
FIG. 42. 135
FIG. 43. 135
FIG. 44. 137
FIG. 45. 137
FIG. 46. 139
FIG. 47. 145
FIG. 48. 145
FIG. 49. 145
FIG. 50. 145
FIG. 51. 145
FIG. 52. 145
FIG. 53. 151
FIG. 54. 166
FIG. 55. 166
FIG. 56. 168
FIG. 57. 170
FIG. 58. 174
FIG. 59. 174
FIG. 60. 176
FIG. 61. 179
FIG. 62. 179
FIG. 63. 183
FIG. 64. 187
FIG. 65. 187
FIG. 66. 190
FIG. 67. 190
FIG. 68. 199
FIG. 69. 199
FIG. 70. 202
FIG. 71. 208
FIG. 72. 209
FIG. 73. 209
FIG. 74. 213
FIG. 75. 229
FIG. 76. 229
FIG. 77. 229
THE COLLOTYPE PLATES 271
I. Old Carved Chest in York Cathedral.
II.--Figure from the Tomb of Henry IV. in Canterbury Cathedral.
III.--Aisle Roof--Mildenhall Church, Suffolk.
IV.--Nave Roof--Sall Church, Norfolk.
V.--Portion of a Carved Oak Panel--The Sheepfold.
VI--Portion of a Carved Oak Panel--The Sheepfold.
VII.--Preliminary Drawing of a Lion for Carving. By Phillip Webb.
VIII.--Book Cover Carved in English Oak--"Tale of Troy."
(only carved portion shown.)
IX.--Book Cover Carved in English Oak--"Tale of Troy."
(only carved portion shown.)
X.--Book Cover Carved in English Oak--"Reynard the Fox."
(only carved portions shown.)
XI.--Carving from Choir Stalls in Winchester Cathedral.
XII.--Carving from Choir Screen--Winchester Cathedral.
XIII.--Font Canopy--Trunch Church, Norfolk.
XIV.--Two designs for Carving, by Philip Webb.
One executed, one in drawing.
XV.--Leg of a Settle, carved in English Oak.
XVI.--Pew Ends in Carved Oak--Brent Church, Somersetshire.
PREAMBLE
Student and Apprentice, their Aims and Conditions of
Work--Necessity for some Equality between
Theory and Practise--The Student's Opportunity
lies on the Side of Design.
The study of some form of handicraft has of late years become an
important element in the training of an art student. It is with the
object of assisting such with practical directions, as well as
suggesting to more practised carvers considerations of design and
treatment, that the present volume has been written. The art of
wood-carving, however, lends itself to literary demonstration only in a
very limited way, more especially in the condensed form of a text-book,
which must be looked upon merely as a temporary guide, of use only until
such time as practise and study shall have strengthened the judgment of
the student, and enabled him to assimilate the many and involved
principles which underlie the development of his craft.
If the beginner has mastered to some extent the initial difficulties of
the draftsman, and has a fair general knowledge of the laws of design,
but no acquaintance with their application to the art of wood-carving,
then the two factors which will most immediately affect his progress
(apart from natural aptitude) are his opportunities for practise, and
his knowledge of past and present conditions of work. No one can become
a good carver without considerable practise--constant, if the best
results are to be looked for. Just as truly, without some knowledge of
past and existing conditions of practise, none may hope to escape the
danger of becoming, on the one hand, dull imitators of the superficial
qualities of old work; or on the other, followers of the first
will-o'-the-wisp novelty which presents itself to their fancy.
If use of the tools and knowledge of materials were the only subjects of
which a carver need become master, there would be no way equal to the
old-fashioned one of apprenticeship to some good craftsman. Daily
practise with the tools insures a manual dexterity with which no amateur
need hope to compete. Many traditional expedients are handed down in
this way that can be acquired in no other. There is, however, another
side of the question to be considered, of quite as much importance as
the practical one of handicraft skill. The art of wood-carving has also
to fulfil its intellectual function, as an interpreter of the dreams and
fancies of imagination. In this respect there is little encouragement to
be looked for in the dull routine of a modern workshop.
There are, therefore, two widely separated standpoints from which the
art may be viewed. It may be looked at from the position of a regular
craftsman, who regards it primarily as his means of livelihood; or it
may be dealt with as a subject of intellectual interest, based upon its
relation to the laws of art in general. As, in the first instance, the
use of the tools can not be learned without _some_ accompanying
knowledge of the laws of art, however slight that acquaintance may be,
the method of apprenticeship has the advantage of being the more
practical of the two; but it must be accepted with all the conditions
imposed upon it by the pressure of commercial interest and its usages:
conditions, which, it may easily be imagined, are far more favorable to
the performance of dull task-work, than to the adventurous spirit of
curiosity which should prompt the enterprise of an energetic student.
On the other hand, although an independent study of the art offers a
wider range of interest, the student is, for that very reason, exposed
to the risk of involving himself in a labyrinth of confusing and
ineffectual theories. The fact is, that neither method can at the
present time be exclusively depended upon as a means of development;
neither can be pronounced complete in itself nor independent of the
other. The only sure safeguard against the vagueness of theory is
constant practise with the tools; while, to the craftsman in the full
enjoyment of every means for exercising and increasing his technical
skill, a general study and intelligent conception of the wide
possibilities of his art is just as essential, if it were only as an
antidote to the influence of an otherwise mechanical employment. The
more closely these contradictory views are made to approximate, the
more certain will become the carver's aims, and the clearer will be his
understanding of the difficulties which surround his path, enabling him
to choose that which is practicable and intrinsically valuable, both as
regards the theory and practise of his art.
If the student, through lack of opportunities for practise, is debarred
from all chance of acquiring that expertness which accompanies great
technical skill, he may at least find encouragement in the fact that he
can never exhaust the interest afforded by his art in its infinite
suggestion to the imagination and fancy; and also that by the exercise
of diligence, and a determination to succeed, he may reasonably hope to
gain such a degree of proficiency with the tools as will enable him to
execute with his hands every idea which has a definite existence in his
mind. Generally speaking, it will be found that his manual powers are
always a little in advance of his perceptions.
Thus the student may gradually work out for himself a natural and
reliable manner of expressing his thoughts, and in a way, too, that is
likely to compensate for his technical shortcomings, by exciting a more
lively interest in the resources of the art itself. The measure of his
success will be determined partly by his innate capacity for the work,
and partly by the amount of time which he is enabled to give to its
practise. The resources of his art offer an infinite scope for the
exercise of his powers of design, and as this is the side which lies
nearest to his opportunities it should be the one which receives his
most earnest attention, not merely as experiments on paper, but as
exercises carried out to the best of his ability with the tools. Such
technical difficulties as he may encounter in the process will gradually
disappear with practise. There is also encouragement in the thought that
wood-carving is an art which makes no immediate calls upon that
mysterious combination of extraordinary gifts labeled "genius," but is
rather one which demands tribute from the bright and happy inspirations
of a normally healthy mind. There is, in this direction, quite a life's
work for any enthusiast who aims at finding the bearings of his own
small but precious gift, and in making it intelligible to others; while,
at the same time, keeping himself free from the many confusions and
affectations which surround him in the endeavor.
CHAPTER II
TOOLS
Average Number of Tools required by Carvers--Selection for
Beginners--Description of Tools--Position when in Use--Acquisition
by Degrees.
We will suppose that the student is anxious to make a practical
commencement to his studies. The first consideration will be to procure
a set of tools, and we propose in this place to describe those which
will answer the purposes of a beginner, as well as to look generally at
others in common use among craftsmen.
The tools used by carvers consist for the most part of chisels and
gouges of different shapes and sizes. The number of tools required by
professional carvers for one piece of work varies in proportion to the
elaborateness of the carving to be done. They may use from half a dozen
on simple work up to twenty or thirty for the more intricate carvings,
this number being a selection out of a larger stock reaching perhaps as
many as a hundred or more. Many of these tools vary only in size and
sweep of cutting edge. Thus, chisels and gouges are to be had ranging
from 1/16th of an inch to 1 inch wide, with curves or "sweeps" in each
size graduated between a semicircle to a curve almost flat. Few carvers,
however, possess such a complete stock of tools as would be represented
by one of each size and shape manufactured; such a thing is not
required: an average number of, say seventy tools, will always give a
sufficient variety of size and sweep for general purposes; few pieces of
work will require the use of more than half of these in its execution.
The beginner, however, need not possess more than from twelve to
twenty-four, and may even make a start with fewer. It is a good plan to
learn the uses of a few tools before acquiring a complete set, as by
this means, when difficulties are felt in the execution of work, a tool
of known description is sought for and purchased with a foreknowledge of
its advantages. This is the surest way to gain a distinct knowledge of
the varieties of each kind of tool, and their application to the
different purposes of design.
The following list of tools (see Figs. 1 and 2) will be found sufficient
for all the occasions of study: beginning by the purchase of the first
section, Nos. 1 to 17, and adding others one by one until a set is made
up of twenty-four tools. The tools should be selected as near the sizes
and shapes shown in the illustration as possible. The curved and
straight strokes represent the shape of the actual cuts made by pressing
the tools down perpendicularly into a piece of wood. This, in the case
of gouges, is generally called the "sweep."
Nos. 1, 2, 3 are gouges, of sweeps varying from one almost flat (No. 1)
to a distinct hollow in No. 3. These tools are made in two forms,
straight-sided and "spade"-shaped; an illustration of the spade form is
given on the second page of tools. In purchasing his set of tools the
student should order Nos. 1, 2, 3, 10, 11 in this form. They will be
found to have many advantages, as they conceal less of the wood behind
them and get well into corners inaccessible to straight-sided tools.
They are lighter and more easily sharpened, and are very necessary in
finishing the surface of work, and in shaping out foliage, more
especially such as is undercut.
[Illustration: FIG. 1.]
[Illustration: FIG. 2.]
Nos. 5, 6, 7 are straight gouges graduated in size and sweep. No. 8 is
called a Veiner, because it is often used for making the grooves which
represent veins in leaves. It is a narrow but deep gouge, and is used
for any narrow grooves which may be required, and for outlining the
drawing at starting.
No. 9 is called a V tool or "parting" tool, on account of its shape. It
is used for making grooves with straight sides and sharp inner angles at
the bottom. It can be used for various purposes, such as undercutting,
clearing out sharply defined angles, outlining the drawing, etc., etc.
It should be got with a square cutting edge, not beveled off as some are
made. Nos. 10, 11, 12 are flat chisels, or, as they are sometimes
called, "firmers." (Nos. 10 and 11 should be in spade shape.) No. 13 is
also a flat chisel, but it is beveled off to a point, and is called a
"corner-chisel"; it is used for getting into difficult corners, and is a
most useful tool when used as a knife for delicate edges or curves.
Nos. 14 and 16 are what are known as "bent chisels"; they are used
principally for leveling the ground (or background), and are therefore
also called "grounders." These tools are made with various curves or
bends in their length, but for our present uses one with a bend like
that shown to tool No. 23, Fig. 2, and at _a_ in Fig. 3, will be best;
more bend, as at _b_, would only make the tool unfit for leveling
purposes on a flat ground.
No. 15 is a similar tool, but called a "corner grounder," as it is
beveled off like a corner-chisel.
No. 17 is an additional gouge of very slow sweep and small size. This is
a very handy little tool, and serves a variety of purposes when you come
to finishing the surface.
These seventeen tools will make up a very useful set for the beginner,
and should serve him for a long time, or at least until he really begins
to feel the want of others; then he may get the remainder shown on Fig.
2.
Nos. 18, 19, 20 are deep gouges, having somewhat straight sides; they
are used where grooves are set deeply, and when they are required to
change in section from deep and narrow to wide and shallow. This is done
by turning the tool on its side, which brings the flatter sweep into
action, thus changing the shape of the hollow. Nos. 21, 22 are gouges,
but are called "bent gouges"--"front bent" in this case, "back bent"
when the cutting "sweep" is turned upside down. It is advisable when
selecting these tools to get them as shown in the illustration, with a
very easy curve in their bend; they are more generally useful so, as
quick bends are only good for very deep hollows. These tools are used
for making grooves in hollow places where an ordinary gouge will not
work, owing to its meeting the opposing fiber of the wood.
No. 23 is a similar tool, but very "easy" both in its "sweep" and
bend--the sweep should be little more than recognizable as a curve. This
tool may be used as a grounder when the wood is slightly hollow, or
liable to tear up under the flat grounder.
No. 24 is called a "Maccaroni" tool. This is used for clearing out the
ground close against leaves or other projections; as it has two square
sides it can be used right and left.
In the illustration, Fig 3, _a_ shows the best form of grounding tool;
_b_ is little or no use for this purpose, as it curves up too suddenly
for work on a flat ground. It is a good thing to have the handles of
tools made of different colored woods, as it assists the carver in
picking them out quickly from those lying ready for use.
[Illustration: FIG. 3.]
When in use, the tools should be laid out in front of the carver if
possible, and with their points toward him, in order that he may see the
shape and choose quickly the one he wants.
The tempering of tools is a very important factor in their efficiency.
It is only of too common occurrence to find many of the tools
manufactured of late years unfit for use on account of their softness of
metal. There is nothing more vexatious to a carver than working with a
tool which turns over its cutting edge, even in soft wood; such tools
should be returned to the agent who sold them.
With a selection from the above tools, acquired by degrees in the manner
described, almost any kind of work may be done. There is no need
whatever to have a tool for every curve of the design. These can readily
be made by using straight chisels in combination with such gouges as we
possess, or by sweeping the curves along their sides with a chisel used
knife fashion. No really beautiful curves can be made by merely
following the curves of gouges, however various their sweeps, as they
are all segments of circles.
Tools generally come from the manufacturer ground, but not sharpened. As
the student must in any case learn how to sharpen his tools, it will be
just as well to get them in that way rather than ready for use. As this
process of sharpening tools is a very important one, it must be reserved
for another place. Should tools be seriously blunted or broken they must
be reground. This can be done by the carver, either on a grindstone or a
piece of gritty York stone, care being taken to repeat the original
bevel; or they may be sent to a tool shop where they are in the habit
of grinding carving tools.
Catalogues of tools may be had from good makers; they will be found to
consist mainly in a large variety of the tools already mentioned. Those
which are very much bent or curved are intended for special application
to elaborate and difficult passages in carving, and need not concern the
student until he comes to find the actual want of such shapes; such, for
instance, as bent parting tools and back bent gouges.
In addition to the above tools, carvers occasionally use one called a
"Router." This is a kind of plane with a narrow perpendicular blade. It
is used for digging or "routing" out the wood in places where it is to
be sunk to form a ground. It is not a tool to be recommended for the use
of beginners, who should learn to make sufficiently even backgrounds
without the aid of mechanical contrivances. Carvers also use the
"Rifler," which is a bent file. This is useful for very fine work in
hard wood, and also for roughly approximating to rounded forms before
finishing with the tools.
A few joiner's tools are very useful to the carver, and should form
part of his equipment. A wide chisel, say about 1-1/4 in. wide, a small
iron "bull-nose" plane, and a keyhole saw, will all be helpful, and save
a lot of unnecessary labor with the carving tools.
CHAPTER III
SHARPENING-STONES--MALLET AND BENCH
Different Stones in use--Case for Stones--Slips--Round Mallet
Best--A Home-Made Bench--A Makeshift Bench--Cramps and Clips.
The stones which are most generally used for the purpose of sharpening
carving tools are "Turkey" and "Washita." There are many others, some
equally good, but "Washita" is easily procured and very serviceable. It
is to be had in various grades, and it may be just as well to have one
coarse and one fine, but in any case we must have a fine-grained stone
to put a keen edge on the tools. A "Turkey" stone is a fine-grained and
slow-cutting one, and may take the place of the finer "Washita." The
"India" oilstone is a composition of emery with some kind of stone dust,
and is a useful stone for quickly rubbing down superfluous steel before
putting an edge to the tool. It is better to get these stones without
cases, as they can then be used on both sides, one for flat tools and
one for gouges, which wear the face of a stone into grooves. A case may
be made by hollowing out a block of wood so as to take the stone
loosely; and if at one end a small notch is made in this block, a
screwdriver may be inserted under the stone when it is necessary to turn
it. Two brads or pins should be inserted in holes, having their points
just appearing below the bottom of the block. These prevent it slipping
about when in use. These stones should be lubricated with a mixture of
olive oil and paraffin in equal parts. Bicycle lubricating oil is very
good for this purpose.
[Illustration: FIG. 4.]
For sharpening the insides of tools, "slips" are made with rounded edges
of different sizes. One slip of "Washita" stone and one of "Arkansas"
will be enough for the present, as they will fit moderately well most of
the gouges in the beginner's set of tools; the "Arkansas" being used for
the smaller tools. The "Arkansas" slip should be what is called
"knife-edged." This is required for sharpening such tools as the veiner
and V tool; it is a very fine marble-like stone, and exceedingly
brittle; care must be taken in handling it, as a fall would in all
probability be fatal.
THE BENCH AND MALLET
_The Mallet._--The carver's mallet is used for driving his tools where
force is required. The most suitable form is the round one, made of
beech; one 4 ins. diameter will be heavy enough.
_The Bench._--Every carver should provide himself with a bench. He may
make one for himself according to the size and construction shown in the
illustration, Fig. 5. The top should be made of two 11 x 2 in. boards,
and, as steadiness is the main feature to be aimed at, the joints should
have some care. Those in illustration are shown to be formed by
checking one piece of wood over the other, with shoulders to resist
lateral strain. Proper tenons would be better, but more difficult to
make. It must have a projecting edge at the front and ends, to receive
the clamps. The bench should have a joiner's "bench-screw" attached to
the back leg for holding work which is to be carved on its edges or
ends. The feet should be secured to the floor by means of iron brackets,
as considerable force is applied in carving hard wood, which may move
the bench bodily, unless it is secured, or is very heavy. Professional
carvers use a bench which is composed of beech planks, three or four
inches in thickness, and of length according to shop-room.
[Illustration: FIG. 5.]
[Illustration: FIG. 6]
Should it not be possible to make or procure a bench, then a substitute
must be used. Fig. 6 gives a suggestion for making such a temporary
bench. The top is composed of one piece of board, 11 ins. wide and 1-1/2
in. thick. It should be about 2 ft. 6 ins. long and rest on two blocks
fixed about 1-1/2 in. from the ends, which must project, as in Fig. 6.
This may be used on any ordinary table, to which it should be secured by
means of two 3-1/2-in. clamps. The height from the floor should be 3 ft.
2 ins. to top of board. This gives a good height for working, as carvers
invariably stand to their work. The height can be regulated by making
the blocks, _a_, higher or lower to suit the table which is to be used.
[Illustration: FIG. 7.]
_Cramps._--Cramps for holding the work in position on the bench are of
several kinds. For ordinary thicknesses of wood, two 4-1/2-in. screw
clamps, like the one in Fig. 7, will be sufficient. Wooden blocks may be
also used to hold one end of the work down while the other is held by a
clamp. These blocks are notched out to fit over the thickness of the
board being carved, as in Fig. 7. Carvers use for their heavier work a
"bench-screw," as it is called; that is, a screw which passes through
the bench into the back of the work, which may thus be turned about at
will; also, if the work is very thick, they hold it in position by means
of a bench "holdfast," a kind of combined lever and screw; but neither
of these contrivances is likely to be required by the beginner, whose
work should be kept within manageable dimensions.
CHAPTER IV
WOODS USED FOR CARVING
Hard Wood and Soft Wood--Closeness of Grain Desirable--Advantages
of Pine and English Oak.
The woods suitable for carving are very various; but we shall confine
our attention to those in common use. Of the softer woods, those which
are most easily procured and most adaptable to modern uses are yellow
pine, Bass wood, Kauri pine, and Lime. These are all good woods for the
carver; but we need not at present look for any better qualities than
we shall find in a good piece of yellow pine, free from knots or shakes.
The following woods may be considered as having an intermediate place
between soft and hard: Sycamore, Beech, and Holly. They are
light-colored woods, and Very useful for broad shallow work.
_English Oak._--Of the hard woods in common use, the principal kinds are
Oak, Walnut, and occasionally Mahogany. Of oak, the English variety is
by far the best for the carver, being close in the grain and very hard.
It is beyond all others the carvers' wood, and was invariably used by
them in this country during the robust period of medieval craftsmanship.
It offers to the carver an invigorating resistance to his tools, and its
character determines to a great extent that of the work put upon it. It
takes in finishing a very beautiful surface, when skilfully handled--and
this tempts the carver to make the most of his opportunities by adapting
his execution to its virtues. Other oaks, such as Austrian and American,
are often used, but they do not offer quite the same tempting
opportunity to the carver. They are, by nature, quicker-growing trees,
and are, consequently, more open in the grain. They have tough, sinewy
fibers, alternating with softer material. They rarely take the same
degree of finish as the English oak, but remain somewhat dull in
texture. Good pieces for carving may be got, but they must be picked out
from a quantity of stuff. Chestnut is sometimes used as a substitute for
oak, but it is better fitted for large-scaled work where fineness of
detail is not of so much importance.
_Italian Walnut._--This is a very fine-grained wood, of even texture.
The Italian variety is the best for carving: it cuts with something of
the firmness of English oak, and is capable of receiving even more
finish of surface in small details. It is admirably suited for fine work
in low relief. In choosing this wood for carving, the hardest and
closest in grain should be picked, as it is by no means all of equal
quality. It should be free from sap, which may be known by a light
streak on the edges of the dark brown wood.
English walnut has too much "figure" in the grain to be suitable for
carving. American walnut is best fitted for sharply cut shallow carving,
as its fiber is caney. If it is used, the design should be one in which
no fine modeling or detail is required, as this wood allows of little
finish to the surface.
_Mahogany_, more especially the kind known as Honduras, is very similar
to American walnut in quality of grain: it cuts in a sharp caney manner.
The "Spanish" variety was closer in grain, but is now almost
unprocurable. Work carved in mahogany should, like that in American
walnut, be broad and simple in style, without much rounded detail.
It is quite unnecessary to pursue the subject of woods beyond the few
kinds mentioned. Woods such as ebony, sandalwood, cherry, brier, box,
pear-tree, lancewood, and many others, are all good for the carver, but
are better fitted for special purposes and small work. As this book is
concerned more with the _art_ of carving than its application, it will
save confusion if we accept yellow pine as our typical soft wood, and
good close-grained oak as representing hard wood. It may be noted in
passing that the woods of all flowering and fruit-bearing trees are very
liable to the attack of worms and rot.
No carving, in whatever wood, should be polished. I shall refer to this
when we come to "texture" and "finish."
CHAPTER V
SHARPENING THE TOOLS
The Proper Bevel--Position of Tools on Oilstone--Good and Bad
Edge--Stropping--Paste and Leather--Careless Sharpening--Rubbing
Out the Inside--Stropping Fine Tools--Importance of Sharp Tools.
Having given this brief description of the tools and materials used by
carvers, we shall suppose a piece of work is about to be started. The
first thing the carver will require to do is to sharpen his tools. That
is, if we may assume that they have just come from the manufacturer,
ground but not yet brought to an edge. It will be seen that each has a
long bevel ending in a blunt ridge where the cutting edge should be. We
shall take the chisel No. 10 and sharpen that first, as it is the
easiest to do, and so get a little practise before we try the gouges.
The oilstone and oil have already been described. The first thing is to
well oil the stone and lay it on the bench in a position with its end
toward the operator.
[Illustration: A. ANGLE FOR SOFTWOOD
B. ANGLE FOR HARDWOOD
FIG. 8.]
Tools which are going to be used in soft wood require rather a longer
bevel and more acute edge than when they are wanted for hard wood. Both
angles are shown in Fig. 8. Lay the flat of the tool on the stone at an
angle of about 15°, with the handle in the hollow of the right hand, and
two fingers of the left pressed upon the blade as near to the stone as
possible. Then begin rubbing the tool from end to end of the stone,
taking care not to rock the right hand up and down, but to keep it as
level as possible throughout the stroke, bearing heavily on the blade
with the left hand, to keep it well in contact with the stone. Rocking
produces a rounded edge which is fatal to keenness. C (Fig. 9) gives
approximately, to an enlarged scale, the sections of a good edge, and D
that of an imperfect one.
[Illustration: C. GOOD CUTTING EDGE D. BADLY FORMED EDGE. FIG. 9.]
Practise alone will familiarize the muscles of the wrist with the proper
motion, but it is important to acquire this in order to form the correct
habit early. It should be practised very slowly at first, until the
hands get accustomed to the movements. When one side of the tool has
been rubbed bright as far as the cutting edge, turn it over and treat
the other in the same way. Carvers' tools, unlike joiners', are rubbed
on both sides, in the proportion of about two-thirds outside to
one-third inside. When a keen edge has been formed, which can easily be
tested by gently applying the finger, it should be stropped on a piece
of stout leather. It will be found, if the finger is passed down the
tool and over its edge, that the stoning has turned up a burr. This must
be removed by stropping on both sides alternately. A paste composed of
emery and crocus powders mixed with grease is used to smear the leather
before stropping; this can either be procured at the tool shop, or made
by the carver. When the tool has been sufficiently stropped, and all
burr removed, it is ready for use, but it is as well to try it on a
piece of wood first, and test it for burr, and if necessary strop it
again.
Before we leave this tool, however, we shall anticipate a little, and
look at it after it has been used for some time and become blunt. Its
cutting edge and the bevel above it are now polished to a high degree,
owing to friction with the wood. We lay it on the stone, taking care to
preserve the original angle (15°). We find on looking at the tool after
a little rubbing that this time it presents a bright rim along the edge
in contrast with the gray steel which has been in contact with the
stone. This bright rim is part of the polished surface the whole bevel
had before we began this second sharpening, which proves that the actual
edge has not yet touched the stone. We are tempted to lift the right
hand ever so little, and so get rid of this bright rim (sometimes called
the "candle"); we shall thus get an edge quicker than if we have to rub
away all the steel behind it. We do this, and soon get our edge; the
bright rim has disappeared, but we have done an unwise thing, and have
not saved much time, because we have begun to make a rounded edge,
which, if carried a little farther, will make the tool useless until it
is reground. There is no help for it: time must be spent and trouble
taken in sharpening tools; with method and care there need be very
little grinding, unless tools are actually broken.
To resume our lesson in tool-sharpening: we can not do much carving with
one chisel, so we shall now take up gouge No. 2 as being the least
difficult. This being a rounded tool, we must turn the stone over and
use the side we have determined to keep for gouges, etc. We commence
rubbing it up and down the stone in the same manner as described for the
chisel, but, in addition, we have now another motion. To bring all the
parts of the edge into contact with the stone the gouge must be rolled
from side to side as it goes up and down. To accomplish this the wrist
should be slowly practised until it gets into step with the up and down
motions; it matters very little whether one turn of the tool is given to
one passage along the stone, or only one turn to many up and down
rubbings. The main thing is evenness of rubbing all along the circular
edge, as if one part gets more than its share the edge becomes wavy,
which is a thing to be avoided as much as possible. When the outside has
been cleanly rubbed up to the edge, the inside is to be rubbed out with
the Washita slip and oil to the extent of about half as much as the
outside. The handle of the tool should be grasped in the left hand,
while its blade rests on a block of wood, or on the oilstone. Hold the
slip between the fingers and thumb, slanting a little over the inner
edge; and work it in a series of short downward strokes, beginning the
stroke at one corner of the gouge and leaving off at the other (see Fig.
10). Strop the outside of the tool, and test for burr, then lay the
leather over the handle of another tool and strop the inside, repeating
the operation until all burr has been removed, when probably the tool
will be ready for use.
[Illustration: FIG. 10.]
The Veiner requires the same kind of treatment, only as this tool is not
part of a circle in its section (having straight sides), only one-half
must be done at a time; and it is as well to give the straight sides one
stroke or so in every half-dozen all to itself to keep it in shape. Care
must be taken with this tool as it is easily rubbed out of shape. The
inside must be finished off with the Arkansas knife-edged slip, one side
at a time, as it is impossible to sweep out the whole section of these
deep tools at one stroke. Stropping must follow as before, but as this
tool is so small that the leather will not enter its hollow, the leather
must be laid down flat and the hollow of the tool drawn along its edge
until it makes a little ridge for itself which fills the hollow and
clears off burr (see Fig. 11); if any such adheres outside, a slight rub
on the Arkansas stone will probably remove it. When the edges of the
tools begin to get dull, it often happens that they only require to be
stropped, which should be frequently done. As the treatment of all
gouges is more or less like what has been described, practise will
enable the student to adapt it to the shape of the tool which requires
his attention. There remains only the V tool, the Spoon tools, and the
Maccaroni, which all require special attention. The point of the V tool
is so acute that it becomes difficult to clear the inside. A knife-edged
slip is used for this purpose, and it is well also to cut a slip of wood
to a thin edge, and after rubbing it with paste and oil, pass it down
frequently over the point between the sides. Unless a very sharp point
is obtained, this tool is practically useless; the least speck of burr
or dullness will stop its progress or tear up the wood. In sharpening
it, the sides should be pressed firmly on the stone, watching it every
now and then to see what effect is being produced. If a gap begins to
appear on one side, as it often does, then rub the other side until it
disappears, taking care to bear more heavily on the point of the tool
than elsewhere. If the sides get out of shape, pass the tool along the
stone, holding it at right angles to the side of the stone, but at the
proper angle of elevation; in this case the tool is held near its end,
between fingers and thumb. Spoon tools must be held to the stone at a
much higher angle until the cutting edge is in the right relation to the
surface, or they may be drawn sidewise along it, taking care that every
part of the edge comes in contact and receives an equal amount of
rubbing. These may be treated half at a time, or all round, according to
the size and depth of the tool. However it is produced, the one thing
essential is a long straight-sectioned cutting bevel, not a rounded or
obtuse one. Strop the inside by folding up the leather into a little
roll or ball until it fills the hollow of the tool.
[Illustration: FIG. 11.]
For the small set of tools described in Chapter II one flat oilstone and
two slips will be found sufficient for a beginning, but as a matter of
fact, it will be advisable, as the number of tools is enlarged, to
obtain slips of curves corresponding to the hollows of all gouges as
nearly as possible. Many professional carvers have sets of these slips
for the insides of tools, varying in curves which exactly fit every
hollow tool they possess, including a triangular one for the inside of
the V tool. The same rule sometimes applies to the sweeps of the
outsides of gouges, for these, corresponding channels are ground out in
flat stones, a process which is both difficult and laborious. If the
insides are dealt with on fitting slips, which may be easily adapted to
the purpose by application to a grindstone, the outsides are not so
difficult to manage, so that grooved stones may be dispensed with.
Before we leave the subject of sharpening tools it will be well to
impress upon the beginner the extreme importance of keeping his tools in
good order. When a tool is really sharp it whistles as it works; a dull
tool makes dull work, and the carver loses both time and temper. There
can be no doubt that the great technical skill shown in the works of
Grinling Gibbons and his followers could not have been arrived at
without the help of extraordinarily sharp tools. Tools not merely
sharpened and then used until they became dull, but tools that were
always sharp, and never allowed to approach dullness. Sharpening tools
is indeed an art in itself, and like other arts has its votaries, who
successfully conquer its difficulties with apparent ease, while others
are baffled at every point. Impatience is the stumbling-block in such
operations. Those most painstaking people, the Chinese, according to all
accounts, put magic into their sharpening stones; the keenness of their
blades being only equaled by that of their wits in all such matters of
delicate application. To make a good beginning is a great point gained.
To carefully examine every tool, and at the expense of time correct the
faults of management, is the only way to become expert in sharpening
tools.
CHAPTER VI
CHIP CARVING
Its Savage Origin--A Clue to its only Claim to Artistic
Importance--Monotony better than Variety--An Exercise in Impatience
and Precision--Technical Methods.
One of the simplest forms of wood-carving is that known as "chip"
carving. This kind of work is by no means of modern origin, as its
development may be traced to a source in the barbaric instinct for
decoration common to the ancient inhabitants of New Zealand and other
South Sea Islands. Technically, and with modern tools, it is a form of
the art which demands but little skill, save in the matter of precision
and patient repetition. As practised by its savage masters, the
perfection of these two qualities elevates their work to the dignity of
a real art. It is difficult to conceive the contradictory fact, that
this apparently simple form of art was once the exponent of a struggling
desire for refinement on the part of fierce and warlike men, and that it
should, under the influence of polite society, become the all-too-easy
task of esthetically minded schoolgirls. In the hands of those warrior
artists, and with the tools at their command, mostly fashioned from
sharpened fish-bones and such like rude materials, it was an art which
required the equivalent of many fine artistic qualities, as such are
understood by more cultivated nations. The marvelous dexterity and
determined purpose evinced in the laborious decoration of canoe paddles,
ax-handles, and other weapons, is, under such technical disabilities as
to tools, really very impressive. This being so, there is no inherent
reason why such a rudimentary form of the art as "chip" carving should
not be practised in a way consistent with its true nature and
limitations. As its elemental distinctions are so few, and its methods
so simple, it follows that in recognizing such limitations, we shall
make the most of our design. Instead, then, of trusting to a forced
variety, let us seek for its strong point in an opposite direction, and
by the monotonous repetition of basket-like patterns, win the
not-to-be-despised praise which is due to patience and perseverance. In
this way only can such a restricted form of artistic expression become
in the least degree interesting. The designs usually associated with the
"civilized" practise of this work are, generally speaking, of the kind
known as "geometric," that is to say, composed of circles and straight
lines intersecting each other in complicated pattern. Now the "variety"
obtained in this manner, as contrasted with the dignified monotony of
the savage's method, is the note which marks a weak desire to attain
great results with little effort. The "variety," as such, is wholly
mechanical, the technical difficulties, with modern tools at command,
are felt at a glance to be very trifling; therefore such designs are
quite unsuitable to the kind of work, if human sympathies are to be
excited in a reasonable way.
An important fact in connection with this kind of design is that most of
these geometric patterns are, apart from their uncomfortable "variety,"
based on too large a scale as to detail. All the laborious carving on
paddles and clubs, such as may be seen in our museums, is founded upon
a scale of detail in which the holes vary in size from 1/16 to something
under 1/4 in. their longest way, only in special places, such as
borders, etc., attaining a larger size. Such variety as the artist has
permitted himself being confined to the _occasional_ introduction of a
circular form, but mostly obtained by a subtle change in the proportion
of the holes, or by an alternate emphasis upon perpendicular or
horizontal lines.
As a test of endurance, and as an experimental effort with carving
tools, I set you this exercise. In Fig. 12 you will find a pattern taken
from one of those South Sea carvings which we have been considering.
Now, take one of the articles so often disfigured with childish and
hasty efforts to cover a surface with so-called "art work," such as the
side of a bellows or the surface of a bread-plate, and on it carve this
pattern, repeating the same-shaped holes until you fill the entire
space. By the time you have completed it you will begin to understand
and appreciate one of the fundamental qualities which must go toward the
making of a carver, namely, patience; and you will have produced a
thing which may give you pleasant surprises, in the unexpected but very
natural admiration it elicits from your friends.
[Illustration: FIG. 12.]
Having drawn the pattern on your wood, ruling the lines to measurement,
and being careful to keep your lines thin and clear as drawn with a
somewhat hard pencil, proceed to cut out the holes with the chisel, No.
11 on our list, 1/4 in. wide. It will serve the purpose much better than
the knife usually sold for this kind of work, and will be giving you
useful practise with a very necessary carving tool. The corner of the
chisel will do most of the work, sloping it to suit the different angles
at the bottom of the holes. Each chip should come out with a clean cut,
but to insure this the downward cuts should be done first, forming the
raised diagonal lines.
When you have successfully performed this piece of discipline, you may,
if you care to do more of the same kind of work, carry out a design
based upon the principles we have been discussing, but introducing a
very moderate amount of variety by using one or more of the patterns
shown in Fig. 12, all of which are from the same dusky artist's designs
and can not be improved upon. If you wish for more variety than these
narrow limits afford, then try some other kind of carving, with perhaps
leafage as its motive.
CHAPTER VII
THE GRAIN OF THE WOOD
Obstinacy of the Woody Fiber--First Exercise in
Grounding--Description of Method--Cutting the Miters--Handling of
Tools, Danger of Carelessness--Importance of Clean Cutting.
It is curious to imagine what the inside of a young enthusiast's head
must be like when he makes his first conscious step toward artistic
expression. The chaotic jumbles of half-formed ideas, whirling about in
its recesses, produce kaleidoscopic effects, which to him look like the
most lovely pictures. If he could only learn to put them down! let him
but acquire the technical department of his art, and what easier than to
realize those most marvelous dreams. Later in his progress it begins to
dawn upon him that this same technical department may not be so very
obedient to his wishes; it may have laws of its own, which shall change
his fairy fancies into sober images, not at all unlike something which
has often been done before by others. But let the young soul continue to
see visions, the more the better, provided they be of the right sort. We
shall in the meantime ask him to curb his imagination, and yield his
faculties for the moment to the apparently simple task of realizing a
leaf or two from one of the trees in his enchanted valley.
With the student's kind permission we shall, while these lessons
continue, make believe that teacher and pupil are together in a
class-room, or, better still, in a country workshop, with chips flying
in all directions under busy hands.
I must tell you then, that the first surprise which awaits the beginner,
and one which opens his eyes to a whole series of restraints upon the
freedom of his operations, lies in the discovery that wood has a decided
grain or fiber. He will find that it sometimes behaves in a very
obstinate manner, refusing to cut straight here, chipping off there, and
altogether seeming to take pleasure in thwarting his every effort. By
and by he gets to know his piece of wood; where the grain dips and
where it comes up or wriggles, and with practise he becomes its master.
He finds in this, his first technical difficulty, a kind of blessing in
disguise, because it sets bounds to what would otherwise be an
infinitely vague choice of methods.
We shall now take a piece of yellow pine, free from knots, and planed
clean all round. The size may be about 12 ins. long by 7 ins. wide. We
shall fix this to the bench by means of two clamps or one clamp and a
screwed block at opposite corners. Now we are ready to begin work, but
up to the present we have not thought of the design we intend executing,
being so intent upon the tools and impatient for an attack upon the
silky wood with their sharp edges.
The illustration, Fig. 13, gives a clue to the sort of design to begin
with; it measures about 11 ins. long by 7 ins. wide, allowing a margin
all round. The wood should be a little longer than the design, as the
ends get spoiled by the clamps. This little design need not, and indeed
should not, be copied. Make one for yourself entirely different, only
bearing in mind the points which are to be observed in arranging it,
and which have for their object the avoidance of difficulties likely to
be too much for a first effort. These points are somewhat to this
effect: the design should be of leaves, laid out flat on a background,
with no complication of perspective. They should have no undulations of
surface. That is to say, the margins of all the features should be as
nearly as possible the original surface of the wood, which may have just
the least possible bit of finish in the manner I shall describe later
on. The articulation of the leaves and flower is represented by simple
gouge cuts. There should be nothing in the design requiring rounded
surfaces. The passage for tools in clearing out the ground between the
features must not be less than 1/4 in.; this will allow the 3/16 in.
corner grounder to pass freely backward and forward. The ground is
supposed to be sunk about three-sixteenths of an inch.
As you have not got your design made, I shall, for convenience' sake,
explain how Fig. 13 should be begun and finished. First having traced
the full-size design it should be transferred to the wood by means of a
piece of blue carbon paper.
[Illustration: FIG. 13.]
[Illustration: FIG. 14.]
Then with either the Veiner or V tool outline the whole of the leaves,
etc., about 1/8 in. deep, keeping well on the outside of the drawing.
Ignore all minor detail for the present, blocking out the design in
masses. No outline need be grooved for the margin of the panel at
present, as it should be done with a larger tool. For this purpose take
gouge No. 6 (1/4 in. wide), and begin at the left-hand bottom corner of
the panel, cut a groove about 1/16 in. within the blue line, taking care
not to cut off parts of the leaves in the process; begin a little above
the corner at the bottom, and leave off a little below that at the top.
The miters will be formed later on.
In this operation, as in all subsequent ones, the grain of the wood will
be more or less in evidence. You will by degrees get to know the piece
of wood you are working upon, and cut in such a way that your tool runs
_with_ the grain and not _against_ it; that is to say, you will cut as
much as possible on the up-hill direction of the fiber. This can not
always be done in deep hollows, but then you will have had some practise
before you attempt these.
Now take chisel No. 11, and with it stab into the grooved outline,
pressing the tool down perpendicularly to what you think feels like the
depth of the ground. The mallet need not be used for this, as the wood
is soft enough to allow of the tools being pressed by the hand alone,
but remember that the force must be proportioned to the depth desired,
and to the direction of the grain; much less pressure is wanted to drive
a tool into the wood when its edge is parallel with the grain than when
it lies in a cross direction; small tools penetrate more easily than
large ones, as a matter of course, but one must think of these things or
accidents happen.
When you have been all round the design in this way with such gouges as
may be needed for the slow and quick curves, get the wood out nearly
down to the ground, leaving a little for finishing. Do this with any
tool that fits the spaces best; the larger the better. Cut across the
grain as much as possible, not along it. The flat gouge, No. 1, will be
found useful for this purpose in the larger spaces, and the grounders
for the narrow passages. This leaves the ground in a rough state, which
must be finished later on.
Now take gouges Nos. 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and chisels Nos. 10, 11, 12, and
with them cut down the outline as accurately as possible to the depth of
the ground, and, if you are lucky, just a hair's breadth deeper. In
doing this make the sides slope a little outward toward the bottom. If
the gouges do not entirely adapt themselves to the contours of your
lines, do not trouble, but leave that bit to be done afterward with a
sweep of the tool, either a flat gouge, or the corner-chisel used like a
knife.
Now we have all the outline cut down to the depth of the background, and
may proceed to clear out the wood hanging about between the design and
the ground all round it. We shall do this with the "grounders," using
the largest one when possible, and only taking to the smallest when
absolutely necessary on account of space. This done, we shall now
proceed to finish the hollow sides of the panel and make the miters.
Again, take No. 6 gouge and drive a clear hollow touching the blue line
at end of panel, and reaching the bottom of the sinking, i.e., the
actual ground as finished, see _a_, Fig. 15. To form the miter at top of
left-hand side of panel, carry the hollow on until the tool reaches the
bottom of the hollow running along the top; as soon as this point is
gained, turn the tool out and pitch it a little up in the way shown at
_c_, Fig. 15, in which the tool is shown at an angle which brings the
edge of the gouge exactly on the line of the miter to be formed.
Beginning as it does at _b_, this quick turn of the handle to the left
takes out the little bit of wood shown by dotted lines at _b_, and
forms one-half of the miter. The cross-grain cut should be done first,
as in this way there is less risk of splintering. Now repeat the process
on the long-grain side of the panel, and one miter is in a good way for
being finished.
[Illustration: FIG. 15.]
A word now about these sides of sunk panels. They always look better if
they are hollowed with a gouge instead of being cut square down. In the
first case they carry out the impression that the whole thing is cut out
of a solid piece of wood, whereas when they are cut sharply down they
always suggest cabinet-making, as if a piece had been glued on to form a
margin.
We have now got the work blocked out and the ground fairly level, and we
are ready to do the little carving we have allowed ourselves. Before we
begin this I shall take the opportunity of reminding you that you must
be very careful in handling your tools; it is a matter of the greatest
importance, if the contingency of cut fingers or damaged work is to be
avoided. The left hand in carving has nearly as much to do as the right,
only in a different way. Grasp the chisel or gouge in the left hand
with the fingers somewhat extended, that is, the little finger will come
well on to the blade, and the thumb run up toward the top of the handle;
the wrist meanwhile resting on the work. The right hand is used for
pushing the tool forward, and for turning it this way and that, in fact
does most of the guiding. Both hands may be described as opposing each
other in force, for the pressure on the tool from the right hand should
be resisted by the left, until almost a balance is struck, and just
enough force left to cut the wood gently, without danger of slipping
forward and damaging it or the fingers. The tool is thus in complete
command, and the slightest change of pressure on either hand may alter
its direction or stop it altogether. Never drive a tool forward with one
hand without this counter-resistance, as there is no knowing what may
happen if it slips. Never wave tools about in the hand, and generally
remember that they are dangerous implements, both to the user and the
work. Never put too much force on a tool when in the neighborhood of a
delicate passage, but take time and eat the bit of wood out mouse-like,
in small fragments.
Now we are ready to finish our panel. Take the grounders, according to
the size required, always using the biggest possible. Keep the tool well
pressed down, and _shave_ away the roughness of the ground, giving the
tool a slight sideway motion as well as a forward one. Work right up to
the leaves, etc., which, if cut deep enough, should allow the chips to
come away freely, leaving a clear line of intersection; if it does not,
then the upright sides must be cut down until the ground is quite clear
of chips. Grounder tools are very prone to dig into the surface and make
work for themselves: sharp tools, practise, and a slight sideway motion
will prevent this. Tool No. 23 is useful in this respect, its corners
being slightly lifted above the level of the ground as it passes along.
Corners that can not be reached with the bent chisels may be finished
off with the corner-chisel.
Now we come to the surface decorations, for the carving in this design
consists of little more. This is all done with the gouges. Generally
speaking, enter the groove at its widest end and leave it at the
narrowest, lowering the handle of the tool gradually as you go along to
lift the gouge out of the wood, producing the drawing of the forms at
the same time. A gouge cut never looks so well as when done at one
stroke; patching it afterward with amendments always produces a labored
look. If this has to be done, the tool should be passed finally over the
whole groove to remove the superfluous tool marks--a sideway gliding
motion of the edge, combined with its forward motion, often succeeds in
this operation. To form the circular center of the flower, press down
gouge Nos. 5 or 6, gently at first and perpendicular to the wood. When a
cut has been made all round the circle, work the edge of the tool in it,
circus-like, by turning the handle in the fingers round and round until
the edge cuts its way down to the proper depth. (See A, Fig. 15.)
Carve the sides of the leaves where necessary with flat gouges on the
inside curves, and with chisels and corner-chisels on the outside ones.
These should be used in a sliding or knife-like fashion, and not merely
pushed forward. Finish the surface in the same manner all over between
the gouge grooves and the edges of the leaves, producing a very slight
bevel as in section _a_, Fig. 13, and this panel may be called finished.
Fig. 14 is another suggestion for a design, upon which I hope you will
base one of your own as an exercise at this stage of your progress.
Before we begin another, though, I shall take this opportunity of
reading you a short lecture on a most important matter which has a great
deal to do with the preparation of your mind in making a suitable choice
of subject for your future work.
CHAPTER VIII
IMITATION OF NATURAL FORMS
Difficulties of Selection and Arrangement--Limits of an Imitative
Treatment--Light and Distance Factors in the Arrangement of a
Design--Economy of Detail Necessary--The Word "Conventional."
Broadly stated, the three most formidable difficulties which confront
the beginner when he sets out to make what he is pleased to call his
design for carving in relief, are: Firstly, the choice of a subject;
secondly, how far he may go in the imitation of its details; thirdly,
its arrangement as a whole when he has decided the first two points.
Just now we shall deal only with the second difficulty, that is, how far
may likeness to nature be carried. We shall do this, because until we
come to some understanding on that point, a right choice of subject
becomes practically impossible, consequently the consideration of its
arrangement would be premature.
There is, strictly speaking, only one aim worthy of the artist's
attention, be he carver or painter; and that is the representation of
some form of life, or its associations. Luckily, there is a mighty
consensus of opinion in support of this dictum, both by example and
precept, so there is no need to discuss it, or question its authority.
We shall proceed, therefore, to act upon it, and choose for our work
only such material as in some way indicates life, either directly, as in
trees, animals, or figures, or by association, and as explanation
thereof, as in drapery and other accessories--never choosing a subject
like those known to painters as "still life," such as bowls, fiddles,
weapons, etc., unless, as I have said, they are associated with the more
important element.
You have already discovered by practise that wood has a grain which sets
bounds to the possibilities of technique. You have yet to learn that it
has also an inordinate capacity for swallowing light. Now, as it is by
the aid of light that we see the results of our labor, it follows that
we should do everything in our power to take full advantage of that
helpful agency. It is obvious that work which can not be seen is only so
much labor thrown away. There is approximately a right relative distance
from which to view all manner of carvings, and if from this position the
work is not both distinct and coherent, its result is valueless.
Then what is the quality which makes all the difference between a
telling piece of carving, and one which looks, at a moderate distance,
like crumpled paper or the cork bark which decorates a suburban
summer-house? The answer is, attention to _strict economy in detail_.
Without economy there can be no arrangement, and without the latter no
general effect. We are practically dealing, not with so much mere wood,
but unconsciously we are directing our efforts to a manipulation of the
light of day--playing with the lamps of the sky--and if we do not
understand this, the result must be undoubtedly failure, with a piece of
wood left on our hands, cut into unintelligible ruts.
But what, you will say, has all this to do with copying the infinite
variety of nature's detail; surely it can not be wrong to imitate what
is really beautiful in itself? You will find the best answer to this in
the technical difficulties of your task. You have the grain of the wood
to think of, and now you have this other difficulty in managing the
light which is to display your design. The obstinacy of the wood may be
to some extent conquered, and indeed has been almost entirely so, by the
technical resources of Grinling Gibbons, but the treatment demanded by
the laws of light and vision is quite another question, and if our work
is to have its due effect, there is no other solution of the problem
than by finding a way of complying with those laws.
If I want to represent a rose and make it intelligible at a glance from
such and such a point of view, and I find after taking infinite pains to
reproduce as many as I can of its numerous petals, and as much as
possible of its complicated foliage, that I had not reckoned with the
light which was to illuminate it, and that instead of displaying my work
to advantage, it has blurred all its delicate forms into dusky and
chaotic masses, would I not be foolish if I repeated such an experiment?
Rather, I take the opposite extreme, and produce a rose this time which
has but five petals, and one or two sprays of rudimentary foliage.
Somehow the result is better, and it has only taken me a tenth part of
the time to produce. I now find that I can afford, without offending the
genius of light, or straining my eyesight, to add a few more petals and
one or two extra leaves between those I have so sparingly designed, and
a kind of balance is struck. The same thing happens when I try to
represent a whole tree--I can not even count the leaves upon it, why
then attempt to carve them? Let me make one leaf that will stand for
fifty, and let that leaf be simplified until it is little more than an
abstract of the form I see in such thousandfold variety. The proof that
I am right this time is that when I stand at the proper distance to view
my work, it is all as distinct as I could wish it to be. Not a
leaf-point is quite lost to sight, except where, in vanishing into a
shadow, it adds mystery without creating confusion.
We have in this discovery a clue to the meaning of the word
"Conventional": it means that a particular method has been "agreed upon"
as the best fitted for its purpose, i.e., as showing the work to most
advantage with a minimum of labor. Not that experience had really
anything to do with the invention of the method. Strange to say, the
earliest efforts in carving were based upon an unquestioning sense that
no other was possible, certainly no attempts were made to change it
until in latter days temptations arose in various directions, the
effects of which have entailed upon ourselves a conscious effort of
choice in comparing the results of the many subsequent experiments.
Before I continue this subject further, I shall give you another
exercise, with the object of making a closer resemblance to natural
forms, bearing in mind the while all that has been said about a sparing
use of minute detail with reference to its visible effect. We shall in
this design attempt some shaping on the surface of the leaves and a
little rounding too, which may add interest to the work. In my next
lecture to you, I shall have something to say about another important
element in all designs for wood-carving. I mean the shapes taken by the
background between the leaves, like the patches of sky seen behind a
tree.
CHAPTER IX
ROUNDED FORMS
Necessity for Every Carver Making his own Designs--Method of
Carving Rounded Forms on a Sunk Ground.
[Illustration: FIG. 16.]
Fig. 16, our second exercise, like the first one, is only to be taken as
a suggestion for a design to be made by yourself. It is a fundamental
principle that both design and execution should be the work of one and
the same person, and I want you to begin by strictly practising this
rule. It was indeed one of the main conditions of production in the best
times of the past, and there is not a shadow of doubt that it must again
come to be the universal rule if any real progress is to be made in the
art of wood-carving, or in any other art for that matter. Just think
for a moment how false must be the position of both parties, when one
makes a "design" and another carries it out. The "designer" sets his
head to work (we must not count his hands at present, as they only note
down the results in a kind of writing), a "design" is produced and
handed over to the carver to execute. He, the carver, sets his hands and
eyes to work, to carry out the other man's idea, or at least interpret
his notes for the same, his head meanwhile having very little to do,
further than transfer the said notes to his hands. For very good reasons
such an arrangement as this is bound to come to grief. One is, that no
piece of carving can properly be said to be "designed" until it is
finished to the last stroke. A drawing is only a map of its general
outline, with perhaps contours approximately indicated by shading. In
any case, even if a full-size model were supplied by the designer, the
principle involved would suffer just the same degree of violence, for it
is in the actual carving of the wood that the designer should find both
his inspiration and the discipline which keeps it within reasonable
bounds. He must be at full liberty to alter his original intention as
the work develops under his hand.
Apparently I have been led into giving you another lecture; we must now
get to work on our exercise.
Draw and trace your outline in the same manner as before, and transfer
it to the wood. You may make it any convenient size, say on a board 18
ins. long by 9 ins. wide, or what other shape you like, provided you
observe one or two conditions which I am going to point out. It shall
have a fair amount of background between the features, and the design,
whatever it is, shall form a traceable likeness to a pattern of some
description; it shall have a rudimentary resemblance to nature, without
going into much detail; and last, it shall have a few _rounded_ forms in
it, rounded both in outline and on the surface, as, for instance, plums.
[Illustration: FIG. 17.]
In setting to work to carve this exercise, follow the same procedure as
in the first one, up to the point when the surface decorations began. In
the illustration, there is a suggestion for a variety in the background
which does not occur in the other. In this case the little branches are
supposed to lie along the tops of gentle elevations, and the plums to
lie in the hollows. It produces a section something like this, Fig. 17.
There is a sufficient excuse for this kind of treatment in the fact that
the branches do not require much depth, and the plums will look all the
better for a little more. The depth of the background will thus vary,
say between 3/16 in. at the branches and 3/8 in. at the plums. The
branches are supposed to be perfectly level from end to end, that is,
they lie parallel to the surface of the wood, but of course curve about
in the other direction. The leaves, on the other hand, are supposed to
be somewhat rounded and falling away toward their sides and points in
places. The vein in the center of the leaves may be done with a parting
tool, as well as the serrations at the edge, or the latter may perhaps
be more surely nicked out with a chisel, after the leaves have received
their shapes, the leaves being made to appear as if one side was higher
than the other, and as though their points, in some cases, touched the
background, while in others the base may be the lowest part. The twigs
coming out from the branches to support the plums should be somewhat
like this in section, and should lie along the curve of the background,
and be in themselves rounded, as in Fig. 18, see section _a a_. The
bottom of the panel shows a bevel instead of a hollow border: this will
serve to distinguish it as a starting-point for the little branches
which appear to emerge from it like trees out of the ground. The plums
should be carved by first cutting them down in outline to the
background, as A, Fig. 19. Then the wood should be removed from the edge
all round, to form the rounded surface. To do this, first take the large
gouge, No. 2, and with its hollow side to the wood, cut off the top,
from about its middle to one end, and reversing the process do the same
with the other side. Then it will appear something like B (Fig. 19).
The remainder must be shaped with any tool which will do it best. There
is no royal road to the production of these rounded forms, but probably
gouge No. 1 will do the most of it.
[Illustration: Fig. 18.]
[Illustration: Fig. 19.]
Here it may be observed that the fewer tools used the better, as if many
are used there is always a risk of unpleasant facets at the places where
the various marks join each other. Before you try the plums, or apples,
or other rounded fruit which you may have in your design, it would be as
well to experiment with one on a piece of spare wood in order to decide
upon the most suitable tools. The stems or branches may be done with
flat gouge No. 1, or the flat or corner chisel. A very delicate twist or
spiral tendency in their upward growth will greatly improve their
appearance, a mere faceting produced by a flat gouge or chisel will do
this; anything is better than a mere round and bare surface, which has a
tendency to look doughy. The little circular mark on the end of the plum
(call it a plum, although that fruit has no such thing) is done by
pressing gouge No. 7 into the wood first, with the handle rather near
the surface of the wood, and afterward at a higher inclination, this
taking out a tiny chip of a circular shape and leaving a V-shaped
groove.
Now I am going to continue the subject of my last lecture, in order to
impress upon you the importance of suiting your subject to the
conditions demanded by the laws of technique and light. Practise with
the tools must go hand in hand with the education of the head if good
results are to be expected; nor must it be left wholly to hand and eye
if you are to avoid the pitfalls which lie in wait for the unwary
mechanic.
CHAPTER X
THE PATTERNED BACKGROUND
Importance of Formal Pattern as an Aid to Visibility--Pattern and
Free Rendering Compared--First Impressions Lasting--Medieval Choice
of Natural Forms Governed by a Question of Pattern.
[Illustration: FIG. 20.]
By a comparison of the piece of Byzantine sculpture, Fig. 20, with the
more elaborate treatment of foliage shown in Fig. 21, from late Gothic
capitals, in Southwell Minster, it will be seen how an increasing desire
for imitative resemblance has taken the place of a patterned foundation,
and how, in consequence, the background is no longer discernible as a
contrasting form. The Byzantine design is, of course, little more than a
pattern with sunk holes for a background, and it is in marble; but those
holes are arranged in a distinct and orderly fashion. The other is a
highly realistic treatment of foliage, the likeness to nature being so
fully developed that some of these groups have veins on the _backs_ of
the leaves. The question for the moment is this, which of the two
extremes gives the clearest account of itself at a distance? I think
there can be little doubt that the more formal arrangement bears this
test better than the other, and this, too, in face of the fact that it
has cost much less labor to produce. Remember we are only now
considering the question of _visibility_ in the design. You may like the
undefined and suggestive masses into which the leaves and shadows of the
Southwell one group themselves better than the unbending severity of the
lines in the other, but that is not the point at present. You can not
_see_ the actual work which produces that mystery, and I may point out
to you, that what is here romantic and pleasing on account of its
changeful and informal shadows, is on the verge of becoming mere
bewildering confusion; a tendency which always accompanies attempts to
imitate the accidental or informal grouping of leaves, so common to
their natural state. The further this is carried, the less is it
possible to govern the forms of the background pattern; they become less
discernible as contrasting _forms_, although they may be very
interesting as elements of mystery and suggestive of things not actually
seen. The consequence is a loss of power in producing that
instantaneous impression of harmony which is one of the secrets of
effectiveness in carving. This is greatly owing to the constant change
of plane demanded by an imitative treatment, as well as the want of
formality in its background. The lack of restful monotony in this
respect creates confusion in the lights, making a closer inspection
necessary in order to discern the beauty of the work. Now the human
imagination loves surprises, and never wholly forgives the artist who,
failing to administer a pleasant shock, invites it to come forward and
examine the details of his work in order to see how well they are
executed.
[Illustration: FIG. 21.]
These examples, you will say, are from architectural details which have
nothing to do with wood-carving. On the contrary, the same laws govern
all manner of sculpturesque composition--scale or material making no
difference whatever. A sculptured marble frieze or a carved ivory
snuff-box may be equally censurable as being either so bare that they
verge on baldness and want of interest, or so elaborate that they look
like layers of fungus.
Do not imagine that I am urging any preference for a Byzantine treatment
in your work; to do so would be as foolish as to ask you to don
medieval costume while at work, or assume the speech and manners of the
tenth century. It would be just as ridiculous on your part to affect a
bias which was not natural to you. I am, however, strongly convinced
that in the choice of natural forms and their arrangement into orderly
masses (more particularly with regard to their appearance in silhouette
against the ground), and also in the matter of an economical use of
detail, we have much to learn from the carvers who preceded the
fourteenth century. They thoroughly understood and appreciated the value
of the light which fell upon their work, and in designing it arranged
every detail with the object of reflecting as much of it as possible. To
this end, their work was always calculated for its best effects to be
seen at a fairly distant point of view; and to make sure that it would
be both visible and coherent, seen from that point, they insisted upon
some easily understood pattern which gave the key to the whole at a
glance. To make a pattern of this kind is not such an easy matter as it
looks. The forms of the background spaces are the complementary parts of
the design, and are just as important as those of the solid portions;
it takes them both to make a good design.
Now I believe you must have had enough of this subject for the present,
more especially as you have not yet begun to feel the extraordinary
difficulty of making up your mind as to what is and what is not fit for
the carver's uses among the boundless examples of beauty spread out for
our choice by Dame Nature.
Meantime, I do not want you to run away with the impression that when
you have mastered the principles of economy in detail and an orderly
disposition of background, that you have therefore learned all that is
necessary in order to go on turning out design after design with the
ease of a cook making pancakes according to a recipe. You will find by
experience, I think, that all such principles are good for is to enforce
clearness of utterance, so to speak, and to remind you that it is light
you are dealing with, and upon which you must depend for all effects;
also that the power of vision is limited. Acting upon them is quite
another matter, and one, I am afraid, in which no one can help you
much. You may be counseled as to the best and most practical mode of
expressing your ideas, but those thoughts and inventions must come from
yourself if they are to be worth having.
In my next lecture I shall have something to say with regard to
originality of design, but now we must take up our tools again and begin
work upon another exercise.
CHAPTER XI
CONTOURS OF SURFACE
Adaptation of Old Designs to Modern Purposes--"Throwing
About"--Critical Inspection of Work from a Distance as it Proceeds.
[Illustration: FIG. 22.]
Here are two fragments of a kind of running ornament. Fig. 22 is a part
of the jamb molding of a church in Vicenza. If you observe carefully,
you will find that it has a decidedly classical appearance. The truth is
that it was carved by a Gothic artist late in the fourteenth century,
just after the Renaissance influence began to make itself felt. It is an
adaptation by him of what he remembered having seen in his travels of
the new style, grafted upon the traditional treatment ready to his hand.
It suits our purpose all the better on that account, for the reason that
we are going to re-adapt his design into an exercise, and shall attempt
to make it suitable to our limited ability in handling the tools, to the
change in material from stone to wood, and lastly, to our different
aims and motives in the treatment of architectural ornament. Please do
all this for yourself in another design, and look upon this suggestion
merely in the light of helping a lame dog over a stile.
[Illustration: FIG. 23.]
In this exercise (Fig. 23) you will repeat all you have already done
with the others, until you come to the shaping of the leaves, in which
an undulating or up and down motion has been attempted. This involves a
kind of double drawing in the curves, one for the flat and one for the
projections; so that they may appear to glide evenly from one point to
the other, sweeping up and down, right and left, without losing their
true contours. Carvers call this process "throwing about," i.e., making
the leaves, etc., appear to rise from the background and again fall
toward it in all directions. The phrase is a very meager one, and but
poorly expresses the necessity for intimate sympathy between each
surface so "thrown about." It is precisely in the observance of this
last quality that effects of richness are produced. You can hardly have
too much monotony of surface, but may easily err by having too much
variety. Therefore, whatever system of light and shade you may adopt, be
careful to repeat its motive in some sort of rhythmic order all over
your work; by no other means can you make it rich and effective at a
distance.
It is well every now and then to put your work up on a shelf or ledge at
a distance and view it as a whole; you will thus see which parts tell
and which do not, and so gain experience on this point. Work should also
be turned about frequently, sidewise and upside down, in order to find
how the light affects it in different directions. Of course, you must
not think that because your work may happen to look well when seen from
a little way off that it does not matter about the details, whether they
be well or poorly carved. On the contrary, unless you satisfy the eye at
both points of view, your work is a partial failure. The one thing is as
important as the other, only, as the first glance at carved work is
generally taken at some little distance, it is the more immediately
necessary to think of that, before we begin to work for a closer
inspection. First impressions are generally lasting with regard to
carved work, and, as I have said before, beauty of detail seldom quite
atones for failure in the arrangement of masses.
The rounded forms in this design may give you a little trouble, but
practise, and that alone, will enable you to overcome this. Absolute
smoothness is not desirable. Glass-papered surfaces are extremely ugly,
because they obtrude themselves on account of their extreme smoothness,
having lost all signs of handiwork in the tool marks. We shall have
something to say presently about these tool marks in finishing, as it is
a very important subject which may make all the difference between
success or failure in finishing a piece of work.
CHAPTER XII
ORIGINALITY
Dangers of Imposing Words--Novelty more Common than Originality--An
Unwholesome Kind of "Originality."
I told you that I should have something to say about originality. Almost
every beginner has some vague impression that his first duty should be
to aim at originality. He hears eulogiums passed upon the individuality
of some one or other, and tries hard to invent new forms of expression
or peculiarities of style, only resulting, in most cases, in new forms
of ugliness, which it seems is the only possibility under such conscious
efforts after novelty. The fact is that it takes many generations of
ardent minds to accomplish what at first each thinks himself capable of
doing alone. True originality has somewhat the quality of good wine,
which becomes more delightful as time mellows its flavor and imparts to
it the aroma which comes of long repose; like the new wine, too,
originality should shyly hide itself in dark places until maturity
warrants its appearance in the light of day. That kind of originality
which is strikingly new does not always stand the test of time, and
should be regarded with cautious skepticism until it has proved itself
to be more than the passing fashion or novelty of a season. There is a
kind of sham art very conspicuous at the present time, which was at
quite a recent date popularly believed to be very original. It seems to
have arisen out of some such impatient craving for novelty, and it has
been encouraged by an easy-going kind of suburban _refinement_, which
neither knows nor cares very much what really goes to the making of a
work of art. This new art has filled our shops and exhibitions with an
invertebrate kind of ornament, which certainly has the doubtful merit of
"never having been seen before." It has evidently taken its inspiration
from the trailing and supine forms of floating seaweed, and revels in
the expression of such boneless structure. By way of variety it presents
us with a kind of symbolic tree, remarkable for more than archaic
flatness and rigidity. Now, this kind of "originality" is not only
absolutely valueless, but exceedingly harmful; its only merit is that,
like its ideal seaweed, it has no backbone of its own, and we may hope
that it will soon betake itself to its natural home, the slimy bottom of
the ocean of oblivion.
Meantime, the only thing we are absolutely sure of in connection with
that much-abused word "originality" is this, that no gift, original or
otherwise, can be developed without steady and continuous practise with
the tools of your craft.
CHAPTER XIII
PIERCED PATTERNS
Exercise in Background Pattern--Care as to Stability--Drilling and
Sawing out the Spaces--Some Uses for Pierced Patterns.
The present exercises may be described as a kind of carved open
fretwork--that is to say, the ground is entirely cut away, leaving the
pattern standing free. This will form an excellent piece of discipline
with regard to the design of background forms, because in such work as
this, those forms assert themselves in a very marked manner; if they are
in any way found to be conspicuously unequal in size or are awkwardly
designed as to shape, the whole effect of the work is spoiled.
[Illustration: FIG. 24.]
For your first effort make a design based upon No. 24, and please to
observe these rules in its construction. The main or leading lines of
the pattern are to run as much as possible without crossing each other.
The holes are to be fairly equal in size, or rather in area, as they
need not be at all like each other in shape. The amount of wood left
standing to be of a width averaging never less than half the length of
the average-sized hole. This is necessary for securing sufficient
strength of material in the cross-grained pieces, which would be liable
to split if made too long and narrow. The pattern should be formal in
character, not necessarily symmetrical, but it should be well balanced.
You may have one part of your design composed of large holes and another
of small ones, provided the change is part of a definite design, as in
Fig. 25. You may even leave the wood in some parts forming a solid
background, or you may treat it as a separate piece of simple carving
on the solid, as in Fig. 26, being careful to execute it in a
consistently simple manner, as in this kind of work much change of
manner in execution is inadvisable, although, at the same time, it is
open to any amount of variety in design of outline and combination of
contrasts.
[Illustration: FIG. 25.]
[Illustration: FIG. 26.]
Take a piece of pine about 3 or 4 ft. long and 7 or 9 ins. wide by 3/4
in. thick. Trace on your pattern and drill circular holes in the middle
of each space to be cut through. Then take a keyhole saw, and remove the
wood by sawing round the space close to the blue line, taking care not
to cut through it in any place. The saw must be held very truly upright
in order to cut the sides of the spaces at right angles to the face of
the wood. Now carve the pattern on the surface in whatever manner you
have designed--in grooves suggesting the articulation of the leaves, in
short grooves which may pass for additional leaves, or in a dozen ways
which practise may help you to invent.
The wood should be held tightly down to the bench in all its parts, or,
at least, in those being operated upon, as it may, if unsupported, crack
across some of the narrow parts. The sides of all the holes must be
carved out clean to remove the rough saw marks. This can be done partly
by gouges, or still better, the wood may be held up on its edge and the
holes cut round with a sharp penknife where the grain allows it. Now
turn the work over on its face and carve bevels round each of the holes.
This reduces the apparent thickness of wood, and adds to the effect of
delicacy in the pattern.
This work may be used for the cresting of some large piece of furniture,
or may be adapted to fill screens or partitions, stair newels, and
balusters, or it may be used as a cornice decoration in the manner
suggested by No. 26, where the pierced work can be backed by a hollow
cornice which it fills and enriches.
In our next exercise we shall try our hands upon a piece of hardwood for
a change--meantime do one or two of these fret patterns by way of
disciplinary exercise in outline forms.
CHAPTER XIV
HARDWOOD CARVING
Carvings can not be Independent Ornaments--Carving Impossible on
Commercial Productions--The Amateur Joiner--Corner
Cupboards--Introduction of Foliage Definite in Form, and Simple in
Character--Methods of Carving Grapes.
We now come to the question, what are we going to do with all the pieces
of carving which we propose to undertake.
There is no more inexorable law relating to the use of wood-carving than
the one which insists upon some kind of passport for its introduction,
wherever it appears. It must come in good company, and be properly
introduced. The slightest and most distant connection with a recognized
sponsor is often sufficient, but it will not be received alone. We do
not make carvings to hang on a wall and be admired altogether on their
own account. They must decorate some object. A church screen, a font, a
piece of furniture, or even the handle of a knife. It is not always an
easy matter to find suitable objects upon which to exercise our
wood-carving talents. Our furniture is all made now in a wholesale
manner which permits of no interference with its construction, while at
the same time, if we wish to put any carving upon it, it is absolutely
essential that both construction and decoration should be considered
together.
[Illustration: FIG. 27.]
A very modest beginning may be made in adapting ornament to a useful
article, by carving the surface of a bread plate. These are usually made
of some hard wood, such as sycamore. They may be made of oak, but
sycamore has the advantage in its lighter color, which is more likely to
be kept clean. Two suggestions are given in Figs. 27 and 28 for carving
appropriate to this purpose. The essentials are, that there should be a
well-defined _pattern_ simple in construction, and as effective as
possible with little labor; that there should be little or no rounding
of surface, the design consisting of gouge cuts and incisions arranged
to express the pattern. The incisions may form a regular sunk ground,
but it should not be deep, or it will not be easily kept clean. Then, as
in cutting bread the knife comes in contact with the surface, no
delicate work is advisable; a large treatment with broad surfaces, and
some plain spaces left to protect the carved work, is likely to prove
satisfactory in every way. A piece of sycamore should be procured, ready
for carving; this may be got from a wood-turner, but it will be as well
to give him a drawing, on which is shown the section of edge and the
position of all turned lines required for confining the carving. If the
plate is to be of any shape other than circular, then it must be neatly
made by a joiner, unless you can shape it yourself.
[Illustration: FIG. 28.]
Many of you are, I have no doubt, handy joiners, and may with a little
help put together some slight pieces of furniture to serve at least as
an excuse for the introduction of your carving. Here are some
suggestions for corner cupboards, chosen as giving the largest area for
carved surface with the minimum of expense in construction. The material
should be oak--English if possible, or it may be Italian walnut. The
doors of Figs. 40 and 41 are in three narrow boards with shallow beads
at the joints, those of the others are each made of a single board, and
should be 1/2 in. to 5/8 in. thick, the doors may be about 2 ft. 6 ins.
high, each having two ledges about 3 ins. wide, screwed on behind top
and bottom to keep them from twisting. All moldings, beads, etc., are to
be carved by hand, no planes being used. Having traced the lines of your
design upon the board, you may begin, if there are moldings as in Fig.
32, by using a joiner's marking gage to groove out the deepest parts of
the parallel lines in the moldings along the edges, doing the same to
the curved ones with a V tool or Veiner. Then form the moldings with
your chisels or gouges. Keep them very flat in section as in Fig. 29.
The fret patterns on Figs. 32, 35, and 36, where not pierced, should
also be done in low relief, not more than 1/8 in. deep, and the sides of
the bands beveled as in section _a_, Fig 30. The widths of these bands
ought not to be less than 1/2 in., and look better if they are wider.
Very narrow bands have a better appearance, if, instead of being cut
straight down, they are hollowed at sides like _b_ in Fig. 30.
[Illustration: FIG. 29.]
[Illustration: FIG. 30.]
[Illustration: FIG. 31.]
Fig. 31 is a detail of a kind of gouge work which you must all know very
well. One perpendicular cut of a gouge driven in with the mallet, and
one side cut, should form one of these crescent or thimble-shaped holes.
They should not be too deep in proportion to their size. Their
combinations may be varied to a great extent. Two or three common ones
are shown in the illustration. This form of ornament was in all
likelihood invented by some ingenious carpenter with a turn for art and
a limited stock of carving tools. His humble contribution to the
resources of the carver's art has received its due share of the flattery
which is implied by imitation. In all these patterns it is well to
remember that the flat surface of the board left between the cuts is
really the important thing to consider, as all variety is obtained by
disposing the holes in such a way as to produce the pattern required by
means of their outlines on the plain surface. Thus waved lines are
produced as in Fig. 31, and little niches like mimic architecture as in
Fig. 34, by the addition of the triangular-shaped holes at the top, and
the splayed sills at the bottom. (It is obvious that an arrangement like
the latter should never be turned upside down.) If this attention to the
surface pattern is neglected the holes are apt to become mere confused
and meaningless spots.
In small pieces of furniture like these, which are made of comparatively
thin wood, the carving need not have much depth, say the ground is sunk
1/4 in. at the deepest. As oak is more tenacious than pine, you will
find greater freedom in working it, although it is so much harder to
cut. You may find it necessary to use the mallet for the greater part of
the blocking out, but it need not be much used in finishing. A series of
short strokes driven by gentle taps of the mallet will often make a
better curve than if the same is attempted without its aid.
It will be well now to procure the remainder of the set of twenty-four
tools if you have not already got them, as they will be required for the
foliage we are about to attempt. The deep gouges are especially useful:
having two different sweeps on each tool, they adapt themselves to
hollows which change in section as they advance.
Fig. 32 contains very little foliage, such as there is being disposed in
small diamond-shaped spaces, sunk in the face of the doors, and a small
piece on the bracket below. All this work should be of a very simple
character, definite in form and broad in treatment.
[Illustration: FIG. 31. _Half_]
[Illustration: FIG. 32. _Half_]
Fig. 33 is more elaborate, but on much the same lines of design varied
by having a larger space filled with groups of leaves. Fig. 34 gives the
carving to a larger scale; in it the oak-leaves are shown with raised
veins in the center, the others being merely indicated by the gouge
hollows. There is some attempt in this at a more natural mode of
treating the foliage. While such work is being carved, it is well to
look now and then at the natural forms themselves (oak and laurel in
this case) in order to note their characteristic features, and as a
wholesome check on the dangers of mannerism.
It is a general axiom founded upon the evidence of past work, and a
respect for the laws of construction in the carpenter's department, that
when foliage appears in panels divided by plain spaces, it should never
be made to look as if it grew _from one panel into the other_, with the
suggestion of boughs passing behind the solid parts. This is a
characteristic of Japanese work, and may, perhaps, be admirable when
used in delicate painted decorations on a screen or other light
furniture, but in carvings it disturbs the effect of solidity in the
material, and serves no purpose which can not be attained in a much
better way.
[Illustration: CARVING IN PANELS OF FIG 33 FIG. 34.]
Expedients have been invented to overcome the difficulty of making a
fresh start in each panel, one of which is shown in Fig. 34, where the
beginning of the bough is hidden under a leaf. It is presumable that the
bough _may_ go on behind the uncarved portions of the board to reappear
in another place, but we need not insist upon the fancy, which loses all
its power when attention is called to it, like riddles when the answer
is known.
[Illustration: FIG. 35.]
[Illustration: FIG. 36.]
In Fig. 35, like the last, the treatment is somewhat realistic. This is
shown to a larger scale in Fig. 38. Nevertheless, it has all been
"arranged" to fit its allotted space, and all accidental elements
eliminated; such, for instance, as leaves disappearing in violent
perspective, or even turned sidewise, and all minute details which would
not be likely to show conspicuously if carved in wood. In Fig. 39, (_a_)
is an outline of a group of vine-leaves taken from nature, as it
appeared, and in which state it is quite unfitted for carving, on
account of its complicated perspective and want of definite outline;
Fig. 39 (_b_) is a detail also copied from nature, but which might stand
without alteration provided it formed part of a work delicate enough
to note such close elaboration in so small a space. This, of course,
would entirely depend upon the purpose for which the carving was
intended, and whether it was meant for distant view or close inspection.
As there is arrangement necessary in forming the outline, so there is
just as much required in designing the articulation of the surfaces of
the leaves, which should be so treated that their hollows fall into a
semblance of some kind of pattern. Fig. 36 is a more formal design, or,
to use a very much abused word, more "conventional," in which such
leafage as there is only serves the purpose of ornamental points,
marking the divisions of the general design. The gouge work upon the
leaves should be of the simplest description, but strict attention is
necessary in drawing the grooves, so that their forms may be clear and
emphatic, leaving no doubt as to the pattern intended. Designs of this
kind have no interest whatever except as pieces of patterned work, to
which end every other consideration should be sacrificed. It must not be
cut too deep--say 1/4 in. at the deepest--and the sides of the panels
should be very gently hollowed out with a flattish sweep (see section on
Fig. 37) in order to avoid any appearance of actual construction in
what more or less imitates the stiles and rails of a door. Fig. 37 shows
a portion of the leafage to a larger scale, and also a plan explaining
the construction of all these cupboards.
[Illustration: FIG. 37.]
[Illustration: FIG. 38.]
[Illustration: FIG. 39 (_a_).]
Fig. 40 is designed upon the barest suggestion of natural foliage, the
wavy stem being quite flat, and running out flush into the flat margins
at the sides, connecting them together. The leaves in this case should
be carved, leaving the veins standing solid; grooved veins would have a
meager look upon such rudimentary leaves. Of course a more natural
treatment may be given to this kind of design, but in that case it would
require to be carried all over the door, and replace the formally
ornamental center panel. The pierced pattern in cresting should be done
as already described for Fig. 24.
[Illustration: FIG. 39 (_b_).]
[Illustration: FIG. 40.]
[Illustration: FIG. 41]
Fig. 41 is a variant on the last design. In this case a little more play
of surface is attempted, making a point of carving the side lobes of
the leaves into little rounded masses which will reflect points of
light. This is shown better on Fig. 42.
[Illustration: FIG. 42.]
[Illustration: FIG. 43.]
In carving foliage like that of the vine, where small dark holes or eyes
occur, enough wood should be left round them to form deep dark little
pits. They are very valuable as points of shadow. In doing this, cut the
rim all round with a very slight bevel as in section, Fig. 43. Whenever
leaves run out to a fine edge they also should have a small bevel like
this in order to avoid an appearance of weakness which acute edges
always present. As a general rule leave as much wood as possible about
the edges of leaves as you want shadow from them--dipping them only
where you are sure the variety will be effective. In the execution of
bunches of rounded forms like grapes there is no special mechanical
expedient for doing them quickly and easily; each must be cut out
separately, and carved with whatever tools come handiest to their shape
and size. It is a good way to begin by cutting triangular holes between
the grapes with the point of a small chisel (see Fig. 44), after which
the rough shapes left may gradually be formed into ovals. When the work
is very simple in character, and does not require a realistic treatment,
the grapes may be done in a more methodical way, as in Fig. 45. First
cut grooves across both ways with a V tool, dividing the grapes as at _a
a_, then with a gouge turned hollow down round each line of grapes into
rolls as at _b b_. Do this both ways, and afterward finish the form as
best you can.
[Illustration: FIG. 44.]
[Illustration: FIG. 45.]
CHAPTER XV
THE SKETCH-BOOK
Old Work Best Seen in its Original Place--Museums to be Approached
with Caution--Methodical Memoranda--Some Examples--Assimilation of
Ideas Better than Making Exact Copies.
In holiday time, and as other opportunity arises, be sure to visit some
old building, be it church or mansion. In this way you will make
acquaintance with many a fine specimen of old work which will set your
fancy moving. In the one there may be a carved choir-screen or bench
ends, in the other a fireplace or table. The first sight of such things
in the places and among the surroundings for which they were designed,
is always an eventful moment in the training of a carver, because the
element of surprise acts like a tonic to the mind by arousing its
emulative instincts. It is by seeing such things in their proper home
and associations that the best lessons are learned. One sees in that
way, for instance, _why_ the tool marks left by the old carvers on their
work look more effective than smoothly perfect surfaces, when associated
with the rough timbers of the roof, or the uneven surface of the
plastered wall. One sees, too, the effect of time and friction in the
polished surfaces of bench ends, rubbed and dusted by countless hands
until they have become smooth to the eye and touch, and a mental note is
made to avoid sharp or spiky work in anything that is likely to be
within reach of the fingers. In this way a certain balance is given to
the judgment in proportioning to each piece of work its due share of
labor, and we come away with a fixed determination to pay more attention
in future to breadth of design and economy of actual carving, a problem
which no carver finds easy, but which must be faced if wasted work is
not to be his only reward.
[Illustration: FIG. 46.]
In museums, too, we shall find many useful lessons, although there we
see things huddled together in a distracting fashion which demands great
wariness of selection. The great point to be observed in making our
notes for future reference is, that each sketch should contain some
memorandum of a special quality, the one which attracted us at the time
of making it. One may be made for sake of a general arrangement, another
to remind us of some striking piece of detail or peculiarity of
execution. The drawings need not be elaborate or labored, provided they
make clear the points they were intended to record. Thus Fig. 46 is a
sketch which is meant as a memorandum of a lively representation of
birds, taken from an old Miserere seat. Fig. 47 was done for sake of the
rich effect of an inscription on the plain side of a beam, and also for
the peculiar and interesting section to which the beam had been cut.
Fig. 48, again, for sake of the arrangement of the little panels on a
plain surface, and the sense of fitness and proportion which prompted
the carver to dispose his work in that fashion, by which he has enriched
the whole surface at little cost of labor, and by contrast enhanced the
value of the little strips and diamonds of carved work, otherwise of no
particular interest. Figs. 49 and 50 are two sketches of Icelandic
carved boxes. Fig. 49 was drawn as an example of the rich effect which
that kind of engraved work may have, and of the use which it makes of
closely packed letters in the inscription. The pattern is, of course, a
traditional Norse one, although the carving is comparatively modern. The
points to be noted in the other box were its quaint and simple
construction, the use of the letters as decoration, more especially the
unpremeditated manner in which they have been grouped, the four letters
below making a short line which is eked out by a rude bit of ornament.
The letters are cut right through the wood, and are surrounded with an
engraved line. Fig. 51 was noted on account of the way in which a very
simple pierced ornament is made much of by repetition. The ornament is
on a Portuguese bed, and this is only a detail of a small portion. The
effect greatly depends upon the quantity, but in this case that is a
point which is easily remembered without drawing more of it than is
shown. The fact that this work is associated with richly turned
balusters is, however, noticed in the sketch, as that might easily be
forgotten. Figs. 47 to 51 are from South Kensington Museum.
[Illustration: FIG. 47.]
[Illustration: FIG. 48.]
[Illustration: FIG. 49.]
[Illustration: FIG. 50.]
[Illustration: FIG. 51.]
Then we come to the sketch of a chair (Fig. 52), or combined table and
chair. The richly carved back is pivoted, and forms the table top when
lowered over the arms, upon which it rests. The points to be noted in
this are, the general richness of effect, the contrast of wavy and rigid
lines, and the happy way in which the architectural suggestion of arch
and pillars has been translated into ornament. As this sketch was not
made so much for the chair itself as for its enriched back, no
measurements have been taken; otherwise chairs, as such, depend very
much upon exact dimensions for their proportions. This chair is at
Exning in Suffolk.
[Illustration: FIG. 52.]
Now we shall suppose that you are going to make many such sketches
both in museums and in country churches or houses. You will find some
too elaborate for drawings in the time at your disposal, in which case
you should obtain a photograph, if possible, making notes of any detail
which you wish particularly to remember--such, for instance, as the
carved chest shown in Plate I. The subject, St. George and the Dragon,
is given with various incidents all in the one picture. This is a
valuable and suggestive piece of work to have before you, as the manner
in which the pictorial element has been managed is strikingly
characteristic of the carver's methods, and well adapted to the
conditions of a technique which has no other legitimate means of dealing
with distant objects. The king and queen, looking out of the palace
windows, are _almost_ on the same scale as the figures in the
foreground; the walls of the houses, roofs, etc., have apparently quite
as much projection as the foreground rocks--distance is inferred rather
than expressed. The very simple construction, too, is worth noting. It
is practically composed of three boards, a wide one for the picture, and
two narrower ones for ends and feet.
The object in making these sketches should be mainly to collect a
variety of ideas which may brighten the mind when there is occasion to
use its inventive faculties. Suggestive hints are wanted; rarely will it
be possible, or wise, to repeat anything exactly as you see it. These
sketches, if made with care, and from what Constable used to call
"breeding subjects," will give your fancy a very necessary point of
vantage, from which it may hazard flights of its own.
As much of our knowledge must necessarily be gained from museums, and as
they now form such an important feature of educational machinery, I
think it will be well to devote a word or two of special notice to the
drawbacks which accompany their many advantages. This I propose to do in
the following chapter.
CHAPTER XVI
MUSEUMS
False Impressions Fostered by Fragmentary Exhibits--Environment as
Important as Handicraft--Works Viewed as Records of
Character--Carvers the Historians of their Time.
A new world of commerce and machinery, having slain and forgotten a past
race of artist craftsmen, makes clumsy atonement by sweeping together
the fragments of their work and calling the collection a museum. From
the four corners of the earth these relics have been gathered. Our
hungry minds are bidden to make choice according to fancy, for here is
variety of food! Here are opportunities, never before enjoyed by mortal,
for an intellectual feast!--and of a kind which might be considered
god-like, were it not for the suspicion of some gigantic joke. That out
of all this huge mass of chaotic material we have not as yet been able
to make for ourselves some living form of art, must indeed be to the
gods a continual subject of merriment.
Museums of art are in no respect the unmixed blessings which they appear
to be. They have, to be sure, all the advantages of handy reference;
but at the same time, on account of the great diversity in the character
of their exhibits, they tend to encourage the spread of a patchy kind of
knowledge, far from being helpful to the arts in the interests of which
they are established. It must be remembered that, in these collections,
all specimens of architecture and architectural carving are invariably
seen in false positions. All have been wrenched from their proper
settings, and placed, more or less at random, in lights and
relationships never contemplated by their designers. To the environment
of a piece of architecture, and the position and surroundings of carved
decorations, are due quite half of their interest as works of art.
Deprive them of these associations, and little is left but fragmentary
specimens of handicraft, more or less unintelligible in their lonely
detachment, misleading to the eye, and dangerous as objects of
imitation, in proportion to the dependence they once had upon those
absent and unknown associations.
The educational purpose which these collections are intended to serve is
liable to be construed into an unreasoning assumption that every
specimen exhibited is equally worthy of admiration. How often the
plodding student is to be seen carefully drawing and measuring work of
the dullest imaginable quality, with no other apparent reason for his
pathetically wasted industry!
It would be strange, indeed, if all in this vast record of past activity
was of equal value; if merely to belong to the past was a sure warrant
that such work was the best of its kind. Far from this being the case,
it requires the constant use of a more or less trained and critical
judgment to separate what is good from the indifferent or really bad in
these collections, for all are usually present. There is inequality in
artistic powers, in technical skill, and a distinction of yet greater
importance, which lies in the significance the works bear as records of
the inner life of their creators. Artists, carvers in particular, are
the true scribes and historians of their times. Their works are, as it
were, books--written in words of unconscious but fateful meaning. Some
are filled with the noblest ideals, expressed in beautiful and serious
language, while others contain nothing but sorry jests and stupidities.
As all the works of the past, whether good or bad, are the achievements
of men differing but little from ourselves, save in the direction of
their energies and in their outward surroundings, there is surely some
clue to the secret of their success or failure, some light to be thrown
by their experience upon our own dubious and questioning spirit.
What better could we look for in this respect than a little knowledge of
the lives led by the carvers themselves, a mental picture of their
environment, an acquired sense of the influence which this, that, or the
other set of conditions must have imposed upon their work. With a little
aid from history in forming our judgments, their works themselves will
assist us--so faithful is the transcript of their witness--for, with
more certainty than applies to handwriting, a fair guess may be made by
inference from the work itself as to the general status and ideals of
the workman. The striking analogy between its salient characteristics
and the prevailing mood of that ever-changing spirit which seeks
expression in the arts, is nowhere more marked than in the work of the
carver.
CHAPTER XVII
STUDIES FROM NATURE--FOLIAGE
Medieval and Modern Choice of Form Compared--A Compromise
Adopted--A List of Plant Forms of Adaptable Character.
It is high time now that we had some talk about the studies from nature
which are to furnish you with subjects for your work. I shall at present
deal only with studies of foliage, as that is what you have been
practising, and I wish you to carry on your work and studies as much as
possible on the same lines.
Between the few abstract forms, representing a general type of foliage,
so dear to the heart of the medieval carver, and the unstinted variety
of choice displayed in the works of Grinling Gibbons and his time, there
is such a wide difference that surely it points to a corresponding
disparity of aim. Although there is no doubt whatever that such a
striking change of views must have had its origin in some deeper cause
than that which is to be explained by artistic and technical
development, yet I think that for our immediate purpose we shall find a
sufficiently good lesson in comparing the visible results of the two
methods. Broadly speaking, then, the medieval carver cared more for
general effect than for possibilities of technique. He therefore chose
only such natural forms as were amenable to his preconceived
determination to make his work telling at a distance. He had no
botanical leanings, and rejected as unfit every form which would not
bend to his one purpose--that of decoration on a large scale--and which
he aimed at making comprehensive at a glance, rather than calling for
attention to its details. He invented patterns which he knew would
assist in producing this result, and here he further handicapped his
choice by limiting it to such forms as would repeat or vanish at
regulated intervals, reflecting light or producing shadow just where it
was wanted to emphasize his pattern.
The more modern carver, on the contrary, offered an all-embracing
welcome to every form which presented itself to his notice. He rejected
nothing which could by any possibility be carved. Nothing was too small,
too thin, or too difficult for his wonderful dexterity with the carving
tools. His chief end was elaboration of detail, and it was often
carried to a point which ignored the fact that nearly all of it would
become invisible when in position, or, if seen at all, would only appear
in confused lumps and unintelligible masses.
Now, for many reasons, I think we had better take the medieval method as
our model up to a point, and make a certain selection of material for
our studies, based upon some relation to general effect, but not
necessarily imitating a medieval austerity of rejection, which would be
the merest affectation on our part. Upon these principles, and taking
somewhat of a middle course, I shall here note a few types of foliage
which I think may be useful to you in the work upon which you are
engaged.
Leaf forms, with their appropriate flowers or fruit, afford the carver a
very large proportion of his subject material. They serve him as
principal subject, as bordering or background to figures of men or
animals; they occur as mere detached spots, to break the monotony of
spaces or lines; and in a thousand other ways give exercise to his
invention.
As a general rule, those leaves with serrated, or deeply cleft and
indented edges, lend themselves most readily to decorative treatment.
Large, broad leaves, with unbroken surfaces, and triangular or rounded
outlines, are less manageable. Those most commonly taken as models are:
_The Vine, with its Grapes._--This was freely used by medieval carvers,
at first for its symbolic significance, but afterward even more on
account of its rare beauty of form. The play of light and shade on its
vigorous foliage, the variety of its drawing in leaf, vine, and tendril,
and the contrast afforded by its bunches of oval fruit, caused it to be
accepted as a favorite subject for imitation in all kinds of carving. It
lends itself kindly to all sorts of relief, either high or low, in
almost any material. It is so recognizable, even in the rudest attempts
at imitation, that its popularity is well deserved.
The hop-vine shares some of these qualities, though much less strongly
marked in character.
_The Acanthus._--This leaf was first adapted for the purpose of ornament
by the workmen of classical Greece. The inspiration was one of the few
which they took directly from nature's models. It was also freely used
by medieval carvers, but with an insistence upon the flowing and
rounded character of its surface forms; and again by the Renaissance
artists, with a return to its classical character of fluted and formal
strength of line. The graceful drawing of its elaborately articulated
surface, and the extraordinary accentuation of its outline, provide an
endless source of suggestion. It has been adapted in all manners,
according to the fancy of the carver--sometimes long and drawn out, at
others wide and spreading. Altogether it has been more thoroughly
"generalized" than any other natural form.
_The Oak, with its Acorns_, appears in early medieval work, but without
much attempt to represent its form with anything like individual
character. In later work it has more justice done to its undoubted
merits as a decorative feature by a clearer recognition of its beauty in
clumps and masses. Fruit, other than the grape and a nondescript kind of
berry, was seldom represented by medieval craftsmen; it formed, however,
a marked feature in Renaissance ornament, where pomegranate, apple, fig,
and melon were in constant requisition.
_Flowers_ in general were very little used in early times, and then only
in a highly abstract form corresponding to that of the foliage. The rose
and lily were the two most frequently seen, but they seldom had more
individuality about them than was sufficient to make them recognizable.
During the Renaissance flowers were treated with much more regard to
their inherent beauties, and were represented with great skill and power
of imitation, although often carried beyond legitimate limits in this
direction. When dealt with as ornaments, rather than botanical details,
they form a rich source of suggestion to the carver, and offer a ready
means of contrast with masses of foliage. The rose and lily are such
conspicuous flowers that they should, in modern times, be used in a way
consistent with our demands for individual character and likeness. They
should be fairly well defined and easily recognizable. It is quite
possible to treat these flowers in a very realistic way, without
endangering their effect as decorative details: they have both such
distinguished forms in flower and foliage.
Flowers should be chosen for their _forms_; color should not be allowed
to deceive the eye in this respect, unless the color itself is
suggestive of lines and contours.
_Foliage_ should always be studied at its prime, never when it is dried
and contorted in its forms.
Here is a short list of subjects, including those I have mentioned, all
having a sufficiently pronounced character to make them valuable as
stock in trade. Many more might be named, but these are chosen as being
commonly familiar, and as being representative types of various forms.
_For their Leaves and Fruit._--The grapevine, hop-vine, globe artichoke,
tomato, apple, plum, pear, bramble, and strawberry.
_For Fruit and Vine-like Growths (leafage too massive and smooth to be
of much value without adaptation)._--The melon, vegetable-marrow,
pumpkins, and cucumber.
_For Leafage, Flowers, or Seed Vessels._--The acanthus, oak, thistles,
teazle, giant hemlock, cow-parsley, buttercup.
_Of Garden Flowers._--The rose, lily, larkspur, peony, poppies,
columbine, chrysanthemum, tulip, Christmas rose, Japanese anemone.
_For Close and Intricate Designs._--Periwinkle, winter aconite,
trefoils of various kinds.
Many valuable hints on this subject may be gleaned by a study of
Gerrard's Herbal, which is full of well-drawn illustrations, done in a
way which is very suggestive to the designer.
A careful study of the outline forms of leaves is a schooling in itself,
so much may be learned from it. It teaches the relation between form and
growth in a way which makes it possible to use the greatest freedom of
generalization without violating structural laws. The same causes which
govern the shaping of a tree are present in the leaf, settling its final
outline, so that, however wandering and fantastic it may appear, there
is not the smallest curve or serration which does not bear witness to a
methodical development, and to every accidental circumstance which
helped or hindered its fulfilment.
You could not do better than make a collection of suitable leaves, press
them flat and trace them very carefully, keeping the tracings together
in a book for reference. Accompanying this you should have in each case
a drawing of the leaf as it appears in its natural state, always being
careful to do this from a point of view which will accommodate itself to
carving the leaf if you should have occasion to use it.
CHAPTER XVIII
CARVING ON FURNITURE
Furniture Constructed with a View to Carving--Reciprocal Aims of
Joiner and Carver--Smoothness Desirable where Carving is
Handled--The Introduction of Animals or Figures.
[Illustration: FIG. 53.]