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THE PRACTICE AND SCIENCE
OF DRAWING

Plate I

FOUR PHOTOGRAPHS OF SAME MONOCHROME PAINTING IN DIFFERENT
STAGES ILLUSTRATING A METHOD OF STUDYING MASS DRAWING
WITH THE BRUSH

THE

PRACTICE 8f SCIENCE

DRAWING

HAROLD SPEED

Associ£ de la Socie'te' Nationale des Beaux-Arts, Paris ; Member of
the Royal Society of Portrait Painters, &>c.

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Fourth Edition

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PREFACE

PERMIT me in the first place to anticipate the dis-
appointment of any student who opens this book
with the idea of finding "wrinkles" on how to
draw faces, trees, clouds, or what not, short cuts
to excellence in drawing, or any of the tricks so
popular with the drawing masters of our grand-
mothers and still dearly loved by a large number
of people. No good can come of such methods, for
there are no short cuts to excellence. But help of
a very practical kind it is the aim of the following
pages to give; although it may be necessary to
make a greater call upon the intelligence of the
student than these Victorian methods attempted.

It was not until some time after having passed
through the course of training in two of our chief
schools of art, that the author got any idea of what
drawing really meant. What was taught was the
faithful copying of a series of objects, beginning
with the simplest forms, such as cubes, cones, cylin-
ders, &c. (an excellent system to begin with at
present in danger of some neglect), after which
more complicated objects in plaster of Paris were
attempted, and finally copies of the human head
and figure posed in suspended animation and sup-
ported by blocks, &c. In so far as this was accurately
done, all this mechanical training of eye and hand
was excellent; but it was not enough. And when
with an eye trained to the closest mechanical

A. r*

*± ~ \j

PREFACE

accuracy the author visited the galleries of the
Continent and studied the drawings of the old
masters, it soon became apparent that either his or
their ideas of drawing were all wrong. Very few
drawings could be found sufficiently "like the
model" to obtain the prize at either of the great
schools he had attended. Luckily there was just
enough modesty left for him to realise that possibly
they were in some mysterious way right and his
own training in some way lacking. And so he set
to work to try and climb the long uphill road that
separates mechanically accurate drawing from
artistically accurate drawing.

Now this journey should have been commenced
much earlier, and perhaps it was due to his own
stupidity that it was not; but it was with a vague
idea of saving some students from such wrong-
headedness, and possibly straightening out some
of the path, that he accepted the invitation to write
this book.

In writing upon any matter of experience, such
as art, the possibilities of misunderstanding are
enormous, and one shudders to think of the things
that may be put down to one's credit, owing to
such misunderstandings. It is like writing about
the taste of sugar, you are only likely to be
understood by those who have already experienced
the flavour ; by those who have not, the wildest
interpretation will be put upon your words. The
written word is necessarily confined to the things
of the understanding because only the understand-
ing has written language ; whereas art deals with
ideas of a different mental texture, which words
can only vaguely suggest. However, there are a
large number of people who, although they cannot

PREFACE

be jsaid to have experienced in a full sense any
works of art, have undoubtedly the impelling desire
which a little direction may lead on to a fuller
appreciation. And it is to such that books on
art are useful. So that although this book is
primarily addressed to working students, it is
hoped that it may be of interest to that increasing
number of people who, tired with the rush and
struggle of modern existence, seek refreshment in
artistic things. To many such in this country
modern art is still a closed book ; its point of
view is so different from that of the art they
have been brought up with, that they refuse to
have anything to do with it. Whereas, if they
only took the trouble to find out something of
the point of view of the modern artist, they would
discover new beauties they little suspected.

If anybody looks at a picture by Claude Monet
from the point of view of a Raphael, he will see
nothing but a meaningless jargon of wild paint-
strokes. And if anybody looks at a Raphael from
the point of view of a Claude Monet, he will, no
doubt, only see hard, tinny figures in a setting
devoid of any of the lovely atmosphere that always
envelops form seen in nature. So wide apart are
some of the points of view in painting. In the
treatment of form these differences in point of
view make for enormous variety in the work.
So that no apology need be made for the large
amount of space occupied in the following pages
by what is usually dismissed as mere theory; but
what is in reality the first essential of any good
practice in drawing. To have a clear idea of what
it is you wish to do, is the first necessity of any
successful performance. But our exhibitions are

vii

PREFACE

full of works that show how seldom this is the
case in art. Works showing much ingenuity and
ability, but no artistic brains ; pictures that are
little more than school studies, exercises in the
representation of carefully or carelessly arranged
objects, but cold to any artistic intention.

At this time particularly some principles, and a
clear intellectual understanding of what it is you
are trying to do, are needed. We have no set tra-
ditions to guide us. The times when the student
accepted the style and traditions of his master and
blindly followed them until he found himself, are
gone. Such conditions belonged to an age when
intercommunication was difficult, and when the
artistic horizon was restricted to a single town or
province. Science has altered all that, and we may
regret the loss of local colour and singleness of
aim this growth of art in separate compartments
produced; but it is unlikely that such conditions
will occur again. Quick means of transit and cheap
methods of reproduction have brought the art of
the whole world to our doors. Where formerly the
artistic food at the disposal of the student was
restricted to the few pictures in his vicinity and
some prints of others, now there is scarcely a picture
of note in the world that is not known to the
average student, either from personal inspection at
our museums and loan exhibitions, or from excellent
photographic reproductions. Not only European art,
but the art of the East, China and Japan, is part
of the formative influence by which he is sur-
rounded ; not to mention the modern science of
light and colour that has had such an influence on
technique. It is no wonder that a period of artistic
indigestion is upon us. Hence the student has need

viii

PREFACE

of sound principles and a clear understanding of
the science of his art, if he would select from this
mass of material those things which answer to his
own inner need for artistic expression.

The position of art to-day is like that of a river
where many tributaries meeting at one point, sud-
denly turn the steady flow to turbulence, the many
streams jostling each other and the different cur-
rents pulling hither and thither. After a time
these newly-met forces will adjust themselves to the
altered condition, and a larger, finer stream be the
result. Something analogous to this would seem to
be happening in art at the present time, when all
nations and all schools are acting and reacting upon
each other, and art is losing its national character-
istics. The hope of the future is that a larger and
deeper art, answering to the altered conditions of
humanity, will result.

There are those who would leave this scene of
struggling influences and away up on some bare
primitive mountain-top start a new stream, begin
all over again. But however necessary it may be
to give the primitive mountain waters that were
the start of all the streams a more prominent place
in the new flow onwards, it is unlikely that much
can come of any attempt to leave the turbulent
waters, go backwards, and start again; they can
only flow onwards. To speak more plainly, the
complexity of modern art influences may make it
necessary to call attention to the primitive principles
of expression that should never be lost sight of in
any work, but hardly justifies the attitude of those
anarchists in art who would flout the heritage
of culture we possess and attempt a new start.
Such attempts however when sincere are interest-

PREFACE

ing and may be productive of some new vitality,
adding to the weight of the main stream. But it
must be along the main stream, along lines in har-
mony with tradition that the chief advance must
be looked for.

Although it has been felt necessary to devote
much space to an attempt to find principles that
may be said to be at the basis of the art of all
nations, the executive side of the question has not
been neglected. And it is hoped that the logical
method for the study of drawing from the two
opposite points of view of line and mass here advo-
cated may be useful, and help students to avoid
some of the confusion that results from attempting
simultaneously the study of these different qualities
of form expression.

CONTENTS

CHAP. PAGE

I. INTRODUCTION .17

II. DRAWING . . . . • . * . .31

III. VISION 38

IV. LINE DRAWING .50

V. MASS DRAWING 58

VI. THE ACADEMIC AND CONVENTIONAL ... 68

VII. THE STUDY OF DRAWING ..... 80

VIII. LINE DRAWING: PRACTICAL. .... 84

IX. MASS DRAWING: PRACTICAL. . . . .110

X. RHYTHM 127

XL RHYTHM: VARIETY OF LINE . .137

XII. RHYTHM : UNITY OF LINE . . .144

XIII. RHYTHM : VARIETY OF MASS . . .185

XIV. RHYTHM: UNITY OF MASS 200

XV. RHYTHM: BALANCE .... .219

XVI. RHYTHM: PROPORTION 227

XVII. PORTRAIT DRAWING .239

XVIII. THE VISUAL MEMORY . . . . . .256

XIX. PROCEDURE 265

XX. MATERIALS 271

XXI. CONCLUSION 286

APPENDIX 289

INDEX . . . .•'•.. . . . . 292

LIST OF PLATES

PLATE

I. SET OF FOUR PHOTOGRAPHS OF THE SAME STUDY

FROM THE LIFE IN DIFFERENT STAGES . Frontispiece

PAQB

II. DRAWING BY LEONARDO DA VINCI ... 22

III. STUDY FOR "APRIL" 26

IV. STUDY FOR THE FIGURE OF " BOREAS" . . 28
V. FROM A STUDY BY BOTTICELLI . 34»

VI. STUDY BY ALFRED STEPHENS .... 36

VII. STUDY FOR THE FIGURE OF APOLLO ... 42

VIII. STUDY FOR A PICTURE ..... 46

IX. STUDY BY WATTEAU 52

X. EXAMPLE OF XVra CENTURY CHINESE WORK . 58

XI. LAS MENINAS. BY VELAZQUEZ Go

XII. STUDY ATTRIBUTED TO MICHAEL ANGELO . . 66

XIII. STUDY BY DEGAS .67

XIV. DRAWING BY ERNEST COLE 70

XV. FROM A PENCIL DRAWING BY INGRES ... 72

XVI. STUDY BY RUBENS 82

XVII. A DEMONSTRATION DRAWING AT THE GOLDSMITHS'

COLLEGE 88

XVIII. STUDY ILLUSTRATING METHOD OF DRAWING . . 90

xii

LIST OF PLATES

PLATE PAGE

XIX. ILLUSTRATING CURVED LINES . . .93

XX. STUDY FOR THE FIGURE or "Lo\E" . .100

XXI. STUDY ILLUSTRATING TREATMENT OF HAIR . 102

XXII. STUDY FOR DECORATION AT AMIENS . . 104

XXIII. DIFFERENT STAGES OF THE PAINTING FROM A

CAST (1) 110

XXIII. DIFFERENT STAGES OF THE PAINTING FROM A

CAST (2) 110

XXIV. DIFFERENT STAGES OF THE PAINTING FROM A

CAST (3) Ill

XXIV. DIFFERENT STAGES OF THE PAINTING FROM A

CAST (4) Ill

XXV. ILLUSTRATING SOME TYPICAL BRUSH STROKES . 117

XXVI. DIFFERENT STAGES OF THE SAME STUDY (1) . 122

XXVII. „ „ „ (2) . 122

XXVIII. „ „ „ (3) . 122

XXIX. „ „ „ (4) . 122

XXX. A %STUDY FOR A PICTURE OF " ROSALIND AND

ORLANDO" . . . . . .130

XXXI. ILLUSTRATIONS FROM BLAKE'S "Jon" (PLATES

I., V., X., XXI.) 146

XXXII. ILLUSTRATIONS FROM BLAKE'S "Joe" (PLATES

II., XI., XVIII., XIV.) .... 148.

XXXIII. FETE CHAMP£TRE 150

XXXIV. BACCHUS AND ARIADNE . ... l.H

XXXV. LOVE AND DEATH . . . . . .1.58

XXXVI. SURRENDER OF BREDA Ifil

xiii

LIST OF PLATES

PLATE PAGE

XXXVII. THE BIRTH OF VENUS 166

XXXVIII. THE RAPE OF EUROPA 168

XXXIX. BATTLE OF S. EGIDIO 170

XL. THE ASCENSION OF CHRIST . . . .172

XLI. THE BAPTISM OF CHRIST . . . .173

XLII. PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST'S DAUGHTER . .178

XLIII. MCNTE SOLARO, CAPRI 188

XLIV. PART OF THE " SURRENDER OF BREDA". . 194

XLV. VENUS, MERCURY, AND CUPID . . . 206

XLVI. OLYMPIA 208

XLVII. I/EMBARQUEMENT POUR CYTHERE . . . 210

XLVIII. THE ANSIDEI MADONNA 230

XLIX. FINDING OF THE BODY OF ST. MARK .- . 236

L. FROM A DRAWING BY HOLBEIN . . . 240

LI. SIR CHARLES DILKE 242

LII. JOHN REDMOND, M.P 246

LIII. THE LADY AUDLEY 248

LIV. STUDY ON BROWN PAPER .... 260

LV. FROM A SILVER POINT DRAWING . . . 274

LVI. STUDY FOR TREE IN "THE BOAR HUNT" . 282

XIV

LIST OF DIAGRAMS

DIAGRAM PAGB

I. TYPES OF FIRST DRAWINGS BY CHILDREN . . 44

II. SHOWING WHERE SQUARENESSES MAY BE LOOKED FOR 82

III. A DEVICE FOR ENABLING STUDENTS TO OBSERVE

APPEARANCES AS A FLAT SUBJECT ... 85

IV. SHOWING THREE PRINCIPLES OF CONSTRUCTION USED

IN OBSERVING MASSES, CURVES, AND POSITION OF

POINTS ..... ... 87

V. PLAN OF CONE ILLUSTRATING PRINCIPLES OF LIGHT

AND SHADE ....... 95

VI. ILLUSTRATING SOME POINTS CONNECTED WITH THE

EYES 107

VII. EGG AND DART MOULDING . . . . .139

VIII. ILLUSTRATING VARIETY IN SYMMETRY . . .140

IX. „ „ „ 142

X. ILLUSTRATING INFLUENCE OF HORIZONTAL LINES . 152

XI. ILLUSTRATING INFLUENCE OF VERTICAL LINES . 153

XII. ILLUSTRATING INFLUENCE OF THE RIGHT ANGLE . 156

XIII. LOVE AND DEATH 158

XIV. ILLUSTRATING POWER OF CURVED LINES . 164-165
XV. THE BIRTH OF VENUS 166

XVI. THE RAPE OF EUROPA 168

LIST OF DIAGRAMS

DIAGRAM FAOB

XVII. BATTLE OF S. EGIDIO 170

XVIII. SHOWING HOW LINES UNRELATED CAN BE BROUGHT

INTO HARMONY . . . . . .174

XIX. SHOWING HOW LINES UNRELATED CAN BE BROUGHT

INTO HARMONY 175

XX. THE ARTIST'S DAUGHTER 178

XXI. THE INFLUENCE ON THE FACE OF DIFFERENT

WAYS OF DOING THE HAIR . . . .180

XXII. THE INFLUENCE ON THE FACE OF DIFFERENT

WAYS OF DOING THE HAIR . . . .181

XXIII. EXAMPLES OF EARLY ITALIAN TREATMENT OF

TREES 197

XXIV. THE PRINCIPLE OF MASS OR TONE RHYTHM . 210

XXV. MASS OR TONE RHYTHM IN " ULYSSES DERID-
ING POLYPHEMUS" ..... 213

XXVI. EXAMPLE OF COROT'S SYSTEM OF MASS RHYTHM 215

XXVII. ILLUSTRATING HOW INTEREST MAY BALANCE

MASS 225

XXVIII. PROPORTION 232-234

THE PRACTICE AND SCIENCE
OF DRAWING

INTRODUCTION

THE best things in an artist's work are so much a
matter of intuition, that there is much to be said
for the point of view that would altogether dis-
courage intellectual inquiry into artistic phenomena
on the part of the artist. Intuitions are shy things
and apt to disappear if looked into too closely. And
there is undoubtedly a danger that too much know-
ledge and training may supplant the natural intuitive
feeling of a student, leaving only a cold knowledge of
the means of expression in its place. For the artist,
if he has the right stuff in him, has a consciousness,
in doing his best work, of something, as Ruskin has
said, "not in him but through him." He has been,
as it were, but the agent through which it has found
expression.

Talent can be described as " that which we have,"
and Genius as "that which has us." Now, although
we may have little control over this power that " has
us," and although it may be as well to abandon
oneself unreservedly to its influence, there can be
little doubt as to its being the business of the artist
to see to it that his talent be so developed, that he

17 B

; VINTKODUCTION

may prove a fit instrument for the expression of
whatever it may be given him to express; while
it must be left to his individual temperament to
decide how far it is advisable to pursue any intel-
lectual analysis of the elusive things that are the
true matter of art.

Provided the student realises this, and that art
training can only deal with the perfecting of a means
of expression and that the real matter of art lies
above this and is beyond the scope of teaching, he
cannot have too much of it. For although he must
ever be a child before the influences that move him,
if it is not with the knowledge of the grown man
that he takes off his coat and approaches the craft of
painting or drawing, he will be poorly equipped to
make them a means of conveying to others in ade-
quate form the things he may wish to express.
Great things are only done in art when the creative
instinct of the artist has a well-organised executive
faculty at its disposal.

Of the two divisions into which the technical
study of painting can be divided, namely Form
and Colour, we are concerned in this book with
Form alone. But before proceeding to our immediate
subject, something should be said as to the nature
of art generally, not with the ambition of arriving
at any final result in a short chapter, but merely
in order to give an idea of the point of view from
which the following pages are written, so that mis-
understandings may be avoided.

The variety of definitions that exist justifies some
inquiry. The following are a few that come to
mind:

" Art is nature expressed through a personality."
18

INTRODUCTION

But what of architecture ? Or music ? Then there is
Morris's

" Art is the expression of pleasure in work."

But this does not apply to music and poetry. Andrew
Lang's

" Everything which we distinguish from nature "
seems too broad to catch hold of, while Tolstoy's

" An action by means of which one man, having experienced
a feeling, intentionally transmits it to others "

is nearer the truth, and covers all the arts, but seems,
from its omitting any mention of rhythm, very in-
adequate.

Now the facts of life are conveyed by our senses
to the consciousness within us, and stimulate the
world of thought and feeling that constitutes our
real life. Thought and feeling are very intimately
connected, few of our mental perceptions, particularly
when they first dawn upon us, being unaccompanied
by some feeling. But there is this general division
to be made, on one extreme of which is what we
call pure intellect, and on the other pure feeling or
emotion. The arts, I take it, are a means of giving
expression to the emotional side of this mental
activity, intimately related as it often is to the more
purely intellectual side. The more sensual side of
this feeling is perhaps its lowest, while the feelings
associated with the intelligence, the little sensitive-
nesses of perception that escape pure intellect, are
possibly its noblest experiences.

Pure intellect seeks to construct from the facts
brought to our consciousness by the senses, an accu-

INTRODUCTION

rately measured world of phenomena, uncoloured by
the human equation in each of us. It seeks to create
a point of view outside the human standpoint, one
more stable and accurate, unaffected by the ever-
changing current of human life. It therefore invents
mechanical instruments to do the measuring of our
sense perceptions, as their records are more accurate
than human observation unaided.

But while in science observation is made much
more effective by the use of mechanical instruments
in registering facts, the facts with which art deals,
being those of feeling, can only be recorded by the
feeling instrument — man, and are entirely missed
by any mechanically devised substitutes.

The artistic intelligence is not interested in
things from this standpoint of mechanical accuracy,
but in the effect of observation on the living con-
sciousness— the sentient individual in each of us.
The same fact accurately portrayed by a number
of artistic intelligences should be different in each
case, whereas the same fact accurately expressed by
a number of scientific intelligences should be the
same.

But besides the feelings connected with a wide
range of experience, each art has certain emotions be-
longing to the particular sense perceptions connected
with it. That is to say, there are some that only
music can convey : those connected with sound ; others
that only painting, sculpture, or architecture can
convey: those connected with the form and colour
that they severally deal with.

In abstract form and colour — that is, form and
colour unconnected with natural appearances — there
is an emotional power, such as there is in music,
the sounds of which have no direct connection with

INTRODUCTION

anything in nature, but only with that mysterious
sense we have, the sense of Harmony, Beauty, or
Rhythm (all three but different aspects of the same
thing).

This inner sense is a very remarkable fact, and
will be found to some extent in all, certainly all
civilised, races. And when the art of a remote people
like the Chinese and Japanese is understood, our
senses of harmony are found to be wonderfully in
agreement. Despite the fact that their art has de-
veloped on lines widely different from our own,
none the less, when the surprise at its newness
has worn off and we begin to understand it, we
find it conforms to very much the same sense of
harmony.

But apart from the feelings connected directly
with the means of expression, there appears to be
much in common between all the arts in their most
profound expression ; there seems to be a common
cdntre in our inner life that they all appeal to.
Possibly at this centre are the great primitive
emotions common to all men. The religious group,
the deep awe and reverence men feel when con-
templating the great mystery of the Universe
and their own littleness in the face of its vastness
—the desire to correspond and develop relationship
with the something outside themselves that is
felt to be behind and through all things. Then
there are those connected with the joy of life, the
throbbing of the great life spirit, the gladness of
being, the desire of the sexes ; and also those con-
nected with the sadness and mystery of death and
decay, &c.

The technical side of an art is, however, not
concerned with these deeper motives but with the

INTRODUCTION

things of sense through which they find expression ;
in the case of painting, the visible universe.

The artist is capable of being stimulated to
artistic expression by all things seen, no matter
what ; to him nothing comes amiss. Great pictures
have been made of beautiful people in beautiful
clothes and of squalid people in ugly clothes, of
beautiful architectural buildings and the ugly hovels
of the poor. And the same painter who painted the
Alps painted the Great Western Railway.

The visible world is to the artist, as it were, a
wonderful garment, afc times revealing to him the
Beyond, the Inner Truth there is in all things. He
has a consciousness of some correspondence with
something the other side of visible things and dimly
felt through them, a " still, small voice " which he is
impelled to interpret to man. It is the expression of
this all-pervading inner significance that I think we
recognise as beauty, and that prompted Keats to

say:

" Beauty is truth, truth beauty."

And hence it is that the love of truth and the
love of beauty can exist together in the work of the
artist. The search for this inner truth is the search
for beauty. People whose vision does not penetrate
beyond the narrow limits of the commonplace, and
to whom a cabbage is but a vulgar vegetable, are sur-
prised if they see a beautiful picture painted of one,
and say that the artist has idealised it, meaning that
he has consciously altered its appearance on some
idealistic formula; whereas he has probably only
honestly given expression to a truer, deeper vision
than they had been aware of. The commonplace is
not the true, but only the shallow, view of things.

Plate II

DRAWING BY LEONARDO DA VINCI FROM THE
ROYAL COLLECTION AT WINDSOR

INTRODUCTION

Fromentin's
" Art is the expression of the invisible by means of the visible "

expresses the same idea, and it is this that gives
to art its high place among the works of man.

Beautiful things seem to put us in correspondence
with a world the harmonies of which are more
perfect, and bring a deeper peace than this imperfect
life seems capable of yielding of itself. Our moments
of peace are, I think, always associated with some
form of beauty, of this spark of harmony within
corresponding with some infinite source without.
Like a mariner's compass, we are restless until we
find repose in this one direction. In moments of
beauty (for beauty is, strictly speaking, a state of
mind rather than an attribute of certain objects,
although certain things have the power of inducing
it more than others) we seem to get a glimpse of
this deeper truth behind the things of sense. And
who can say but that this sense, dull enough in most
of us, is not an echo of a greater harmony existing
somewhere the other side of things, that we dimly
feel through them, evasive though it is.

But we must tread lightly in these rarefied
regions and get on to more practical concerns. By
finding and emphasising in his work those elements
in visual appearances that express these profounder
things, the painter is enabled to stimulate the per-
ception of them in others.

In the representation of a fine mountain, for
instance, there are, besides all its rhythmic beauty
of form and colour, associations touching deeper
chords in our natures — associations connected with
its size, age, and permanence, &c. ; at any rate we
have more feelings than form and colour of them-

INTRODUCTION

selves are capable of arousing. And these things
must be felt by the painter, and his picture painted
under the influence of these feelings, if he is instinc-
tively to select those elements of form and colour
that convey them. Such deeper feelings are far
too intimately associated even with the finer beauties
of mere form and colour for the painter to be able
to neglect them ; no amount of technical knowledge
will take the place of feeling, or direct the painter
so surely in his selection of what is fine.

There are those who would say, " This is all very
well, but the painter's concern is with form and
colour and paint, and nothing else. If he paints the
mountain faithfully from that point of view, it will
suggest all these other associations to those who
want them." And others who would say that the
form and colour of appearances are only to be used
as a language to give expression to the feelings
common to all men. " Art for art's sake " and " Art
for subject's sake." There are these two extreme
positions to consider, and it will depend on the indi-
vidual on which side his work lies. His interest will
be more on the a3sthetic side, in the feelings directly
concerned with form and colour ; or on the side of the
mental associations connected with appearances, ac-
cording to his temperament. But neither position
can neglect the other without fatal loss. The picture
of form and colour will never be able to escape the
associations connected with visual things, neither
will the picture all for subject be able to get away
from its form and colour. And it is wrong to say
" If he paints the mountain faithfully from the form
and colour point of view it will suggest all those
other associations to those who want them," unless,
as is possible with a simple.-minded painter, he

INTRODUCTION

be unconsciously moved by deeper feelings, and
impelled to select the significant things while only
conscious of his paint. But the chances are that
his picture will convey the things he was thinking
about, and, in consequence, instead of impressing
us with the grandeur of the mountain, will say
something very like "See what a clever painter I
am ! " Unless the artist has painted his picture
under the influence of the deeper feelings the scene
was capable of producing, it is not likely anybody
will be so impressed when they look at his work.

And the painter deeply moved with high ideals
as to subject matter, who neglects the form and
colour through which he is expressing them, will
find that his work has failed to be convincing. The
immaterial can only be expressed through the
material in art, and the painted symbols of the
picture must be very perfect if subtle and elusive
meanings are to be conveyed. If he cannot paint
the commonplace aspect of our mountain, how can
he expect to paint any expression of the deeper
things in it? The fact is, both positions are in-
complete. In all good art the matter expressed
and the manner of its expression are so intimate
as to have become one. The deeper associations
connected with the mountain are only matters for
art in so far as they affect its appearance and take
shape as form and colour in the mind of the artist,
informing the whole process of the painting, even
to the brush strokes. As in a good poem, it is
impossible to consider the poetic idea apart from
the words that express it : they are fired together
at its creation.

Now an expression by means of one of our dif-
ferent sense perceptions does not constitute art, or

INTRODUCTION

the boy shouting at the top of his voice, giving ex-
pression to his delight in life but making a horrible
noise, would be an artist. If his expression is to be
adequate to convey his feeling to others, there must
be some arrangement. The expression must be
ordered, rhythmic, or whatever word most fitly
conveys the idea of those powers, conscious or un-
conscious, that select and arrange the sensuous
material of art, so as to make the most telling impres-
sion, by bringing it into relation with our innate
sense of harmony. If we can find a rough definition
that will include all the arts, it will help us to see
in what direction lie those things in painting that
make it an art. The not uncommon idea, that
painting is "the production by means of colours
of more or less perfect representations of natural
objects " will not do. And it is devoutly to be hoped
that science will perfect a method of colour photo-
graphy finally to dispel this illusion.

What, then, will serve as a working definition?
There must be something about feeling, the expres-
sion of that individuality the secret of which every-
one carries in himself; the expression of that ego
that perceives and is moved by the phenomena of
life around us. And, on the other hand, something
about the ordering of its expression.

But who knows of words that can convey a just
idea of such subtle matter? If one says "Art is
the rhythmic expression of Life, or emotional con-
sciousness, or feeling," all are inadequate. Perhaps
the " rhythmic expression of life " would be the more
perfect definition. But the word " life " is so much
more associated with eating and drinking in the
popular mind, than with the spirit or force or what-
ever you care to call it, that exists behind conscious-

Plate III

STUDY FOR " APRIL"

In red chalk on toned paper.

INTRODUCTION

ness and is the animating factor of our whole being,
that it will hardly serve a useful purpose. So that,
perhaps, for a rough, practical definition that will
at least point away from the mechanical perfor-
mances that so often pass for art, " the Rhythmic ex-
pression of Feeling " will do : for hy Rhythm is meant
that ordering of the materials of art (form and
colour, in the case of painting) so as to bring them
into relationship with our innate sense of harmony
which gives them their expressive power. Without
this relationship we have no direct means, of making
the sensuous material of art awaken an answering
echo in others. The boy shouting at the top of his
voice, making a horrible noise, was not an artist be-
cause his expression was inadequate — was not related
to the underlying sense of harmony that would have
given it expressive power.

Let us test this definition with some simple cases.
Here is a savage, shouting and flinging his arms and
legs about in wild delight; he is not an artist, al-
though he may be moved by life and feeling. But
let this shouting be done on some ordered plan, to a
rhythm expressive of joy and delight, and his leg
and arm movements governed by it also, and he has
become an artist, and singing and dancing (possibly
the oldest of the arts) will result.

Or take the case of one who has been deeply
moved by something he has seen, say a man killed
by a wild beast, which he wishes to tell his friends.
If he just explains the facts as he saw them, making
no effort to order his words so as to make the most
telling impression upon his hearers and convey to
them something of the feelings that are stirring in
him, if he merely does this, he is not an artist, al-
though the recital of such a terrible incident may be

INTRODUCTION

moving. But the moment he arranges his words so
as to convey in a telling manner not only the plain
facts, but the horrible feelings he experienced at the
sight, he has become an artist. And if he further
orders his words to a rhythmic beat, a beat in sym-
pathy with his subject, he has become still more
artistic, and a primitive form of poetry will result.

Or in building a hut, so long as a man is inter-
ested solely in the utilitarian side of the matter,
as are so many builders to-day, and just puts up
walls as he needs protection from wild beasts, and a
roof to keep out the rain, he is not yet an artist.
But the moment he begins to consider his work with
some feeling, and arranges the relative sizes of his
walls and roof so that they answer to some sense
he has for beautiful proportion, he has become an
artist, and his hut has some architectural preten-
sions. Now if his hut is of wood, and he paints it
to protect it from the elements, nothing necessarily
artistic has been done. But if he selects colours that
give him pleasure in their arrangement, and if the
forms his colour masses assume are designed with
some personal feeling, he has invented a primitive
form of decoration.

And likewise the savage who, wishing to illustrate
his description of a strange animal he has seen, takes
a piece of burnt wood and draws on the wall his
idea of what it looked like, a sort of catalogue of its
appearance, he is not necessarily an artist. It is
only when he draws under the influence of some
feeling, of some pleasure he felt in the appearance
of the animal, that he becomes an artist.

Of course in each case it is assumed that the
men have the power to be moved by these things,
and whether they are good or poor artists will

STUDY ON TISSUE-PAPER IN RED CHALK FOR FIGURE OF BOREAS

INTRODUCTION

depend on the quality of their feeling and the fitness
of its expression.

The purest form of this "rhythmic expression
of feeling " is music. And as Walter Pater shows us
in his essay on " The School of Giorgione," " music is
the type of art." The others are more artistic as
they approach its conditions. Poetry, the most
musical form of literature, is its most artistic form.
And in the greatest pictures form, colour, and idea
are united to thrill us with harmonies analogous
to music.

The painter expresses his feelings through the
representation of the visible world of Nature, and
through the representation of those combinations of
form and colour inspired in his imagination, that
were all originally derived from visible nature. If he
fails from lack of skill to make his representation con-
vincing to reasonable people, no matter how sublime
has been his artistic intention, he will probably
have landed in the ridiculous. And yet, so great is
the power of direction exercised by the emotions on
the artist that it .is seldom his work fails to convey
something, when genuine feeling has been the motive.
On the other hand, the painter with no artistic
impulse who makes a laboriously commonplace
picture of some ordinary or pretentious subject,
has equally failed as an artist, however much the
skilfulness of his representations may gain him re-
putation with the unthinking.

The study, therefore, of the representation of visible
nature and of the powers of expression possessed by
form and colour is the object of the painter's training.

And a command over this power of representation
and expression is absolutely necessary if he is to
be capable of doing anything worthy of his art.

INTRODUCTION

This is all in art that one can attempt to teach.
The emotional side is beyond the scope of teaching.
You cannot teach people how to feel. All you can
do is to surround them with the conditions calculated
to stimulate any natural feeling they may possess.
And this is done by familiarising students with the
best works of art and nature.

It is surprising how few art students have any
idea of what it is that constitutes art. They are
impelled, ib is to be assumed, by a natural desire
to express themselves by painting, and, if their
intuitive ability is strong enough, it perhaps matters
little whether they know or not. But to the larger
number who are not so violently impelled, it is
highly essential that they have some better idea of
art than that it consists in setting down your canvas
before nature and copying it.

Inadequate as this imperfect treatment of a pro-
foundly interesting subject is, it may serve to give
some idea of the point of view from which the
following pages are written, and if it also serves to
disturb the "copying theory" in the minds of any
students and encourages them to make further
inquiry, it will have served a useful purpose.

DRAWING

BY drawing is here meant the expression of form
upon a plane surface.

Art probably owes more to form for its range
of expression than to colour. Many of the noblest
things it is capable of conveying are expressed by
form more directly than by anything else. And it
is interesting to notice how some of the world's
greatest artists have been very restricted in their
use of colour, preferring to depend on form for their
chief appeal. It is reported that Apelles only used
three colours, black, red, and yellow, and Rembrandt
used little else. Drawing, although the first, is also
the last, thing the painter usually studies. There
is more in it that can be taught and that repays
constant application and effort. Colour would seem
to depend much more on a natural sense and to be
less amenable to teaching. A well-trained eye for
the appreciation of form is what every student
should set himself to acquire with all the might of
which he is capable.

It is not enough in artistic drawing to portray
accurately and in cold blood the appearance of
objects. To express form one must first be moved
by it. There is in the appearance of all objects,
animate and inanimate, what has been called an
significance, a hidden rhythm that is not
31

DRAWING

caught by the accurate, painstaking, but cold artist.
The form significance of which we speak is never
found in a mechanical reproduction like a photo-
graph. You are never moved to say when looking
at one, " What fine form."

It is difficult to say in what this quality consists.
The emphasis and selection that is unconsciously
given in a drawing done directly under the guidance
of strong feeling, are too subtle to be tabulated ; they
escape analysis. But it is this selection of the sig-
nificant and suppression of the non-essential that
often gives to a few lines drawn quickly, and having
a somewhat remote relation to the complex appear-
ance of the real object, more vitality and truth than
are to be found in a highly- wrought and painstaking
drawing, during the process of which the essential
and vital things have been lost sight of in the
labour of the work ; and the non-essential, which is
usually more obvious, has been allowed to creep in
and obscure the original impression. Of course, had
the finished drawing been done with the mind centred
upon the particular form significance aimed at, and
every touch and detail added in tune to this idea,
the comparison m~ght have been different. But it
is rarely that good drawings are done this way.
Fine things seem only to be seen in flashes, and the
nature that can carry over the impression of one of
these moments during the labour of a highly- wrought
drawing is very rare, and belongs to the few great
ones of the craft alone.

It is difficult to know why one should be moved
by the expression of form; but it appears to have
some physical influence over us. In looking at a
fine drawing, say of a strong man, we seem to identify
ourselves with it and feel a thrill of its strength in

DRAWING

our own bodies, prompting us to set our teeth, stiffen
our frame, and exclaim "That's fine." Or, when
looking at the drawing of a beautiful woman, we
are softened by its charm and feel in ourselves
something of its sweetness as we exclaim, " How
beautiful." The measure of the feeling in either case
will be the extent to which the artist has identified
himself with the subject when making the drawing,
and has been impelled to select the expressive elements
in the forms.

Art thus enables us to experience life at second
hand. The small man may enjoy somewhat of the
wider experience of the bigger man, and be edu-
cated to appreciate in time a wider experience for
himself. This is the true justification for public picture
galleries. Not so much for the moral influence they
exert, of which we have heard so much, but that
people may be led through the vision of the artist
to enlarge their experience of life. This enlarging
of the experience is true education, and a very
different thing from the memorising of facts that
so often passes as such. In a way this may be said
to be a moral influence, as a larger mind is less
likely to harbour small meannesses. But this is not
the kind of moral influence usually looked for by
the many, who rather demand a moral story told by
the picture; a thing not always suitable to artistic
expression.

One is always profoundly impressed by the
expression of a sense of bulk, vastness, or mass in
form. There is a feeling of being lifted out of one's
puny self to something bigger and more stable. It
is this splendid feeling of bigness in Michael Angelo's
figures that is so satisfying. One cannot come away
from the contemplation of that wonderful ceiling of

33 C

DRAWING

his in the Vatican without the sense of having
experienced something of a larger life than one had
known before. Never has the dignity of man
reached so high an expression in paint, a height
that has been the despair of all who have since
tried to follow that lonely master. In landscape
also this expression of largeness is fine : one likes to
feel the weight and mass of the ground, the vastness
of the sky and sea, the bulk of a mountain.

On the other hand one is charmed also by the
expression of lightness. This may be noted in much
of the work of Botticelli and the Italians of the
fifteenth century. Botticelli's figures seldom have
any weight; they drift about as if walking on air,
giving a delightful feeling of otherworldliness. The
hands of the Madonna that hold the Child might be
holding flowers for any sense of support they ex-
press. It is, I think, on this sense of lightness that
a great deal of the exquisite charm of Botticelli's
drawing depends.

The feathery lightness of clouds and of draperies
blown by the wind is always pleasing, and Botticelli
nearly always has a light wind passing through his
draperies to give them this sense.

As will be explained later, in connection with
academic drawing, it is eminently necessary for the
student to train his eye accurately to observe the
forms of things by the most painstaking of drawings.
In these school studies feeling need not be considered,
but only a cold accuracy. In the same way a singer
trains himself to sing scales, giving every note
exactly the same weight and preserving a most
mechanical time throughout, so that every note of his
voice may be accurately under his control and be
equal to the subtlest variations he may afterwards

Plate V

FROM A STUDY BY BOTTICELLI

In the Print Room at the British Museum.

DRAWING

want to infuse into it at the dictates of feeling. For
how can the draughtsman, who does not know how
to draw accurately the cold, commonplace view of
an object, hope to give expression to the subtle
differences presented by the same thing seen under
the excitement of strong feeling ?

These academic drawings, too, should be as
highly finished as hard application can make them,
so that the habit of minute visual expression may be
acquired. It will be needed later, when drawing of
a finer kind is attempted, and when in the heat of an
emotional stimulus the artist has no time to consider
the smaller subtleties of drawing, which by then
should have become almost instinctive with him,
leaving his mind free to dwell on the bigger
qualities.

Drawing, then, to be worthy of the name, must
be more ' than what is called accurate. It must
present the form of things in a more vivid manner
than we ordinarily see them in nature. Every new
draughtsman in the history of art has discovered a
new significance in the form of common things, and
given the world a new experience. He has repre-
sented these qualities under the stimulus of the
feeling they inspired in him, hot and underlined,
as it were, adding to the great book of sight the
world possesses in its art, a book by no means
completed yet.

So that to say of a drawing, as is so often said,
that it is not true because it does not present the
commonplace appearance of an object accurately,
may be foolish. Its accuracy depends on the com-
pleteness with which it conveys the particular
emotional significance that is the object of the
drawing. What this significance is will vary

DRAWING

enormously with the individual artist, but it is
only by this standard that the accuracy of the
drawing can be judged.

It is this difference between scientific accuracy
and artistic accuracy that puzzles so many people.
Science demands that phenomena be observed with
the unemotional accuracy of a weighing machine,
while artistic accuracy demands that things be
observed by a sentient individual recording the
sensations produced in him by the phenomena of
life. And people with the scientific habit that is
now so common among us, seeing a picture or
drawing in which what are called facts have been
expressed emotionally, are puzzled, if they are
modest, or laugh at what they consider a glaring
mistake in drawing if they are not, when all the
time it may be their mistaken point of view that
is at fault.

But while there is no absolute artistic standard
by which accuracy of drawing can be judged, as
such standard must necessarily vary with the artistic
intention of each individual artist, this fact must
not be taken as an excuse for any obviously faulty
drawing that incompetence may produce, as is often
done by students, who when corrected, say that they
" saw it so." For there undoubtedly exists a rough
physical standard of Tightness in drawing, any
violent deviations from which, even at the dictates
of emotional expression, is productive of the gro-
tesque. This physical standard of accuracy in his
work it is the business of the student to acquire in
his academic training; and every aid that science
can give by such studies as Perspective, Anatomy,
and, in the case of Landscape, even Geology and
Botany, should be used to increase the accuracy of

Plate VI

STUDY IN NATURAL RED CHALK BY ALFRED STEPHENS

From the collection of Charles Ricketts and Charles Shannon

DRAWING

his representations. For the strength of appeal
in artistic work will depend much on the power the
artist possesses of expressing himself through repre-
sentations that arrest everyone by their truth and
naturalness. And although, when truth and natural-
ness exist without any artistic expression, the result
is of little account as art, on the other hand, when
truly artistic expression is clothed in representations
that offend our ideas of physical truth, it is only
the few who can forgive the offence for the sake
of the genuine feeling they perceive behind it.

How far the necessities of expression may be
allowed to override the dictates of truth to physical
structure in the appearance of objects, will always
be a much debated point. In the best drawing the
departures from mechanical accuracy are so subtle
that I have no doubt many will deny the existence
of such a thing altogether. Good artists of strong
natural inspiration, but simple minds, are often quite
unconscious of doing anything but being as mechani-
cally accurate as possible, when painting.

Yet however much it may be advisable to let
yourself go in artistic work, during your academic
training let your aim be a searching accuracy.

Ill

VISION

IT is necessary to say something about Vision in the
first place, if we are to have any grasp of the idea
of form.

An act of vision is not so simple a matter as the
student who asked her master if she should "paint
nature as she saw nature " would seem to have
thought. And his answer, "Yes, madam, provided
you don't see nature as you paint nature," expressed
the first difficulty the student of painting has to
face : the difficulty of learning to see.

Let us roughly examine what we know of vision.
Science tells us that all objects are made visible to
us by means of light ; and that white light, by which
we see things in what may be called their normal
aspect, is composed of all the colours of the solar
spectrum, as may be seen in a rainbow ; a phe-
nomenon caused, as everybody knows, by the sun's
rays being split up into their component parts.

This light travels in straight lines and, striking
objects before us, is reflected in all directions. Some
of these rays passing through a point situated behind
the lenses of the eye, strike the retina. The multi-
plication of these rays on the retina produces a
picture of whatever is before the eye, such as can
be seen on the ground glass at the back of a

VISION

photographer's camera, or on the table of a camera
obscura, both of which instruments are constructed
roughly on the same principle as the human eye.

These rays of light when reflected from an object,
and again when passing through the atmosphere,
undergo certain modifications. Should the object be
a red one, the yellow, green, and blue rays, all, in
fact, except the red rays, are absorbed by the object,
while the red is allowed to escape. These red rays
striking the retina produce certain effects which
convey to our consciousness the sensation of red, and
we say "That is a red object." But there may be
particles of moisture or dust in the air that will
modify the red rays so that by the time they reach
the eye they may be somewhat different. This modi-
fication is naturally most effective when a large
amount of atmosphere has to be passed through, and
in things very distant the colour of the natural
object is often entirely lost, to be replaced by atmos-
pheric colours, as we see in distant mountains when
the air is not perfectly clear. But we must not stray
into the fascinating province of colour.

What chiefly concerns us here is the fact that the
pictures on our retinas are flat, of two dimensions,
the same as the canvas on which we paint. If you
examine these visual pictures without any prejudice,
as one may with a camera obscura, you will see that
they are composed of masses of colour in infinite
variety and complexity, of different shapes and grada-
tions, and with many varieties of edges ; giving to the
eye the illusion of nature with actual depths and
distances, although one knows all the time that it
is a flat table on which one is looking.

Seeing then that our eyes have only flat pictures
containing two - dimension infonnation about the

VISION

objective world, from whence is this knowledge of
distance and the solidity of things? How do we
see the third dimension, the depth and thickness, by
means of flat pictures of two dimensions ?

The power to judge distance is due principally
to our possessing two eyes situated in slightly differ-
ent positions, from which we get two views of
objects, and also to the power possessed by the eyes
of focussing at different distances, others being out
of focus for the time being. In a picture the eyes
can only focus at one distance (the distance the eye
is from the plane of the picture when you are
looking at it), and this is one of the chief causes
of the perennial difficulty in painting backgrounds.
In nature they are out of focus when one is looking
at an object, but in a painting the background is
necessarily on the same focal plane as the object.
Numerous are the devices resorted to by painters
to overcome this difficulty, but they do not concern
us here.

The fact that we have two flat pictures on our
two retinas to help us, and that we can focus at
different planes, would not suffice to account for
our knowledge of the solidity and shape of the
objective world, were these senses not associated
with another sense all important in ideas of form,
the sense of touch.

This sense is very highly developed in us, and
the earlier period of our existence is largely given
over to feeling for the objective world outside our-
selves. Who has not watched the little baby hands
feeling for everything within reach, and without its
reach, for the matter of that ; for the infant has no
knowledge yet of what is and what is not within its
reach. Who has not offered some bright object to a

VISION

young child and watched its clumsy attempts to feel
for it, almost as clumsy at first as if it were blind
as it has not yet learned to focus distances. And
when he has at last got hold of it, how eagerly he
feels it all over, looking intently at it all the time ;
thus learning early to associate the "feel of an
object " with its appearance. In this way by degrees
he acquires those ideas of roughness and smooth-
ness, hardness and softness, solidity, &c., which later
on he will be able to distinguish by vision alone,
and without touching the object.

Our survival depends so much on this sense of
touch, that it is of the first importance to us. We
must know whether the ground is hard enough for
us to walk on, or whether there is a hole in front
of us ; and masses of colour rays striking the retina,
which is what vision amounts to, will not of them-
selves tell'us. But associated with the knowledge
accumulated in our early years, by connecting touch
with sight, we do know when certain combinations
of colour rays strike the eye that there is a road
for us to walk on, and that when certain other
combinations occur there is a hole in front of us,
or the edge of a precipice.

And likewise with hardness and softness, the child
who strikes his head against the bed-post is forcibly
reminded by nature that such things are to be
avoided, and feeling that it is hard and that hard-
ness has a certain look, it avoids that kind of thing
in the future. And when it strikes its head against
the pillow, it learns the nature of softness, and
associating this sensation with the appearance of
the pillow, knows in future that when softness
is observed it need not be avoided as hardness
must be.

VISION

Sight is therefore not a matter of the eye alone.
A whole train of associations connected with the
objective world is set going in the mind when rays
of light strike the retina refracted from objects.
And these associations vary enormously in quantity
and value with different individuals ; but the one
we are here chiefly concerned with is this universal
one of touch. Everybody "sees" the shape of an
object, and " sees " whether it " looks " hard or soft,
&c. Sees, in other words, the " feel " of it.

If you are asked to think of an object, say a
cone, it will not, I think, be the visual aspect that
will occur to most people. They will think of a
circular base from which a continuous side slopes
up to a point situated above its centre, as one
would feel it. The fact that in almost every visual
aspect the base line is that of an ellipse, not a
circle, comes as a surprise to people unaccustomed
to drawing.

But above these cruder instances, what a wealth
of associations crowd in upon the mind, when a
sight that moves one is observed. Put two men
before a scene, one an ordinary person and the
other a great poet, and ask them to describe what
they see. Assuming them both to be possessed of a
reasonable power honestly to express themselves,
what a difference would there be in the value of
their descriptions. Or take two painters both equally
gifted in the power of expressing their visual per-
ceptions, and put them before the scene to paint
it. And assuming one to be a commonplace man
and the other a great artist, what a difference will
there be in their work. The commonplace painter
will paint a commonplace picture, while the form
and colour will be the means of stirring deep associ-

Plate VII

STUDY FOB THE FIGURE OF APOLLO IN THE PICTURE
"APOLLO AND DAPHNE "

In natural red chalk rubbed with fineer: the hierh Herhts are nicked out with rubber.

VISION

ations and feelings in the mind of the other, and
will move him to paint the scene so that the same
splendour of associations may be conveyed to the
beholder.

But to return to our infant mind. While the
development of the perception of things has been
going on, the purely visual side of the question, the
observation of the picture on the retina for what
it is as form and colour, has been neglected —
neglected to such an extent that when the child
comes to attempt drawing, sight 'is not the sense he
consults. The mental idea of the objective world
that has grown up in his mind is now associated
more directly with touch than with sight, with the
felt shape rather than the visual appearance". So
that if he is asked to draw a head, he thinks of it
first as an object having a continuous boundary in
space. This his mind instinctively conceives as a
line. Then, hair he expresses by a row of little
lines coming out from the boundary, all round the
top. He thinks of eyes as two points or circles, or
as points in circles, and the nose either as a triangle
or an L- shaped line. If you feel the nose you will
see the reason of this. Down the front you have
the L line, and if you feel round it you will find
the two sides meeting at the top and a base joining
them, suggesting the triangle. The mouth similarly
is an opening with a row of teeth, which are gener-
ally shown although so seldom seen, but always
apparent if the mouth is felt (see diagram A). This
is, I think, a fair type of the first drawing the ordi
nary child makes — and judging by some ancient
scribbling of the same order I remember noticing
scratched on a wall at Pompeii, and by savage draw-
ing generally, it appears to be a fairly universal

VISION

type. It is a very remarkable thing which, as far
as I know, has not yet been pointed out, that in
these first attempts at drawing the vision should
not be consulted. A blind man would not draw
differently, could he but see to draw. Were vision
the first sense consulted, and were the simplest visual

Diagram I

A, TYPE OF FIRST DRAWING MADE BY CHILDREN,

SHOWING HOW VISION HAS NOT BEEN CONSULTED

B, TYPE OF WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPECTED IF

CRUDEST EXPRESSION OF VISUAL APPEARANCE
HAD BEEN ATTEMPTED

appearance sought after, one might expect some-
thing like diagram B, the shadows under eyes, nose,
mouth, and chin, with the darker mass of the hair
being the simplest thing the visual appearance can
be reduced to. But despite this being quite as easy
to do, it does not appeal to the ordinary child as
the other type does, because it does not satisfy the

VISION

sense of touch that forms so large a part of the
idea of an object in the mind. All architectural eleva-
tions and geometrical projections generally appeal
to this mental idea of form. They consist of views
of a building or object that could never possibly
be seen by anybody, assuming as they do that the
eye of the spectator is exactly in front of every
part of the building at the same time, a physical
impossibility. And yet so removed from the actual
visual appearance is our mental idea of objects that
such drawings do convey a very accurate idea of
a building or object. And of course they have great
advantage as working drawings in that they can be
scaled.

If so early the sense of vision is neglected and
relegated to be the handmaiden of other senses, it
is no wonder that in the average adult it is in such
a shocking ' state of neglect. I feel convinced that
with the great majority of people vision is seldom
if ever consulted for itself, but only to minister
to some other sense. They look at the sky to see
if it is going to be fine ; at the fields to see if they
are dry enough to walk on, or whether there will
be a good crop of hay ; at the stream not to observe
the beauty of the reflections from the blue sky or
green fields dancing upon its surface or the rich
colouring of its shadowed depths, but to calculate
how deep it is or how much power it would supply
to work a mill, how many fish it contains, or some
other association alien to its visual aspect. If one
looks up at a fine mass of cumulus clouds above
a London street, the ordinary passer-by who follows
one's gaze expects to see a balloon or a flying-machine
at least, and when he sees it is only clouds he is apt
to wonder what one is gazing at. The beautiful

VISION

form and colour of the cloud seem to be unobserved.
Clouds mean nothing to him but an accumulation
of water dust that may bring rain. This accounts
in some way for the number of good paintings that
are incomprehensible to the majority of people. It
is only those pictures that pursue the visual aspect
of objects to a sufficient completion to contain the
suggestion of these other associations, that they
understand at all. Other pictures, they say, are
not finished enough. And it is so seldom that a
picture can have this petty realisation and at the
same time be an expression of those larger emotional
qualities that constitute good painting.

The early paintings of the Pre-Raphaelite Brother-
hood appear to be a striking exception to this. But
in their work the excessive realisation of all details
was part of the expression and gave emphasis to
the poetic idea at the basis of their pictures, and
was therefore part of the artistic intention. In
these paintings the fiery intensity with which every -
little detail was painted made their picture a ready
medium for the expression of poetic thought, a
sort of " painted poetry," every detail being selected *
on account of some symbolic meaning it had, bear-
ing on the poetic idea that was the object of the
picture.

But to those painters who do not attempt " painted
poetry," but seek in painting a poetry of its own,
a visual poetry, this excessive finish (as it is called)
is irksome, as it mars the expression of those
qualities in vision they wish to express. Finish
in art has no connection with the amount of detail
in a picture, but has reference only to the complete-
ness with which the emotional idea the painter set
out to express has been realised.

Plate VIII

STUDY FOR A PICTURE

In red conte chalk and white pastel rubbed on toned paper.

VISION

The visual blindness of the majority of people
is greatly to be deplored, as nature is ever offering
them on their retina, even in the meanest slum,
a music of colour and form that is a constant source
of pleasure to those who can see it. But so many
are content to use this wonderful faculty of vision
for utilitarian purposes only. It is the privilege of
the artist to show how wonderful and beautiful is
all this music of colour and form, so that people,
having been moved by it in his work, may be
encouraged to see the same beauty in the things
around them. This is the best argument in favour
of making art a subject of general education : that
it should teach people to see. Everybody does not
need to draw and paint, but if everybody could get
the faculty of appreciating the form and colour on
their retinas as form and colour, what a wealth
would always be at their disposal for enjoyment !
The Japanese habit of looking at a landscape upside
down between their legs is a way of seeing without
the deadening influence of touch associations. Thus
looking, one is surprised into seeing for once the
colour and form of things with the association of
touch for the moment forgotten, and is puzzled at
the beauty. The odd thing is that although thus
we see things upside down, the pictures on our
retinas are for once the right way up ; for ordinarily
the visual picture is inverted on the retina, like that
on the ground glass at the back of a photographic
camera.

To sum up this somewhat rambling chapter, I
have endeavoured to show that there are two as-
pects from which the objective world can be ap-
prehended. There is the purely mental perception
founded chiefly on knowledge derived from our sense

VISION

of touch associated with vision, whose primitive in-
stinct is to put an outline round objects as repre-
senting their boundaries in space. And secondly,
there is the visual perception, which is concerned
with the visual aspects of objects as they appear on
the retina ; an arrangement of colour shapes, a sort
of mosaic of colour. And these two aspects give us
two different points of view from which the repre-
sentation of visible things can be approached.

When the representation from either point of
view is carried far enough, the result is very similar.
Work built up on outline drawing to which has been
added light and shade, colour, aerial perspective, &c.,
may eventually approximate to the perfect visual
appearance. And inversely, representations ap-
proached from the point of view of pure vision,
the mosaic of colour on the retina, if pushed far
enough, may satisfy the mental perception of form
with its touch associations. And of course the two
points of view are intimately connected. You
cannot put an accurate outline round an object
without observing the shape it occupies in the field
of vision. And it is difficult to consider the " mosaic
of colour forms " without being very conscious of the
objective significance of the colour masses portrayed.
But they present two entirely different and opposite
points of view from which the representation of
objects can be approached. In considering the sub-
ject of drawing I think it necessary to make this
division of the subject, and both methods of form
expression should be studied by the student. Let us
call the first method Line Drawing and the second
Mass Drawing. Most modern drawing is a mixture
of both these points of view, but they should be
studied separately if confusion is to be avoided. If

VISION

the student neglects line drawing, his work will lack
the expressive significance of form that only a feel-
ing for lines seems to have the secret of conveying ;
while, if he neglects mass drawing, he will be poorly
equipped when he comes to express form with a
brush full of paint to work with.

LINE DRAWING

MOST of the earliest forms of drawing known to us
in history, like those of the child we were discussing
in the last chapter, are largely in the nature of out-
line drawings. This is a remarkable fact consider-
ing the somewhat remote relation lines have to the
complete phenomena of vision. Outlines can only
be said to exist in appearances as the boundaries of
masses. But even here a line seems a poor thing
from the visual point of view ; as the boundaries are
not always clearly defined, but are continually merg-
ing into the surrounding mass and losing themselves
to be caught up again later on and defined once
more. Its relationship with visual appearances is
not sufficient to justify the instinct for line drawing.
It comes, I think, as has already been said, from
the sense of touch. When an object is felt there is
no merging in the surrounding mass, but a firm de-
finition of its boundary, which the mind instinctively
conceives as a line.

There is a more direct appeal to the imagination
in line drawing than in possibly anything else in
pictorial art. The emotional stimulus given by fine
design is due largely to line work. The power a line
possesses of instinctively directing the eye along its
course is of the utmost value also, enabling the
artist to concentrate the attention of the beholder

LINE DRAWING

where he wishes. Then there is a harmonic sense in
lines and their relationships, a music of line that
is found at the basis of all good art. But this
subject will be treated later on when talking of line
rhythm.

Most artists whose work makes a large appeal
to the imagination are strong on the value of line.
Blake, whose visual knowledge was such a negli-
gible quantity, but whose mental perceptions were
so magnificent, was always insisting on its value.
And his designs are splendid examples of its powerful
appeal to the imagination.

On this basis of line drawing the development
of art proceeded. The early Egyptian wall paintings
were outlines tinted, and the earliest wall sculpture
was an incised outline. After these incised lines
some man of genius thought of cutting away the
surface of the wall between the outlines and
modelling it in low relief. The appearance of
this may have suggested to the man painting his
outline on the wall the idea of shading between
his outlines.

At any rate the next development was the intro-
duction of a little shading to relieve the flatness of
the line- work and suggest modelling. And this was
as far as things had gone in the direction of the
representation of form, until well on in the Italian
Renaissance. Botticelli used nothing else than an
outline lightly shaded to indicate form. Light and
shade were not seriously perceived until Leonardo
da Vinci. And a wonderful discovery it was thought
to be, and was, indeed, although it seems difficult
to understand where men's eyes had been for so long
with the phenomena of light and shade before them
all the time. But this is only another proof of

LINE DRAWING

what cannot be too often insisted on, namely that
the eye only sees what it is on the look-out for,
and it may even be there are things just as wonder-
ful yet to be discovered in vision.

But it was still the touch association of an object
that was the dominant one ; it was within the out-
line demanded by this sense that the light and shade
were to be introduced as something as it were put
on the object. It was the "solids in space" idea
that art was still appealing to.

" The first object of a painter is to make a simple
flat surface appear like a relievo, and some of its
parts detached from the ground ; he who excels all
others in that part of the art deserves the greatest
praise," x wrote Leonardo da Vinci, and the insist-
ence on this " standing out " quality, with its appeal
to the touch sense as something great in art, sounds
very strange in these days. But it must be re-
membered that the means of creating this illusion
were new to all and greatly wondered at.

And again, in paragraph 176 of his treatise,
Leonardo writes: "The knowledge of the outline is
of most consequence, and yet may be acquired to great
certainty by dint of study; as the outlines of the
human figure, particularly those which do not bend,
are invariably the same. But the knowledge of the
situation, quality and quantity of shadows, being
infinite, requires the most extensive study."

The outlines of the human figure are " invariably
the same " ? What does this mean ? From the
visual point of view we know that the space occupied
by figures in the field of our vision is by no means
"invariably the same," but of great variety. So it
cannot be the visual appearance he is speaking about.

1 Leonardo da Vinci, Treatise on Painting, paragraph 178.

STUDY BY WATTEAU

From an original drawing in the collection of Charles Ricketts and Charles Shannon.

LINE DRAWING

It can only refer to the mental idea of the shape
of the members of the human figure. The remark
" particularly those that do not bend " shows this also,
for when the body is bent up even the mental idea
of its form must be altered. There is no hint yet
of vision being exploited for itself, but only in so
far as it yielded material to stimulate this mental
idea of the exterior world.

All through the work of the men who used this
light and shade (or chiaroscuro, as it was called)
the outline basis remained. Leonardo, Raphael,
Michael Angelo, Titian, and the Venetians were all
faithful to it as the means of holding their pictures
together ; although the Venetians, by fusing the edges
of their outline masses, got very near the visual
method to be introduced later by Velazquez.

In this way, little by little, starting from a basis
of simple outline forms, art grew up, each new detail
of visual appearance discovered adding, as it were,
another instrument to the orchestra at the disposal
of the artist, enabling him to add to the somewhat
crude directness and simplicity of the early work
the graces and refinements of the more complex
work, making the problem of composition more
difficult but increasing the range of its expression.

But these additions to the visual formula used
by artists was not all gain ; the simplicity of the
means at the disposal of a Botticelli gives an innocence
and imaginative appeal to his work that it is difficult
to think of preserving with the more complete
visual realisation of later schools. When the realisa-
tion of actual appearance is most complete, the mind
is liable to be led away by side issues connected
with the things represented, instead of seeing the
emotional intentions of the artist expressed through

LINE DRAWING

them. The mind is apt to leave the picture and
looking, as it were, not at it but through it, to
pursue a train of thought associated with the objects
represented as real objects, but alien to the artistic
intention of the picture. There is nothing in these
early formulte to disturb the contemplation of the
emotional appeal of pure form and colour. To those
who approach a picture with the idea that the re-
presentation of nature, the " making it look like
the real thing," is the sole object of painting, how
strange must be the appearance of such pictures as
Botticelli's.

The accumulation of the details of visual observa-
tion in art is liable eventually to obscure the main
idea and disturb the large sense of design on which
so much of the imaginative appeal of a work of art
depends. The large amount of new visual know-
ledge that the naturalistic movements of the nine-
teenth century brought to light is particularly liable
at this time to obscure the simpler and more primitive
qualities on which all good art is built. At the
height of that movement line drawing went out
of fashion, and charcoal, and an awful thing called
a stump, took the place of the point in the schools.
Charcoal is a beautiful medium in a dexterous hand,
but is more adaptable to mass than to line drawing.
The less said about the stump the better, although
I believe it still lingers on in some schools.

Line drawing is happily reviving, and nothing is
so calculated to put new life and strength into the
vagaries of naturalistic painting and get back into
art a fine sense of design.

This obscuring of the direct appeal of art by the
accumulation of too much naturalistic detail, and
the loss of power it entails, is the cause of artists

LINE DRAWING

having occasionally gone back to a more primitive
convention. There was the Archaistic movement
in Greece, and men like Rossetti and Burne-Jones
found a better means of expressing the things that
moved them in the technique of the fourteenth
century. And it was no doubt a feeling of the
weakening influence on art, as an expressive force,
of the elaborate realisations of the modern school,
that prompted Puvis de Chavannes to invent for
himself his large primitive manner. It will be
noticed that in these instances it is chiefly the in-
sistence upon outline that distinguishes these artists
from their contemporaries.

Art, like life, is apt to languish if it gets too far
away from primitive conditions. But, like life also,
it is a poor thing and a very uncouth affair if it has
nothing but primitive conditions to recommend it.
Because there is a decadent art about, one need not
make a hero of the pavement artist. But without
going to the extreme of flouting the centuries of
culture that art inherits, as it is now fashionable
in many places to do, students will do well to study
at first the early rather than the late work of the
different schools, so as to get in touch with the
simple conditions of design on which good work
is built. It is easier to study these essential qualities
when they are not overlaid by so much knowledge
of visual realisation. The skeleton of the picture is
more apparent in the earlier than the later work
of any school.

The finest example of the union of the primitive
with the most refined and cultured art the world
has ever seen is probably the Parthenon at Athens,
a building that has been the wonder of the artistic
world for over two thousand years. Not only are

LINE DRAWING

the fragments of its sculptures in the British Museum
amazing, but the beauty and proportions of its archi-
tecture are of a refinement that is, I think, never
even attempted in these days. What architect now
thinks of correcting the poorness of hard, straight
lines by very slightly curving them ? Or of slightly
sloping inwards the columns of his facade to add
to the strength of its appearance? The amount
of these variations is of the very slightest and bears
witness to the pitch of refinement attempted. And
yet, with it all, how simple! There is something
of the primitive strength of Stonehenge in that
solemn row of columns rising firmly from the steps
without any base. With all its magnificence, it still
retains the simplicity of the hut from which it
was evolved.

Something of the same combination of primitive
grandeur and strength with exquisite refinement of
visualisation is seen in the art of Michael Angelo.
His followers adopted the big, muscular type of their
master, but lost the primitive strength he expressed ;
and when this primitive force was lost sight of, what
a decadence set in !

This is the point at which art reaches its highest
mark : when to the primitive strength and simplicity
of early art are added the infinite refinements and
graces of culture without destroying 6r weakening
the sublimity of the expression.

In painting, the refinement and graces of culture
take the form of an increasing truth to natural
appearances, added bit by bit to the primitive bald-
ness of early work; until the point is reached, as
it was in the nineteenth century, when apparently
the whole facts of visual nature are incorporated.
From this wealth of visual material, to which must

LINE DRAWING

be added the knowledge we now have of the arts
of the East, of China, Japan, and India, the modern
artist has to select those things that appeal to him ;
has to select those elements that answer to his
inmost need of expressing himself as an artist. No
wonder a period of artistic dyspepsia is upon us,
no wonder our exhibitions, particularly those on
the Continent, are full of strange, weird things.
The problem before the artist was never so complex,
but also never so interesting. New forms, new
combinations, new simplifications are to be found.
But the steadying influence and discipline of line
work were never more necessary to the student.

The primitive force we are in danger of losing
depends much on line, and no work that aims at a
sublime impression can dispense with the basis of
a carefully wrought and simple line scheme.

The study, therefore, of pure line drawing is of
great importance to the painter, and the numerous
drawings that exist by the great masters in this
method show how much they understood its value.

And the revival of line drawing, and the desire
there is to find a simpler convention founded on
this basis, are among the most hopeful signs in the
art of the moment.

MASS DRAWING

IN the preceding chapter it has, I hope, been shown
that outline drawing is an instinct with Western
artists and has been so from the earliest times ; that
this instinct is due to the fact that the first mental
idea of an object is the sense of its form as a felt
thing, not a thing seen ; and that an outline drawing
satisfies and appeals directly to this mental idea of
objects.

But there is another basis of expression directly
related to visual appearances that in the fulness of
time was evolved, and has had a very great influence
on modern art. This form of drawing is based on
the consideration of the flat appearances on the
retina, with the knowledge of the felt shapes of
objects for the time being forgotten. In opposition
to line drawing, we may call this Mass Drawing.

The scientific truth of this point of view is
obvious. If only the accurate copying of the appear-
ances of nature were the sole object of art (an
idea to be met with among students) the problem
of painting would be simpler than it is, and would
be likely ere long to be solved by the photographic
camera.

This form of drawing is the natural means of
expression when a brush full of paint is in your
hands. The reducing of a complicated acpearance

Plate^X

EXAMPLE OP FIFTEENTH-CENTURY CHINESE WORK
BY Lui LIANG (BRITISH MUSEUM)

Showing how early Chinese masters had developed the mass-drawing point of view.

MASS DRAWING

to a few simple masses is the first necessity of the
painter. But this will be fully explained in a later
chapter treating more practically of the practice of
mass drawing.

The art of China and Japan appears to have
been more influenced by this view of natural
appearances than that of the West has been, until
quite lately. The Eastern mind does not seem to
be so obsessed by the objectivity of things as is
the Western mind. With us the practical sense
of touch is all powerful. "I know that is so,
because I felt it with my hands" would be a
characteristic expression with us. Whereas I do
not think it would be an expression the Eastern
mind would use. With them the spiritual essence
of the thing seen appears to be the more real,
judging from their art. And who is to say they
may not be right? This is certainly the im-
pression one gets from their beautiful painting,
with its lightness of texture and avoidance of
solidity. It is founded on nature regarded as a
flat vision, instead of a collection of solids in space.
Their use of line is also much more restrained than
with us, and it is seldom used to accentuate the
solidity of things, but chiefly to support the
boundaries of masses and suggest detail. Light
and shade, which suggest solidity, are never used,
a wide light where there is no shadow pervades
everything, their drawing being done with the
brush in masses.

When, as in the time of Titian, the art of the
West had discovered light and shade, linear per-
spective, aerial perspective, &c., and had begun by
fusing the edges of the masses to suspect the
necessity of painting to a widely diffused focus,

MASS DRAWING

they had got very near considering appearances
as a visual whole. But it was not until Velazquez
that a picture was painted that was founded
entirely on visual appearances, in which a basis of
objective outlines was discarded and replaced by
a structure of tone masses.

When he took his own painting room with the
little Infanta and her maids as a subject, Velazquez
seems to have considered it entirely as one flat
visual impression. The focal attention is centred
on the Infanta, with the figures on either side
more or less out of focus, those on the extreme
right being quite blurred. The reproduction here
given unfortunately does not show these subtleties,
and flattens the general appearance very much.
The focus is nowhere sharp, as this would disturb
the contemplation of the large visual impression.
And there, I think, for the first time, the whole
gamut of natural vision, tone, colour, form, light
and shade, atmosphere, focus, &c., considered as
one impression, were put on canvas.

All sense of design is lost. The picture has no
surface ; it is all atmosphere between the four edges
of the frame, and the objects are within. Placed as
it is in the Prado, with the light coming from the
right as in the picture, there is no break between the
real people before it and the figures within, except
the slight yellow veil due to age.

But wonderful as this picture, is, as a "tour de
force," like his Venus of the same period in the
National Gallery, it is a painter's picture, and makes
but a cold impression on those not interested in the
technique of painting. With the cutting away of
the primitive support of fine outline design and
the absence of those accents conveying a fine form

Plate XI

Photo Andrrson

LAS MENINAS. BY VELAZQUEZ (PRADO)

Probably the first picture ever painted entirely from the visual or impressionist standpoint.

MASS DRAWING

stimulus to the mind, art has lost much of its
emotional significance.

But art has gained a new point of view. With
this subjective way of considering appearances — this
" impressionist vision," as it has been called —
many things that were too ugly, either from pression-
shape or association, to yield material for the J* yjJJJJ*
painter, were yet found, when viewed as part
of a scheme of colour sensations on the retina which
the artist considers emotionally and rhythmically, to
lend themselves to new and beautiful harmonies and
"ensembles" undreamt of by the earlier formulae.
And further, many effects of light that were too
hopelessly complicated for painting, considered on
the old light and shade principles (for instance,
sunlight through trees in a wood), were found to
be quite paintable, considered as an impression of
various colour masses. The early formula could
never free itself from the object as a solid thing,
and had consequently to confine its attention to
beautiful ones. But from the new point of view,
form consists of the shape and qualities of masses
of colour on the retina; and what objects happen
to be the outside cause of these shapes matters
little to the impressionist. Nothing is ugly when
seen in a beautiful aspect of light, and aspect is
with them everything.

This consideration of the visual appearance in
the first place necessitated an increased dependence
on the model. As he does not now draw from his
mental perceptions the artist has nothing to select
the material of his picture from until it has existed
as a seen thing before him: until he has a visual
impression of it in his mind. With the older point
of view (the representation by a pictorial descrip-

MASS DRAWING

tion, as it were, based on the mental idea of an
object), the model was not so necessary. In the
case of the Impressionist the mental perception is
arrived at from the visual impression, and in the
older point of view the visual impression is the result
of the mental perception. Thus it happens that the
Impressionist movement has produced chiefly pictures
inspired by the actual world of visual phenomena
around us, the older point of view producing most
of the pictures deriving their inspiration from the
glories of the imagination, the mental world in the
mind of the artist. And although interesting at-
tempts are being made to produce imaginative works
founded on the impressionist point of view of light
and air, the loss of imaginative appeal consequent
upon the destruction of contours by scintillation,
atmosphere, &c., and the loss of line rhythm it en-
tails, have so far prevented the production of any
very satisfactory results. But undoubtedly there is
much new material brought to light by this move-
ment waiting to be used imaginatively ; and it offers
a new field for the selection of expressive qualities.

This point of view, although continuing to some
extent in the Spanish school, did not come into
general recognition until the last century in France.
The most extreme exponents of it are the body of
artists who grouped themselves round Claude Monet.
This impressionist movement, as the critics have
labelled it, was the result of a fierce determination
to consider nature solely from the visual point of
view, making no concessions to any other associa-
tions connected with sight. The result was an en-
tirely new vision of nature, startling and repulsive
to eyes unaccustomed to observation from a purely
visual point of view and used only to seeing the

MASS DRAWING

"feel of things," as it were. And the first results
were naturally rather crude. But a great amount of
new visual facts were brought to light, particularly
those connected with the painting of sunlight and
half light effects. Indeed the whole painting of
strong light has been permanently affected by the
work of this group of painters. Emancipated from
the objective world, they no longer dissected the
object to see what was inside it, but studied rather
the anatomy of the light refracted from it to their
eyes. Finding this to be composed of all the colours
of the rainbow as seen in the solar spectrum, and
that all the effects nature produced are done with
different proportions of these colours, they took them,
or the nearest pigments they could get to them,
for their palette, eliminating the earth colours and
black. And further, finding that nature's colours
(the rays of coloured light) when mixed produced
different results than their corresponding pigments
mixed together, they determined to use their paints
as pure as possible, placing them one against the
other to be mixed as they came to the eye, the
mixture being one of pure colour rays, not pigments,
by this means.

But we are here only concerned with the move-
ment as it affected form, and must avoid the fascina-
ting province of colour.

Those who had been brought up in the old school
of outline form said there was no drawing in these
impressionist pictures, and from the point of view
of the mental idea of form discussed in the last
chapter, there was indeed little, although, had the
impression been realised to a sufficiently definite
focus, the sense of touch and solidity would probably
have been satisfied. But the particular field of this

MASS DRAWING

new point of view, the beauty of tone and colour
relations considered as an impression apart from
objectivity, did not tempt them to carry their work
so far as this, or the insistence on these particular
qualities would have been lost.

But interesting and alluring as is the new world
of visual music opened up by this point of view,
it is beginning to be realised that it has failed some-
how to satisfy. In the first place, the implied assump-
tion that one sees with the eye alone is wrong :

" In every object there is inexhaustible meaning ; the eye sees
in it what the eye brings means of seeing," l

and it is the mind behind the eye that supplies this
means of perception: one sees with the mind. The
ultimate effect of any picture, be it impressionist,
post, anti, or otherwise — is its power to stimulate
these mental perceptions within the mind.

But even from the point of view of the true visual
perception (if there is such a thing) that modern art
has heard so much talk of, the copying of the retina
picture is not so great a success. The impression
carried away from a scene that has moved us is
not its complete visual aspect. Only those things
that are significant to the felt impression have been
retained by the mind ; and if the picture is to be
a true representation of this, the significant facts
must be sorted out from the mass of irrelevant matter
and presented in a lively manner. The impres-
sionist's habit of painting before nature entirely
Is not calculated to do this. Going time after time
to the same place, even if similar weather conditions
are waited for, although well enough for studies,
is against the production of a fine picture. Every

1 Goethe, quoted in Carlyle's French Revolution, chap. i.

MASS DRAWING

time the artist goes to the selected spot he receives
a different impression, so that he must either paint
all over his picture each time, in which case his
work must be confined to a small scale and will be
hurried in execution, or he must paint a bit of to-
day's impression alongside of yesterday's, in which
case his work will be dull and lacking in oneness
of conception.

And further, in decomposing the colour rays
that come to the eye and painting in pure colour,
while great addition was made to the power of
expressing light, yet by destroying the definitions
and enveloping everything in a scintillating atmos-
phere, the power to design in a large manner was
lost with the wealth of significance that the music
of line can convey.

But impressionism has opened up a view from
which mucJh interesting matter for art is to be
gleaned. And everywhere painters are selecting
from this, and grafting it on to some of the more
traditional schools of design.

Our concern here is with the influence this point
of view has had upon draughtsmanship. The influ-
ence has been considerable, particularly with those
draughtsmen whose work deals with the rendering
of modern life. It consists in drawing from the ob-
servation of the silhouette occupied by objects in the
field of vision, observing the flat appearance of
things as they are on the retina. This is, of course,
the only accurate way in which to observe visual
shapes. The difference between this and the older
point of view is its insistence on the observation of
the flat visual impression to the exclusion of the
tactile or touch sense that by the association of
ideas we have come to expect in things seen. An

65 E

MASS DRAWING

increased truth to the character of appearances
has been the result, with a corresponding loss of
plastic form expression.

On pages 66 and 67 a reproduction of a drawing
in the British Museum, attributed to Michael Angelo,
is contrasted with one in the Louvre by Degas. The
one is drawn from the line point of view and the
other from the mass. They both contain lines, but
in the one case the lines are the contours of felt
forms and in the other the boundaries of visual
masses. In the Michael Angelo the silhouette is only
the result of the overlapping of rich forms con-
sidered in the round. Every muscle and bone has
been mentally realised as a concrete thing and the
drawing made as an expression of this idea. Note
the line rhythm also ; the sense of energy and move-
ment conveyed by the swinging curves ; and com-
pare with what is said later (page 162) about the
rhythmic significance of swinging curves.

Then compare it with the Degas and observe the
totally different attitude of mind in which this
drawing has been approached. Instead of the out-
lines being the result of forms felt as concrete
things, the silhouette is everywhere considered first,
the plastic sense (nowhere so great as in the other)
being arrived at from the accurate consideration of
the mass shapes.

Notice also the increased attention to individual
character in the Degas, observe the pathos of those
underfed little arms, and the hand holding the tired
ankle — how individual it all is. What a different
tale this little figure tells from that given before
the footlights ! See with what sympathy the contours
have been searched for those accents expressive of
all this.

Plate XII

STUDY ATTRIBUTED TO MICHAEL ANGELO (BRITISH MUSEUM)

Note the desire to express torm as a felt solid thing, the contours resulting from the over-
lapping forms. The visual appearance is arrived at as a result of giving expression
to the mental idea of a solid object.

Plate XIII

Photo Levy

STUDY BY DEGAS (LUXEMBOURG)

In contrast with Michael Angelo s drawing, note the preoccupation with the silhouette,
the spaces occupied by the different masses in the field of vision ; how the appearance of
solid forms is the result of accurately portraying this visual appearance.

MASS DRAWING

How remote from individual character is the
Michael Angelo in contrast with this ! Instead of
an individual he gives us the expression of a glowing
mental conception of man as a type of physical
strength and power.

The rhythm is different also, in the one case
being a line rhythm, and in the other a considera-
tion of the flat pattern of shapes or masses with a
play of lost-and-foundness on the edges (see later,
pages 192 et seq., variety of edges). It is this feeling
for rhythm in Degas's drawing and the sympathetic
searching for and emphasis of those points expressive
of character, that keep it from being the mechanical
performance which so much concern with scientific
visual accuracy might well have made it, and which
has made mechanical many of the drawings of Degas's
followers who unintelligently copy his method.

THE ACADEMIC AND CONVENTIONAL

THE terms Academic and Conventional are much
used in criticism and greatly feared by the criticised,
often without either party appearing to have much
idea of what is meant. New so-called schools of
painting seem to arrive annually with the spring
fashions, and sooner or later the one of last year
gets called out of date, if not conventional and
academic. And as students, for fear of having their
work called by one or other of these dread terms,
are inclined to rush into any new extravagance that
comes along, some inquiry as to their meaning will
not be out of place before we pass on to the chapters
dealing with academic study.

It has been the cry for some time that Schools
of Art turned out only academic students. And
one certainly associates a dead level of respectable
mediocrity with much school work. We can call
to mind a lot of dull, lifeless, highly-finished work,
imperfectly perfect, that has won the prize in many a
school competition. Flaubert says " a form deadens,"
and it does seem as if the necessary formality of
a school course had some deadening influence on
students ; and that there was some important part
of the artist's development which it has failed to
recognise and encourage.

The freer system of the French schools has been
68

THE ACADEMIC AND CONVENTIONAL

in many cases more successful. But each school
was presided over by an artist of distinction, and
this put the students in touch with real work and
thus introduced vitality. In England, until quite
lately, artists were seldom employed in teaching,
which was left to men set aside for the purpose,
without any time to carry on original work of their
own. The Royal Academy Schools are an exception
to this. There the students have the advantage of
teaching from some distinguished member or associ-
ate who has charge of the upper school for a month
at a time. But as the visitor is constantly changed,
the less experienced students are puzzled by the
different methods advocated, and flounder hopelessly
for want of a definite system to work on ; although
for a student already in possession of a good ground-
ing there is much to be said for the system, as
contact with the different masters widens their
outlook.

But perhaps the chief mistake in Art Schools
has been that they have too largely confined them-
selves to training students mechanically to observe
and portray the thing set before them to copy, an
antique figure, a still-life group, a living model sitting
as still and lifeless as he can. Now this is all very
well as far as it goes, but the real matter of art is
not necessarily in all this. And if the real matter
of art is neglected too long the student may find it
difficult to get in touch with it again.

These accurate, painstaking school studies are
very necessary indeed as a training for the eye in
observing accurately, and the hand in reproducing
the appearances of things, because it is through the
reproduction of natural appearances and the know-
ledge of form and colour derived from such study

THE ACADEMIC AND CONVENTIONAL

that the student will afterwards find the means of
giving expression to his feelings. But when valuable
prizes and scholarships are given for them, and not
for really artistic work, they do tend to become the
end instead of the means.

It is of course improbable that even school studies
done with the sole idea of accuracy by a young
artist will in all cases be devoid of artistic feeling ;
it will creep in, if he has the artistic instinct. But
it is not enough encouraged, and the prize is gener-
ally given to the drawing that is most complete
and like the model in a commonplace way. If a
student, moved by a strong feeling for form, lets
himself go and does a fine thing, probably only
remotely like the model to the average eye, the
authorities are puzzled and don't usually know what
to make of it.

There are schools where the most artistic quali-
ties are encouraged, but they generally neglect the
academic side ; and the student leaves them poorly
equipped for fine work. Surely it would be possible
to make a distinction, giving prizes for academic
drawings which should be as thoroughly accurate
in a mechanical way as industry and application can
make them, and also for artistic drawings, in which
the student should be encouraged to follow his bent,
striving for the expression of any qualities that
delight him, and troubling less about mechanical
accuracy. The use of drawing as an expression of
something felt is so often left until after the school
training is done that many students fail to achieve
it altogether. And rows of lifeless pictures, made
up of models copied in different attitudes, with studio
properties around them, are the result, and pass for
art in many quarters. Such pictures often display

Plate XIV

DRAWING IN RED CHALK BY ERNEST COLE

Example of unacademic drawing made in the author's class at the Goldsmiths' College

School of Art.

• • \

• * * * *

THE ACADEMIC AND CONVENTIONAL

considerable ability, for as Burne- Jones says in one
of his letters, " It is veiy difficult to paint even a
bad picture." But had the ability been differently
directed, the pictures might have been good.

It is difficult to explain what is wrong with an
academic drawing, and what is the difference
between it and a fine drawing. But perhaps this
difference can be brought home a little more clearly
if you will pardon a rather fanciful simile. I am
told that if you construct a perfectly fitted engine
— the piston fitting the cylinder with absolute
accuracy and the axles their sockets with no space
between, &c. — it will not work, but be a lifeless
mass of iron. There must be enough play between
the vital parts to allow of some movement ; " dither "
is, I believe, the Scotch word for it. The piston
must be allowed some play in the opening of the
cylinder through which it passes, or it will not
be able to move and show any life. And the axles
of the wheels in their sockets, and, in fact, all
parts of the machine where life and movement
are to occur, must have this play, this " dither."
It has always seemed to me that the accurately
fitting engine was like a good academic drawing,
in a way a perfect piece of workmanship, but
lifeless. Imperfectly perfect, because there was
no room left for the play of life. And to carry
the simile further, if you allow too great a play
between the parts, so that they fit one over the
other too loosely, the engine will lose power and
become a poor rickety thing. There must be the
smallest amount of play that will allow of its
working. And the more perfectly made the engine,
the less will the amount of this " dither " be.

The word " dither " will be a useful name to give
71

THE ACADEMIC AND CONVENTIONAL

that elusive quality, that play on mechanical ac-
curacy, existing in all vital art. It is this vital
quality that has not yet received much attention in
art training.

It is here that the photograph fails, it can only
at best give mechanical accuracy, whereas art
gives the impression of a live, individual conscious-
ness. Where the recording instrument is a live
individual, there is no mechanical standard of
accuracy possible, as every recording instrument
is a different personality. And it is the subtle
differences in the individual renderings of nature
that are the life-blood of art. The photograph, on
account of its being chained to mechanical accuracy,
has none of this play of life to give it charm. It
only approaches artistic conditions when it is
blurred, vague, and indefinite, as in so-called artistic
photography, for then only can some amount of
this vitalising play, this " dither " be imagined to
exist.

It is this perfect accuracy, this lack of play,
of variety, that makes the machine-made article
so lifeless. Wherever there is life there is variety,
and the substitution of the machine-made for the
hand-made article has impoverished the world to
a greater extent than we are probably yet aware
of. Whereas formerly, before the advent of
machinery, the commonest article you could pick
up had a life and warmth which gave it individual
interest, now everything is turned out to such a
perfection of deadness that one is driven to pick
up and collect, in sheer desperation, the commonest
rubbish still surviving from earlier periods.

But to return to our drawings. If the varia-
tions from strict accuracy made under the influence

THE ACADEMIC AND CONVENTIONAL

of feeling are too great, the result will be a cari-
cature. The variations in a beautiful drawing are
so subtle as often to defy detection. The studies
of Ingres are an instance of what I mean. How
true and instinct with life are his lines, and how
easily one might assume that they were merely
accurate. But no merely accurate work would
have the impelling quality these drawings possess.
If the writer may venture an opinion on so great
an artist, the subtle difference we are talking
about was sometimes missed by even Ingres him-
self, when he transferred his drawings to the
canvas ; and the pictures have in some cases become
academic and lifeless. Without the stimulus of
nature before him it was difficult to preserve the
"dither" in the drawing, and the life has escaped.
This is the great difficulty of working from studies ;
it is so easy to lose those little points in your
drawing that make for vitality of expression, in
the process of copying in cold blood.

The fact is: it is only the academic that can be
taught. And it is no small thing if this is well done
in a school. The qualities that give vitality and
distinction to drawing must be appreciated by the
student himself, and may often assert themselves
in his drawing without his being aware that he is
doing aught but honestly copying. And if he has
trained himself thoroughly he will not find much
difficulty when he is moved to vital expression. All
the master can do is to stand by and encourage
whenever he sees evidence of the real thing. But
there is undoubtedly this danger of the school
studies becoming the end instead of the means.

A drawing is not necessarily academic because
it is thorough, but only because it is dead. Neither

THE ACADEMIC AND CONVENTIONAL

is a drawing necessarily academic because it is done
in what is called a conventional style, any more
than it is good because it is done in an unconven-
tional style. The test is whether it has life and
conveys genuine feeling.

There is much foolish talk about conventional
art, as if art could ever get away from conventions,
if it would. The convention will be more natural
or more abstract according to the nature of the
thing to be conveyed and the medium employed
to express it. But naturalism is just as much a
convention as any of the other isms that art has
lately been so assailed with. For a really uncon-
ventional art there is Madame Tussaud's Waxworks.
There, even the convention of a frame and flat
surface are done away with, besides the painted
symbols to represent things. They have real
natural chairs, tables, and floors, real clothes, and
even real hair. Realism everywhere, but no life.
And we all know the result. There is more expres-
sion of life in a few lines scribbled on paper by a
good artist than in all the reality of the popular
show.

It would seem that, after a certain point, the
nearer your picture approaches the actual illusion of
natural appearance, the further you are from the
expression of life. One can never hope to surpass
the illusionary appearance of a tableau vivant.
There you have real, living people. But what an
awful deathlike stillness is felt when the curtain
is drawn aside. The nearer you approach the actual
in all its completeness, the more evident is the lack
of that movement which always accompanies life.
You cannot express life by copying laboriously

74 '

THE ACADEMIC AND CONVENTIONAL

natural appearances. Those things in the appear-
ance that convey vital expression and are capable
of being translated into the medium he is working
with, have to be sought by the artist, and the
painted symbols of his picture made accordingly.
This lack of the movement of life is never noticed
in a good picture, 011 the other hand the figures
are often felt to move.

Pictures are blamed for being conventional when
it is lack of vitality that is the trouble. If the
convention adopted has not been vitalised by the
emotion that is the reason of the painting, it will,
of course, be a lifeless affair. But however abstract
and unnaturalistic the manner adopted, if it has
been truly felt by the artist as the right means of
expressing his emotional idea, it will have life and
should not be called conventional in the commonly
accepted offensive use of the term.

It is only when a painter consciously chooses a
manner not his own, which he does not comprehend
and is incapable of firing with his own personality,
that his picture is ridiculous and conventional in the
dead sense.

But every age differs in its temperament, and
the artistic conventions of one age seldom fit
another. The artist has to discover a convention
for himself, one that fits his particular individuality.
But this is done simply and naturally — not by
starting out with the intention of flouting all
traditional conventions on principle ; nor, on the
other hand, by accepting them all on principle,
but by simply following his own bent and selecting
what appeals to him in anything and everything
that comes within the range of his vision. The
result is likely to be something very different from

THE ACADEMIC AND CONVENTIONAL

the violent exploits in peculiarity that have been
masquerading as originality lately. Originality is
more concerned with sincerity than with peculiarity.

The struggling and fretting after originality that
one sees in modern art is certainly an evidence of
vitality, but one is inclined to doubt whether any-
thing really original was ever done in so forced a
way. The older masters, it seems, were content
sincerely to try and do the best they were capable
of doing. And this continual striving to do better
led them almost unconsciously to new and original re-
sults. Originality is a quality over which an artist has
as little influence as over the shape and distinction of
his features. All he can do is to be sincere and try and
find out the things that really move him and that
he really likes. If he has a strong and original char-
acter, he will have no difficulty in this, and his work
will be original in the true sense. And if he has
not, it is a matter of opinion whether he is not
better employed in working along the lines of some
well-tried manner that will at any rate keep him
from doing anything really bad, than in struggling
to cloak his own commonplaceness under violent
essays in peculiarity and the avoidance of the obvious
at all costs.

But while speaking against fretting after eccen-
tricity, don't let it be assumed that any discourage-
ment is being given to genuine new points of view.
In art, when a thing has once been well done and
has found embodiment in some complete work of
art, it has been done once for all. The circumstances
that produced it are never likely to occur again.
That is why those painters who continue to repro-
duce a picture of theirs (we do not mean literally)
that had been a success in the first instance, never

THE ACADEMIC AND CONVENTIONAL

afterwards obtain the success of the original per-
formance. Every beautiful work of art is a new
creation, the result of particular circumstances in the
life of the artist and the time of its production, that
have never existed before and will never recur again.
Were any of the great masters of the past alive
now, they would do very different work from what
they did then, the circumstances being so entirely
different. So that should anybody seek to paint
like Titian now, by trying to paint like Titian did
in his time, he could not attempt anything more
unlike the spirit of that master ; which in its day,
like the spirit of all masters, was most advanced.
But it is only by a scrupulously sincere and truthful
attitude of mind that the new and original circum-
stances in which we find ourselves can be taken
advantage of for the production of original work.
And self-conscious seeking after peculiarity only
stops the natural evolution and produces abortions.

But do not be frightened by conventions, the
different materials in which the artist works impose
their conventions. And as it is through these
materials that he has to find expression, what ex-
pressive qualities they possess must be studied, and
those facts in nature selected that are in harmony
with them. The treatment of hair by sculptors is
an extreme instance of this. What are those quali-
ties of hair that are amenable to expression in stone ?
Obviously they are few, and confined chiefly to the
mass forms in which the hair arranges itself. The
finest sculptors have never attempted more than
this, have never lost sight of the fact that it was
stone U:ey were working with, and never made any
attempt to create an illusion of real hair. And in the
same way, when working in bronze, the fine artist

THE ACADEMIC AND CONVENTIONAL

never loses sight of tne fact that it is bronze with
which he is working. How sadly the distinguished
painter to whom a misguided administration en-
trusted the work of modelling the British emblem
overlooked this, may be seen any day in Trafalgar
Square, the lions there possessing none of the splen-
dour of bronze but looking as if they were modelled
in dough, and possessing in consequence none of the
vital qualities of the lion. It is interesting to com-
pare them with the little lion Alfred Stevens modelled
for the railing of the British Museum, and to specu-
late on what a thrill we might have received every
time we passed Trafalgar Square, had he been en-
trusted with the work, as he might have been.

And in painting, the great painters never lose
sight of the fact that it is paint with which they
are expressing themselves. And although paint is
capable of approaching much nearer the actual
appearance of nature than stone or bronze, they
never push this to the point where you forget that
it is paint. This has been left for some of the
smaller men.

And when it comes to drawing, the great artists
have always confined themselves to the qualities
in nature that the tool they were drawing with
was capable of expressing, and no others. Whether
working with pen, pencil, chalk, or charcoal, they
always created a convention within which unlimited
expression has been possible.

To sum up, academic drawing is all that can
be really taught, and is as necessary to the painter
as the practising of exercises is to the musician,
that his powers of observation and execution may
be trained. But the vital matter of art is not in
all this necessary training. And this fact the student

THE ACADEMIC AND CONVENTIONAL

should always keep in mind, and be ever ready to
give rein to those natural enthusiasms which, if
he is an artist, he will find welling up within him.
The danger is that the absorbing interest in his
academic studies may take up his whole attention,
to the neglect of the instinctive qualities that he
should possess the possession of which alone will
entitle him to be an artist.

VII

THE STUDY OF DRAWING

WE have seen that there are two extreme points
of view from which the representation of form can
be approached, that of outline directly related to
the mental idea of form with its touch associa-
tion on the one hand, and that of mass connected
directly with the visual picture on the retina on
the other.

Now, between these two extreme points of view
there are an infinite variety of styles combining
them both and leaning more to the one side or the
other, as the case may be. But it is advisable for
the student to study both separately, for there are
different things to be learnt and different expressive
qualities in nature to be studied in both.

From the study of outline drawing the eye is
trained to accurate observation and learns the ex-
pressive value of a line. And the hand is also
trained to definite statement, the student being
led on by degrees from simple outlines to approach
the full realisation of form in all the complexity
of light and shade.

But at the same time he should study mass
drawing with paint from the purely visual point
of view, in order to be introduced to the important
study of tone values and the expression of form
by means of planes. And so by degrees he will

THE STUDY OF DRAWING

learn accurately to observe and portray the tone
masses (their shapes and values) to which all visual
appearances can be reduced; and he will gradually
arrive at the full realisation of form — a realisation
that will bring him to a point somewhat similar
to that arrived at from the opposite point of view
of an outline to which has been added light and
shade, &c.

But unless both points of view are studied,
the student's work will be incomplete. If form
be studied only from the outline point of view, and
what have been called sculptor's drawings alone
attempted, the student will lack knowledge of the
tone and atmosphere that always envelop form
in nature. And also he will be poorly equipped
when he comes to exchange the pencil for a brush
and endeavours to express himself in paint.

And if h'is studies be only from the mass point
of view, the training of his eye to the accurate
observation of all the subtleties of contours and
the construction of form will be neglected. And
he will not understand the mental form stimulus
that the direction and swing of a brush stroke
can give. These and many things connected with
expression can best be studied in line work.

Let the student therefore begin on the principles
adopted in most schools, with outline studies of
simple casts or models, and gradually add light
and shade. When he has acquired more proficiency
he may approach drawing from the life. This is
sufficiently well done in the numerous schools of
art that now exist all over the country. But, at
the same time (and this, as far as I know, is not
done anywhere), the student should begin some
simple form of mass drawing in paint, simple exer-

81 P

Diagram II

SHOWING WHERE SQUARENESSES MAY BE LOOKED FOR
IN THE DRAWING ON THE OPPOSITE PAGE

Plate XVJ

STUDY BY RUBENS FROM THE COLLECTION OF CHARLES RICKETTS
AND CHARLES SHANNON

A splendid example of Rubens' love of rich, full forms. Compare with the diagram opposite,
and note the flatnesses that give strength to the forms.

THE STUDY OF DRAWING

cises, as is explained later in the chapter on Mass
Drawing, Practical, being at first attempted and
criticised solely from the point of view of tone
values.

From lack of this elementary tone study, the
student, when he approaches painting for the first
time, with only his outline and light and shade
knowledge, is entirely at sea. With brushes and
paint he is presented with a problem of form
expressions entirely new. And he usually begins
to flounder about, using his paint as much like
chalk on paper as possible. And timid of losing
his outlines, he fears to put down a mass, as he
has no knowledge of reducing appearances to a
structure of tone masses or planes.

I would suggest, therefore, that the student
should study simultaneously from these two points
of view, beginning with their most extreme posi-
tions, that is, bare outline on the one side and
on the other side tone masses criticised for their
accuracy of values only in the first instance. As
he advances, the one study will help the other.
The line work will help the accuracy with which
he observes the shapes of masses, and when he
comes to light and shade his knowledge of tone
values will help him here. United at last, when
complete light and shade has been added to his
outline drawings and to his mass drawing an
intimate knowledge of form, the results will ap-
proximate and the two paths will meet. But if
the qualities appertaining to either point of view
are not studied separately, the result is confusion
and the "muddling through" method so common
ir> our schools of art.

VIII

LINE DRAWING: PRACTICAL

SEEING that the first condition of your drawing
is that it has to be made on a flat surface, no
matter whether it is to be in line or mass you
intend to draw, it is obvious that appearances must
be reduced to terms of a flat surface before they
can be expressed on paper. And this is the first
difficulty that confronts the student in attempting
to draw a solid object. He has so acquired the
habit of perceiving the solidity of things, as was
explained in an earlier chapter, that no little
difficulty will be experienced in accurately seeing
them as a flat picture.

As it is only from one point of view that things
observin can ^e drawn, and as we have two eyes,
soiida as a therefore two points of view, the closing of
Flat Copy. Qne eye w.u be helpful at first

The simplest and most mechanical way of ob-
serving things as a flat subject is to have a piece
of cardboard with a rectangular hole cut out of the
middle, and also pieces of cotton threaded through
it in such a manner that they make a pattern of
squares across the opening, as in the accompanying
sketch. To make such a frame, get a piece of stiff
cardboard, about 12 inches by 9 inches, and cut a
rectangular hole in the centre, 7 inches by 5 inches,
as in Diagram III. Now mark off the inches on

LINE DRAWING: PRACTICAL

all sides of the opening, and taking some black
thread, pass it through the point A with a needle
(fixing the end at this point with sealing-wax),

...'i

: B
'<

Diagram in

A DEVICE FOB ENABLING STUDENTS TO OBSERVE
APPEARANCES AS A FLAT SUBJECT

and across the opening to the corresponding point
on the opposite side. Take it along to the next
point, as shown by the dotted line, and pass it
through and across the opening again, and so on,
until B is reached, when the thread should be held
by some sealing-wax quite taut everywhere. Do
the same for the other side. This frame should be
held between the eye and the object to be drawn

LINE DRAWING: PRACTICAL

(one eye being closed) in a perfectly vertical position,
and with the rectangular sides of the opening
vertical and horizontal. The object can then be
observed as a flat copy. The trellis of cotton will
greatly help the student in seeing the subject to
be drawn in two dimensions, and this is the first
technical difficulty the young draughtsman has
to overcome. It is useful also in training the
eye to see the proportions of different parts one
to another, the squares of equal size giving one
a. unit of measurement by which all parts can be
scaled.

Vertical and horizontal lines are also of the
utmost importance in that first consideration for
setting out a drawing, namely the fixing
of salient points, and getting their relative

P°sitions- Fig- z> on Page 87> wil1 illus-
trate what is meant. Let ABODE be
assumed to be points of some importance in an
object you wish to draw. Unaided, the placing
of these points would be a matter of considerable
difficulty. But if you assume a vertical line drawn
from A, the positions of B, C, D, and E can be
observed in relation to it by noting the height and
length of horizontal lines drawn from them to this
vertical line. This vertical can be drawn by holding
a plumb line at arm's length (closing one eye, of
course) and bringing it to a position where it will
cover the point A on your subject. The position
of the other points on either side of this vertical
line can then be observed. Or a knitting-needle
can be held vertically before you at arm's length,
giving you a line passing through point A. The
advantage of the needle is that comparative measure-
ments can be taken with it.

LINE DRAWING: PRACTICAL

Diagram IV

SHOWING THREE PRINCIPLES OF CONSTRUCTION USED
IN OBSERVING FlG. X, MASSES; FlG. Y, CURVES J
FIG. Z, POSITION OF POINTS

LINE DRAWING: PRACTICAL

In measuring comparative distances the needle
should always be held at arm's length and the eye
kept in one position during the operation; and,
whether held vertically or horizontally, always
kept in a vertical plane, that is, either straight up
and down, or across at right angles to the line of
your vision. If these things are not carefully
observed, your comparisons will not be true. The
method employed is to run the thumb-nail up the
needle until the distance from the point so reached
to the top exactly corresponds with the distance on
the object you wish to measure. Having this care-
fully noted on your needle, without moving the
position of your eye, you can move your outstretched
arm and compare it with other distances on the
object. It is never advisable to compare other than
vertical and horizontal measurements. In our dia-
gram the points were drawn at random and do
not come in any obvious mathematical relationship,
and this is the usual circumstance in nature. But
point C will be found to be a little above the half,
and point D a little less than a third of the way up
the vertical line. How much above the half and
less than the third will have to be observed by eye
and a corresponding amount allowed in setting out
your drawing. In the horizontal distances, E will
be found to be one-fourth the distance from X to
the height of G on the right of our vertical line,
and C a little more than this distance to the left,
while the distance on the right of D is a little less
than one-fifth of the whole height. The height of
B is so near the top as to be best judged by eye,
and its distance to the right is the same as E. These
measurements are never to be taken as absolutely
accurate, but are a great help to beginners in train-

Plate XVII

DEMONSTRATION DRAWING MADE BEFORE THE STUDENTS OF THE
GOLDSMITHS COLLEGE SCHOOL OF ART

Illustrating how different directions of lines can help expression of form.

LINE DRAWING: PRACTICAL

ing the eye, and are at times useful in every artist's
work.

It is useful if one can establish a unit of measure-
ment, some conspicuous distance that does not vary
in the object (if a living model a great many dis-
tances will be constantly varying), and with which
all distances can be compared.

In setting out a drawing, this fixing of certain
salient points is the first thing for the student to
do. The drawing reproduced on page 90 has
been made to illustrate the method of procedure
it is advisable to adopt in training the eye to
accurate observation. It was felt that a vertical
line drawn through the pit of the arm would be
the most useful for taking measurements on, and
this was first drawn and its length decided upon.
Train yourself to draw between limits decided upon
at the start. This power will be of great use to you
when you wish to place a figure in an exact position
in a picture. The next thing to do is to get the
relative heights of different points marked upon
this line. The fold at the pit of the stomach was
found to be exactly in the centre. This was a useful
start, and it is generally advisable to note where
the half comes first, and very useful if it comes in
some obvious place. Other measurements were
taken in the same way as our points ABODE
in the diagram on page 87, and horizontal lines
drawn across, and the transverse distances measured
in relation to the heights. I have left these lines
on the drawing, and also different parts of it
unfinished, so as to show the different stages of the
work. These guide lines are done mentally later
on, when the student is more advanced, and with
more accuracy than the clumsy knitting-needle.

LINE DRAWING: PRACTICAL

But before the habit of having constantly in mind
a vertical and horizontal line with which to compare
positions is acquired, they should be put in with
as much accuracy as measuring can give.

The next thing to do is to block out the spaces
corresponding to those occupied by the model

Blocking m the ^e^ °^ vour vision. The method
in your employed to do this is somewhat similar
ing' to that adopted by a surveyor in drawing
the plan of a field. Assuming he had an irregular
shaped one, such as is drawn in Fig. X, page 87,
he would proceed to invest it with straight lines,
taking advantage of any straightness in the bound-
ary, noting the length and the angles at which
these straight lines cut each other, and then re-
producing them to scale on his plan. Once having
got this scaffolding accurately placed, he can draw
the irregularities of the shape in relation to
these lines with some certainty of getting them
right.

You should proceed in very much the same way
to block out the spaces that the forms of your
drawing are to occupy. I have produced these
blocking-out lines beyond what was necessary in the
accompanying drawing (page 87), in order to show
them more clearly.

There is yet another method of construction
useful in noting accurately the shape of a curved

line, which is illustrated in Fig. Y, page 87.

First of all, fix the positions of the ex-
Curves0* tremities of the line by means of the vertical

and horizontal. And also, as this is a
double curve, the point at which the curvature
changes from one direction to the other: point C.
By drawing lines CA, CB and noting the distances

Plate XVIII

STUDY ILLUSTRATING METHOD OF DRAWING

Note the different stages, ist. Centre line and transverse lines for settling position
of salient points. 2nd. Blocking in, as shown in further leg. srd. Drawing in the forms
and shading, as shown in front leg. 4th. Rubbing with fingers (giving a faint middle
tone over the whole), and picking out high lights with bread, as shown on back and arms.

LINE DRAWING: PRACTICAL

your curves travel from these straight lines, and
particularly the relative position of the farthest
points reached, their curvature can be accurately
observed and copied. In noting the varying curva-
ture of forms, this construction should always be
in your mind to enable you to observe them accu-
rately. First note the points at which the curvature
begins and ends, and then the distances it travels
from a line joining these two points, holding up
a pencil or knitting-needle against the model if
need be.

A drawing being blocked out in such a state as
the further leg and foot of our demonstration draw-
ing (page 90), it is time to begin the .^
drawing proper. So far you have only been Drawing
pegging out the ground it is going to oc- J
cupy. This initial scaffolding, so necessary to train
the eye, should be done as accurately as possible,
but don't let it interfere with your freedom in ex-
pressing the forms afterwards. The work up to
this point has been mechanical, but it is time to
consider the subject with some feeling for form.
Here knowledge of the structure of bones and
muscles that underlie the skin will help you to
seize on those things that are significant and express
the form of the figure. And the student cannot do
better than study the excellent book by Sir Alfred
D. Fripp on this subject, entitled Human Anatomy
for Art Students. Notice particularly the swing
of the action, such things as the pull occasioned by
the arm resting on the farther thigh, and the
prominence given to the forms by the straining of
the skin at the shoulder. Also the firm lines of
the bent back and the crumpled forms of the front
of the body. Notice the overlapping of the con-

LINE DRAWING: PRACTICAL

tours, and where they are accentuated and where
more lost, &c., drawing with as much feeling
and conviction as you are capable of. You will
have for some time to work tentatively, feeling for
the true shapes that you do not yet rightly see, but
as soon as you feel any confidence, remember it
should be your aim to express yourself freely and
swiftly.

There is a tendency in some quarters to dis-
courage this blocking in of the forms in straight
lines, and certainly it has been harmful to the
freedom of expression in the work of some students.
They not only begin the drawing with this me-
chanical blocking in, but continue it in the same
mechanical fashion, cutting up almost all their
curves into flatnesses, and never once breaking free
from this scaffolding to indulge in the enjoyment
of free line expression. This, of course, is bad, and
yet the character of a curved line is hardly to be
accurately studied in any other way than by ob-
serving its relation to straight lines. The inclination
and length of straight lines can be observed with
certainty. But a curve has not this definiteness,
and is a very unstable thing to set about copying
unaided. Who but the highly skilled draughtsman
could attempt to copy our random shape at Fig.
X, page 87, without any guiding straight lines?
And even the highly skilled draughtsman would
draw such straight lines mentally. So that some
blocking out of the curved forms, either done practi-
cally or in imagination, must be adopted to rightly
observe any shapes. But do not forget that this
is only a scaffolding, and should always be regarded
as such and kicked away as soon as real form ex-
pression with any feeling begins.

LINE DRAWING: PRACTICAL

But it will be some years before the beginner
has got his eye trained to such accuracy of observa-
tion that he can dispense with it.

In the case of foreshortenings, the eye, unaided
by this blocking out, is always apt to be led astray.
And here the observation of the shape of T

in. Blocic-

the background against the object will be ing-inob-
of great assistance. The appearance of Ihajfeof
the foreshortened object is so unlike what tll^!5J£^
you know it to be as a solid thing, that much as
it is as well to concentrate the attention
on the background rather than on the form in this
blocking-out process. And in fact, in blocking out any
object, whether foreshortened or not, the shape of the
background should be observed as carefully as any
other shape. But in making the drawing proper, the
forms must be observed in their inner relations.
That is to say, the lines bounding one side of a
form must be observed in relation to the lines
bounding the other side; as the true expression of
form, which is the object of drawing, depends on the
true relationship of these boundaries. The drawing
of the two sides should be carried on simultaneously,
so that one may constantly compare them.

The boundaries of forms with any complexity,
such as the human figure, are not continu- Bound_
ous lines. One form overlaps another, like aries a
the lines of a range of hills. And this over- overlap-
lapping should be sought for and carefully pin£8-
expressed, the outlines being made up of a series
of overlappings.

In Line Drawing shading should only be used
to aid the expression of form. It is not Shading,
advisable to aim at representing the true tone
values.

LINE DRAWING: PRACTICAL

In direct light it will be observed that a solid
object has some portion of its surface in light,
while other portions, those turned away from the
light, are in shadow. Shadows are also cast on
the ground and surrounding objects, called cast
shadows. The parts of an object reflecting the
most direct light are called the high lights. If
the object have a shiny surface these lights are
clear and distinct ; if a dull surface, soft and
diffused. In the case of a very shiny surface,
such as a glazed pot, the light may be reflected
so completely that a picture of the source of light,
usually a window, will be seen.

In the diagram on page 95, let A represent the
plan of a cone, B C the opening of a window,
and D the eye of the spectator, and E F G the
wall of a room. Light travels in straight lines
from the window, strikes the surface of the cone,
and is reflected to the eye, making the angle of
incidence equal to the angle of reflection, the
angle of incidence being that made by the light
striking an object, and the angle of reflection that
made by the light in leaving the surface.

It will be seen that the lines BID, C 2 D are
the limits of the direct rays of light that come
to the eye from the cone, and that therefore be-
tween points 1 and 2 will be seen the highest light.
If the cone have a perfect reflecting surface, such
as a looking-glass has, this would be all the direct
light that would be reflected from the cone to the
eye. But assuming it to have what is called a
dull surface, light would be reflected from other
parts also, although not in so great a quantity.
If what is called a dull surface is looked at under
a microscope it will be found to be quite rough,

Diagram V

PLAN OF CONE A, LIT BY WINDOW BC; POSITION OF
EYE D. ILLUSTRATING PRINCIPLES OF LIGHT AND
SHADE

LINE DRAWING: PRACTICAL

i.e. made up of many facets which catch light at
different angles.

Lines B 4, 03 represent the extreme limits of
light that can be received by the cone, and there-
fore at points 3 and 4 the shadow will commence.
The fact that light is reflected to the eye right
up to the point 3 does not upset the theory that
it can only be reflected from points where the
angle of incidence can equal the angle of reflection,
as it would seem to do, because the surface being
rough presents facets at different angles, from some
of which it can be reflected to the eye right up to
point 3. The number of these facets that can so
reflect is naturally greatest near the high lights,
and gets gradually less as the surface turns more
away ; until the point is reached where the shadows
begin, at which point the surface positively turns
away from the light and the reflection of direct
light ceases altogether. After point 3 there would
be no light coming to the eye from the object,
were it not that it receives reflected light. Now,
the greatest amount of reflected light will come
from the direction opposite to that of the direct
light, as all objects in this direction are strongly
lit. The surface of the wall between points E and
H, being directly opposite the light, will give most
reflection. And between points 5 and 6 this light
will be reflected by the cone to the eye in its
greatest intensity, since at these points the angles
of incidence equal the angles of reflection. The
other parts of the shadow will receive a certain
amount of reflected light, lessening in amount on
either side of these points. We have now rays
of light coming to the eye from the cone between
the extreme points 7 and 8. From 7 to 3 we have

,»•» " * *» »* V

WA > :.-.."
..-.;/:.

Plate XIX

ILLUSTRATING CURVED LINES SUGGESTING FULLNESS
AND FORESHORTENING

LINE DRAWING: PRACTICAL

the light, including the half tones. Between 1 and
2 the high light. Between 3 and 8 the shadows
with the greatest amount of reflected light between
5 and 6.

I should not have troubled the reader with this
tedious diagram were it not that certain facts about
light and shade can be learned from it. The firs
is that the high lights come much more within the
edge of the object than you would have expected
With the light directly opposite point 7, one might
have thought the highest light would have come
there, and that is where many students put it, until
the loss of roundness in the appearance of their
work makes them look more carefully for its position.
So remember always to look out for high lights
within the contours of forms, not on the edges.

The next thing to notice is that the darkest part
of the shadow will come nearest the lights between
points 3 and 5. This is the part turned most away
from the direction of the greatest amount of re-
flected light, and therefore receiving least. The
lightest part of the shadow will be in the middle,
rather towards the side away from the light, gener-
ally speaking. The shadow cast on the ground will
be dark, like the darkest part of the shadow on the
cone, as its surface is also turned away from the
chief source of reflected light.

Although the artist will very seldom be called
upon to draw a cone, the same principles of light
and shade that are so clearly seen in such a simple
figure obtain throughout the whole of nature. This
is why the much abused drawing and shading from
whitened blocks and pots is so useful. Nothing so
clearly impresses the general laws of light and shade
as this so-called dull study.

U7 G

LINE DRAWING: PRACTICAL

This lightening of shadows in the middle by re-
flected light and darkening towards their edges is
a very important thing to remember, the heavy,
smoky look students' early work is so prone to,
being almost entirely due to their neglect through
ignorance of this principle. Nothing is more awful
than shadows darker in the middle and gradually
lighter towards their edges. Of course, where there
is a deep hollow in the shadow parts, as at the arm-
pit and the fold at the navel in the drawing on
page 90, you will get a darker tone. But this does
not contradict the principle that generally shadows
are lighter in the middle and darker towards the
edges. Note the luminous quality the observation
of this principle gives the shadow on the body of
our demonstration drawing.

This is a crude statement of the general principles
of light and shade on a simple round object. In one
with complex surfaces the varieties of light and
shade are infinite. But the same principles hold
good. The surfaces turned more to the source of
light receive the greatest amount, and are the
lightest. And from these parts the amount of light
lessens through what are called the half tones as
the surface turns more away, until a point is reached
where no more direct light is received, and the
shadows begin. And in the shadows the same law
applies: those surfaces turned most towards the
source of reflected light will receive the most, and
the amount received will gradually lessen as the
surface turns away, until at the point immediately
before where the half tones begin the amount of
reflected light will be very little, and in consequence
the darkest part of the shadows may be looked for.
There may, of course, be other sources of direct

LINE DRAWING: PRACTICAL

light on the shadow side that will entirely alter
and complicate the effect. Or one may draw in a
wide, diffused light, such as is found in the open
air on a grey day ; in which case there will be little
or no shadow, the modelling depending entirely on
degrees of light and half tone.

In studying the principles of simple light and
shade it is advisable to draw from objects of one
local colour, such as white casts. In parti-coloured
objects the problem is complicated by the different
tones of the local colour. In line drawing it is as
well to take as little notice as possible of these
variations which disturb the contemplation of pure
form and do not belong to the particular province of
form expression with which we are here concerned.

Although one has selected a strong half light
and half shade effect to illustrate the general prin-
ciples of light and shade, it is not advisable in
making line drawings to select such a position. A
point of view with a fairly wide light at your back
is the best. In this position little shadow will be
seen, most of the forms being expressed by the play
of light and half tone. The contours, as they are
turned away from the light, will naturally be darker,
and against a light background your subject has an
appearance with dark edges that is easily expressed
by a line drawing. Strong light and shade effects
should be left for mass drawing. You seldom see
any shadows in Holbein's drawings ; he seems to
have put his sitters near a wide window, close
against which he worked. Select also a background
as near the tone of the highest light on the object to
be drawn as possible. This will show up clearly the
contour. In the case of a portrait drawing, a news-
paper hung behind the head answers very well and

LINE DRAWING: PRACTICAL

is always easily obtained. The tone of it can be
varied by the distance at which it is placed from
the head, and by the angle at which it is turned away
from or towards the light.

Don't burden a line drawing with heavy half tones
and shadows ; keep them light. The beauty that is
the particular province of line drawing is the beauty
of contours, and this is marred by heavy light and
shade. Great draughtsmen use only just enough to
express the form, but never to attempt the expres-
sion of tone. Think of the half tones as part of the
lights and not as part of the shadows.

There are many different methods of drawing in
line, and a student of any originality will find one
that suits his temperament. But I will try and illus-
trate one that is at any rate logical, and that may
serve as a fair type of line drawing generally.

The appearance of an object is first considered
as a series of contours, some forming the boundaries
of the form against the background, and others
the boundaries of the subordinate forms withiu
these bounding lines. The light and shade and
differences of local colour (like the lips, eyebrows,
and eyes in a head) are considered together as
tones of varying degrees of lightness and darkness,
and suggested by means of lines drawn parallel
across the drawing from left to right, and from
below upwards, or vice versa, darker and closer
together when depth is wanted, and fainter and
further apart where delicacy is demanded, and vary-
ing in thickness when gradation is needed. This rule
of parallel shading is broken only when strongly
marked forms, such as the swinging lines of hair, a
prominent bone or straining muscles, &c., demand
it. This parallel shading gives a great beauty of

100

Plate XX

STUDY FOB THE FIGURE OF LOVE IN THE PICTURE "LOVE LEAVING
PSYCHE " ILLUSTRATING A METHOD OF DRAWING

The lines of shading following a convenient parallel direction unless prominent
forms demand otherwise.

LINE DRAWING: PRACTICAL :,

surface and fleshiness to a drawing. The lines
following, as it were, the direction of the light
across the object rather than the form, give a
unity that has a great charm. It is more suited
to drawings where extreme delicacy of form is de-
sired, and is usually used in silver point work, a
medium capable of the utmost refinement.

In this method the lines of shading not being
much varied in direction or curved at all, a minimum
amount of that "form stimulus" is conveyed. The
curving of the lines in shading adds considerably to
the force of the relief, and suggests much stronger
modelling. In the case of foreshortened effects,
where the forms are seen at their fullest, arching
one over the other, some curvature in the lines of
shading is of considerable advantage in adding to
the foreshortened look. (See illustration, page 96.)

Lines drawn down the forms give an appear-
ance of great strength and toughness, a tense look.
And this quality is very useful in suggesting such
things as joints and sinews, rocks, hard ground, or
gnarled tree-trunks, &c. In figure drawing it is an
interesting quality to use sparingly, with the shad-
ing done on the across-the-form principle; and to
suggest a difference of texture or a straining of the
form. Lines of shading drawn in every direction,
crossing each other and resolving themselves into
tone effects, suggest atmosphere and the absence
of surface form. This is more often used in the
backgrounds of pen and ink work and is seldom
necessary in pencil or chalk drawing, as they are
more concerned with form than atmosphere. Pen
and ink is more often used for elaborate pictorial
effects in illustration work, owing to the ease with
which it can be reproduced and printed; and it is

101

, EINE DRAWING : PRACTICAL

tere that one often finds this muddled quality of
line spots being used to fill up interstices and make
the tone even.

Speaking generally, lines of shading drawn across
the forms suggest softness, lines drawn in curves
fulness of form, lines drawn down the forms hard-
ness, and lines crossing in all directions so that only
a mystery of tone results, atmosphere. And if these
four qualities of line be used judiciously, a great
deal of expressive power is added to your shading.
And, as will be explained in the next chapter,
somewhat the same principle applies to the direction
of the swing of the brush in painting.

Shading lines should never be drawn backwards
and forwards from left to right (scribbled), except
possibly where a mystery of shadow is wanted
and the lines are being crossed in every direction;
but never when lines are being used to express
form. They are not sufficiently under control, and
also the little extra thickness that occurs at the
turn is a nuisance.

The crossing of lines in shading gives a more
opaque look. This is useful to suggest the opaque
appearance of the darker passage that occurs in
that part of a shadow nearest the lights ; and it is
sometimes used in the half tones also.

Draughtsmen vary very much in their treatment
of hair, and different qualities of hair require
different treatment. The particular beauty of it
that belongs to point drawing is the swing and
flow of its lines. These are especially apparent in
the lights. In the shadows the flow of line often
stops, to be replaced by a mystery of shadow. So
that a play of swinging lines alternating with
shadow passages, drawn like all the other shadows

102

> ''•>>>

. -

4* '•

Plate XXI

STUDY IN RED CHALK

Illustrating a treatment of hair in line-work.

LINE DRAWING: PRACTICAL

with parallel lines not following the form, is often
effective, and suggests the quality of hair in nature.
The swinging lines should vary in thickness along
their course, getting darker as they pass certain
parts, and gradating into lighter lines at other parts
according to the effect desired. (See illustration,
page 102.)

To sum up, in the method of line drawing we
are trying to explain (the method employed for
most of the drawings by the author in this book)
the lines of shading are made parallel in a direc-
tion that comes easy to the hand, unless some
quality in the form suggests their following other
directions. So that when you are in doubt as to
what direction they should follow, draw them on the
parallel principle. This preserves a unity in your
work, and allows the lines drawn in other directions
for special reasons to tell expressively.

As has already been explained, it is not sufficient
in drawing to concentrate the attention on copying
accurately the visual appearance of anything, im-
portant as the faculty of accurate observation is.
Form to be expressed must first be appreciated.
And here the science of teaching fails. "You can
take a horse to the fountain, but you cannot make
him drink," and in art you can take the student
to the point of view from which things are to be
appreciated, but you cannot make him see. How,
then, is this appreciation of form to be developed?
Simply by feeding. Familiarise yourself with all
the best examples of drawing you can find, trying
to see in nature the same qualities. Study the
splendid drawing by Puvis de Chavannes repro-
duced on page 104. Note the way the contours have
been searched for expressive qualities. Look how

LINE DRAWING: PRACTICAL

the expressive line of the back of the seated figure
has been "felt," the powerful expression of the
upraised arm with its right angle (see later page 155,
chapter on line rhythm). And then observe the
different types of the two standing figures ; the
practical vigour of the one and the soft grace of
the other, and how their contours have been studied
to express this feeling, &c. There is a mine of
knowledge to be unearthed in this drawing.

There never was an age when such an amount
of artistic food was at the disposal of students.
Cheap means of reproduction have brought the
treasures of the world's galleries and collections to
our very doors in convenient forms for a few pence.
The danger is not from starvation, but indigestion.
Students are so surfeited with good things that
they often fail to digest any of them ; but rush
on from one example to another, taking but snap-
shot views of what is offered, until their natural
powers of appreciation are in a perfect whirlwind
of confused ideas. What then is to be done?
You cannot avoid the good things that are
hurled at you in these days, but when you come
across anything that strikes you as being a par-
ticularly fine thing, feed deeply on it. Hang it up
where you will see it constantly; in your bedroom,
for instance, where it will entertain your sleepless
hours, if you are unfortunate enough to have any.
You will probably like very indifferent drawings at
first, the pretty, the picturesque and the tricky will
possibly attract before the sublimity of finer things.
"Rut be quite honest and feed on the best that
you genuinely like, and when you have thoroughly
digested and comprehended that, you will weary of
it and long for something better, and so, gradually,

104

Plate XXII

Photo Nenrdein

STUDY FOB DECORATION AT AMIENS " REPOSE "
BY PEUVIS DE CHAVANNES

Note how the contours are searched for expressive forms, the power given to the seated
figure by the right angle of the raised arm, and the contrast between the upright vigour
of the right-hand figure with the softer lines of the middle one

c c ' ' < ' ° ' c * *

'< ' ' ' < ' c

LINE DRAWING: PRACTICAL

be led on to appreciate the best you are capable
of appreciating.

Before closing this chapter there are one or two
points connected with the drawing of a head that
might be mentioned, as students are not always
sufficiently on the look out for them.

In our diagram on page 107, let Fig. 1 represent
a normal eye. At Fig. 2 we have removed the skin
and muscles and exposed the two main structural
features in the form of the eye, namely the bony
ring of the socket and the globe containing the
lenses and retina. Examining this opening, we find
from A to B that it runs smoothly into the bony
prominence at the top of the nose, and that the
rest of the edge is sharp, and from point C to E
quite free. It is at point A, starting from a little
hole, that , the sharp edge begins ; and near this
point the corner of the eye is situated: A, Figs. 1,
2, 3. From points A to F the bony edge of the
opening is very near the surface and should be
looked for.

The next thing to note is the fact that the eye-
brow at first follows the upper edge of the bony
opening from B to C, but that from point C it
crosses the free arch between C and D and soon
ends. So that considering the under side of the
eyebrow, whereas from point C towards B there
is usually a cavernous hollow, from C towards D
there is a prominence. The character of eyes varies
greatly, and this effect is often modified by the
fleshy fulness that fills in the space between the
eyelid and the brow, but some indication of a
change is almost always to be observed at a point
somewhere about C, and should be looked out for.
Any bony prominence from this point towards D

105

LINE DRAWING: PRACTICAL

should be carefully constructed. Look out for the
bone, therefore, between the points C D and A F.

Never forget when painting an eye that what
we call the white of the eye is part of a sphere
and will therefore have the light and shade of a
sphere. It will seldom be the same tone all over;
if the light is coming from the right, it will be in
shade towards the left and vice versa. Also the
eyelids are bands of flesh placed on this spherical
surface. They will therefore partake of the model-
ling of the sphere and not be the same tone all
across. Note particularly the sudden change of plane
usually marked by a fold, where the under eyelid
meets the surface coming from the cheek bone.
The neglect to construct these planes of the under
eyelid is a very common fault in poorly painted
eyes. Note also where the upper eyelid comes
against the flesh under the eyebrow (usually a
strongly marked fold) and the differences of planes
that occur at this juncture. In some eyes, when
there is little loose flesh above the eyelid, there is
a deep hollow here, the eyelid running up under the
bony prominence, C D. This is an important struc-
tural line, marking as it does the limit of the spherical
surface of the eyeball, on which surface the eyelids
are placed.

Fig. 4 is a rough diagram of the direction it is
usual for the hairs forming the eyebrow to take.
From A a few scant hairs start radiating above
the nose and quite suddenly reach their thickest
and strongest growth between B and E. They con-
tinue, still following a slightly radiating course
until D. These hairs are now met by another lot,
starting from above downwards, and growing from
B to C. An eyebrow is considered by the draughts-

106

LINE DRAWING: PRACTICAL

Diagram VI

ILLUSTRATING SOME POINTS CONNECTED WITH THE EYES

NOT ALWAYS OBSERVED IN DRAWING A HEAD

ior

LINE DRAWING: PRACTICAL

man as a tone of a certain shape and qualities of
edge. And what interests us here is to note the
effect of this order of growth upon its appearance
as tone. The meeting of the strong growth of
hair upwards with the downward growth between
points B and E creates what is usually the darkest
part of the eyebrow at this point. And the coming
together of the hairs towards D often makes another
dark part in this direction. The edge from C to
B is nearly always a soft one, the tone melting
into the flesh, and this should be looked out for,
giving as it does a pretty variety to the run of the
line. Another thing that tends to make this edge
soft is the fact that a bony prominence is situated
here and has usually a high light upon it that
crosses the eyebrow. From C to D you usually
find a sharper edge, the hairs running parallel to
the line of the eyebrow, while from D to E and
A to B a softer boundary can be looked for. The
chief accent will generally be found at B, where a
dark mass often comes sharply against the tone of
the forehead.

The eyelashes do not count for much in drawing
a head, except in so far as they affect the tone
impression. In the first place they shade the white
of the eye when the light is above, as is usually
the case. They are much thicker on the outer than
on the inner side of the eyelids, and have a
tendency to grow in an outward direction, so that
when the light comes from the left, as is shown
by arrow, Fig. 5, the white of the eye at A 1
will not be much shaded, and the light tone will
run nearly up to the top. But at B 4, which should
be the light side of this eye, the thick crop of eye-
lashes will shade it somewhat and the light will not

108

LINE DRAWING: PRACTICAL

run far up lin consequence, while B 3, A 2 will be
in the shade from the turning away from the
direction of the light of the spherical surface of the
whites of the eyes.

These may seem smi'll points to mention, but
the observance of such small points makes a great
difference to the construction of a head.

Fig. 6 gives a series of blocks all exactly alike
in outline, with lines showing how the different
actions of the head affect the guide lines on which
the features hang ; and how these actions can be
suggested even when the contours are not varied.
These archings over should be carefully looked out
for when the head is in any but a simple full face
position.

109

MASS DRAWING: PRACTICAL

THIS is the form of drawing with which painting
in the oil medium is properly concerned. The dis-
tinction between drawing and painting that is
sometimes made is a wrong one in so far as it
conveys any idea of painting being distinct from
drawing. Painting is drawing (i.e. the expression of
form) with the added complication of colour and
tone. And with a brush full of paint as your tool,
some form of mass drawing must be adopted. So
that at the same time that the student is progressing
with line drawing, he should begin to accustom
himself to this other method of seeing, by attempt-
ing very simple exercises in drawing with the brush.

Most objects can be reduced broadly into three
tone masses, the lights (including the high lights),
the half tones, and the shadows. And the habit of
reducing things into a simple equation of three tones
as a foundation on which to build complex appear-
ances should early be sought for.

Here is a simple exercise in mass drawing with
the brush that is, as far as I know, never offered to
EX rcis ^e voun£ student. Select a simple object :
in Mass some of those casts of fruit hanging up that
Drawing. are common m art schools will do. Place
it in a strong light and shade, preferably by artificial
light, as it is not so subtle, and therefore easier ; the

110

MASS DRAWING: PRACTICAL

light coining from either the right or left hand, but
not from in front. Try and arrange it so that the
tone of the ground of your cast comes about equal
to the half tones in the relief.

First draw in the outlines of the masses strongly
in charcoal, noting the shapes of the shadows care-
fully, taking great care that you get their shapes
blocked out in square lines in true proportion rela-
tive to each other, and troubling about little else.
Let this be a setting out of the ground upon which
you will afterwards express the form, rather than
a drawing — the same scaffolding, in fact, that you
were advised to do in the case of a line drawing,
only, in that case, the drawing proper was to be
done with a point, and in this case the draw-
ing proper is to be done with a brush full of
paint. Fix -the charcoal well with a spray diffuser
and the usual solution of white shellac in spirits
of wine.

Taking raw umber and white (oil paint), mix up
a tone that you think equal to the half tones of the
cast before you. Extreme care should be taken in
matching this tone. Now scumble this with a big
brush equally over the whole canvas (or whatever
you are making your study on). Don't use much
medium, but if it is too stiff to go on thinly enough,
put a little oil with it, but no turpentine. By scumb-
ling is meant rubbing the colour into the canvas,
working the brush from side to side rapidly, and
laying just the thinnest solid tone that will cover the
surface. If this is properly done, and your drawing
was well fixed, you will just be able to see it through
the paint. Now mix up a tone equal to the highest
lights on the cast, and map out simply the shapes
of the light masses on your study, leaving the

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MASS DRAWING: PRACTICAL

scumbled tone for the half tones. Note carefully
where the light masses come sharply against the
half tones and where they merge softly into them.

You will find that the scumbled tone of your
ground will mix with the tone of the lights with
which you are painting, and darken it somewhat.
This will enable you to get the amount of variety
you want in the tone of the lights. The thicker
you paint the lighter will be the tone, while the
thinner paint will be more affected by the original
half tone, and will consequently be darker. When
this is done, mix up a tone equal to the darkest
shadow, and proceed to map out the shadows in
the same way as you did the lights ; noting care-
fully where they come sharply against the half
tone and where they are lost. In the case of the
shadows the thicker you paint the darker will be
the tone ; and the thinner, the lighter.

When the lights and shadows have been mapped
out, if this has been done with any accuracy, your
work should be well advanced. And it now remains
to correct and refine it here and there, as you feel
it wants it. Place your work alongside the cast,
and walk back to correct it. Faults that are not
apparent when close, are easily seen at a little dis-
tance.

I don't suggest that this is the right or only
way of painting, but I do suggest that exercises
of this description will teach the student many of
the rudimentary essentials of painting, such elemen-
tary things as how to lay a tone, how to manage
a brush, how to resolve appearances into a simple
structure of tones, and how to manipulate your
paint so as to express the desired shape. This ele-
mentary paint drawing is, as far as I know, never

112

MASS DRAWING: PRACTICAL

given as an exercise, the study of drawing at pre-
sent being confined to paper and charcoal or chalk
mediums. Drawing in charcoal is the nearest thing
to this "paint drawing," it being a sort of mixed
method, half line and half mass drawing. But
although allied to painting, it is a very different
thing from expressing form with paint, and no
substitute for some elementary exercise with the
brush. The use of charcoal to the neglect of line
drawing often gets the student into a sloppy manner
of work, and is not so good a training to the eye
and hand in clear, definite statement. Its popularity
is no doubt due to the fact that you can get much
effect with little knowledge. Although this painting
into a middle tone is not by any means the only
method of painting, I do feel that it is the best
method for studying form expression with the
brush.

But, when you come to colour, the fact of the
opaque middle tone (or half tone) being first painted
over the whole will spoil the clearness and transpar-
ency of your shadows, and may also interfere with
the brilliancy of the colour in the lights. When
colour comes to be considered it may be necessary
to adopt many expedients that it is as well not
to trouble too much about until a further stage is
reached. But there is no necessity for the half tone
to be painted over the shadows. In working in
colour the half tone or middle tone of the lights
can be made, and a middle tone of the shadows, and
these two first painted separately, the edges where
they come together being carefully studied and
finished. Afterwards the variety of tone in the
lights and the shadows can be added. By this means
the difference in the quality of the colour between

113 H

MASS DRAWING: PRACTICAL

lights and shadows is preserved. This is an im-
portant consideration, as there is generally a strong
contrast between them, the shadows usually being
warm if the lights are cool and vice versa ; and such
contrasts greatly affect the vitality of colouring.

Try always to do as much as possible with one
stroke of the brush ; paint has a vitality when
the touches are deft, that much handling and con-
tinual touching kills. Look carefully at the shape
and variety of the tone you wish to express, and
try and manipulate the swing of your brush in
such a way as to get in one touch as near
the quality of shape and gradation you want. Re-
member that the lightest part of your touch will
be where the brush first touches the canvas when
you are painting lights into a middle tone; and
that as the amount of paint in the brush gets
less, so the tone will be more affected by what
you are painting into, and get darker. And in
painting the shadows, the darkest part of your
stroke will be where the brush first touches the
canvas; and it will gradually lighten as the paint
in your brush gets less and therefore more affected
by the tone you are painting into. If your brush
is very full it will not be influenced nearly so
much. And if one wants a touch that shall be
distinct, as would be the case in painting the shiny
light on a glazed pot, a very full brush would
be used. But generally speaking, get your effects
with as little paint as possible. Thinner paint
is easier to refine and manipulate. There will be
no fear of its not being solid if you artT painting
into a solidly scumbled middle tone.

Many charming things are to be done with a
mixture of solid and transparent paint, but it is

MASS DRAWING: PRACTICAL

well at first not to complicate the problem too
much, and therefore to leave this until later on,
when you are competent to attack problems of
colour. Keep your early work both in monochrome
and colour quite solid, but as thin as you can, re-
serving thicker paint for those occasions when you
wish to put a touch that shall not be influenced
by what you are painting into.

It will perhaps be as well to illustrate a few of
the different brush strokes, and say something about
the different qualities of each. These are only
given as typical examples of the innumerable ways
a brush may be used as an aid to very elementary
students; every artist will, of course, develop ways
of his own.

The touch will of necessity depend in the first
instance upon the shape of the brush, and these
shapes are innumerable. But there are two classes
into which they can roughly be divided, flat and
round. The round brushes usually sold, which we
will call Class A, have rather a sharp point, and
this, although helpful in certain circumstances, is
against their general usefulness. But a round
brush with a round point is also made, and this is
much more convenient for mass drawing. Where
there is a sharp point the central hairs are much
longer, and consequently when the brush is drawn
along and pressed so that all the hairs are touch-
ing the canvas, the pressure in the centre, where
the long hairs are situated, is different from that
at the sides. This has the effect of giving a touch
that is not equal in quality all across, and the
variety thus given is difficult to manipulate. I
should therefore advise the student to try the
blunt-ended round brushes first, as they give a

115

MASS DRAWING: PRACTICAL

much more even touch, and one much more suited
to painting in planes of tone.

The most extreme flat brushes (Class B) are thin
and rather short, with sharp square ends, and have
been very popular with students. They can be
relied upon to give a perfectly flat, even tone, but
with a rather hard sharp edge at the sides, and
also at the commencement of the touch. In fact,
they make touches like little square bricks. But
as the variety that can be got out of them is
limited, and the amount of paint they can carry
so small that only short strokes can be made, they
are not the best brush for general use. They are
at times, when great refinement and delicacy are
wanted, very useful, but are, on the whole, poor
tools for the draughtsman in paint. Some variety
can be got by using one or other of their sharp
corners, by which means the smallest possible
touch can be made to begin with, which can be
increased in size as more pressure is brought to
bear, until the whole surface of the brush is brought
into play. They are also often used to paint across
the form, a manner illustrated in the second touch,
columns 1 and 2 of the illustration on page 117.

A more useful brush (Class C) partakes of the
qualities of both flat and round. It is made with
much more hair than the lail, is longer, and has a
square top with rounded corners. This brush carries
plenty of paint, will lay an even tone, and, from the
fact that the corners are rounded and the pressure
consequently lessened at the sides, does not leave so
hard an edge on either side of your stroke.

Another brush that has recently come into
fashion is called a filbert shape (Class D) by the
makers. It is a fine brush to draw with *» being

116

Plate XXV

ILLUSTRATING SOME TYPICAL BRUSH STROKES MADE WITH
FOUR CLASSES OF BRUSH

Class A, round ; Class B, flat ; Class C, full flat brush with rounded corners ;
Class D, filbert shape.

MASS DRAWING: PRACTICAL

flat it paints in planes, and having a rounded top
is capable of getting in and out of a variety of
contours. They vary in shape, some being more
pointed than others. The blunt-ended form is the
best for general use. Either this class of brush or
Class C are perhaps the best for the exercises in
mass drawing we have been describing. But Class A
should also be tried, and even Class B, to find out
which suits the particular individuality of the student.

On opposite page a variety of touches have been
made in turn by these different shaped brushes.

In all the strokes illustrated it is assumed that
the brush is moderately full of paint of a consistency
a little thinner than that usually put up by colour-
men. To thin it, mix a little turpentine and linseed
oil in equal parts with it; and get it into easy
working consistency before beginning your work,
so as not to need any medium.

In the first column (No. 1), a touch firmly painted
with an equal pressure all along its course is given.
This gives you a plane of tone with firm edges the
width of your brush, getting gradually darker or
lighter as your brush empties, according to the
length of the stroke and to whether you are painting
into a lighter or darker ground.

In column No. 2 a drag touch is illustrated. This
is a very useful one. The brush is placed firmly
on the canvas and then dragged from the point
lightly away, leaving a gradated tone. A great
deal of the modelling in round objects is to be
expressed by this variety of handling. The danger
is that its use is apt to lead to a too dexterous
manner of painting; a dexterity more concerned
with the clever manner in which a thing is painted
than with the truth expressed.

117

MASS DRAWING: PRACTICAL

Column No. 3. This is a stroke lightly and
quickly painted, where the brush just grazes the
surface of the canvas. The paint is put on in a
manner that is very brilliant, and at the same time
of a soft quality. If the brush is only moderately
full, such touches will not have any hard edges,
but be of a light, feathery nature. It is a most
useful manner of putting on paint when freshness
of colour is wanted, as it prevents one tone being
churned up with another and losing its purity. And
in the painting of hair, where the tones need to
be kept very separate, and at the same time not
hard, it is very useful. But in monochrome painting
from the cast it is of very little service.

Another method of using a brush is hatching,
the drawing of rows of parallel lines in either equal
or varying thicknesses. This method will lighten
or darken a tone in varying degree, according to
whether the lines are thick, thin, or gradated — some-
what in the same way that lines of shading are drawn
in line work. In cases where the correction of in-
tricate modelling is desired and where it would be
very difficult to alter a part accurately by a deft
stroke of the brush, this method is useful to employ.
A dry brush can be drawn across the lines to unite
them with the rest of the work afterwards. This
method of painting has lately been much used by
those artists who have attempted painting in sepa-
rate, pure colours, after the so-called manner of
Claude Monet, although so mechanical a method is
seldom used by that master.

As your power of drawing increases (from the
line drawing you have been doing), casts of hands
and heads should be attempted in the same manner
as has been described. Illustrations are given of

118

MASS DRAWING: PRACTICAL

exercises of this description on pages 110 and 122.
Unfortunately the photographs, which were taken
from the same study at different stages during the
painting, are not all alike, the first painting of the
lights being too darkly printed in some cases. But
they show how much can be expressed with the
one tone, when variety is got by using the middle
tone to paint into. The two tones used are noted
in the right-hand lower corner.

Try to train yourself to do these studies at one
sitting. But if you find you cannot manage this,
use slower drying colours, say bone brown and zinc
white, which will keep wet until the next day.

When you begin studying from the life, proceed
in the same *way with monochrome studies painted
into a middle tone.

And what are you to do if you find, when you
have finished, that it is all wrong ? I should advise
you to let it dry, and then scumble a middle tone
right over the whole thing, as you did at first, which
will show the old work through, and you can then
correct your drawing and proceed to paint the lights
and shadows as before. And if only a part of it is
wrong, when it is quite dry rub a little poppy oil
thinned with turpentine over the work, as little as
will serve to cover the surface. If it is found difficult
to get it to cover, breathe on the canvas, the slightest
moisture will Jielp it to bite. When this is done, wipe
it off with the palm of your hand or an old piece
of clean linen. Now paint a middle tone right over
the part you wish to retouch, being careful about
joining it up to the surrounding work, and proceed
as before, drawing in the light and shadow masses.

This form of drawing you will probably find more
difficult at first. For the reason already explained

119

MASS DRAWING: PRACTICAL

it seems natural to observe objects as made up of
outlines, not masses. The frame with cottons across
it should be used to flatten the appearance, as in
making outline drawings. And besides this a black
glass should be used. This can easily be made by
getting a small piece of glass — a photographic nega-
tive will do — and sticking some black paper on the
back ; turning it over the front to keep the raw
edges of the glass from cutting the fingers. Or the
glass can be painted on the back with black paint.
Standing with your back to the object and your paint-
ing, hold this glass close in front of one of your eyes
(the other being closed), so that you can see both
your painting and the object. Seeing the tones thus
reduced and simplified, you will be enabled more
easily to correct your work.

I should like to emphasise the importance of
the setting-out work necessary for brush-drawing.
While it is not necessary to put expressive work into
this preparatory work, the utmost care should be
taken to ensure its accuracy as far as it goes. It is
a great nuisance if, after you have put up some of
your fair structure, you find the foundations are in
the wrong place and the whole thing has to be
torn down and shifted. It is of the utmost necessity
to have the proportions and the main masses settled
at this early stage, and every device of blocking out
with square lines and measuring with your knitting-
needle, &c., should be adopted to ensure the accuracy
of these large proportions. The variations and em-
phases that feeling may dictate can be done in the
painting stage. This initial stage is not really a
drawing at all, but a species of mapping out, and as
such it should be regarded. The only excuse for
making the elaborate preparatory drawings on

120

MASS DRAWING: PRACTICAL

canvas students sometimes do, is that it enables them
to learn the subject, so that when they come to paint
it, they already know something about it. But the
danger of making these preparatory drawings inter-
esting is that the student fears to cover them up and
lose an outline so carefufly and lovingly wrought;
and this always results in a poor painting. When
you take up a brush to express yourself, it must be
with no fear of hurting a careful drawing. Your
drawing is going to be done with the brush, and only
the general setting out of the masses will be of any
use to you in the work of this initial stage. Never
paint with the poor spirit of the student who fears
to lose his drawing, or you will never do any fine
things in painting. Drawing (expressing form) is
the thing you should be doing all the time. And in
art, " he that would save his work must often lose
it," if you will excuse the paraphrase of a profound
saying which, like most profound sayings, is appli-
cable to many things in life besides what it originally
referred to. It is often necessary when a painting
is nearly right to destroy the whole thing in order
to accomplish the apparently little that still divides
it from what you conceive it should be. It is like a
man rushing a hill that is just beyond the power of
his motor-car to climb, he must take a long run at
it. And if the |jrst attempt lands him nearly up at
the top but not quite, he has to go back and take the
long run all over again, to give him the impetus that
shall carry him right through.

Another method of judging tone drawing is our
old method of half closing the eyes. This, by
lowering the tone and widening the focus, enables
you to correct the work more easily.

In tone drawing there is not only the shape of
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MASS DRAWING: PRACTICAL

the masses to be considered, but their values — that
is, their position in an imagined scale from dark
to light. The relation of the different tones in this
way — the values, as it is called — is an extremely
important matter in painting. But it more properly
belongs to the other department of the subject,
namely Colour, and this needs a volume to itself.
But something more will be said on this subject
when treating of Rhythm.

We saw, in speaking of line drawing, how the
character of a line was found by observing its flat-
nesses and its relation to straight lines. In the
same way the character of modelling is found by
observing its planes. So that in building up a com-
plicated piece of form, like a head or figure, the
planes (or flat tones) should be sought for every-
where. As a carver in stone blocks out his work
in square surfaces, the modelling of a figure or any
complex surface that is being studied should be set
out in planes of tone, painting in the first instance
the larger ones, and then, to these, adding the
smaller ; when it will be seen that the roundnesses
have, with a little fusing of edges here and there,
been arrived at. Good modelling is full of these
planes subtly fused together. Nothing is so
characteristic of bad modelling as "gross round-
nesses." The surface of a sphere is the surface with
the least character, like the curve of a circle, and
the one most to be avoided in good modelling.

In the search for form the knowledge of anatomy,
and particularly the bony structures, is of the utmost
importance. During the rage for realism and
naturalism many hard things were said about the
study of anatomy. And certainly, were it to be
used to overstep the modesty of nature in these

122

••••••••Pi

Plate XXVI

SET OF FOUR PHOTOGRAPHS or THE SAME STUDY FROM THE LIFE
rsr DIFFERENT STAGES

No. i. Blocking out the spaces occupied by different masses in charcoal.

Plate XXVII

SET OF FOUR PHOTOGRAPHS OF THE SAME STUDY FROM THE LIFE
IN DIFFERENT STAGES

No. 2. A middle- tone having been scrumbled over the whole, the lights are painted
into it ; variety being got by varying the thickness of the paint. The darks are due
to the charcoal lines of initial drawing showing through middle tone.

Plate xx wn

SET OF FOUR PHOTOGRAPHS OF THE SAME STUDY FROM THE LIFE
IN DIFFERENT STAGES

No. 3. The same as the last, but with the shadows added ; variety being got
by varying thickness of paint as before.

Plate XXIX

SET OF FOUR PHOTOGRAPHS OF THE SAME STUDY FROM THE LIFE
IN DIFFERENT STAGES

No. 4. The completed head.

MASS DRAWING: PRACTICAL

respects and to be paraded to the exclusion of the
charm and character of life, it would be as well
left alone. But if we are to make a drawing that
shall express something concrete, we must know
something of its structure, whatever it is. In the
case of the human figure it is impossible properly
to understand its action and draw it in a way that
shall give a powerful impression without a know-
ledge of the mechanics of its construction. But I
hardly think the case for anatomy needs much
stating at the present time. Never let anatomical
knowledge tempt you into exaggerated statements
of internal structure, unless such exaggeration
helps the particular thing you wish to express. In
drawing a figure in violent action it might, for
instance, be essential to the drawing, whereas in
drawing a figure at rest or a portrait, it would
certainly be out of place.

In the chapter on line work it was stated that:
"Lines of shading drawn across the forms sug-
gest softness, lines drawn in curves fulness of
form, lines drawn down the forms hardness, and
lines crossing in every direction atmosphere," and
these rules apply equally well to the direction of
the brush strokes (the brush work) in a painting.

The brush swinging round the forms suggests fore-
shortening, and fulness of form generally, and across
the forms softness, while the brush following down
the forms suggests toughness and hardness, and cross-
ing in every direction atmosphere. A great deal of
added force can be given to form expression in this
way. In the foreshortened figure on the ground at
the left of Tintoretto's " Finding of the Body of St.
Mark," the foreshortened effect helped by the brush
work swinging round can be seen (see illustration,

123

MASS DRAWING: PRACTICAL

page 236). The work of Henner in France is an
extreme instance of the quality of softness and
fleshiness got by painting across the form. The
look of toughness and hardness given by the brush
work following down the forms is well illustrated
in much of the work of James Ward, the animal
painter. In his picture in the National Gallery,
" Harlech Castle," No. 1158, this can be seen in the
painting of the tree-trunks, &c.

The crossing of the brush work in every direction,
giving a look of atmosphere, is naturally often used
in painting backgrounds and also such things as the
plane surfaces of sky and mist, &c.

It is often inconvenient to paint across the form
when softness is wanted. It is only possible to
have one colour in your brush sweep, and the colour
changes across, much more than down the form
as a rule. For the shadows, half tones and lights,
besides varying in tone, vary also in colour ; so that
it is not always possible to sweep across them with
one colour. It is usually more convenient to paint
down where the colours can be laid in overlapping
bands of shadow, half tone and light, &c. Neverthe-
less, if this particular look of softness and fleshiness
is desired, either the painting must be so thin or
the stones so fused together that no brush strokes
show, or a dry flat brush must afterwards be drawn
lightly across when the painting is done, to destroy
the downward brush strokes and substitute others
going across, great care being taken to drag only
from light to dark, and to wipe the brush carefully
after each touch; and also never to go over the
same place twice, or the paint will lose vitality.
This is a method much employed by artists who
delight in this particular quality.

124

MASS DRAWING: PRACTICAL

But when a strong, tough look is desired, such
as one sees when a muscle is in violent action, or
in the tendon above the wrist or above the heel in
the leg, or generally where a bone conies to the
surface, in all these cases the brush work should
follow down the forms. It is not necessary and is
often inadvisable for the brush work to show at all,
in which case these principles will be of little ac-
count. But when in vigorously painted work they
do, I think it will generally be found to create the
effects named.

Drawing on toned paper with white chalk or
Chinese white and black or red chalk is another
form of mass drawing. And for studies it is
intended to paint from, this is a quick and excellent
manner. The rapidity with which the facts of an
appearance can be noted makes it above all others
the method for drapery studies. The lights are
drawn with white, the toned paper being allowed
to show through where a darker tone is needed,
/the white (either chalk or Chinese white) being
put on thickly when a bright light is wanted and
thinly where a quieter light is needed. So with the
shadows, the chalk is put on heavily in the darks
and less heavily in the lighter shadows. Since the
days of the early Italians this has been a favourite
method of drawing drapery studies (see illustrations,
page 260).

Some artists have shaded their lights with gold
and silver paint. The late Sir Edward Burne-Jones
was very fond of this, and drawings with much
decorative charm have been done this way. The
principle is the same as in drawing with white chalk,
the half tone being given by the paper.

Keep the lights separate from the shadows, let
125

MASS DRAWING: PRACTICAL

the half tone paper always come as a buffer state
between them. Get as much information into the
drawing of your lights and shadows as possible;
don't be satisfied with a smudge effect. Use the
side of your white chalk when you want a mass,
or work in parallel lines (hatching) on the principle
described in the chapter on line drawing.

126

RHYTHM

r \

THE subject of Rhythm in what are called the Fine
Arts is so vague, and has received so little attention,
that some courage, or perhaps foolhardiness, is
needed to attack it. And in offering the following
fragmentary ideas that have been stumbled on in
my own limited practice, I want them to be accepted
only for what they are worth, as I do not know
of any proper authority for them. But they may
serve as a stimulus, and offer some lines on which
the student can pursue the subject for himself.

The word rhythm is here used to signify the
power possessed by lines, tones, and colours, by their
ordering and arrangement, to affect us, somewhat
as different notes and combinations of sound do in
music. And just as in music, where sounds affect us
without having any direct relation with nature, but
appeal directly to our own inner life ; so in painting,
sculpture, and architecture there is a music that
appeals directly to us apart from any significance that
may be associated with the representation of natural
phenomena. There is, as it were, an abstract music
of line, tone, and colour.

The danger of the naturalistic movement in
painting in the nineteenth century has been that
it has turned our attention away from this funda-
mental fact of art to the contemplation of interest-

127

RHYTHM

ing realisations of appearances — realisations often
full of poetic suggestiveness due to associations con-
nected with the objects painted as concrete things,
but not always made directly significant as artistic
expression; whereas it is the business of the artist
to relate the form, colour, and tone of natural appear-
ances to this abstract musical quality, with which he
should never lose touch even in the most highly realised
detail of his work. For only thus, when related to
rhythm, do the form, tone, and colour of appear-
ances obtain their full expressive power and become
a means of vitally conveying the feeling of the
artist.

Inquiry as to the origin of this power and of
rhythm generally is a profoundly interesting subject ;
and now that recent advances in science tend to
show that sound, heat, light, and possibly electricity
and even nerve force are but different rhythmic
forms of energy, and that matter itself may pos-
sibly be resolved eventually into different rhythmic
motions, it does look as if rhythm may yet be
found to contain even the secret of life itself. At
any rate it is very intimately associated with life ;
and primitive man early began to give expression
in some form of architecture, sculpture, or painting
to the deeper feelings that were moving him ; found
some correspondence between the lines and colours
of architecture, sculpture, and painting and the emo-
tional life that was awakening within him. Thus,
looking back at the remains of their work that
have come down to us, we are enabled to judge of
the nature of the people from the expression we
find in hewn stone and on painted walls.

It is in primitive art generally that we see more
clearly the direct emotional significance of line and

128

RHYTHM

form. Art appears to have developed, from its
most abstract position, to which bit by bit have been
added the truths and graces of natural appearance,
until as much of this naturalistic truth has been
added as the abstract significance at the base of
the expression could stand without loss of power.
At this point, as has already been explained, a
school is at the height of its development. The
work after this usually shows an increased concern
with naturalistic truth, which is always very popular,
to the gradual exclusion of the backbone of abstract
line and form significance that dominated the earlier
work. And when these primitive conditions are lost
touch with, a decadence sets in. At least, this is
roughly the theory to which a study of the two
great art developments of the past, in Greece and
Italy, would seem to point.

And this theory is the excuse for all the attempts
at primitivism of which we have lately seen so
much. Art having lost touch with its primitive base
owing to the over-doses of naturalism it has had, we
must, these new apostles say, find a new primitive
base on which to build the new structure of art. The
theory has its attractions, but there is this differ-
ence between the primitive archaic Greek or early
Italian and the modern primitive ; the early men
reverently clothed the abstract idea they started
with in the most natural and beautiful form within
their knowledge, ever seeking to discover new truths
and graces from nature to enrich their work ; while
the modern artist, with the art treasures of all
periods of the world before him, can never be in
the position of these simple-minded men. It is
therefore unlikely that the future development of
art will be on lines similar to that of the past.

129 I

RHYTHM

The same conditions of simple ignorance are never
likely to occur again. Means of communication and
prolific reproduction make it very unlikely that the
art of the world will again be lost for a season,
as was Greek art in the Middle Ages. Interesting
intellectually as is the theory that the impressionist
point of view (the accepting of the flat retina picture
as a pattern of colour sensations) offers a new field
from which to select material for a new basis of
artistic expression, so far the evidence of results
has not shown anything likely seriously to threaten
the established principles of traditional design. And
anything more different in spirit from the genuine
primitive than the irreverent anarchy and flouting
of all refinement in the work of some of these new
primitives, it would be difficult to imagine. But
much of the work of the movement has undoubted
artistic vitality, and in its insistence on design and
selection should do much to kill " realism " and the
" copying nature " theory of a few years back.

Although it is perfectly true that the feelings
and ideas that impel the artist may sooner or later
find their own expression, there are a great many
principles connected with the arranging of lines,
tones, and colours in his picture that it is difficult
to transgress without calamity. At any rate the
knowledge of some of them will aid the artist in
gaining experience, and possibly save him some
needless fumbling.

But don't for one moment think that anything
in the nature of rules is going to take the place of
the initial artistic impulse which must come from
within. This is not a matter for teaching, art
training being only concerned with perfecting the
means of its expression.

130

Plate XXX

A STUDY FOR A PICTURE or " ROSALIND AND ORLANDO "

Ros. " He calls us back ; my pride fell with my fortunes."

RHYTHM

It is proposed to treat the subject from the
material side of line and tone only, without any
reference to subject matter, with the idea of trying
to find out something about the expressive qualities
line and tone are capable of yielding unassociated
with visual things. What use can be made of any
such knowledge to give expression to the emotional
life of the artist is not our concern, and is obviously
a matter for the individual to decide for himself.

There is at the basis of every picture a structure
of lines and masses. They may not be very obvious,
and may be hidden under the most broken of
techniques, but they will always be found under-
lying the planning of any painting. Some may
say that the lines are only the boundaries of the
masses, an'd others that the masses are only the
spaces between the lines. But whichever way you
care to look at it, there are particular emotional
qualities analogous to music that affect us in lines
and line arrangements and also in tone or mass
arrangements. And any power a picture may have
to move us will be largely due to the rhythmic
significance of this original planning. These quali-
ties, as has already been stated, affect us quite
apart from any association they may have with
natural things : arrangements of mere geometrical
lines are sufficient to suggest them. But of course
other associations connected with the objects repre-
sented will largely augment the impression, when
the line and tone arrangements and the sentiment
of the object are in sympathy. And if they are not,
it may happen that associations connected with the
representation will cut in and obscure or entirely
destroy this line and tone music. That is to say

131

RHYTHM

if the line and tone arrangenient in the abstract
is expressive of the sublime, and the objects whose
representation they support something ridiculous,
say a donkey braying, the associations aroused
by so ridiculous an appearance will override those
connected with the line and tone arrangement.
But it is remarkable how seldom this occurs in
nature, the sentiment of the line and tone arrange-
ments things present being usually in harmony
with the sentiment of the object itself. As a matter
of fact, the line effect of a donkey in repose is
much more sublime than when he is braying.

There are two qualities that may be allowed
to divide the consideration of this subject, two
points of view from which the subject
vSietynd can be approached: Unity and Variety-
qualities somewhat opposed to each other,
as are harmony and contrast in the realm of colour.
Unity is concerned with the relationship of all the
parts to that oneness of conception that should
control every detail of a work of art. All the more
profound qualities, the deeper emotional notes, are
on this side of the subject. On the other hand,
variety holds the secrets of charm, vitality, and
the picturesque, it is the " dither," the play between
the larger parts, that makes for life and character.
Without variety there can be no life.

In any conception of a perfect unity, like the
perfected life of the Buddhist, Nirvana or Nibbana
(literally "dying out" or "extinction" as of an ex-
piring fire), there is no room for variety, for the play
of life ; all such f retfulness ceases, to be replaced by
an all-pervading calm, beautiful, if you like, but
lifeless. There is this deadness about any concep-
tion of perfection that will always make it an un-

132

RHYTHM

attainable ideal in life. Those who, like the Indian
fakir or the hermits of the Middle Ages, have staked
their all on this ideal of perfection, have found it
necessary to suppress life in every way possible, the
fakirs often remaining motionless for long periods
at a time, and one of the mediaeval saints going
so far as to live on the top of a high column where
life and movement were well-nigh impossible.

And in art it is the same; all those who have
aimed at an absolute perfection have usually ended
in a deadness. The Greeks knew better than many
of their imitators this vital necessity in art. In
their most ideal work there is always that variety
that gives character and life. No formula or canon
of proportions or other mechanical device for the
attainment of perfection was allowed by this vital
people entirely to subdue their love of life and
variety. And however near they might go towards
a perfect type in their ideal heads and figures, they
never went so far as to kill the individual in the
type. It is the lack of this subtle distinction that,
I think, has been the cause of the failure of so much
art founded on so-called Greek ideals. Much Roman
sculpture, if you except their portrait busts, illus-
trates this. Compared with Greek work it lacks
that subtle variety in the modelling that gives
vitality. The difference can be felt instinctively
in the merest fragment of a broken figure. It is not
difficult to tell Greek from Roman fragments, they
pulsate with a life that it is impossible to describe
but that one instinctively feels. And this vitality de-
pends, I think it will be found, on the greater amount
of life-giving variety in the surfaces of the modelling.
In their architectural mouldings, the difference of
which we are speaking can be more easily traced.

138

RHYTHM

The vivacity and brilliancy of a Greek moulding
makes a Roman work look heavy and dull. And it
will generally be found that the Romans used the
curve of the circle in the sections of their mould-
ings, a curve possessing the least amount of variety,
as is explained later, where the Greeks used the lines
of conic sections, curves possessed of the greatest
amount of variety.

But while unity must never exist without this
life-giving variety, variety must always be under
the moral control of unity, or it will get out of
hand and become extravagant. In fact, the most
perfect work, like the most perfect engine of which
we spoke in a former chapter, has the least amount
of variety, as the engine has the least amount of
" dither," that is compatible with life. One does not
hear so much talk in these days about a perfect
type as was the fashion at one time ; and certainly
the pursuit of this ideal by a process of selecting the
best features from many models and constructing a
composite figure out of them, was productive of
very dead and lifeless work. No account was taken
of the variety from a common type necessary in
the most perfect work, if life and individual in-
terest are not to be lost, and the thing is not to
become a dead abstraction. But the danger is rather
the other way at the moment. Artists revel in the
oddest of individual forms, and the type idea is flouted
on all hands. An anarchy of individualism is upon
us, and the vitality of disordered variety is more
fashionable than the calm beauty of an ordered unity,

Excess of variations from a common type is
what I think we recognise as ugliness in the objec-
tive world, whereas beauty is on the side of unity
and conformity to type. Beauty possesses both

134

RHYTHM

variety and unity, and is never extreme, erring
rather on the side of unity.

Burke in his essay on "'The Sublime and the
Beautiful" would seem to use the word beautiful
where we should use the word pretty, placing it at
the opposite pole from the sublime, whereas I think
beauty always has some elements of the sublime in
it, while the merely pretty has not. Mere pretti-
ness is a little difficult to place, it does not come
between either of our extremes, possessing little
character or type, variety or unity. It is perhaps
charm without either of these strengthening associ-
ates, and in consequence is always feeble, and the
favourite diet of weak artistic digestions.

The sculpture of ancient Egypt is an instance of
great unity in conception, and the suppression of
variety to a point at which life scarcely exists. The
lines of the Egyptian figures are simple and long, the
surfaces smooth and unvaried, no action is allowed
to give variety to the pose, the placing of one foot a
little in front of the other being alone permitted in
the standing figures ; the arms, when not hanging
straight down the sides, are flexed stiffly at the elbow
at right angles ; the heads stare straight before them.
The expression of sublimity is complete, and this was,
of course, what was aimed at. But how cold and
terrible is the lack of that play and variety that
alone show life. What a relief it is, at the British
Museum, to go into the Elgin Marble room and be
warmed by the noble life pulsating in the Greek
work, after visiting the cold Egyptian rooms.

In what we call a perfect face it is not so much
the perfect regularity of shape and balance in the
features that charms us, not the things that belong
to an ideal type, but rather the subtle variations

135

RHYTHM

from this type that are individual to the particular
head we are admiring. A perfect type of head, if
such could exist, might excite our wonder, but would
leave us cold. But it can never exist in life; the
slightest movement of the features, which must
always accompany life and expression, will mar it.
And the influence of these habitual movements on
the form of the features themselves will invariably
mould them into individual shapes away from the
so-called perfect type, whatever may have been
nature's intention in the first instance.

If we call these variations from a common type
in the features imperfections, as it is usual to do,
it would seem to be the imperfections of perfection
that charm and stir us ; and that perfection without
these so-called imperfections is a cold, dead abstrac-
tion, devoid of life: that unity without variety is
lifeless and incapable of touching us.

On the other hand, variety without unity to
govern it is a riotous exuberance of life, lacking all
power and restraint and wasting itself in a madness
of excess.

So that in art a balance has to be struck between
these two opposing qualities. In good work unity
is the dominating quality, all the variety being done
in conformity to some large idea of the whole, which
is never lost sight of, even in the smallest detail of
the work. Good style in art has been defined as
"variety in unity," and Hogarth's definition of
composition as the art of " varying well " is similar.
And I am not sure that "contrasts in harmony"
would not be a suggestive definition of good colour.

Let us consider first variety and unity as they
are related to line drawing, and afterwards to mass
drawing.

136

CHAPTER XI

RHYTHM: VARIETY OF LINE

LINE rhythm or music depends on the shape of your
lines, their relation to each other and their re-
lation to the boundaries of your panel. In all
good work this music of line is in harmony with
the subject (the artistic intention) of your picture
or drawing.

The two lines with the least variation are a
perfectly straight line and a circle. A perfectly
straight line has obviously no variety at all, while
a circle, by curving at exactly the same ratio all
along, has no variation of curvature, it is of all
curves the one with the least possible variety.
These two lines are, therefore, two of the dullest,
and are seldom used in pictures except to enhance
the beauty and variety of others. And even then,
subtle variations, some amount of play, is intro-
duced to relieve their baldness. But used in this
way, vertical and horizontal lines are of the utmost
value in rectangular pictures, uniting the com-
position to its bounding lines by their parallel re-
lationship with them. And further, as a contrast
to the richness and beauty of curves they are
of great value, and are constantly used for this
purpose. The group of mouldings cutting against
the head in a portrait, or the lines of a column
used to accentuate the curved forms of a face or

137

VARIETY OF LINE

figure, are well-known instances ; and the portrait
painter is always on the look out for an object
in his background that will give him such straight
lines. You may notice, too, how the lines drawn
across a study in order to copy it (squaring it out,
as it is called) improve the look of a drawing,
giving a greater beauty to the variety of the
curves by contrast with the variety lacking straight
lines.

The perfect curve of the circle should always
be avoided in the drawing of natural objects (even
a full moon), and in vital drawings of any sort
some variety should always be looked for. Neither
should the modelling of the sphere ever occur in
your work, the dullest of all curved surfaces.

Although the curve of the perfect circle is dull
from its lack of variety, it is not without beauty,
and this is due to its perfect unity. It is of all
curves the most perfect example of static unity.
Without the excitement of the slightest variation
it goes on and on for ever. This is, no doubt, the
reason why it was early chosen as a symbol of
Eternity, and certainly no more perfect symbol
could be found.

The circle seen in perspective assumes the more
beautiful curve of the ellipse, a curve having much
variety; but as its four quarters are alike, not
so much as a symmetrical figure can have.

Perhaps the most beautiful symmetrically curved
figure of all is the so-called egg of the well-known
moulding from such a temple as the Erechtheum,
called the egg and dart moulding. Here we have
a perfect balance between variety and unity. The
curvature is varied to an infinite degree, at no
point is its curving at the same ratio as at any

138

VARIETY OF LINE

other point; perhaps the maximum amount of
variety that can be got in a symmetrical figure,
preserving, as it does, its almost perfect continuity,
for it approaches the circle in the even flow of its
curvature. This is, roughly, the line of the contour

Diagram VII

EGG AND DART MOULDING FROM ONE OF THE
CARYATIDES FROM THE ERECHTHEUM IN THE
BRITISH MUSEUM

of a face, and you may note how much painters
who have excelled in grace have insisted on it
in their portraits. Gainsborough and Vandyke are
striking instances.

The line of a profile is often one of great beauty,
only here the variety is apt to overbalance the
unity or run of the line. The most beautiful profiles

139

VARIETY OF LINE

are usually those in which variety is subordinated to
the unity of the contour. I fancy the Greeks felt
this when they did away with the hollow above
the nose, making the line of the forehead run,

Diagram VIII

ILLUSTRATING VARIETY IN SYMMETRY

Note how the hollows marked A are opposed by fullnesses marked B,

with but little interruption, to the tip of the nose.
The unity of line is increased, and the variety
made more interesting. The idea that this was
the common Greek type is, I should imagine, un-
true, for their portrait statues do not show it.

140

VARIETY OF LINE

It does occur in nature at rare intervals, and in
most Western nationalities, but I do not think
there is much evidence of its ever having been a
common type anywhere.

In drawing or painting a profile this run or unity
of the line is the thing to feel, if you would express
its particular beauty. This is best done in the case
of a painting by finally drawing it with the brush
from the background side, after having painted all
the variety there is of tone and colour on the face
side of the line. As the background usually varies
little, the swing of the brush is not hampered on
this side as it is on the other. I have seen students
worried to distraction trying to paint the profile
line from the face side, fearing to lose the drawing
by going over the edge. With the edge blurred
out from the face side, it is easy to come with a
brush full of the colour the background is immedi-
ately against the face (a different colour usually
from what it is further away), and draw it with
some decision and conviction, care being taken to
note all the variations on the edge, where the sharp-
nesses come and where the edge is more lost, &c.

The contours of the limbs illustrate another form
of line variety — what may be called "Variety in
Symmetry." While roughly speaking the Variet ^
limbs are symmetrical, each side not only sym-
has variety in itself, but there is usually
variety of opposition. Supposing there is a convex
curve on the one side, you will often have a concave
form on the other. Always look out for this in
drawing limbs, and it will often improve a poorly
drawn part if more of this variation on symmetry
is discovered.

The whole body, you may say, is symmetrical,
141

VARIETY OF LINE

Diagram IX

ILLUSTRATING VARIETY IN SYMMETRY

Note how the hollows marked A are opposed by the fullnesses marked B.

142

VARIETY OF LINE

but even here natural conditions make for variety.
The body is seldom, except in soldiering, held in a
symmetrical position. The slightest action produces
the variety we are speaking about. The accompany
ing sketches will indicate what is meant.

Of course the student, if he has any natural
ability, instinctively looks out for all these variations
that give the play of life to his drawing. It is not
for him in the full vigour of inspiration that books
such as this are written. But there may come a
time when things " won't come," and it is then that
it is useful to know where to look for possible weak
spots in your work.

A line of equal thickness is a very dead and in-
expressive thing compared with one varied and
stressed at certain points. If you observe
any of the boundaries in nature we use a Thickness
line to express, you will notice some points and Ac-
are accentuated, attract the attention, more
than others. The only means you have to express
this in a line drawing is by darkening and sharpen-
ing the line. At other points, where the contour
is almost lost, the line can be soft and blurred.

It is impossible to write of the infinite qualities
of variety that a fine draughtsman will get into
his line work; they must be studied at first hand.
But on this play of thickness and quality of line
much of the vitality of your drawing will depend.

143

XII

RHYTHM: UNITY OF LINE

UNITY of line is a bigger quality than variety, and
as it requires a larger mental grasp, is more rarely
met with. The bigger things in drawing and design
come under its consideration, including, as it does,
the relation of the parts to the whole. Its proper
consideration would take us into the whole field of
Composition, a subject needing far more considera-
tion than can be given to it in this book.

In almost all compositions a rhythmic flow of
lines can be traced. Not necessarily a flow of actual
lines (although these often exist) ; they may be only
imaginary lines linking up or massing certain parts,
and bringing them into conformity with the rhythmic
conception of the whole. Or again," only a certain
stress and flow in the forms, suggesting line move-
ments. But these line movements flowing through
your panel are of the utmost importance ; they are
like the melodies and subjects of a musical sym-
phony, weaving through and linking up the whole
composition.

Often, the line of a contour at one part of a
picture is picked up again by the contour of some
object at another part of the composition, and
although no actual line connects them, a unity is
thus set up between them. (See diagrams, pages
166 and 168, illustrating line compositions of pictures

144

UNITY OF LINE

by Botticelli and Paolo Veronese). This imaginary
following through of contours across spaces in a
composition should always be looked out for and
sought after, as nothing serves to unite a picture
like this relationship of remote parts. The flow of
these lines will depend on the nature of the subject :
they will be more gracious and easy, or more
vigorous and powerful, according to the demands
of your subject.

This linking up of the contours applies equ
well to the drawing of a single figure or eve
head or hand, and the student should always be
on the look out for this uniting quality. It is a
quality of great importanc^in giving unity to a
composition.

When groups of lines |n a picture occur parallel
to each other they produce an accentuation of the
particular quality the line may contain, a
sort of sustained effect, like a sustained
chord on an organ, the effect of which is
much bigger than that of the same chord struck
staccato. This sustained quality has a wonderful
influence in steadying and uniting your work.

This parallelism can only be used successfully with
the simplest lines, such as a straight line or a simple
curve ; it is never advisable except in decorative
patterns to be used with complicated shapes. Blake
is very fond of the sustained effect parallelism
gives, and uses the repetition of curved and straight
lines very often in his compositions. Note in Plate I
of the Job series, page 146, the use made of this sus-
taining quality in the parallelism of the sheep's backs
in the background and the parallel upward flow of
the lines of the figures. In Plate II you see it used
in the curved lines of the figures on either side of

145 K

UNITY OF LINE

the throne above, and in the two angels with the
scroll at the left-hand corner. Behind these two
figures you again have its use accentuating by
repetition the peaceful line of the backs of the
sheep. The same thing can be seen in Plate IV,
where the parallelism of the back lines of the
sheep and the legs of the seated figures gives a
look of peace contrasting with the violence of the
messenger come to tell of the destruction of Job's
sons. The emphasis that parallelism gives to the
music of particular lines is well illustrated in all
Blake's work. He is a mine of information on the
subject of line rhythm. Compare Plate I with
Plate XXI ; note how the emotional quality is de-
pendent in both cases on the parallelism of the
upward flow of the lines. How also in Plate I he
has carried the vertical feeling even into the sheep
in the front, introducing little bands of vertical
shading to carry through the vertical lines made
by the kneeling figures. And in the last plate,
"So the Lord blessed the latter end of Job more
than the beginning," note how the greater com-
pleteness with which the parallelism has been carried
out has given a much greater emphasis to the effect,
expressing a greater exaltation and peace than in
Plate I. Notice in Plate X, where "The just, up-
right man is laughed to scorn," how this power
of emphasis is used to increase the look of scorn
hurled at Job ~hy the pointing fingers of his three
friends.

Of the use of this principle in curved forms,
the repetition of the line of the back in stooping
figures is a favourite device with Blake. There
will be found instances of this in Plates II and
XVIII. (Further instances will be found on reference

146,

UNITY OF LINE

to Plates VII, VIII, XIII, and XVIII, in Blake's Job.)
In the last instance it is interesting to note how he
has balanced the composition, which has three figures
kneeling on the right and only one on the left. By
losing the outline of the third figure on the right and
getting a double line out of the single figure on the
left by means of the outline of the mass of hair, and
also by shading this single figure more strongly, he
has contrived to keep a perfect balance. The head
of Job is also turned to the left, while he stands
slightly on that side, still further balancing the three
figures on the right. (This does not show so well in
the illustration here reproduced as in the original
print.)

Some rude things were said above about the
straight line and the circle, on account of their
lack of variety, and it is true that a mathematically
straight line, or a mathematically perfect circle,
are never found in good artistic drawing. For
without variety is no charm or life. But these
lines possess other qualities, due to their maximum
amount of unity, that give them great power in a
composition ; and where the expression of sublimity
or any of the deeper and more profound sentiments
are in evidenee, they are often to be found.

The rows of columns in a Greek temple, the
clusters of vertical lines in a Gothic cathedral in-
terior, are instances of the sublimity and power
they possess. The necessary play that makes for
vitality — the " dither " as we called this quality in
a former chapter — is given in the case of the Greek
temple by the subtle curving of the lines of columns
and steps, and by the rich variety of the sculpture,
and in the case of the Gothic cathedral by a rougher
cutting of the stone blocks and the variety in the

147

UNITY OF LINE

colour of the stone. But generally speaking, in
Gothic architecture this particular quality of " dither "
or the play of life in all the parts is conspicuous,
the balance being on the side of variety rather than
unity. The individual workman was given a large
amount of freedom and allowed to exercise his per-
sonal fancy. The capitals of columns, the cusping
of windows, and the ornaments Were seldom re-
peated, but varied according to the taste of the
craftsman. Very high finish was seldom attempted,
the marks of the chisel often being left showing in
the stonework. All this gave a warmth and exuber-
ance of life to a fine Gothic building that makes a
classical building look cold by comparison. The free-
dom with which new parts were built on to a Gothic
building is another proof of the fact that it is not
in the conception of the unity of the whole that
their chief charm consists.

On the other hand, a fine classic building is the
result of one large conception to which every part
has rigorously to conform. Any addition to this
in after years is usually disastrous. A high finish is
always attempted, no tool marks nor any individual-
ity of the craftsman is allowed to mar the perfect
symmetry of the whole. It may be colder, but how
perfect in sublimity ! The balance here is on the
side of unity rather than variety.

The strength and sublimity of Norman archi-
tecture is due to the use of circular curves in the
arches, combined with straight lines and the use
of square forms in the ornaments — lines possessed
of least variety.

All objects with which one associates the look
of strength will be found to have straight lines in
their composition. The look of strength in a strong

148

(Plate II, Blake's Job)

When the Almighty was yet with me, when
my children were about me.

(Plate XVIII, Blake's Job)
And my servant Job shall pray for you.
Plate XXXII

(Plate XI, Blakes Job)

With dreams upon my bed Thou scarest

me, and affrightest me with visions.

Printed sideways up in order to show that the look of

horror is not solely dependent on the things represented,

but belongs to the rhythm, the pattern of the composition.

(Plate XIV, Blake's Job)

When the morning stars sang together,
and all the sons of God shouted for joy.

UNITY OF LINE

man is due to the square lines~of the contours, so
different from the rounded forms of a fat man. And
everyone knows the look of mental power a square
forehead gives to a head and the look of physical
power expressed by a square jaw. The look of
power in a rocky landscape or range of hills is due
to the same cause.

The horizontal and the vertical are two very im-
portant lines, the horizontal being associated with
calm and contemplation and the vertical with
a feeling of elevation. As was said above, Zontai°and
their relation to the sides of the composition *£j Verti'
to which they are parallel in rectangular pic-
tures is of great importance in uniting the subject
to its bounding lines and giving it a well-knit look,
conveying a feeling of great stability to a picture.

How impressive and suggestive of contemplation
is the long line of the horizon on a calm day at sea,
or the long horizon line of a desert plain! The
lack of variety, with all the energy and vitality that
accompany it, gives one «a sense of peace and rest,
a touch of infinity that no other lines can convey.
The horizontal lines which the breeze makes on
still water, and which the sky often assumes at
sunset, affect us from the same harmonic cause.

The pine and the cypress are typical instances
of the sublime associated with the vertical in nature.
Even a factory chimney rising above a distant
town, in spite of its unpleasant associations, is im-
pressive, not to speak of the beautiful spires of some
of our Gothic cathedrals, pointing upwards. How
well Constable has used the vertical sublimity of
the spire of Salisbury Cathedral can be seen in his
picture, at the Victoria and Albert Museum, where
he has contrasted it with the gay tracery of an arch

149

UNITY OF LINE

of elm trees. Gothic cathedrals generally depend
much on this vertical feeling of line for their im-
pressiveness.

The Romans knew the expressive power of the
vertical when they set up a lonely column as a
monument to some great deed or person. And a
sense of this sublimity may be an unconscious ex-
planation of the craze for putting towers and obelisks
on high places that one comes across in different
parts of the country, usually called someone's
"folly."

In the accompanying diagrams, A, B, C and D, E,
F, pages 152 and 153, are examples of the influence
to be associated with horizontal and vertical lines.
A is nothing but six straight lines drawn across
a rectangular shape, and yet I think they convey
something of the contemplative and peaceful sense
given by a sunset over the sea on a calm evening.
And this is entirely due to the expressive power
straight lines possess, and the feelings they have the
power to call up in the mind. In B a little more
incident and variety has been introduced, and
although there is a certain loss of calm, it is not yet
enough to destroy the impression. The line suggest-
ing a figure is vertical and so plays up to the same
calm feeling as the horizontal lines. The circular
disc of the sun has the same static quality, being the
curve most devoid of variety. It is the lines of the
clouds that give some excitement, but they are only
enough to suggest the dying energy of departing
day.

Now let us but bend the figure in a slight curve,
as at C, and destroy its vertical direction, partly
cover the disc of the sun so as to destroy the com-
plete circle, and all this is immediately altered, our

150

UNITY OF LINE

calm evening has become a windy one, our lines no\v
being expressive of some energy.

To take a similar instance with vertical lines. Let
D represent a row of pine trees in a wide plain.
Such lines convey a sense of exaltation and infinite
calm. Now if some foliage is introduced, as at E,
giving a swinging line, and if this swinging line is
carried on by a corresponding one in the sky, we
have introduced some life and variety. If we entirely
destroy the vertical feeling and bend our trees, as at
F, the expression of much energy will be the re-
sult, and a feeling of the stress and struggle of the
elements introduced where there was perfect calm.

It is the aloofness of straight lines from all the
fuss and flurry of variety that gives them this calm,
infinite expression. And their value as a steadying
influence among the more exuberant forms of a com-
position is very great. The Venetians knew this
and made great use of straight lines among the richer
forms they so delighted in.

It is interesting to note how Giorgione in his "Fete
Champetre " of the Louvre (see illustration, page 151),
went out of his way to get a straight line to steady
his picture and contrast with the curves. Not want-
ing it in the landscape, he has boldly made the con-
tour of the seated female figure conform to a rigid
straight line, accentuated still further by the flute
in her hand. If it were not for this and other
straight lines in the picture, and a certain square-
ness of drawing in the draperies, the richness of the
trees in the background, the full forms of the flesh
and drapery would be too much, and the effect be-
come sickly, if not positively sweet. Van Dyck,
also, used to go out of his way to introduce a hard
straight line near the head in his portraits for

151

Diagram X

ILLUSTRATING, A, CALM RHYTHMIC INFLUENCE OF
HORIZONTAL LINES SUCH AS A SUNSET OVER THE
SEA MIGHT GIVE; B, INTRODUCTION OF LINES

CONVEYING SOME ENERGY ; C, SHOWING DESTRUC-
TION OF REPOSE BY FURTHER CURVING OF LlNES.

THE CALM EVENING HAS BECOME A WINDY OXE
152

Diagram XI

ILLUSTRATING, D, RHYTHMIC INFLUENCE OF VERTICAL
LINES ; E, THE INTRODUCTION OF SOME VARIETY ;
F, THE DESTRUCTION OF THE VERTICAL AND

CONSEQUENT LOSS OF REPOSE

150

UNITY OF LINE

the same reason, often ending abruptly, without any
apparent reason, a dark background in a hard line,
and showing a distant landscape beyond in order to
get a light mass to accentuate the straight line.

The rich modelling and swinging lines of the
"Bacchus and Ariadne" of Titian in the National
Gallery, reproduced on the opposite page, would be
too gross, were it not for the steadying influence of
the horizontal lines in the sky and the vertical lines
of the tree-trunks.

While speaking of this picture, it might not be
out of place to mention an idea that occurred to
me as to the reason for the somewhat aggressive
standing leg of the female figure with the cymbals
leading the procession of revellers. I will not
attempt any analysis of this composition, which is
ably gone into in another book of this series. But
the standing leg of this figure, given such promi-
nence in the composition, has always rather puzzled
me. I knew Titian would not have given it that
vigorous stand without a good reason. It certainly
does not help the run of the composition, although
it may be useful in steadying it, and it is not a
particularly beautiful thing in itself, as the position
is one better suited to a man's leg than to a woman's.
But if you cover it over with your finger and look
at the composition without it, I think the reason
of its prominence becomes plainer. Titian evidently
had some trouble, as well he might have, with the
forward leg of the Bacchus. He wished to give the
look of his stepping from the car lightly treading the
air, as gods may be permitted to do. But the wheel
of the car that comes behind the foot made it
difficult to evade the idea that he was stepping on
it, which would be the wray an ordinary mortal

154

UNITY OF LINE

would alight. I think the duty of the aggressive
standing leg of the leading Bacchante, with its
great look of weight, is to give a look of lightness
to this forward leg of Bacchus, by contrast — which
it certainly does. On examining the picture closely
in a good light, you will see that he has had the foot
of Bacchus in several positions before he got it right.
Another foot can distinctly be seen about a couple
of inches or so above the present one. The general
vertical direction of this leg is also against its look
of lightness and motion, tending rather to give it
a stationary, static look. I could not at first see
why he did not bring the foot further to the right,
which would have aided the lightness of the figure
and increased its movement. But you will observe
that this 'would have hurled the whole weight of
the mass of figures on the right, forward on to the
single figure of Ariadne, and upset the balance; as
you can see by covering this leg with your finger and
imagining it swinging to the right. So that Titian,
having to retain the vertical position for Bacchus'
forward leg, used the aggressive standing leg of the
cymbal lady to accentuate its spring and lightness.

A feeling of straight-up-ness in a figure or of the
horizontal plane in anything will produce the same
effect as a vertical or horizontal line without any
actual line being visible. Blake's " Morning Stars Sing-
ing Together " is an instance of the vertical chord, al-
though there is no actual upright line in the figures.
But they all have a vigorous straight-up-ness that
gives' them the feeling of peace and elevation coupled
with a flame-like line running through them that
gives them their joyous energy. (See page 148.)

The combination of the vertical with the hori-
zontal produces one of the strongest and most arrest-

155

UNITY OF LINE

rih

ing chords that you can make, and it will be found
to exist in most pictures and drawings where
there is the expression of dramatic power.
^ne cross is the typical example of this.
It is a combination of lines that instantly
rivets the attention, and has probably
a more powerful effect upon the mind
— quite apart from anything symbolised
by it — than any other simple combina-
tions that could have been devised. How
powerful is the effect of a vertical figure,
or even a post, seen cutting the long
horizontal line of the horizon on the
sea-shore. Or a telegraph post by the
side of the road, seen against the long
horizontal line of a hill at sunset. The
look of power given by the vertical lines
of a contracted brow is due to the same
cause. The vertical furrows of the
brow continuing the lines of the nose,
make a continuous vertical which the
horizontal lines of the brow cross (see
Fig. A in the illustration). The same
cause gives the profile a powerful look
when the eyebrows make a horizontal
line contrasting with the vertical line
of the forehead (Fig. B). Everybody
knows the look of power associated
with a square brow : it is not that the
square forehead gives the look of a larger brain
capacity, for if the forehead protrudes in a curved
line, as at C, the look of power is lost, although
there is obviously more room for brains.

This power of the right angle is well exemplified
in Watts' "Love and Death," here reproduced, page 158.

156

Diagram XII

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In this noble composition, in the writer's opinion
one of the most sublime expressions produced by
nineteenth-century art, the irresistible power and
majesty of the slowly advancing figure of Death
is largely due to the right angle felt through the
pose. Not getting it in the contour, Watts has
boldly introduced it by means of shading the farther
arm and insisting on the light upper edge of the
outstretched arm and hand, while losing somewhat
the outline of the head beyond. Note also the
look of power the insistence on square forms in
the drapery gives this figure. The expression is
still further emphasised by the hard square forms
of the steps, and particularly by the strong hori-
zontal line of the first step, so insisted on, at right
angles to the vertical stand of the figure; and also
the upright lines of the doorway above. In con-
trast with the awful sublimity of this figure of
Death, how touching is the expression of the little
figure of Love, trying vainly to stop the inevitable
advance. And this expression is due to the curved
lines on which the action of the figure is hung,
and the soft undulating forms of its modelling.
Whereas the figure of Death is all square lines and
flat crisp planes, the whole hanging on a dramatic
right angle ; this figure is all subtle fullness both
of contour and modelling melting one into the other,
the whole hung upon a rich full curve starting at
the standing foot of the advancing figure. And
whereas the expression of Death is supported and
emphasised by the hard, square forms and texture
of the stone steps, the expression df Love is sup-
ported and emphasised by the rounded forms and
soft texture of the clustering roses. On this con-
trast of line and form, so in sympathy with the

157

Diagram XIII

ILLUSTRATING SOME OF THE LINES ON WHICH THE

RHYTHMIC POWER OF THIS PICTURE DEPENDS

158

Plate XXXV Photo

LOVE AND DEATH. BY G. F. WATTS

A noble composition, founded on the power of the right angle in the figure of Death,
contrast with the curved lines in the figure of Love. (See diagram opposite.)

UNITY OF LINE

profound sentiment to which this picture owes its
origin, the expressive power of this composition
will he found to depend.

In the diagram accompanying the reproduction
of this picture I have tried to indicate in diagram-
matical form some of the chief lines of its anatomy.

In these diagrams of the anatomy of composi«
tions the lines selected are not always very obvious
in the originals and are justly much broken into
by truths of natural appearance. But an emotional
significance depending on some arrangement of
abstract lines is to be found underlying the ex-
pression in every good picture, carefully hidden
as it is by 'all great artists. And although some
apology is perhaps necessary for the ugliness of
these diagrams, it is an ugliness that attends all
anatomy drawings. If the student will trace them
and put his tracing over the reproductions of the
originals, they will help him to see on what things
in the arrangement the rhythmic force of the
picture depends.

Other lines, as important as those selected, may
have been overlooked, but the ones chosen will
suffice to show the general character of them all.

There is one condition in a composition, that is
laid down before you begin, and that is the shape
of your panel or canvas. This is usually a rectan-
gular form, and all the lines of your design will
have to be considered in relation to this shape.
Vertical and horizontal lines being parallel to the
boundaries of rectangular pictures, are always right
and immediately set up a relationship, as we have seen.

The arresting power of the right angle exists
at each corner of a rectangular picture, where the

159

UNITY OF LINE

vertical sides meet the horizontal base, and this
presents a difficulty, because you do not wish the
spectator's attention drawn to the corners, and this
dramatic combination of lines always attracts the
eye. A favourite way of getting rid of this is to
fill them with some dark mass, or with lines
swinging round and carrying the eye past them,
so that the attention is continually swung to the
centre of the picture. For lines have a power of
directing the attention, the eye instinctively run-
ning with them, and this power is of the greatest
service in directing the spectator to the principal
interest.

It is this trouble with the corners that makes
the problem of filling a square so exacting. In
an ordinary rectangular panel you have a certain
amount of free space in the middle, and the diffi-
culty of filling the corners comfortably does not
present itself until this space is arranged for. But
in a square, the moment you leave the centre you
are in one or other of the corners, and the filling
of them governs the problem much more than 4n
the case of other shapes. It is a good exercise for
students to give themselves a square to fill, in
order to understand this difficulty and learn to
overcome it.

Other lines that possess a direct relation to a
rectangular shape are the diagonals. Many com-
positions that do not hang on a vertical or hori-
zontal basis are built on this line, and are thus
related to the bounding shape.

When vertical, horizontal, or diagonal lines are
referred to, it must not be assumed that one means
in all cases naked lines. There is no pure vertical
line in a stone pine or cypress tree, nor pure hori-

160

UNITY OF LINE

zontal line in a stretch of country, but the whole
swing of their lines is vertical or horizontal. And
in the same way, when one speaks of a composition
being hung upon a diagonal, it is seldom that a
naked diagonal line exists in the composition, but
the general swing is across the panel in harmony
with one or other diagonal. And when this is so,
there is a unity set up between the design and its
boundaries. A good instance of vertical, horizontal,
and diagonal lines to unite a picture is Velazquez's
"The Surrender of Breda," here reproduced. Note
the vertical chord in the spears on the left, con-
tinued in the leg of the horse and front leg of the
figure receiving the key, and the horizontal line
made by the dark mass of distant city, to be con-
tinued by the gun carried over the shoulder of the
figure with the slouch hat behind the principal
group. Velazquez has gone out of his way to get
this line, as it could hardly have been the fashion
to carry a gun in this position, pointing straight
at the head of the man behind. Horizontal lines
also occur in the sky and distant landscape, one
running right through the group of spears. The
use of the diagonal is another remarkable thing in
the lines of this picture. If you place a ruler on
the slanting line of the flag behind the horse's head
to the right, you find it is exactly parallel to a
diagonal drawn from the top right-hand corner to
the lower left-hand corner. Another line practi-
cally parallel to this diagonal is the line of the
sword belonging to the figure offering the key,
the feeling of which is continued in the hand and
key of this same figure. It may be noted also that
the back right leg of the horse in the front is
parallel to the other diagonal, the under side of it

161 L

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being actually on the diagonal and thus brought
into relation with the bounding lines of the picture.
And all these lines, without the artifice being too
apparent, give that well-knit, dignified look so in
harmony with the nature of the subject.

Curved lines have not the moral integrity of
straight lines. Theirs is not so much to minister

to the expression of the sublime as to
Lines6* wo° us ^0 the beauteous joys of the senses.

They hold the secrets of charm. But with-
out the steadying power of straight lines and flat-
nesses, curves get out of hand and lose their power.
In architecture the rococo style is an example of
this excess. While all expressions of exuberant
life and energy, of charm and grace depend on
curved lines for their effect, yet in their most re-
fined and beautiful expression they err on the side
of the square forms rather than the circle. When
the uncontrolled use of curves approaching the
circle and volute are indulged in, unrestrained by
the steadying influence of any straight lines, the
effect is gross. The finest curves are fuU of re-
straint, and excessive curvature is a thing to be
avoided in good drawing. We recognise this in-
tegrity of straight lines when we say anybody is
"an upright man" or is "quite straight," wishing
to convey the impression of moral worth.

Rubens was a painter who gloried in the un-
restrained expression of the zeal to live and drink
deeply of life, and glorious- as much of his work
is, and wonderful as it all is, the excessive use of
curves and rounded forms in his later work robs
it of much of its power and offends us by its gross-
ness. His best work is full of squarer drawing and
planes.

162

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Always be on the look out for straightnesses in
curved forms and for planes in your modelling.

Let us take our simplest form of composition
again, a stretch of sea and sky, and apply curved
lines where we formerly had straight lines. You will
see how the lines at A, page 164, although hut slightly
curved, express some energy, where the straight
lines of our former diagram expressed repose, and
then how in^B and C the increasing curvature of
the lines increases the energy expressed, until in
D, where the lines sweep round in one vigorous
swirl, a perfect hurricane is expressed. This last, is
roughly the rhythmic basis of Turner's "Hannibal
Crossing the Alps " in the Turner Gallery.

One of the simplest and most graceful forms the
tying lines of a composition may take is a con-
tinuous flow, one line evolving out of another in
graceful sequence, thus leading the eye on from
one part to another and carrying the attention to
the principal interests.

Two good instances of this arrangement are Botti-
celli's "Birth of Venus" and the "Rape of Europa,"
by Paolo Veronese, reproduced on pages 166 and 168.
The Venetian picture does not depend so much on
the clarity of its line basis as the Florentine. And
it is interesting to note how much nearer to the
curves of the circle the lines of Europa approach
than do those of the Venus picture. Were the
same primitive treatment applied to the later
work painted in the oil medium as has been used
by Botticelli in his tempera picture, the robustness
of the curves would have offended and been too
gross for the simple formula ; whereas overlaid and
hidden under such a rich abundance of natural
truth as it is in this gorgeous picture, we are too

163

Diagram XIV (1)

ILLUSTRATING POWER OF CURVED

164

LINES TO CONVEY ENERGY

Diagram ZIV (2)

165

166

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much distracted and entertained by such wealth to
Have time to dwell on the purity of the line arrange-
ment at its base. And the rich fullness of line ar-
rangement, although rather excessive, seen detached,
is in keeping with the sumptuous luxuriance the
Venetian loved so well to express. But for pure
line beauty the greater restraint of the curves in
Botticelli's picture is infinitely more satisfying,
though here we have not anything like the same
wealth and richness of natural appearance to engage
our attention, and the innocent simplicity of the
technique leaves much more exposed the structure
of lines, which in consequence play a greater part
in the effect of the picture.

In both cases note the way the lines lead up to
the principal subject, and the steadying power in-
troduced by means of horizontal, vertical, and other
straight lines. Veronese has contented himself with
keeping a certain horizontal feeling in the sky, cul-
minating in the straight lines of the horizon and
of the sea edge. And he has also introduced two
pyramids, giving straight lines in among the trees,
the most pronounced of which leads the eye straight
on to the principal head.

Botticelli has first the long line of the horizon
echoed in the ground at the right-hand lower
corner. And then he has made a determined stand
against the flow of lines carrying you out of the
picture on the right, by putting straight, upright
trees and insisting upon their straightness.

Another rhythmic form the lines at the basis
of a composition may take is a flame-like flow of
lines ; curved lines meeting and parting and meeting
again, or even crossing in one continual movement
onwards. A striking instance of the use of this

167

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168

UNITY OF LINE

quality is the work of the remarkable Spanish
painter usually called El Greco, two of whose works
are here shown (page 172). Whatever may be
said by the academically minded as to the in-
correctness of his drawing, there can be no two
opinions as to the remarkable rhythmic vitality of
his work. The upward flow of his lines and the
flame-like flicker of his light masses thrills one in
much the same way as watching a flaring fire.
There is something exalting and stimulating in it,
although, used to excess as he sometimes uses it,
it is apt to suffer from lack of repose. Two examples
of his pictures are reproduced here, and illustrate
his use of this form of movement in the lines and
masses of his compositions. Nowhere does he let
the eye rest, but keeps the same flickering movement
going throughout all his masses and edges. The
extraordinary thing about this remarkable painter
is that while this restless, unrestrained form of
composition makes his work akin to the rococo work
of a later period, there is a fiery earnestness and
sincerity in all he does, only to be matched among
the primitive painters of the fourteenth and fifteenth
centuries, and very different from the false sentiment
of the later school.

Blake was also fond of this flame line, but usually
used it in combination with more straight lines
than the energetic Spaniard allowed himself. Plates
III and V in the Job series are good examples
of his use of this form. In both cases it will be
seen that he uses it in combination with the steady-
ing influence of straight lines, which help to keep
the balance and repose necessary in the treatment
of even the most violent subjects in art.

A continual interruption in the flow of lines, and
169

S I

I |

i i

o '5

3 .25.

w -s

a s

UNITY OF LINE

a harsh jarring of one against another in an angular,
jagged fashion, produces a feeling of terror and
horror. A streak of fork lightning is a natural
example of this. The plate of Blake's No. XI, p. 148,
reproduced here, is also a good example. I have had
it put sideways on so that you may see that the look
of horror is not only in the subject but belongs to
the particular music of line in the picture. The
effect of the harsh contrasts in the lines is further
added to by the harsh contrasts of tone : everywhere
hard lights are brought up against hard darks.
Harsh contrasts of tone produce much the same
look of terror as harsh contrasts of line. Battle
pictures are usually, when good, full of these clashes
of line and tone, and thrilling dramatic effects in
which a touch of horror enters are usually founded
on the same principle. In the picture by Paolo
Uccello in the National Gallery, reproduced on page
170, a milder edition of this effect is seen. The artist
has been more interested in the pageantry of war
and a desire to show off his newly-acquired know-
ledge of perspective, than anything very terrible.
The contrasts of line are here but confined to the
smaller parts, and there are no contrasts of light
and shade, chiaroscuro not being yet invented.
However, it will be seen by the accompanying dia-
gram how consistently the harsh contrasts of line
were carried out in the planning of this picture.
Notice the unconscious humour of the foreshortened
spears and figure carefully arranged on the ground
to vanish to the recently discovered vanishing point.

Lines radiating in smooth curves from a common
centre are another form employed to give unity in
pictorial design. The point from which they radiate

171

UNITY ONLINE

need not necessarily be within the picture, and is
often considerably outside it. But the feeling that
they would meet if produced gives them a unity
that brings them into harmonious relationship.

There is also another point about radiating lines,
and that is their power of setting up a relationship
between lines otherwise unrelated. Let us try and
explain this. In Panel A, page 174, some lines are
drawn at random, with the idea of their being as
little related to each other as possible. In B, by
the introduction of radiating lines in sympathy with
them, they have been brought into some sort of
relationship. The line 1-2 has been selected as the
dominating line, and an assortment of radiating
ones drawn about it. Now, by drawing 7—8, we
have set up a relationship between lines 3-4, 5-6,
and 1-2, for this line radiates with all of them.
Line 9-10 accentuates this relationship with 1-2.
The others echo the same thing. It is this echoing
of lines through a composition that unites the differ-
ent parts and gives unity to the whole.

The crossing of lines at angles approaching the
right angle is always harsh and somewhat discord-
ant, useful when you want to draw attention drama-
tically to a particular spot, but to be avoided or
covered up at other times. There is an ugly
clash of crossing lines in our original scribble, and
at C we have introduced a mass to cover this up,
and also the angles made by line 3-4 as it crosses
the radiating lines above 1-2. With a small mass
at 11 to make the balance right, you have a basis
for a composition, Diagram C, not at all unpleasing
in arrangement, although based on a group of dis-
cordant lines drawn at random, but brought into
harmony by means of sympathetic radiation.

172

Plate XL t'hoto Anderson

THE ASCENSION OF CHRIST. BY DOMINICO THEOTOCOPULI
CALLED EL GRECO

Note the flame-like form and flow of the light masses, and the exalted feeling: this conveys.

V. •••'• ;;::•::.»

Photo Anderson

THE BAPTISM OF CHRIST. BY DOMINICO THEOTOCOPUL
CALLED EL GRECO

Another example of his restless flame-like composition.

UNITY OF LINE

In Panel D the same group is taken, but this
time line 3-4 is used as the dominant one. Line
7-8 introduces 3-4 to 1-2, as it is related to
both. Lines 9-10 and 11-12 introduce 3-4 to 5-6,
as they are related to both, and the others follow
on the same principle. By introducing some masses
covering up the crossings, a rhythmic basis for a
composition (Diagram E) entirely different from C is
obtained, based on the same random group.

In Panel F, 5-6 has been taken as the domi-
nant line, and sympathetic lines drawn on the
same principle as before. By again covering the
crossings and introducing balancing masses we ob-
tain yet another arrangement from the same random
scribble.

I would suggest this as a new game to students,
one giving another two or three lines drawn in a
panel at random, the problem being to make har-
monious arrangements by the introduction of others
radiating in sympathy.

Often in a picture certain conditions are laid down
to start with; something as ugly as our original
group of lines drawn at random has to be treated
pictorially, and it is by means such as here suggested
that its discordancy can be subdued and the whole
brought into harmony with the shape of your panel.
The same principles apply in colour, discordant notes
can be brought into harmony by the introduction
of others related to both the original colours, thus
leading the eye from one to the other by easy
stages and destroying the shock. Somewhat in
the way a musician will take you from one key
into another very remote by means of a few chords
leading from the one to the other ; whereas, had
he taken you straight there, the shock would have

173

UNITY OF LINE

Diagram XVIII

SHOWING HOW LINES UNRELATED CAN BE BROUGHT
INTO HARMONY BY THE INTRODUCTION OF OTHERS
IN SYMPATHY WITH THEM
174

UNITY OF LINE

been terrible. As it is, these transitions from one

Diagram XIX

SHOWING HOW LINES UNRELATED CAN BE BROUGHT
INTO HARMONY BY THE INTRODUCTION OF OTHERS
IN SYMPATHY WITH THEM

key into another please and surprise one, and are
very effective.

In II, I have introduced a straight line into our
175

UNITY OF LINE

initial scribble, and tbis somewhat increases the
difficulties of relating them. But by drawing 7-8
and 9-10 radiating from 1-2, we have introduced
this straight line to 5-6. For although 5-6 and
9-10 do not radiate from the same point, they are
obviously in sympathy. It is only a short part of
the line at the end marked 5 that is out of sympathy,
and had 5-6 taken the course of the dotted line,
it would have radiated from the same point as
9-10. We still have line 3-4 to account for. But
by drawing 11-12 we bring it into relationship with
5-6, and so by stages through 9-10 and 7-8 to the
original straight line 1-2. Line 13-14, by being re-
lated to 3-4, 11-12, and also 5-6, still further har-
monises the group, and the remainder echo 5-6
and increase the dominant swing. At L masses
have been introduced, covering crossing lines, and
we have a basis for a composition.

In Diagram I lines have been drawn as before,
at random, but two of them are straight and at
right angles, the longer being across the centre of
the panel. The first thing to do is to trick the eye
out of knowing that this line is in the centre by
drawing others parallel to it, leading the eye down-
wards to line 9-10, which is now much more im-
portant than 1-2 and in better proportion with the
height of the panel. The vertical line 3-4 is rather
stark and lonely, and so we introduce two more
verticals at 11-12 and 13-14, which modify this,
and with another two lines in sympathy with 5-6
and leading the eye back to the horizontal top of
the panel, some sort of unity is set up, the introduc-
tion of some masses completing the scheme at M.

There is a quality of sympathy set up by certain
line relationships about which it is important to say

176

UNITY OF LINE

something. Ladies who have the instinct for choos-
ing a hat or doing their hair to suit their face
instinctively know something of this ; know that
certain things in their face are emphasised by certain
forms in their hats or hair, and the care that has
to be taken to see that the things thus drawn
attention to are their best and not their worst
points.

The principle is more generally understood in
relation to colour; everybody knows how the
blueness of blue eyes is emphasised by a sympathetic
blue dress or touch of blue on a hat, &c. But the
same principle applies to lines. The qualities of
line in beautiful eyes and eyebrows are emphasised
by the long sympathetic curve of a picture hat, and
the becoming effect of a necklace is partly due to
the same cause, the lines being in sympathy with
the eyes or the oval of the face, according to how
low or high it hangs. The influence of long lines
is thus to "pick out" from among the lines of a
face those with which they are in sympathy, and
thus to accentuate them.

To illustrate this, on page 178 is reproduced " The
Portrait of the Artist's Daughter," by Sir Edward
Burne-Jones, Bart.

The two things that are brought out by the line
arrangement in this portrait are the beauty of the
eyes and the shape of the face. Instead of the
picture hat you have the mirror, the widening circles
of which swing round in sympathy with the eyes
and concentrate the attention on them. That on
the left (looking at the picture) has the greatest
attention concentrated upon it, the lines of the
mirror being more in sympathy with this than the
other eye, as it is nearer the centre. If you care

177 M

Diagram XX

INDICATING THE SYMPATHETIC FLOW OF LINES THAT GIVE

UNITY TO THIS COMPOSITION

178

Plate XLII

Photo Hollyer

PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST'S DAUGHTER
SIR EDWARD BURNE-JONES, BART.

An example of sympathetic rhythm. (See diagram on opposite page.)

UNITY OF LINE

to take the trouble, cut a hole in a piece of opaque
paper the size of the head and placing it over the
illustration look at the face without the influence
of these outside lines ; and note how much more
equally divided the attention is between the two
eyes without the emphasis given to the one by the
mirror. This helps the unity of impression, which
with both eyes realised to so intense a focus
might have suffered. This mirror forms a sort of
echo of the pupil of the eye with its reflection of
the window in the left-hand corner corresponding
to the high light, greatly helping the spell these
eyes hold.

The other form accentuated by the line arrange-
ment is the oval of the face. There is first the
necklace, the lines of which lead on to those on the
right in the reflection. It is no mere accident that
this chain is so in sympathy with the line of the
face : it would hardly have remained where it is for
long, and must have been put in this position by
the artist with the intention (conscious or instinc-
tive) of accentuating the face line. The line of the
reflection on the left and the lines of the mirror
are also sympathetic. Others in the folds of the
dress, and those forming the mass of the hands and
arms, echo still further this line of the face and
bring the whole canvas into intense sympathetic
unity of expression.

The influence that different ways of doing the hair
may have on a face is illustrated in the accompanying
scribbles. The two profiles are exactly alike — I took
great trouble to make them so. It is quite remark-
able the difference the two ways of doing the hair
make to the look of the faces. The upward swing
of the lines in A sympathise with the line of tho

179

UNITY OF LINE

one and the sharper projections of the face gener-

DiagramXXI A

ILLUSTRATING THE EFFECT ON THE FACE OF PUTTING

THE HAIR UP AT THE BACK. HOW THE UPWARD

FLOW OF LINES ACCENTUATES THE SHARPNESSES
OF THE FEATURES

ally (see dotted lines), while the full downward
curves of B sympathise with the fuller curves of

180

UNITY OF LINE

the face and particularly emphasise the fullness
under the chin so dreaded by beauty past its

Diagram XXII

ILLUSTRATING THE EFFECT ON THE SAME FACE AS
DIAGRAM XXI, OF PUTTING THE HAIR LOW AT

THE BACK. HOW THE FULLER LlNES THUS GIVEN
ACCENTUATE THE FULLNESSES OF THE FEATURES

first youth (see dotted lines). It is only a very
sharply-cut face that can stand this low knot at
the back of the head, in which case it is one of the
simplest and most beautiful ways of doing the hair.

181

UNITY OF LINE

The hair dragged up high at the back sharpens the
lines of the profile as the low knot blunts them.

The illustrations to this chapter have been drawn
in diagrammatical form in order to try and show that
the musical quality of lines and the emotions they
are capable of calling up are not dependent upon
truth to natural forms but are inherent in abstract
arrangements themselves. That is to say, whenever
you get certain arrangements of lines, no matter
what the objects in nature may be that yield them,
you will always get the particular emotional stimulus
belonging to such arrangements. For instance,
whenever you get long uninterrupted horizontal
lines running through a picture not opposed by any
violent contrast, you will always get an impression
of intense quiet and repose ; no matter whether the
natural objects yielding these lines are a wide stretch
of country with long horizontal clouds in the sky, a
pool with a gentle breeze making horizontal bars on
its surface, or a pile of wood in a timber yard. And
whenever you get long vertical lines in a composition,
no matter whether it be a cathedral interior, a pine
forest, or a row of scaffold poles, you will always
have the particular feeling associated with rows of
vertical lines in the abstract. And further, when-
ever you get the swinging lines of the volute, an
impression of energy will be conveyed, no matter
whether it be a breaking wave, rolling clouds,
whirling dust, or only a mass of tangled hoop iron
in a wheelwright's yard. As was said above, these
effects may be greatly increased, modified, or even
destroyed by associations connected with the things
represented. If in painting the timber yard the
artist is thinking more about making it look like a
stack of real wood with its commercial associations

182

UNITY OF LINE

and less about using the artistic material its appear-
ance presents for the making of a picture, he may
miss the harmonic impression the long lines of the
stacks of wood present. If real wood is the first
thing you are led to think of in looking at his work,
he will obviously have missed the expression of any
artistic feeling the subject was capable of producing.
And the same may be said of the scaffold poles or
the hoop iron in the wheelwright's yard.

This structure of abstract lines at the basis of a
picture will be more or less overlaid with the truths
of nature, and all the rich variety of natural forms,
according to the requirements of the subject. Thus,
in large decorative work, where the painting has to
take its place as part of an architectural scheme, the
severity of this skeleton will be necessary to unite
the work to the architectural forms around it, of
which it has to form a part ; and very little indul-
gence in the realisation of natural truth should be
permitted to obscure it. But in the painting of a
small cabinet picture that exists for close inspection,
the supporting power of this line basis is not nearly
so essential, and a full indulgence in all the rich
variety of natural detail is permissible. And this is
how it happens that painters who have gloried in
rich details have always painted small pictures, and
painters who have preferred larger truths pictures
of bigger dimensions. It sounds rather paradoxical
to say the smaller the picture the more detail it
should contain, and the larger the less, but it is
nevertheless true. For although a large picture has
not of necessity got to be part of an architectural
scheme, it has to be looked at from a distance at
which small detail could not be seen, and where such
detail would greatly weaken its expressive power.

183

UNITY OF LINE

And further, the small picture easily comes within
the field of vision, and the whole impression can be
readily grasped without the main lines being, as it
were, underlined. But in a big picture one of the
greatest difficulties is to get it to read simply, to
strike the eye as one impression. Its size making
it difficult for it to be got comfortably within the
field of vision, every artifice has to be used to give
it " breadth of treatment," as it is called, and nothing
interferes with this like detail.

184

XIII

VARIETY OF MASS

THE masses that go to make up a picture have
variety in their shape, their tone values, their edges,
in texture or quality, and in gradation. Quite a
formidable list, but each of these particulars has
some rhythmic quality of its own about which it
will be necessary to say a word.

As to variety of shape, many things that were
said about lines apply equally to the spaces enclosed
by them. It is impossible to write of the
rhythmic possibilities that the infinite £jj|*y of
variety of shapes possessed by natural
objects contain, except to point out how necessary
the study of nature is for this. Variety of shape is
one of the most difficult things to invent, and one
of the commonest things in nature. However
imaginative your conception, and no matter how
far you may carry your design, working from
imagination, there will come a time when studies
from nature will be necessary if your work is
to have the variety that will give life and
interest. Try and draw from imagination a row
of elm trees of about the same height and distance
apart, and get the variety of nature into them;
and you will see how difficult it is to invent.
On examining your work you will probably
discover two or three pet forms repeated, or there
may be only one. Or try and draw some cumulus
clouds from imagination, several groups of them

185

VARIETY OF MASS

across a sky, and you will find how often again
you have repeated unconsciously the same forms.
How tired one gets of the pet cloud or tree of a
painter who does not often consult nature in his
pictures. Nature is the great storehouse of variety ;
even a piece of coal will suggest more interesting
rock-forms than you can invent. And it is fas-
cinating to watch the infinite variety of graceful
forms assumed by the curling smoke from a cigar-
ette, full of suggestions for beautiful line arrange-
ments. If this variety of form in your work is
allowed to become excessive it will overpower
the unity of your conception. It is in the larger
unity of your composition that the imaginative
faculty will be wanted, and variety in your forms
should always be subordinated to this idea.

Nature does not so readily suggest a scheme
of unity, for the simple reason that the first con-
dition of your picture, the four bounding lines, does
not exist in nature. You may get infinite sugges-
tions for arrangements, and should always be on
the look out for them, but your imagination will
have to relate them to the rigorous conditions of
your four bounding lines, and nature does not
help you much here. But when variety in the
forms is wanted, she is pre-eminent, and it is never
advisable to waste inventive power where it is so
unnecessary.

But although nature does not readily suggest
a design fitting the conditions of a panel her ten-
dency is always towards unity of arrangement.
If you take a bunch of flowers or leaves and
haphazard stuff them into a vase of water, you
will probably get a very chaotic arrangement. But
if you leave it for some time and let nature have

186

VARIETY OF MASS

a chance you will find that the leaves and flowers
have arranged themselves much more harmoni-
ously. And if you cut down one of a group of
trees, what a harsh discordant gap is usually left;
but in time nature will, by throwing a bough here
and filling up a gap there, as far as possible rectify
matters and bring all into unity again. I am
prepared to be told this has nothing to do with
beauty but is only the result of nature's attempts
to seek for light and air. But whatever be the
physical cause, the fact is the same, that nature's
laws tend to pictorial unity of arrangement.

It will be as well to try and explain what is
meant by tone values. All the masses or tones
(for the terms are often used interchange- Variety of

ably) that go to the making of a visual Tone

, • i j • i j.- Values.

impression can be considered in relation

to an imagined scale from white, to represent the
lightest, to black, to represent the darkest tones.
This scale of values does not refer to light and
shade only, but light and shade, colour, and the whole
visual impression are considered as one mosaic of
masses of different degrees of darkness or lightness.
A dark object in strong light may be lighter than
a white object in shadow, or the reverse : it will
depend on the amount of reflected light. Colour
only matters in so far as it affects the position of
the tone in this imagined scale of black and white.
The correct observation of these tone values is a
most important matter, and one of no little difficulty.
The word tone is used in two senses, in the
first place when referring to the individual masses
as to then* relations in the scale of " tone values " ;
and secondly when referring to the musical rela-
tionship of these values to a oneness of tone idea,

187

VARIETY OF MASS

governing the whole impression. In very much the
same way you might refer to a single note in
music as a tone, and also to the tone of the whole
orchestra. The word values always refers to the
relationship of the individual masses or tones in
our imagined scale from black to white. We say
a picture is out of value or out of tone when some
of the values are darker or lighter than our sense
of harmony feels they should be, in the same way
as we should say an instrument in an orchestra
was out of tone or tune when it was higher or
lower than our sense of harmony allowed. Tone
is so intimately associated with the colour of a
picture that it is a little difficult to treat of it
apart, and it is often used in a sense to include
colour in speaking of the general tone. We say
it has a warm tone or a cold tone.

There is a particular rhythmic beauty about a
well-ordered arrangement of tone values that is
a very important part of pictorial design. This
music of tone has been present in art in a rudi-
mentary way since the earliest time, but has
recently received a much greater amount of atten-
tion, and much new light on the subject has been
given by the impressionist movement and the
study of the art of China and. Japan, which is
nearly always very beautiful in this respect.

This quality of tone music is most dominant
when the masses are large and simple, when the
contemplation of them is not disturbed by much
variety, and they have little variation of texture
and gradation. A slight mist will often improve
the tone of a landscape for this reason. It simplifies
the tones, masses them together, obliterating many
smaller varieties. I have even heard of the tone

188

VARIETY OF MASS

of a picture being improved by such a mist scrambled
or glazed over it.

The powder on a lady's face, when not over-
done, is an improvement for the same reason. It
simplifies the tones by destroying the distressing
shining lights that were cutting up the masses;
and it also destroys a large amount of half tone,
broadening the lights almost up to the commence-
ment of the shadows.

Tone relationships are most sympathetic when the
middle values of your scale only are used, that is to say,
when the lights are low in tone and the darks high.

They are most dramatic and intense when the con-
trasts are great and the jumps from dark to light
sudden. -

The sympathetic charm of half-light effects is
due largely to the tones being of this middle range
only ; whereas the striking dramatic effect of a
storm clearing, in which you may get a landscape
brilliantly lit by the sudden appearance of the sun,
seen against the dark clouds of the retreating
storm, owes its dramatic quality to contrast. The
strong contrasts of tone values coupled with the
strong colour contrast between the warm sunlit land
and the cold angry blue of the retreating storm,
gives such a scene much dramatic effect and power.

The subject of values will be further treated
in dealing with unity of tone.

Variety in quality and texture is almost too subtle
to write about with any prospect of being
understood. The play of different qualities
and textures in the masses that go to
form a picture must be appreciated at
first hand, and little can be written about it. Oil
paint is capable of almost unlimited variety in this

189

VARIETY OF MASS

way. But it is better to leave the study of such
qualities until you have mastered the medium in
its more simple aspects.

The particular tone music of which we were
speaking is not helped by any great use of this
variety. A oneness of quality throughout the work
is best suited to exhibit it. Masters of tone, like
Whistler, preserve this oneness of quality very
carefully in their work, relying chiefly on the grain
of a rough canvas to give the necessary variety
and prevent a deadness in the quality of the tones.

But when more force and brilliancy are wanted,
some use of your paint in a crumbling, broken
manner is necessary, as it catches more light, thus
increasing the force of the impression. Claude
Monet and his followers in their search for brilliancy
used this quality throughout many of their paint-
ings, with new and striking results. But it is at
the sacrifice of many beautiful qualities of form,
as this roughness of surface does not lend itself
readily to any finesse of modelling. In the case
of Claude Monet's work, however, this does not
matter, as form with all its subtleties is not a
thing he made any attempt at exploiting. Nature
is sufficiently vast for beautiful work to be done
in separate departments of vision, although one
cannot place such work on the same plane with
successful pictures of wider scope. And the par-
ticular visual beauty of sparkling light and atmos-
phere, of which he was one of the first to make
a separate study, could hardly exist in a work
that aimed also at the significance of beautiful
form, the appeal of form, as was explained in an
earlier chapter, not being entirely due to a visual
but to a mental perception, into which the sense

190

VARIETY OF MASS

of touch enters by association. The scintillation
and glitter of light destroys this touch idea, which
is better preserved in quieter lightings.

There is another point in connection with the
use of thick paint, that I don't think is sufficiently
well known, and that is, its greater readiness to be
discoloured by the oil in its composition coming to
the surface. Fifteen years ago I did what it would
be advisable for every student to do as soon as
possible, namely, make a chart of the colours he is
likely to use. Get a good white canvas, and set
upon it in columns the different colours, very much
as you would do on your palette, writing the names
in ink beside them. Then take a palette-knife, an
ivory one - by preference, and drag it from the in-
dividual masses of paint so as to get a gradation of
different thicknesses, from the thinnest possible
layer where your knife ends to the thick mass
where it was squeezed out of the tube. It is also
advisable to have previously ruled some pencil lines
with a hard point down the canvas in such a manner
that the strips of paint will cross the lines. This
chart will be of the greatest value to you in noting
the effe.ct of time on paint. To make it more com-
plete, the colours of several makers should be put
down, and at any rate the whites of several different
makes should be on it. As white enters so largely
into your painting it is highly necessary to use one
that does not change.

The two things that I have noticed are that the
thin ends of the strips of white have invariably kept
whiter than the thick end, and that all the paints
have become a little more transparent with time.
The pencil lines here come in useful, as they can be
seen through the thinner portion, and show to what

191

VARIETY OF MASS

extent this transparency has occurred. But the point
I wish to emphasise is that at the thick end the
larger body of oil in the paint, which always conies
to the surface as it dries, has darkened and yellowed
the surface greatly; while the small amount of oil
at the thin end has not darkened it to any extent.

Claude Monet evidently knew this, and got over
the difficulty by painting on an absorbent canvas,
which sucks the surplus oil out from below and thus
prevents its coming to the surface and discolouring
the work in time. When this thick manner of
painting is adopted, an absorbent canvas should
always be used. It also has the advantage of giving
a dull dry surface of more brilliancy than a shiny one.

Although not so much as with painting, varieties
of texture enter into drawings done with any of the
mediums that lend themselves to mass drawing ; char-
coal, conte" crayon, lithographic chalk, and even red
chalk and lead pencil are capable of giving a variety
of textures, governed largely by the surface of the
paper used. But this is more the province of paint-
ing than of drawing proper, and charcoal, which is
more painting than drawing, is the only medium in
which it can be used with much effect.

There is a very beautiful rhythmic quality in the
play from softness to sharpness on the edges of
masses. A monotonous sharpness of edge
Edges*7 °f i§ hard, stern, and unsympathetic. This is a
useful quality at times, particularly in deco-
rative work, where the more intimate sympathetic
qualities are not so much wanted, and where the
harder forms go better with the architectural sur-
roundings of which your painted decoration should
form a part. On the other hand, a monotonous soft-
ness of edge is very weak and feeble-looking, and

192

VARIETY OF MASS

too entirely lacking in po^er to be desirable. If
you find any successful work done with this quality
of edge unrelieved by any sharpnesses, it will depend
on colour, and not form, for any qualities it may
possess.

Some amount of softness makes for charm, and
is extremely popular: "I do like that because it's
so nice and soft " is a regular show-day remark in
the studio, and is always meant as a great compli-
ment, but is seldom taken as such by the suffering
painter. But a balance of these two qualities play-
ing about your contours produces the most delight-
ful results, and the artist is always on the look out
for such variations. He seldom lets a sharpness
of edge run far without losing it occasionally. It
may be necessary for the hang of the composition
that some leading edges should be much insisted
on. But even here a monotonous sharpness is too
dead a thing, and although a firmness of run will
be allowed to be felt, subtle variations will be in-
troduced to prevent deadness. The Venetians from
Giorgione's time were great masters of this music
of edges. The structure of lines surrounding the
masses on which their compositions are built were
fused in the most mysterious and delightful way.
But although melting into the surrounding mass,
they are always firm and never soft and feeble.
Study the edge in such a good example of the Vene-
tian manner as the "Bacchus and Ariadne" at the
National Gallery, and note where they are hard and
where lost.

There is one rather remarkable fact to be ob-
served in this picture and many Venetian works, and
this is that the most accented edges are reserved for
unessential parts, like the piece of white drapery

193 N

VARIETY OF MASS

on the lower arm of the girl with the cymbals, and
the little white flower on the boy's head in front.
The edges on the flesh are everywhere fused and
soft, the draperies being much sharper. You may
notice the same thing in many pictures of the later
Venetian schools. The greatest accents on the edges
are rarely in the head, except it may be occasionally
in the eyes. But they love to get some strongly-
accented feature, such as a crisply-painted shirt
coming against the soft modelling of the neck, to
balance the fused edges in the flesh. In the head
of Philip IV in our National Gallery the only place
where Velazquez has allowed himself anything like
a sharp edge is in the high lights on the chain hang-
ing round the neck. The softer edges of the princi-
pal features in such compositions give a largeness
and mystery to these parts, and to restore the
balance, sharpnesses are introduced in non-essential
accessories.

In the figure with the white tunic from Velazquez's
" Surrender of Breda," here reproduced, note the
wonderful variety on the edges of the white masses
of the coat and the horse's nose, and also that the
sharpest accents are reserved for such non-essentials
as the bows on the tunic and the loose hair on the
horse's forehead. Velazquez's edges are wonderful,
and cannot be too carefully studied. He worked
largely in flat tones or planes ; but this richness
and variety of his edges keeps his work from look-
ing flat and dull, like that of some of his followers.
I am sorry to say this variety does not come out
so well in the reproduction on page 194 as I could
have wished, the half-tone process having a tendency
to sharpen edges rather monotonously.

This quality is everywhere to be found in
194

Plate XLIV

Photo Anderson

PART OF THE SURRENDER OF BREDA. BY VELAZQUEZ

Note the varied quantity of the edge in white mass of tunic. (The reproduction does
not unfortunately show this as well as the original.)

VARIETY OF MASS

nature. If you regard any scene pictorially, looking
at it as a whole and not letting your eye focus on
individual objects wandering from one to another
while being but dimly conscious of the whole, but
regarding it as a beautiful ensemble ; you will find
that the boundaries of the masses are not hard
continuous edges but play continually along their
course, here melting imperceptibly into the surround-
ing mass, and there accentuated more sharply. Even
a long continuous line, like the horizon at sea, has
some amount of this play, which you should always
be on the look out for. But when the parts only
of nature are regarded and each is separately
focussed, hard edges will be found to exist almost
everywhere, unless there is a positive mist envelop-
ing the objects. And this is the usual way of
looking at things. But a picture that is a catalogue
of many little parts separately focussed will not
hang together as one visual impression.

In naturalistic work the necessity for painting
to one focal impression is as great as the necessity
of painting in true perspective. What perspective
has done for drawing, the impressionist system of
painting to one all-embracing focus has done for
tone. Before perspective was introduced, each in-
dividual object in a picture was drawn with a
separate centre of vision fixed on it in turn. What
perspective did was to insist that all objects in a
picture should be drawn in relation to one fixed
centre of vision. And whereas formerly each object
was painted to a hard focus, whether it was in
the foreground or the distance, impressionism
teaches that you cannot have the focus in a
picture at the same time on the foreground and
the distance.

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VARIETY OF MASS

Of course there are many manners of painting
with more primitive conventions in which the
consideration of focus does not enter. But in all
painting that aims at reproducing the impressions
directly produced in us by natural appearances, this
question of focus and its influence on the quality
of your edges is of great importance.

Something should be said about the serrated
edges of masses, like those of trees seen against the
sky. These are very difficult to treat, and almost
every landscape painter has a different formula.
The hard, fussy, cut-out, photographic appearance
of trees misses all their beauty and sublimity.

There are three principal types of treatment
that may serve as examples. In the first place
there are the trees of the early Italian painters,
three examples of which are illustrated on page 197.
A thin tree is always selected, and a rhythmic
pattern of leaves against the sky painted. This
treatment of a dark pattern on a light ground is
very useful as a contrast to the softer tones of flesh.
But the treatment is more often applied nowadays
to a spray of foliage in the foreground, the pattern
of which gives a very rich effect. The poplar trees in
Millais' " Vale of Rest " are painted in much the same
manner as that employed by the Italians, and are
exceptional among modern tree paintings, the trees
being treated as a pattern of leaves against the sky.
Millais has also got a raised quality of paint in his
darks very similar to that of Bellini and many early
painters.

Giorgione added another tree to landscape art:
the rich, full, solidly-massed forms that occur in his
" Concert Champetre " of the Louvre, reproduced on
page 151. In this picture you may see both types

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VARIETY OF MASS

of treatment. There are the patterns of leaves
variety on the left and the solidly-massed treatment
on the right.

O A B

Diagram XXIII

EXAMPLES OF EARLY ITALIAN TREATMENT OF TREES

A. From pictures in Oratorio di S. Ansano. "II trionfo dell' Amore,"

attributed to Botticelli.

B. From " L'Annunziazione," by Botticelli, Uffizi, Florence.

C. From " La Vergine," by Giovanni Bellini in the Accademia, Venice.

Corot in his later work developed a treatment
that has been largely followed since. Looking at
trees with a very wide focus, he ignored individual
leaves, and resolved them into masses of tone,

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VARIETY OF MASS

here lost and here found more sharply against the
sky. The subordinate masses of foliage within these
main boundaries are treated in the same way,
resolved into masses of infinitely varying edges.
This play, this lost-and-foundness at his edges is
one of the great distinguishing charms of Corot's
trees. When they have been painted from this
mass point of view, a suggestion of a. few leaves
here and a bough there may be indicated, coming
sharply against the sky, but you will find this basis
of tone music, this crescendo and diminuendo
throughout all his later work (see illustration,
page 215).

These are three of the more extreme types of
trees to be met with in art, but the variations
on these types are very numerous. Whatever
treatment you adopt, the tree must be considered
as a whole, and some rhythmic form related to this
large impression selected. And this applies to all
forms with serrated edges : some large order must
be found to which the fussiness of the edges must
conform.

The subject of edges generally is a very important
one, and one much more worried over by a master
than by the average student. It is interesting to
note how all the great painters have begun with a
hard manner, with edges of little variety, from
which they have gradually developed a looser
manner, learning to master the difficulties of design
that hard contours insist on your facing, and only
when this is thoroughly mastered letting themselves
develop freely this play on the edges, this looser
handling.

For under the freest painting, if it be good, there
will be found a bed-rock structure of well-constructed

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VARIETY OF MASS

masses and lines. They may never be insisted on
but their steadying influence will always be felt. So
err in your student work on the side of hardness
rather than looseness, if you would discipline your-
self to design your work well. Occasionally only
let yourself go at a looser handling.

Variety of gradation will naturally be governed
largely by the form and light and shade of the
objects in your composition. But while Varlety of
studying the gradations of tone that express Grada-
form and give the modelling, you should
never neglect to keep the mind fixed upon the rela-
tion the part you are painting bears to the whole
picture. And nothing should be done that is out of
harmony, with this large conception. It is one of
the most difficult things jbo decide the amount of
variety and emphasis allowable for the smaller parts
of a picture, so as to bring all in harmony with that
oneness of impression that should dominate the
whole ; how much of your scale of values it is per-
missible to use for the modelling of each individual
part. In the best work the greatest economy is
exercised in this respect, so that as much power may
be kept in reserve as possible. You have only the
one scale from black to white to work with, only
one octave within the limits of which to compose
your tone symphonies. There are no higher and
lower octaves as in music to extend your effect. So
be very sparing with your tone values when model-
ling the different parts.

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XIV
UNITY OF MASS

WHAT has been said about unity of line applies
obviously to the outlines bounding the masses, so
that we need not say anything further on that sub-
ject. The particular quality of which something
should be said, is the unity that is given to a picture
by means of a well-arranged and rhythmically con-
sidered scheme of tone values.

The modifications in the relative tone values of
objects seen under different aspects of light and
atmosphere are infinite and ever varying; and this
is quite a special study in itself. Nature is the
great teacher here, her tone arrangements always
possessing unity. How kind to the eye is her
attempt to cover the ugliness of our great towns in
an envelope of atmosphere, giving the most wonder-
ful tone symphonies; thus using man's desecration
of her air by smoke to cover up his other desecra-
tion of her country-side, a manufacturing town.

This study of values is a distinguishing feature of
modern art. But schemes taken from nature are not
the only harmonious ones. The older masters were
content with one or two well-tried arrangements of
tone in their pictures, which were often not at all
true to natural appearances but nevertheless har-
monious. The chief instance of this is the low- toned
sky. The painting of flesh higher in tone than the

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UNITY OF MASS

sky was almost universal at many periods of art,
and in portraits is still often seen. Yet it is only
in strong sunlight that this is ever so in nature, as
you can easily see by holding your hand up against
a sky background. The possible exception to this
rule is a dark storm-cloud, in which case your hand
would have to be strongly lit by some bright light
in another part of the sky to appear light against it.

This high tone of the sky is a considerable diffi-
culty when one wishes the interest centred on the
figures. The eye instinctively goes to the light
masses in a picture, and if these masses are sky, the
figures lose some importance. The fashion of lower-
ing its tone has much to be said for it on the score
of the added interest it gives to the figures. But it
is apt to bring a heavy stuffy look into the atmos-
phere, and is only really admissible in frankly con-
ventional treatment, in which one has not been led
to expect implicit truth to natural effect. If truth
to natural appearances is carried far in the figures,
the same truth will be expected in the background ;
but if only certain truths are selected in the figures,
and the treatment does not approach the naturalistic,
much more liberty can be taken with the background
without loss of verisimilitude.

But there is a unity about nature's tone arrange-
ments that it is very difficult to improve upon ; and
it is usually advisable, if you can, to base the scheme
of tone in your picture on a good study of values
from nature.

Such effects as twilight, moonlight, or even sun-
light were seldom attempted by the older painters,
at any rate in their figure subjects. All the lovely
tone arrangements that nature presents in these
more unusual aspects are a new study, and offer

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UNITY OF MASS

unlimited new material to the artist. Many artists
are content to use this simply for itself, the beauty of
a rare tone effect being sufficient with the simplest
accessories to make a picture. But in figure com-
position, what new and wonderful things can be
imagined in which some rare aspect of nature's
tone-music is combined with a fine figure design.

These values are not easily perceived with
accuracy, although their influence may be felt by
many. A true eye for the accurate perception of
subtle tone arrangements is a thing you should
study very diligently to acquire. How then is this
to be done ? It is very difficult, if not impossible,
to teach anybody to see. Little more can be
said than has already been written about this
subject in the chapter on variety In mass. Every
mass has to be considered in relation to an imagined
tone scale, taking black for your darkest and white
for your highest light as we have seen. A black
glass, by reducing the light, enables you to observe
these relationships more accurately ; the dazzling
quality of strong light making it difficult to judge
them. But this should only be used to correct one's
eye, and the comparison should be made between
nature seen in the glass and your work seen also
in the glass. To look in a black glass and then
compare what you saw with your work looked at
direct is not a fair comparison, and will result in
low-toned work with little brilliancy.

Now, to represent this scale of tones in painting
we have white paint as our highest and black paint
as our lowest notes. It is never advisable to play
either of these extremes, although you may go
very near to them. That is to say, there should
never be pure white or pure black masses in a

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UNITY OF MASS

picture. There is a kind of screaminess set up when
one goes the whole gamut of tone, that gives a
look of unrestraint and weakness; somewhat like
the feeling experienced when a vocalist sings his
or her very highest or very lowest note. In a
good singer one always feels he could have gone
still higher or still lower, as the case may be, and
this gives an added power to the impression of
his singing. And in art, likewise, it is always ad-
visable to keep something of this reserve power.
Also, the highest lights in nature are never without
colour, and this will lower the tone; neither are
the deepest darks colourless, and this will raise
their tone. But perhaps this is dogmatising, and
it may be- that beautiful work is to be done with
all the extremes you can " clap on," though I think
it very unlikely.

In all the quieter aspects of lighting this range
from black to white paint is sufficient. But where
strong, brilliantly lit effects are wanted, something
has to be sacrificed, if this look of brilliancy is to
be made telling.

In order to increase the relationship between
some of the tones others must be sacrificed. There
are two ways of doing this. The first, which was
the method earliest adopted, is to begin from the
light end of the scale, and, taking something very
near pure white as your highest light, to get the
relationships between this and the next most brilliant
tone, and to proceed thus, tone by tone, from the
lightest to the darkest. But working in this way
you will find that you arrive at the greatest dark
you can make in paint before you have completed
the scale of relationships as in nature, if the subject
happens to be brilliantly lit.

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Another method is to put down the highest
light and the darkest dark, and then work your
scale of tone relatively between them. But it will
be found that working in this way, unless the
subject in nature is very quietly lit, you will not
get anything like the forceful impression of tone
that nature gives.

The third way, and this is the more modern, is
to begin from the dark end of the scale, getting
the true relationship felt between the greatest dark
and the next darkest tone to it, and so on, pro-
ceeding towards the light. By this method you
will arrive at your highest light in paint before
the highest light in nature has been reached. All
variety of tone at the light end of the scale will
have to be modified in this case, instead of at the
dark end as in the other case. In the painting of
sunlight the latter method is much the more effec-
tive, a look of great brilliancy and light being
produced, whereas in the earlier method, the scale
being commenced from the light end, so much of the
picture was dark that the impression of light and
air was lost and a dark gloomy land took its place,
a gloom accentuated rather than dispelled by the
streaks of lurid light where the sun struck.

Rembrandt is an example of beginning the tone
relationships from the light side of the scale, and a
large part of his canvas is in consequence always
dark

Bastien Lepage is an example of the second
method, that of fixing upon two extremes and
working relatively between them. And it will be
noticed that he confined himself chiefly to quiet
grey day effects of lighting, the rendering of which
was well within the range of his palette.

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The method of beginning from the dark side,
getting the true relations of tones on this side of
the scale, and letting the lights take care of them-
selves, was perhaps first used by Turner. But it is
largely used now whenever a strong impression of
light is desired. The light masses instead of the
dark masses dominate the pictures, which have great
brilliancy.

These tone values are only to be perceived in
their true relationship by the eye contemplating a
wide field of vision. With the ordinary habit of
looking only at individual parts of nature, the
general impression being but dimly felt, they are
not observed. The artist has to acquire the habit
of generalising his visual attention over a wide field
if he would perceive the true relation of the parts
to this scale of values. Half closing the eyes, which
is the usual method of doing this, destroys the per-
ception of a great deal of colour. Another method
of throwing the eyes out of focus and enabling one
to judge of large relationships, is to dilate them
widely. This rather increases than diminishes the
colour, but is not so safe a method of judging subtle
tone relationships.

It is easier in approaching this study out of doors
to begin with quiet effects of light. Some of those
soft grey days in this country are very beautiful in
tone, and change so little that careful studies can be
made. And with indoor work, place your subject
rather away from the direct light and avoid much
light and shade ; let the light come from behind you.

If very strong light effects, such as sunlight, or
a dark interior lit by one brilliant window, are at-
tempted, the values will be found to be much simpler
and more harsh, often resolving themselves into two

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masses, a brilliant light contrasted with a dark
shadow. This tone arrangement of strong light in
contrast with dark shadow was a favourite formula
with many schools of the past, since Leonardo da
Vinci first used it. Great breadth and splendour is
given by it to design, and it is one of the most im-
pressive of tone arrangements. Leonardo da Vinci's
" Our Lady of the Rocks," in the National Gallery, is
an early example of this treatment. And Correggio's
" Venus, Mercury, and Cupid," here reproduced, is an-
other particularly fine example. Reynolds and many
of the eighteenth-century men used this scheme in
their work almost entirely. This strong light and
shade, by eliminating to a large extent the half
tones, helps to preserve in highly complete work a
simplicity and directness of statement that is very
powerful. For certain impressions it probably will
never be bettered, but it is a very well-worn conven-
tion. Manet among the moderns has given new life
to this formula, although he did not derive his in-
spiration directly from Correggio but through the
Spanish school. By working in a strong, rather
glaring, direct light, he eliminated still further the
half tones, and got rid to a great extent of light and
shade. Coming at a time when the realistic and
plain air movements were destroying simple direct-
ness, his work was of great value, bringing back, as
it did with its insistence on large, simple masses, a
sense of frank design. His influence has been very
great in recent years, as artists have felt that it
offered a new formula for design and colour. Light
and shade and half tone are the great enemies of
colour, sullying, as they do, its purity ; and to some
extent to design also, destroying, as they do, the
flatness of the picture. But with the strong direct

206

Plate XLV Photo Havfitaengl

CORREGGIO. VENUS, MERCURY, AND CUPID (NATIONAL GALLERY)

A fine example of one of the most effective tone arrangements; a brilliantly-lit,
richly-modelled light mass on a dark background.

, UNITY OF MASS

light, the masses are cut out as simply as possible,
and their colour is little sullied by light and shade.
The picture of Manet's reproduced is a typical ex-
ample of his manner. The aggressive shape of the
pattern made by the light mass against the dark
background is typical of his revolutionary attitude
towards all accepted canons of beauty. But even
here it is interesting to note that many principles
of composition are conformed to. The design is
united to its boundaries by the horizontal line of
the couch and the vertical line of the screen at the
back, while the whole swing hangs on the diagonal
from top left-hand corner to right lower corner,
to which the strongly marked edge of the bed-
clothes and pillow at the bottom of the picture is
parallel.

Large flat tones give a power and simplicity to
a design, and a largeness and breadth of expression
that are very valuable, besides showing up every
little variety in the values used for your modelling ;
and thus enabling you to model with the least ex-
penditure of tones. Whatever richness of variation
you may ultimately desire to add to your values,
see to it that in planning your picture you get a
good basic structure of simply designed, and as far
as possible flat, tones.

In speaking of variety in mass we saw how the
nearer these tones are in the scale of values, the more
reserved and quiet the impression created, and the
further apart or greater the contrast, the more
dramatic and intense the effect. And the sentiment
of tone in a picture, like the sentiment of line and
colour, should be in harmony with the nature of
your subject.

Generally speaking more variety of tone and shape
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in the masses of your composition is permissible when
a smaller range of values is used than when your
subject demands strong contrasts. When strong con-
trasts of tone or what are called black and white
effects are desired, the masses must be very simply
designed. Were this not so, and were the composi-
tion patterned all over with smaller masses in
strong contrast, the breadth and unity of the effect
would be lost. While when the difference of rela-
tive values between one tone and another is slight,
the oneness of effect is not so much interfered with
by there being a large number of them. Effects
of strong contrasts are therefore far the most
difficult to manage, as it is not easy to reduce a
composition of any complexity to a simple expressive
pattern of large masses.

This principle applies also in the matter of colour.
Greater contrasts and variety of colour may be
indulged in where the middle range only of tones
is used, and where there is little tone contrast,
than where there is great contrast. In other words,
you cannot with much hope of success have strong
contrasts of colour and strong contrasts of tone in
the same picture : it is too violent.

If you have strong contrasts of colour, the
contrasts of tone between them must be small.
The Japanese and Chinese often make the most
successful use of violent contrasts of colour by
being careful that they shall be of the same tone
value.

And again, where you have strong contrasts of
tone, such as Rembrandt was fond of, you cannot
successfully have strong contrasts of colour as well.
Reynolds, who was fond both of colour and strong
tone contrast, had to compromise, as he tells us in

208

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his lectures, by making the shadows all tho same
brown colour, to keep a harmony in his work.

There is some analogy between straight lines
and flat tones, and curved lines and gradated tones.
And a great deal that was said about the rhythmic
significance of these lines will apply equally well
here. What was said about long vertical and hori-
zontal lines conveying a look of repose and touching
the serious emotional notes, can be said of large
flat tones. The feeling of infinity suggested by a
wide blue sky without a cloud, seen above a wide
bare plain, is an obvious instance of this. And for the
same harmonic cause, a calm evening has so peaceful
and infinite an expression. The waning light darkens
the land arid increases the contrast between it and the
sky, with the result that all the landscape towards
the west is reduced to practically one dark tone, cut-
ting sharply against the wide light of the sky.

And the graceful charm of curved lines swinging
in harmonious rhythm through a composition has
its analogy in gradated tones. Watteau and Gains-
borough, those masters of charm, knew this, and
in their most alluring compositions the tone-music
is founded on a principle of tone-gradations, swing-
ing and interlacing with each other in harmonious
rhythm throughout the composition. Large, flat
tones, with their more thoughtful associations are
out of place here, and are seldom if ever used. In
their work we see a world where the saddening
influences of profound thought and its expression
are far away. No deeper notes are allowed to mar
the gaiety of this holiday world. Watteau created
a dream country of his own, in which a tired
humanity has delighted ever since, in which all
serious thoughts are far away and the mind takes

209 o

8 >

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refreshment in the contemplation of delightful things.
And a great deal of this charm is due to the pretty
play from a crescendo to a diminuendo in the tone
values on which his compositions are based — so far
removed from the simple structure of flat masses to
which more primitive and austere art owes its power.

But Watteau's great accomplishment was in
doing this without degenerating into feeble pretti-
ness, and this he did by an insistence on character
in his figures, particularly his men. His draperies
also are always beautifully drawn and full of variety,
never feeble and characterless. The landscape back-
grounds are much more lacking in this respect,
nothing ever happened there, no storms have ever
bent his -graceful tree-trunks, and the incessant
gradations might easily become wearisome. But
possibly the charm in which we delight would be lost,
did the landscape possess more character. At any
rate there is enough in the figures to prevent any
sickly prettiness, although I think if you removed
the figures the landscape would not be tolerable.

But the followers of Watteau seized upon the
prettiness and gradually got out of touch with the
character, and if you compare Boucher's heads,
particularly his men's heads, with Watteau's you
may see how much has been lost.

The following are three examples of this gradated
tone composition (see pages 210, 213, 215) :

Watteau: "Embarquement pour 1'lle de Cythere."

This is a typical Watteau composition, founded
on a rhythmic play of gradated tones and gradated
edges. Flat tones and hard edges are avoided.
Beginning at the centre of the top with a strongly
accented note of contrast, the dark tone of the
mass of trees gradates into the ground and on past

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the lower right-hand corner across the front of the
picture, until, when nearing the lower left-hand
corner, it reverses the process and from dark to light
begins gradating light to dark, ending somewhat
sharply against the sky in the rock form to the left.
The rich play of tone that is introduced in the trees
and ground, &c., blinds one at first to the perception of
this larger tone motive, but without it the rich variety
would not hold together. Roughly speaking the
whole of this dark frame of tones from the accented
point of the trees at the top to the mass of the
rock on the left, may be said to gradate away into
the distance; cut into by the wedge-shaped middle
tone of the hills leading to the horizon.

Breaking across this is a graceful line of figures,
beginning on the left where the mass of rock is
broken by the little flight of cupids, and continuing
across the picture until it is brought up sharply by
the light figure under the trees on the right. Note
the pretty clatter of spots this line of figures brings
across the picture, introducing light spots into the
darker masses, ending up with the strongly accented
light spot of the figure on the right ; and dark spots
into the lighter masses, ending up with the figures of
the cupids dark against the sky.

Steadying influences in all this flux of tone are
introduced by the vertical accent of the tree-stem
and statue in the dark mass on the right, by the
horizontal line of the distance on the left, the outline
of the ground in the front, and the straight staffs
held by some of the figures.

In the charcoal scribble illustrating this composi-
tion I have tried carefully to avoid any drawing in
the figures or trees to show how the tone-music
depends not so much on truth to natural appear-

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213

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ances as on the abstract arrangement of tone values
and their rhythmic play.

Of course nature contains every conceivable
variety of tone-music, but it is not to be found
by unintelligent copying except in rare accidents.
Emerson says, "Although you search the whole
world for the beautiful you'll not find it unless you
take it with you," and this is true to a greater extent
of rhythmic tone arrangements.

Turner : " Ulysses deriding Polyphemus."

Turner was very fond of these gradated tone com-
positions, and carried them to a lyrical height to
which they had never before attained. His " Ulysses
deriding Polyphemus," in the National Gallery of
British Art, is a splendid example of his use of this
principle. A great unity of expression is given by
bringing the greatest dark and light together in sharp
contrast, as is done in this picture by the dark rocks
and ships' prows coming against the rising sun.
From this point the dark and light masses gradate
in different directions until they merge above the
ships' sails. These sails cut sharply into the dark
mass as the rocks and ship on the extreme right cut
sharply into the light mass. Note also the edges
where they are accented and come sharply against
the neighbouring mass, and where they are lost, and
the pleasing quality this play of edges gives.

Stability is given by the line of the horizon and
waves in front, and the masts of the ships, the oars,
and, in the original picture, a feeling of radiating
lines from the rising sun. Without these steadying
influences these compositions of gradated masses
would be sickly and weak.

Corot : 2470 Collection Chauchard, Louvre.

This is a typical example of Corot's tone scheme,
214

UNITY OF MASS

Diagram XXVI

TYPICAL EXAMPLE OF COROT'S SYSTEM OF MASS RHYTHM,
AFTER THE PICTURE IN THE LOUVRE, PARIS

215

UNITY OF MASS

and little need be added to the description already
given. Infinite play is got with the simplest means.
A dark silhouetted mass' is seen against a light sky,
the perfect balance of the shapes and the infinite
play of lost-and-foundness in the edges giving to
this simple structure a richness and beauty effect
that is very satisfying. Note how Corot, like Turner,
brings his greatest light and dark together in sharp
contrast where the rock on the right cuts the sky.

Stability is given by the vertical feeling in the
central group of trees and the suggestion of hori-
zontal distance behind the figure.

It is not only in the larger disposition of the
masses in a composition that this principle of
gradated masses and lost and found edges can be
used. Wherever grace and charm are your motive
they should be looked for in the working out of the
smallest details.

In concluding this chapter I must again insist
that knowledge of these matters will not make you
compose a good picture. A composition may be
perfect as far as any rules or principles of composi-
tion go, and yet be of no account whatever. The
life-giving quality in art always defies analysis and
refuses to be tabulated in any formula. This vital
quality in drawing and composition must come from
the individual artist himself, and nobody can help
him much here. He must ever be on the look out
for those visions his imagination stirs within him,
and endeavour, however haltingly at first, to give
them some sincere expression. Try always when
your mind is filled with some pictorial idea to get
something put down, a mere fumbled expression
possibly, but it may contain the germ. Later on the

216

UNITY OF MASS

same idea may occur to you again, only it will be
less vague this time, and a process of development
will have taken place. It may be years before it
takes sufficiently definite shape to justify a picture ;
the process of germination in the mind is a slow one.
But try and acquire the habit of making some
record of what pictorial ideas pass in the mind,
and don't wait until you can draw and paint well
to begin. Qualities of drawing and painting don't
matter a bit here, it is the sensation, the feeling
for the picture, that is everything.

If knowledge of the rhythmic properties of lines
and masses will not enable you to compose a fine
picture, you may well ask what is their use ? There
may be those to whom they are of no use. Their
artistic instincts are sufficiently strong to need no
direction. But such natures are rare, and it is
doubtful if they ever go far, while many a painter
might be saved a lot of worry over something in
his picture that " won't come " did he but know
more of the principle of pictorial design his work
is transgressing. I feel certain that the old painters,
like the Venetians, were far more systematic and
had far more hard and fast principles of design than
ourselves. They knew the science of their craft
so well that they did not so often have to call upon
their artistic instinct to get them out of difficulties.
Their artistic instinct was free to attend to higher
things, their knowledge of the science of picture-
making keeping them from many petty mistakes
that a modern artist falls into. The desire of so
many artists in these days to cut loose from tradi-
tion and start all over again puts a very severe
strain upon their intuitive faculties, and keeps them
occupied correcting things that more knowledge of

217

UNITY OF MASS

some of the fundamental principles that don't really
alter and that are the same in all schools would have
saved them. Knowledge in art is like a railway-
built behind the pioneers who have gone before;
it offers a point of departure for those who come
after, further on into the unknown country of
nature's secrets — a help not lightly to be discarded.

But all artifice in art must be concealed, a picture
obviously composed is badly composed. In a good
composition it is as though the parts had been
carefully placed in rhythmic relation and then the
picture jarred a little, so that everything is slightly
shifted out of place, thus introducing our " dither "
or play of life between the parts. Of course no
mechanical jogging will introduce the vital quality
referred to, which must come from the vitality
of the artist's intuition ; although I have heard of
photographers jogging the camera in an endeavour
to introduce some artistic "play" in its mechanical
renderings. But one must say something to show
how in all good composition the mechanical principles
at the basis of the matter are subordinate to a vital
principle on which .the life in the work depends.

This concealment of all artifice, this artlessness
and spontaneity of appearance, is one of the greatest
qualities in a composition, any analysis of which
is futile. It is what occasionally gives to the work
of the unlettered genius so great a charm. But
the artist in whom the true spark has not been
quenched by worldly success or other enervating
influence, keeps the secret of this freshness right
on, the culture of his student days being used
only to give it splendour of expression, but never
to stifle or suppress its native charm.

218

BALANCE

THERE seems to be a strife between opposing forces
at the basis of all things, a strife in which a per-
fect balance is never attained, or life would cease.
The worlds are kept on their courses by such op-
posing forces, the perfect equilibrium never being
found, and so the vitalising movement is kept up.
States are held together on the same principle, no
State seeming able to preserve a balance for long;
new forces arise, the balance is upset, and the
State totters until a new equilibrium has been
found. It would seem, however, to be the aim
of life to strive after balance, any violent deviation
from which is accompanied by calamity.

And in art we have the same play of opposing
factors, straight lines and curves, light and dark,
warm and cold colour oppose each other. Were
the balance between them perfect, the result would
be dull and dead. But if the balance, is very much
out, the eye is disturbed and the effect too dis-
quieting. It will naturally be in pictures that aim
at repose that this balance will be most perfect.
In more exciting subjects less will be necessary,
but some amount should exist in every picture, no
matter how turbulent its motive ; as in good tragedy
the horror of the situation is never allowed to over-
balance the beauty of the treatment.

219

BALANCE

Let us consider in the first place the balance
between straight lines and curves. The richer and
fuller the curves, the more severe should
be the straight lines that balance them,
curves'1"1 ^ perfect repose is desired. But if the
subject demands excess of movement and
life, of course there will be less necessity for the
balancing influence of straight lines. And on the
other hand, if the subject demands an excess of
repose and contemplation, the bias will be on the
side of straight lines. But a picture composed
entirely of rich, rolling curves is too disquieting
a thing to contemplate, and would become very
irritating. Of the two extremes, one composed
entirely of straight lines would be preferable to
one with no squareness to relieve the richness of
the curves. For straight lines are significant of
the deeper and more permanent things of life, of
the powers that govern and restrain, and of in-
finity ; while the rich curves (that is, curves the
farthest removed from the straight line) seem to
be expressive of uncontrolled energy and the more
exuberant joys of life. Vice may be excess in
any direction, but asceticism has generally been
accepted as a nobler vice than voluptuousness.
The rococo art of the eighteenth century is an
instance of the excessive use of curved forms, and,
like all excesses in the joys of life, it is vicious
and is the favourite style of decoration in vulgar
places of entertainment. The excessive use of
straight lines and square forms may be seen in
some ancient Egyptian architecture, but this severity
was originally, no doubt, softened by the use of
colour, and in any case it is nobler and finer than
the vicious cleverness of rococo art.

220

BALANCE

We have seen how the Greeks balanced the
straight lines of their architectural forms with the
rich lines of the sculpture which they used so
lavishly on their temples. But the balance was
always kept on the side of the square forms and
never on the side of undue roundness. And it is
on this side that the balance would seem to be in
the finest art. Even the finest curves are those
that approach the straight line rather than the
circle, that err on the side of flatnesses rather
than roundnesses.

What has been said about the balance of straight
lines and curves applies equally well to tones, if
for straight lines you substitute flat tones,
and for curved lines gradated tones. The
deeper, more permanent things find ex-
pression in the wider, flatter tones, while
an excess of gradations makes for prettiness, if
not for the gross roundnesses of vicious modelling.

Often when a picture is hopelessly xout of gear
and " mucked up," as they say in the studio, it can
be got on the right road again by reducing it to
a basis of flat tones, going over it and painting
out the gradations, getting it back to a simpler
equation from which the right road to completion
can be more readily seen. Overmuch concern
with the gradations of the smaller modelling is a
very common reason of pictures and drawings
getting out of gear. The less expenditure of tone
values you can express your modelling with, the
better, as a general rule. The balance in the finest
work is usually on the side of flat tones rather
than on the side of gradated tones. Work that
errs on the side of gradations, like that of Greuze,
however popular its appeal, is much poorer stuff

221

BALANCE

than work that errs on the side of flatness in tone,
like Giotto and the Italian primitives, or Puvis de
Chavannes among the moderns.

There is a balance of tone set up also between
light and dark, between black and white in the
scale of tone. Pictures that do not go
far in the direction of light, starting from
a middle tone, should not go far in the
direction of dark either. In this respect
note the pictures of Whistler, a great master in
matters of tone; his lights seldom approach any-
where near white, and, on the other hand, his darks
never approach black in tone. When the highest
lights are low in tone, the darkest darks should be
high in tone. Painters like Rembrandt, whose
pictures when fresh must have approached very
near white .in the high lights, also approach black
in the darks, and nearer our own time, Frank Holl
forced the whites of his pictures very high and
correspondingly the darks were very heavy. And
when this balance is kept there is a Tightness about
it that is instinctively felt. We do not mean that
the amount of light tones in a picture should be
balanced by the amount of dark tones, but that
there should be some balance between the extremes
of light and dark used iru»the tone scheme of a
picture. The old rule was, I believe, that a picture
should be two-thirds light and one-third dark.
But I do not think there is any rule to be observed
here : there are too many exceptions, and no men-
tion is made of half tones.

Like all so-called laws in art, this rule is capable
of many apparent exceptions. There is the white
picture in which all the tones are high. But in
some of the most successful of these you will gener-

222

BALANCE

ally find spots of intensely dark pigment. Turner
was fond of these light pictures in his later manner,
but he usually put in some dark spot, such as the
black gondolas in some of his Venetian pictures,
that illustrate the law of balance we are speaking
of, and are usually put in excessively dark in pro-
portion as the rest of the picture is excessively
light.

The successful one-tone pictures are generally
painted in the middle tones, and thus do not in
any way contradict our principle of balance.

One is tempted at this point to wander a little
into the province of colour, where the principle of
balance of which we are speaking is much
felt, the stiale here being between warm
and cold colours. If you divide the solar

* Colours.

spectrum roughly into half, you will have
the reds, oranges, and yellows on one side, and the
purples, blues, and greens on the other, the former
being roughly the warm and the latter the cold
colours. The clever manipulation of the opposition
between these warm and cold colours is one of
the chief means used in giving vitality to colouring.
But the point to notice here is that the further
your colouring goes in the direction of warmth,
the further it will be necessary to go in the opposite
direction, to right the balance. That is how it
comes about that painters like Titian, who loved a
warm, glowing, golden colouring, so often had to
put a mass of the coldest blue in their pictures.
Gainsborough's " Blue Boy," although done in defiance
of Reynolds' principle, is no contradiction of our
rule, for although the boy has a blue dress all the
rest of the picture is warm brown and so the
balance is kept. It is the failure to observe this

223

BALANCE

balance that makes so many of the red-coated
huntsmen and soldiers' portraits in our exhibitions
so objectionable. They are too often painted on a
dark, hot, burnt sienna and black background, with
nothing but warm colours in the flesh, &c., with
the result that the screaming heat is intolerable.
With a hot mass of red like a huntsman's coat in
your picture, the coolest colour should be looked
for everywhere else. Seen in a November landscape,
how well a huntsman's coat looks, but then, how
cold and grey is the colouring of the landscape. The
right thing to do is to support your red with as
many cool and neutral tones as possible and avoid
hot shadows. With so strong a red, blue might be
too much of a contrast, unless your canvas was
large enough to admit of its being introduced at
some distance from the red.

Most painters, of course, are content to keep to
middle courses, never going very far in the warm
or cold directions. And, undoubtedly, much more
freedom of action is possible here, although the
results may not be so powerful. But when beauty
and refinement of sentiment rather than force are
desired, the middle range of colouring (that is to say,
all colours partly neutralised by admixture with
their opposites) is much safer.

There is another form of balance that must be
mentioned, although it is connected more with the
Between subject matter of art, as it concerns the
interest mental significance of objects rather than

Mass. ^e rhythmic qualities possessed by lines
and masses ; I refer to the balance there is between
interest and mass. The all-absorbing interest of
the human figure makes it often when quite minute
in scale balance the weight and interest of a great

224

BALANCE

mass. Diagram XXVII is a rough instance of what
is meant. Without the little figure the composition
would be out of balance. But the weight of interest
centred upon that lonely little person is enough
to right the balance occasioned by the great mass
of trees on the left. Figures are largely used by
landscape painters in this way, and are of great use
in restoring balance in a picture.

Diagram XXVII

ILLUSTRATING HOW INTEREST MAY BALANCE MASS

And lastly, there must be a balance struck
between variety and unity. A great deal has
already been said about this, and it will Between
only be necessary to recapitulate here that variety
to variety is due all the expression of the
picturesque, of the joyous energy of life, and all
that makes the world such a delightful place, but
that to unity belongs the relating of this variety
to the underlying bed-rock principles that support
it in nature and in all good art. It will depend on
the nature of the artist and on the nature of his
theme how far this underlying unity will dominate
the expression in his work ; and how far it will be
overlaid and hidden behind a rich garment of variety.

225 p

BALANCE

But both ideas must be considered in his work.
If the unity of his conception is allowed to exclude
variety entirely, it will result in a dead abstraction*
and if the variety is to be allowed none of the
restraining influences of unity, it will develop into
a riotous extravagance.

226

XVI

RHYTHM: PROPORTION

RULES and canons of proportion designed to reduce
to a mathematical formula the things that move us
in beautiful objects, have not been a great success ;
the beautiful will always defy such clumsy analysis.
But however true it is that beauty of proportion
must ever be the result of the finer senses of the
artist, it -is possible that canons of proportion, such
as those of the human body, may be of service to
the artist by offering some standard from which
he can depart at the dictates of his artistic instinct.
There appears to be no doubt that the ancient
sculptors used some such system. And many of
the renaissance painters were interested in the
subject, Leonardo da Vinci having much to say
about it in his book.

Like all scientific knowledge in art, it fails to
trap the elusive something that is the vital essence
of the whole matter, but such scientific ! knowledge
does help to bring one's work up to a high point
of mechanical perfection, from which one's artistic
instinct can soar with a better chance of success
than if no scientific scaffolding had been used in
the initial building up. Yet, however perfect your
system, don't forget that the life, the "dither,"
will still have to be accounted for, and no science
will help you here.

The idea that certain mathematical proportions
227

PROPORTION

or relationships underlie the phenomena we call
beauty is very ancient, and too abstruse to trouble us
here. But undoubtedly proportion, the quantitative
relation of the parts to each other and to the whole,
forms a very important part in the impression works
of art and objects give us, and should be a subject
of the greatest consideration in planning your work.
The mathematical relationship of these quantities
is a subject that has always fascinated scholars,
who have measured the antique statues accurately
and painstakingly to find the secret of their charm.
Science, by showing that different sounds and
different colours are produced by waves of different
lengths, and that therefore different colours and
sounds can be expressed in terms of numbers, has
certainly opened the door to a new consideration
of this subject of beauty in relation to mathematics.
And the result of such an inquiry, if it is being
or has been carried on, will be of much interest.

But there is something chilling to the artist in
an array of dead figures, for he has a consciousness
that the life of the whole matter will never be
captured by such mechanical means.

The question we are interested to ask here is :
are there particular sentiments connected with the
different relations of quantities, their proportions,
as we found there were in connection with different
arrangements of lines and masses? Have abstract
proportions any significance in art, as we found
abstract line and mass arrangements had? It is
a difficult thing to be definite about, and I can
only give my own feeling on the matter ; but I
think in some degree they have.

Proportion can be considered from our two
points of view of unity and variety. In so far as

228

PROPORTION

the proportions of any picture or object resolve
themselves into a simple, easily grasped unity of
relationship, a sense of repose and sublimity is
produced. In so far as the variety of proportion
in the different parts is assertive and prevents the
eye grasping the arrangement as a simple whole,
a sense of the lively restlessness of life and activity
is produced. In other words, as we found in line
arrangements, unity makes for sublimity, while
variety makes for the expression of life. Of course
the scale of the object will have something to do
with this. That is to say, the most sublimely pro-
portioned dog-kennel could never give us the im-
pression of sublimity produced by a great temple. In
pictures the scale of the work is not of so great im-
portance, a painting or drawing having the power of
giving the impression of great size on a small scale.

The proportion that is most easily grasped is
the half — two equal parts. This is the most devoid
of variety, and therefore of life, and is only used
when an effect of great repose and aloofness from
life is wanted ; and even then, never without some
variety in the minor parts to give vitality. The
third and the quarter, and in fact any equal pro-
portions, are others that are easily grasped and
partake in a lesser degree of the same qualities as
the half. So that equality of proportion should be
avoided except on those rare occasions when effects
remote from nature and life are desired. Nature
seems to abhor equalities, never making two things
alike or the same proportion if she can help it.
All systems founded on equalities, as are so
many modern systems of social reform, are man's
work, the products of a machine-made age. For
this is the difference between nature and the

229

PROPORTION

machine : nature never produces two things alike,
the machine never produces two things different.
Man could solve the social problem to-morrow if
you could produce him equal units. But if all men
were alike and equal, where would be the life and
fun of existence? it would depart with the variety.
And in proportion, as in life, variety is the secret
of vitality, only to be suppressed where a static
effect is wanted. In architecture equality of pro-
portion is more often met with, as the static
qualities of repose are of more importance here
than in painting. One meets it on all fine buildings
in such things as rows of columns and windows of
equal size and distances apart, or the continual
repetition of the same forms in mouldings, &c. But
even here, in the best work, some variety is allowed
to keep the effect from being quite dead, the columns
on the outside of a Greek pediment being nearer
together and leaning slightly inwards, and the
repeated forms of windows, columns, and mouldings
being infinitely varied in themselves. But although
you often find repetitions of the same forms equi-
distant in architecture, it is seldom that equality of
proportion is observable in the main distribution of
the large masses.

Let us take our simple type of composition, and
in Diagram XXVIII, A, put the horizon across the
centre and an upright post cutting it in the middle
of the picture. And let us introduce two spots that
may indicate the position of birds in the upper
spaces on either side of this.

Here we have a maximum of equality and the
deadest and most static of results.

To see these diagrams properly it is necessary to
cover over with some pieces of notepaper all but

230

XLV111

Photo Hanfituenjl

THE ANSIDEI MADONNA. BY RAPHAEL (NATIONAL GALLERY)

A typical example of static balance in composition.

PROPORTION

the one being considered, as they affect each other
when seen together, and the quality of their pro-
portion is not so readily observed.

In many pictures of the Madonna, when a hush
and reverence are desired rather than exuberant
life, the figure is put in the centre of the canvas,
equality of proportion existing between the spaces
on either side of her. But having got the repose
this centralisation gives, everything is done to con-
ceal this equality, and variety in the contours on
either side, and in any figures there may be, is care-
fully sought. Raphael's "Ansidei Madonna," in the
National Gallery, is an instance of this (p. 230). You
have firs.t the centralisation of the figure of the
Madonna with the throne on which she sits, exactly
in the middle of the picture. Not only is the throne
in the centre of the picture, but its width is exactly
that of the spaces on either side of it, giving us
three equal proportions across the picture. Then
you have the circular lines of the arches behind,
curves possessed of the least possible amount of
variety and therefore the calmest and most repose-
ful; while the horizontal lines of the steps and the
vertical lines of the throne and architecture, and
also the rows of hanging beads give further em-
phasis to this infinity of calm. But when we come
to the figures this symmetry has been varied every-
where. All the heads swing towards the right,
while the lines of the draperies swing freely in
many directions. The swing of the heads towards
the right is balanced and the eye brought back to
equilibrium by the strongly-insisted-upon staff of
St. Nicholas on the right. The staff of St. John
necessary to balance this line somewhat, is very
slightly insisted on, being represented transparent

231

Diagram XXVIII (1)

232

238

Diagram XXVIII (2)

Diagram XXVIII (3)

234

PROPORTION

as if made of glass, so as not to increase the swing
to the right occasioned by the heads. It is interest-
ing to note the fruit introduced at the last moment
in the right-hand lower corner, dragged in, as it
were, to restore the balance occasioned by the figure
of the Christ being on the left. In the writer's
humble opinion the extremely obvious artifice
with which the lines have been balanced, and the
severity of the convention of this composition gener-
ally, are out of harmony with the amount of natural-
istic detail and particularly of solidity allowed in the
treatment of the figures and accessories. The small
amount of truth to visual nature in the work of
earlier men went better with the formality of such
compositions. With so little of the variety of life
in their treatment of natural appearances, one was
not led to demand so much of the variety of life
in the arrangement. It is the simplicity and re-
moteness from the full effect of natural appearances
in the work of the early Italian schools that made
their painting such a ready medium for the expres-
sion of religious subjects. This atmosphere of
other- worldliness where the music of line and colour
was uninterrupted by any aggressive look of real
things is a better convention for the expression
of such ideas and emotions.

In B and C the proportions of the third and
the quarter are shown, producing the same static
effect as the half, although not so completely.

At D, E, F the same number of lines and spots .
as we have at A, B, C have been used, but varied
as to size and position, so that they have no obvious
mechanical relationship. The result is an expres-
sion of much more life and character.

At G, II, I more lines and spots have been
285

PROPORTION

added. At G they are equidistant and dead from
lack of variety, while at H and I they are varied
to a degree that prevents the eye grasping any
obvious relationship between them. They have
consequently a look of liveliness and life very differ-
ent from A, B, C, or G. It will be observed that
as the amount of variety increases so does the life
and liveliness of the impression.

In these diagrams a certain static effect is kept
up throughout, on account of our lines being vertical
and horizontal only, which lines, as we saw in an
earlier chapter, are the calmest we have. But
despite this, I think the added life due to the variety
in the proportions is sufficiently apparent in the
diagrams to prove the point we wish to make.

As a contrast to the infinite calm of Raphael's
"Madonna," we have reproduced Tintoretto's "Finding
of the Body of St. Mark," in the Brera Gallery, Milan.
Here all is life and movement. The proportions are
infinitely varied, nowhere does the eye grasp any
obvious mathematical relationship. We have the
same semi-circular arches as in the Raphael, but not
symmetrically placed, and their lines everywhere
varied, and their calm effect destroyed by the
flickering lights playing about them. Note the
great emphasis given to the outstretched hand of
the powerful figure of the Apostle on the left by the
lines of the architecture and the line of arm of the
kneeling figure in the centre of the picture converg-
ing on this hand and leading the eye immediately
to it. There is here no static symmetry, all is energy
and force. Starting with this arresting arm, the
eye is led down the majestic figure of St. Mark,
past the recumbent figure, and across the picture
by means of the band of light on the ground, to the

236

Plate XLIX

Plioto Anderson

THE FINDING OF THE BODY OF ST. MARK
TINTORETTO (BREDA. MILAN

Compare with Raphael's Ansidei Madonna, and note how energy and movement take
the place of static calm in the balance of this composition.

PROPORTION

important group of frightened figures on the right.
And from them on to the figures engaged in lower-
ing a corpse from its tomb. Or, following the direc-
tion of the. outstretched arm of St. Mark, we are
led by the lines of the architecture to this group
straight away, and back again by means of the
group on the right and the band of light on the
ground. The quantities are not placed in reposeful
symmetry about the canvas, as was the case in
the Raphael, but are thrown off apparently hap-
hazard from lines leading the eye round the picture.
Note also the dramatic intensity given by the
strongly contrasted light and shade, and how Tintor-
etto has enjoyed the weird effect of the two figures
looking int<3 a tomb with a light, their shadows being
thrown on the lid they hold open, at the far end of
the room. This must have been an amazingly new
piece of realism at the time, and is wonderfully used,
to give an eerie effect to the darkened end of the
room. With his boundless energy and full enjoyment
of life, Tintoretto's work naturally shows a strong
leaning towards variety, and his amazing composi-
tions are a liberal education in the innumerable and
unexpected ways in which a panel can be filled,
and should be carefully studied by students.

A pleasing proportion that often occurs in nature
and art is one that may be roughly stated in figures
as that between 5 and 8. In such a proportion the
eye sees no mathematical relationship. Were it less
than 5, it would be too near the proportion of 4 to 8
(or one-third the total length), a dull proportion ; or
were it more, it would be approaching too near
equality of proportion to be quite satisfactory.

I have seen a proportional compass, imported
from Germany, giving a relationship similar to this

237

PROPORTION

and said to contain the secret of good proportion.
There is certainly something remarkable about it,
and in the Appendix, page 289, you will find some
further interesting facts about this.

The variety of proportions in a building, a
picture, or a piece of sculpture should always be
under the control of a few simple, dominant quan-
tities that simplify the appearance and give it a
unity which is readily grasped except where violence
and lack of repose are wanted. The simpler the
proportion is, the more sublime will be the impres-
sion, and the more complicated, the livelier and more
vivacious the effect. From a few well-chosen large
proportions the eye may be led on to enjoy the
smaller varieties. But in good proportion the lesser
parts are not allowed to obtrude, but are kept in
subordination to the main dispositions on which the
unity of the effect depends.

238

XVII

PORTRAIT DRAWING

THERE is something in every individual that is likely
for a long time to defy the analysis of science.
When you have summed up the total of atoms or
electrons or • whatever it is that goes to the making
of the tissues and also the innumerable complex
functions performed by the different parts, you have
not yet got on the track of the individual that
governs the whole performance. The effect of this
personality 011 the outward form, and the influence
it has in modifying the aspect of body and features,
are the things that concern the portrait draughts-
man: the seizing on and expressing forcefully the
individual character of the sitter, as expressed by
his outward appearance.

This character expression in form has been
thought to be somewhat antagonistic to beauty,
and many sitters are shy of the particular char-
acteristics of their own features. The fashionable
photographer, knowing this, carefully stipples out
of his negative any striking characteristics in the
form of his sitter the negative may show. But
judging by the result, it is doubtful whether any
beauty has been gained, and certain that interest
and vitality have been lost in the process. What-
ever may be the nature of beauty, it is obvious that
what makes one object more beautiful than another

239

PORTRAIT DRAWING

is something that is characteristic of the appearance
of the one and not of the other : so that some close
study of individual characteristics must be the aim
of the artist who would seek to express beauty, as
well as the artist who seeks the expression of char-
acter and professes no interest in beauty.

Catching the likeness, as it is called, is simply
seizing on the essential things that belong only to
a particular individual and differentiate that indi-
vidual from others, and expressing them in a force-
ful manner. There are certain things that are
common to the whole species, likeness to a common
type ; the individual likeness is not in this direction
but at the opposite pole to it.

It is one of the most remarkable things connected
with the amazing subtlety of appreciation possessed
by the human eye, that of the millions of heads
in the world, and probably of all that have ever
existed in the world, no two look exactly alike.
When one considers how alike they are, and how
very restricted is the range of difference between
them, is it not remarkable how quickly the eye
recognises one person from another? It is more
remarkable still how one sometimes recognises a
friend not seen for many years, and whose appear-
ance has changed considerably in the meantime.
And this likeness that we recognise is not so much
as is generally thought a matter of the individual
features. If one sees the eye alone, the remainder
of the face being covered, it is almost impossible
to recognise even a well-known friend, or tell
whether the expression is that of laughing or crying.
And again, how difficult it is to recognise anybody
when the eyes are masked and only the lower part
of the face visible.

240

• » »

Plate L

FROM A DRAWING IN RED CHALK BY HOLBEIN IN
THE BRITISH MUSEUM PRINT ROOM

Note how every bit of variety is sought for, the difference in the eyes and on
either side of the mouth, etc.

PORTRAIT DRAWING

If you try and recall a well-known head it will
not be the shape of the features that will be re-
collected so much as an impression, the result of
all these combined, a sort of chord of which the
features will be but the component elements. It
is the relation of the different parts to this chord,
this impression of the personality of a head, that
is the all-important thing in what is popularly called
" catching the likeness." In drawing a portrait the
mind must be centred on this, and all the individual
parts drawn in relation to it. The moment the
eye gets interested solely in some individual part
and forgets the consideration of its relationship to
this whole impression, the likeness suffers.

Where there is so much that is similar in heads,
it is obvious that what differences there are must
be searched out and seized upon forcefully, if the
individuality of the head is to be made telling. The
drawing of portraits should therefore be approached
from the direction of these differences ; that is to
say, the things in general disposition and proportion
in which your subject differs from a common type,
should be first sought for, the things common to
all heads being left to take care of themselves for
a bit. The reason for this is that the eye, when
fresh, sees these differences much more readily than
after it has been working for some time. The
tendency of a tired eye is to see less differentiation,
and to hark back to a dull uniformity; so get in
touch at once with the vital differences while your
eye is fresh and your vision keen.

Look out first for the character of the disposition
of the features, note the proportions down an
imagined centre line, of the brows, the base of the
nose, the mouth and chin, and get the character

241 Q

PORTRAIT DRAWING

of the shape of the enclosing line of the face blocked
out in square lines. The great importance of getting
these proportions right early cannot be over-em-
phasised, as any mistake may later on necessitate
completely shifting a carefully drawn feature. And
the importance of this may be judged from the fact
that you recognise a head a long way off, before any-
thing but the general disposition of the masses sur-
rounding the features can be seen. The shape of
the skull, too, is another thing of which to get an
early idea, and its relation to the face should be
carefully noted. But it is impossible to lay down
hard and fast rules for these things.

Some artists begin in point drawing with the
eyes, and some leave the eyes until the very last.
Some draughtsmen are never happy until they have
an eye to adjust the head round, treating it as the
centre of interest and drawing the parts relatively
to it. While others say, with some truth, that there
is a mesmeric effect produced when the eye is drawn
that blinds one to the cold-blooded technical con-
sideration of a head as line and tone in certain
relationships ; that it is as well to postpone until
the last, that moment when the shapes and tones
that represent form in your drawing shall be lit
up by the introduction of the eye, to the look of a
live person. One is freer to consider the accuracy
of one's form before this disturbing influence is in-
troduced. And there is a good deal to be said for
this.

Although in point drawing you can, without
sei-ious effect, begin at any part that interests you,
in setting out a painting I think there can be no
two opinions as to the right way to go about it.
The character of the general disposition of the

242

Plato LI

Sm CHARLES DILKE, BART.

From the drawing in the collection of Sir Walter Essex, M.P., in red conte chalk
rubbed, the high lights being picked out with rubber.

PORTRAIT DRAWING

masses must be first constructed. And if this
general blocking in has been well done, the character
of the sitter will be apparent from the first even in
this early stage ; and you will be able to judge of the
accuracy of your blocking out by whether or not it
does suggest the original. If it does not, correct it
before going any further, working, as it were, from
the general impression of the masses of the head as
seen a long way off, adding more and more detail, and
gradually bringing the impression nearer, until the
completed head is arrived at, thus getting in touch
from the very first with the likeness which should
dominate the work all along.

There -are many points of view from which a
portrait can be drawn — I mean, mental points of
view. And, as in a biography, the value of the
work will depend on the insight and distinction of
the author or artist. The valet of a great man
might write a biography of his master that could
be quite true to his point of view; but, assuming
him to be an average valet, it would not be a great
work. I believe the gardener of Darwin when asked
how his master was, said, " Not at all well. You see,
he moons about all day. I've seen him staring at
a flower for five or ten minutes at a time. Now,
if he had some work to do, he would be much better."
A really great biography cannot be written except
by a man who can comprehend his subject and take
a wide view of his position among men, sorting
what is trivial from what is essential, what is
common to all men from what is particular to the
subject of his work. And it is very much the same
in portraiture. It is only the painter who possesses
the intuitive faculty for seizing on the significant
things in the form expression of his subject, of

243

PORTRAIT DRAWING

disentangling what is trivial from what is im-
portant; and who can convey this forcibly to the
beholder on his canvas, more forcibly than a casual
sight of the real person could do — it is only this
painter who can hope ' to paint a really fine
portrait.

It is true, the honest and sincere expression of
any painter will be of some interest, just as the
biography written by Darwin's gardener might be;
but there is a vast difference between this point of
view and that of the man who thoroughly compre-
hends his subject.

Not that it is necessary for the artist to grasp the
mind of his sitter, although that is no disadvantage.
But this is not his point of view, his business is with
the effect of this inner man on his outward appear-
ance. And it is necessary for him to have that
intuitive power that seizes instinctively on those
variations of form that are expressive of this inner
man. The habitual cast of thought in any individual
affects the shape and moulds the form of the
features, and, to the" discerning, the head is ex-
pressive of the person; both the bigger and the
smaller person, both the larger and the petty
characteristics everybody possesses. And the fine
portrait will express the larger and subordinate
the petty individualities, will give you what is of
value, and subordinate what is trivial in a person's
appearance.

The pose of the head is a characteristic feature
about people that is not always given enough at-
tention in portraits. The habitual cast of thought
affects its carriage to a very large degree. The two
extreme types of what we mean are the strongly
emotional man who carries his head high, drinking

244

PORTRAIT DRAWING

in impressions as he goes through the world; and
the man of deep thought who carries his head bent
forward, his back bent in sympathy with it. Every-
body has some characteristic action in the way that
should be looked out for and that is usually absent
when a sitter first appears before a painter on the
studio throne. A little diplomacy and conversational
humouring is necessary to produce that unconscious-
ness that will betray the man in his appearance.

How the power to discover these things can be
acquired, it is, of course, impossible to teach. All
the student can do is to familiarise himself with
the best examples of portraiture, in the hope that he
may be stimulated by this means to observe finer
qualities in nature and develop the best that is in
him. But he must never be insincere in his work.
If he does not appreciate fine things in the work
of recognised masters, let him stick to the honest
portrayal of what he does see in nature. The only
distinction of which he is capable lies in this direction.
It is not until he awakens to the sight in nature of
qualities he may have admired in others' work that
he is in a position honestly to introduce them into
his own performances.

Probably the most popular point of view in
portraiture at present is the one that can be de-
scribed as a " striking presentment of the live person."
This is the portrait that arrests the crowd in an
exhibition. You cannot ignore it, vitality bursts
from it, and everything seems sacrificed to this
quality of striking lifelikeness. And some very
wonderful modern portraits have been painted from
this point of view. But have we not sacrificed too
much to this quality of vitality? Here is a lady

245

PORTRAIT DRAWING

hurriedly getting up from a couch, there a gentle-
man stepjring out of the frame to greet you, violence
and vitality everywhere. But what of repose,
harmony of colour and form, and the wise ordering
and selecting of the materials of vision that one
has been used to in the great portraiture of the
past ? While the craftsman in one is staggered and
amazed at the brilliant virtuosity of the thing, the
artist in one resents the sacrifice of so much for
what is, after all, but a short-lived excitement. Age
may, no doubt, improve some of the portraits of
this class by quieting them in colour and tone. And
those that are good in design and arrangement will
stand this without loss of distinction, but those in
which everything has been sacrificed to this striking
lifelike quality will suffer considerably. This par-
ticular quality depends so much on the freshness
of the paint that when this is mellowed and its
vividness is lost, nothing will remain of value, if
the quieter qualities of design and arrangement
have been sacrificed for it.

Frans Hals is the only old master I can think
of with whom this form of portrait can be compared.
But it will be noticed that besides designing his
canvases carefully, he usually balanced the vigour
and vitality of his form with a great sobriety of
colour. In fact, in some of his later work, where
this restless vitality is most in evidence, the colour
is little more than black and white, with a little
yellow ochre and Venetian red. It is this extreme
reposefulness of colour that opposes the unrest in
the form and helps to restore the balance and neces-
sary repose in the picture. It is interesting to note
the restless variety of the edges in Frans Hal's
work, how he never, if he can help it, lets an edge

246

Plate LII

JOHN REDMOND, M.P.

From the drawing in the collection of Sir Robert Essex, M.P., in red conte chalk
rubbed, the high lights being picked out with rubber.

PORTRAIT DRAWING

run smoothly, but keeps it constantly on the move,
often leaving it quite jagged, and to compare this
with what was said about vitality depending on
variety.

Another point of view is that of the artist who
seeks to give a significant and calm view of the
exterior forms of the sitter, an expressive map of
the individuality of those forms, leaving you to
form your own intellectual judgments. A simple,
rather formal, attitude is usually chosen, and the
sitter is drawn with searching honesty. There is
a great deal to be said for this point of view in
the handjs of a painter with a large appreciation
of form and design. But without these more in-
spiring qualities it is apt to have the dulness that
attends most literal transcriptions. There are many
instances of this point of view among early portrait
painters, one of the best of which is the work of
Holbein. But then, to a very distinguished appreci-
ation of the subtleties of form characterisation he
added a fine sense of design and colour arrange-
ment, qualities by no means always at the command
of some of the lesser men of this school.

Every portrait draughtsman should make a
pilgrimage to Windsor, armed with the necessary
permission to view the wonderful series of portrait
drawings by this master in the library of the
castle. They are a liberal education in portrait
drawing. It is necessary to see the originals, for
it is only after having seen them that one can
properly understand the numerous and well-known
reproductions. A study of these drawings will, I
think, reveal the fact that they are not so literal as
is usually thought. Unflinchingly and unaffectedly

247

PORTRAIT DRAWING

honest they are, but honest not to a cold, mechani-
cally accurate record of the sitter's appearance, but
honest and accurate to the vital impression of the
live sitter made on the mind of the live artist. This
is the difference we were trying to explain that
exists between the academic and the vital drawing,
and it is a very subtle and elusive quality, like all
artistic qualities, to talk about. The record of a
vital impression done with unflinching accuracy,
but under the guidance of intense mental activity
is a very different thing from a drawing done with
the cold, mechanical accuracy of a machine. The
one will instantly grip the attention and give one
a vivid sensation in a way that no mechanically ac-
curate drawing could do, and in a way that possibly
the sight of the real person would not always do.
We see numbers of faces during a day, but only
a few with the vividness of which I am speaking.
How many faces in a crowd are passed indiffer-
ently— there is no vitality in the impression they
make on our mind ; but suddenly a face will rivet
our attention, and although it is gone in a flash,
the memory of the impression will remain for some
time.

The best of Holbein's portrait drawings give one
the impression of having been seen in one of these
flashes and rivet the attention in consequence. Draw-
ings done under this mental stimulus present subtle
differences from drawings done with cold accuracy.
The drawing of the Lady Audley, here reproduced,
bears evidence of some of this subtle variation on
what are called the facts, in the left eye of the
sitter. It will be noticed that the pupil of this eye
is larger than the other. Now I do not suppose
that as a matter of mechanical accuracy this was so,

248

Plate LIII

THE LADY AUDLEY. HOLBEIN (WINDSOR)

Note the different sizes of pupils in the eyes, and see letterpress on the opposite page.

PORTRAIT DRAWING

but the impression of the eyes seen as part of a
vivid impression of the head is seldom that they
are the same size. Holbein had in the first instance
in this very carefully wrought drawing made them
so, but when at the last he was vitalising the im-
pression, "pulling it together" as artists say, he
has deliberately put a line outside the original one,
making this pupil larger. This is not at all clearly
seen in the reproduction, but is distinctly visible
in the original. And to my thinking it was done
at the dictates of the vivid mental impression he
wished his drawing to convey. Few can fail to be
struck in turning over this wonderful series of
drawings by the vividness of their portraiture, and
the vividness is due to their being severely accurate
to the vital impression on the mind of Holbein, not
merely to the facts coldly observed.

Another point of view is that of seeking in the
face a symbol of the person within, and selecting
those things about a head that express this. As
has already been said, the habitual attitude of mind
has in the course of time a marked influence on the
form of the face, and in fact of the whole body, so
that — to those who can see — the man or woman
is a visible symbol of themselves. But this is by no
means apparent to all.

The striking example of this class is the splendid
series of portraits by the late G. F. Watts. Looking
at these heads one is made conscious of the people
in a fuller, deeper sense than if they were before
one in the flesh. For Watts sought to discover the
person in their appearance and to paint a picture
that should be a living symbol of them. He took
pains to find out all he could about the mind of

249

PORTRAIT DRAWING

his sitters before he painted them, and sought in
the appearance the expression of this inner man.
So that whereas with Holbein it was the vivid
presentation of the impression as One might see a
head that struck one in a crowd, with Watts it is
the spirit one is first conscious of. The thunders
of war appear in the powerful head of Lord
Lawrence, the music of poetry in the head of
Swinburne, and the dry atmosphere of the higher
regions of thought in the John Stuart Mill, &c.

In the National Portrait Gallery there are two
paintings of the poet Robert Browning, one by
Rudolph Lehmann and one by Watts. Now the
former portrait is "probably much more "like" the
poet as the people who met him casually saw him.
But Watts's portrait is like the man who wrote the
poetry, and Lehmann's is not. Browning was a
particularly difficult subject in this respect, in that
to a casual observer there was much more about
his external appearance to suggest a prosperous man
of business, than the fiery zeal of the poet.

These portraits by Watts will repay the closest
study by the student of portraiture. They are full
of that wise selection by a great mind that lifts
such work above the triviality of the commonplace
to the level of great imaginative painting.

Another point of view is that of treating the
sitter as part of a symphony of form and colour,
and subordinating everything to this artistic con-
sideration. This is very fashionable at the present
time, and much beautiful work is being done with
this motive. And with many ladies who would not,
I hope, object to one's saying that their principal
characteristic was the charm of their appearance

250

PORTRAIT DRAWING

this point of view offers, perhaps, one of the best
opportunities of a successful painting. A pose is
selected that makes a good design of line and colour
— a good pattern — and the character of the sitter
is not allowed to obtrude or mar the symmetry of
the whole considered as a beautiful panel. The
portraits of J. M'Neill Whistler are examples of this
treatment, a point of view that has very largely
influenced modern portrait painting in England.

Then there is the official portrait in which the
dignity of an office held by the sitter, of which occa-
sion the portrait is a memorial, has to be considered.
The more intimate interest in the personal character
of the sitter is here subordinated to the interest of
his public character and attitude of mind towards
his office. Thus it happens that much more decorative
pageantry symbolic of these things is permissible in
this kind of portraiture than in that of plain Mr.
Smith ; a greater stateliness of design as befitting
official occasions.

It is not contended that this forms anything
like a complete list of the numerous aspects from
which a portrait can be considered, but they are
some of the more extreme of those prevalent at
the present time. Neither is it contended that they
are incompatible with each other: the qualities of
two or more of these points of view are often found
in the same work. And it is not inconceivable that a
single portrait might contain all and be a striking
lifelike presentment, a faithful catalogue of all the
features, a symbol of the person and a symphony
of form and colour. But the chances are against
such a composite affair being a success. One or

251

PORTRAIT DRAWING

other quality will dominate in a successful work;
and it is not advisable to try and combine too
many different points of view as, in the confusion
of ideas, directness of expression is lost. But no
good portrait is without some of the qualities of
all these points of view, whichever may dominate
the artist's intention.

The camera, and more particularly the instan-
taneous camera, has habituated people to expect in
a portrait a momentary expression, and of
Expres- these momentary expressions the faint smile,
as we all know, is an easy first in the matter
of popularity. It is no uncommon thing for the
painter to be asked in the early stages of his work
when he is going to put in the smile, it never
being questioned that this is the artist's aim in
the matter of expression.

The giving of lifelike expression to a painting
is not so simple a matter as it might appear to
be. Could one set the real person behind the frame
and suddenly fix them for ever with one of those
passing expressions on their faces, however natural
it might have been at the moment, fixed for ever
it is terrible, and most unlifelike. As we have
already said, a few lines scribbled on a piece of
paper by a consummate artist would give a greater
sense of life than this fixed actuality. It is not
ultimately by the pursuit of the actual realisation
that expression and life are conveyed in a portrait.
Every face has expression of a far more interest-
ing and enduring kind than these momentary dis-
turbances of its form occasioned by laughter or
some passing thought, &c. And it must never be
forgotten that a portrait is a panel painted to
remain for centuries without movement. So that

252

PORTRAIT DRAWING

a large amount of the quality of repose must
enter into its composition. Portraits in which
this has not been borne in mind, however enter-
taining at a picture exhibition, where they are
seen for a few moments only, pall on one if con-
stantly seen, and are finally very irritating.

But the real expression in a head is something
more enduring than these passing movements : one
that belongs to the forms of a head, and the marks
left on that form by the life and character of the
person. This is of far more interest than those
passing expressions, the results of the contraction
of certain muscles under the skin, the effect of
which is very similar in most people. It is for
the portrait painter to find this more enduring
expression and give it noble expression in his work.

It is a common idea among sitters that if they
are painted in modern clothes the picture will
look old-fashioned in a few years. If the Treat_
sitter's appearance were fixed upon the mentor
canvas exactly as they stood before the
artist in his studio, without any selection on the
part of" the painter, this might be the result, and
is the result in the case of painters who have no
higher aim than this.

But there are qualities in dress that do not
belong exclusively to the particular period of theii
fashion. Qualities that are the same in all ages.
And when these are insisted upon, and the frivolities
of the moment in dress not troubled about so much^
the portrait has a permanent quality, and will
never in consequence look old-fashioned in the
offensive way that is usually meant. In the first
place, the drapery and stuffs of which clothes are
made follow laws in the manner in which they fold

258

PORTRAIT DRAWING

and drape over the figure, that are the same in all
times. If the expression of the figure through the
draperies is sought by the painter, a permanent
quality will be given in his work, whatever fantastic
shapes the cut of the garments may assume.

And further, the artist does not take whatever
comes to hand in the appearance of his sitter, but
works to a thought-out arrangement of colour and
form, to a design. This he selects from the moving
and varied appearance of his sitter, trying one thing
after another, until he sees a suggestive arrange-
ment, from the impression of which he makes his
design. It is true that the extremes of fashion do
not always lend themselves so readily as more
reasonable modes to the making of a good pictorial
pattern. But this is not always so, some extreme
fashions giving opportunities of very piquant and
interesting portrait designs. So that, however
extreme the fashion, if the artist is able to select
some aspect of it that will result in a good arrange-
ment for his portrait, the work will never have
the offensive old-fashioned look. The principles
governing good designs are the same in all times;
and if material for such arrangement has been
discovered in the most modish of fashions, it has
been lifted into a sphere where nothing is ever out
of date.

It is only when the painter is concerned with
the trivial details of fashion for their own sake,
for the making his picture look like the real thing,
and has not been concerned with transmuting the
appearance of fashionable clothes by selection into
the permanent realms of form and colour design,
that his work will justify one in saying that it will
look stale in a few years.

254

PORTRAIT DRAWING

The fashion of dressing sitters in meaningless, so-
called classical draperies is a feeble one, and usually
argues a lack of capacity for selecting a good
arrangement from the clothes of the period in the
artist who adopts it. Modern women's clothes are
full of suggestions for new arrangements and
designs quite as good as anything that has been
done in the past. The range of subtle colours and
varieties of texture in materials is amazing, and
the subtlety of invention displayed in some of the
designs for costumes leads one to wonder whether
there is not something in the remark attributed to
an eminent sculptor that " designing ladies' fashions
is one of the few arts that is thoroughly vital
to-day."

255

XVIII

THE VISUAL MEMOKY

THE memory is the great storehouse of artistic
material, the treasures of which the artist may
know little about until a chance association lights
up some of its dark recesses. From early years
the mind of the young artist has been storing up
impressions in these mysterious chambers, collected
from nature's aspects, works of art, and anything
that comes within the field of vision. It is from
this store that the imagination draws its material,
however fantastic and remote from natural appear-
ances the forms it may assume.

How much our memory of pictures colours^the
impressions of nature we receive is probably not
suspected by us, but who could say how a scene
would appear to him, had he never looked at a
picture? So sensitive is the vision to the influence
of memory that, after seeing the pictures of some
painter whose work has deeply impressed us, we
are apt, while the memory of it is still fresh in
our minds, to see things as he would paint them.
On different occasions after leaving the National
Gallery I can remember having seen Trafalgar
Square as Paolo Veronese, Turner, or whatever
painter may have impressed me in the Gallery,
would have painted it, the memory of their work
colouring the impression the scene produced.

256

THE VISUAL MEMORY

But, putting aside the memory of pictures, let
us consider the place of direct visual memory from
nature in our work, pictures being indirect or second-
hand impressions.

We have seen in an earlier chapter how certain
painters in the nineteenth century, feeling how very
second-hand and far removed from nature painting
had become, started a movement to discard studio
traditions and study nature with a single eye, taking
their pictures out of doors, and endeavouring to
wrest nature's secrets from her on the spot. The
Pre-Raphaelite movement in England and the Im-
pressionist movement in France were the results
of this impulse. And it is interesting, by the way,
to contrast the different manner in which this
desire for more truth to nature affected the French
and English temperaments. The intense indi-
vidualism of the English sought out every detail,
every leaf and flower for itself, painting them
with a passion and intensity that made their paint-
ing a vivid medium for the expression of poetic
ideas ; while the more synthetic mind of the French-
man approached this search for visual truth from
the opposite point of view of the whole effect,
finding in the large, generalised impression a new
world of beauty. And his more logical mind led
him to inquire into the nature of light, and so to
invent a technique founded on scientific principles.

But now the first blush of freshness has worn
off the new movement, painters have begun to see
that if anything but very ordinary effects are to
be attempted, this painting on the spot must give
place to more reliance on the memory.

Memory has this great advantage over direct
vision : it retains more vividly the essential things,

257 R

THE VISDAL MEMORY

and has a habit of losing what is unessential to
the pictorial impression.

But what is the essential in a painting? What
is it makes one want to paint at all ? Ah ! Here
we approach very debatable and shadowy ground,
and we can do little but ask questions, the
answer to which will vary with each individual
temperament. What is it that these rays of
light striking our retina convey to our brain,
and from our brain to whatever is ourselves, in
the seat of consciousness above this? What is
this mysterious correspondence set up between
something within and something without, that at
times sends such a clamour of harmony through
our whole being ? Why do certain combinations
of sound in music and of form and colour in art
affect us so profoundly? What are the laws
governing harmony in the universe, and whence
do they come? It is hardly trees and sky, earth,
or flesh and blood, as such, that interest the artist ;
but rather that through these things in memorable
moments he is permitted a consciousness of deeper
things, and impelled to seek utterance for what
is moving him. It is the record of these rare
moments in which one apprehends truth in things
seen that the artist wishes to convey to others.
But these moments, these flashes of inspiration
which are at the inception of every vital picture,
occur but seldom. What the painter has to do
is to fix them vividly in his memory, to snapshot
them, as it were, so that they may stand by him
during the toilsome procedure of the painting,
and guide the work.

This initial inspiration, this initial flash in the
mind, need not be the result of a scene in nature,

258

THE VISUAL MEMORY

but may of course be purely the work of the im-
agination ; a composition, the sense of which flashes
across the mind. But in either case the difficulty
is to preserve vividly the sensation of this original
artistic impulse. And in the case of its having
been derived from nature direct, as is so often the
case in modern art, the system of painting continu-
ally on the spot is apt to lose touch with it very
soon. For in the continual observation of anything
you have set your easel before day after day, comes
a series of impressions, more and more commonplace,
as the eye becomes more and more familiar with
the details of the subject. And ere long the original
emotion, that was the reason of the whole work
is lost sight of, and one of those pictures or draw-
ings giving a catalogue of tired objects more or
less ingeniously arranged (that we all know so
well) is the result — work utterly lacking in the
freshness and charm of true inspiration. For how-
ever commonplace the subject seen by the artist
in one of his "flashes," it is clothed in a newness
and surprise that charm us, be it only an orange
on a plate.

Now a picture is a thing of paint upon a flat
surface, and a drawing is a matter of certain marks
upon a paper, and how to translate the intricacies
of a visual or imagined impression to the prosaic
terms of masses of coloured pigment or lines and
tones is the business with which our technique is
concerned. The ease, therefore, with which a painter
will be able to remember an impression in a form
from which he can work, will depend upon his power
to analyse vision in this technical sense. The more
one knows about what may be called the anatomy
of picture-making — how certain forms produce cer-

259

THE VISUAL MEMORY

tain effects, certain colours or arrangements other
effects, &c. — the easier will it be for him to carry
away a visual memory of his subject that will stand
by him during the long hours of his labours at
the picture. The more he knows of the expressive
powers of lines and tones, the more easily will he
be able to observe the vital things in nature that
convey the impression he wishes to memorise.

It is not enough to drink in and remember the
emotional side of the matter, although this must
be done fully, but if a memory of the subject is
to be carried away that will be of service techni-
cally, the scene must be committed to memory in
terms of whatever medium you intend to employ
for reproducing it— in the case of a drawing, lines
and tones. And the impression will have to be
analysed into these terms as if you were actually
drawing the scene on some imagined piece of paper
in your mind. The faculty of doing this is not to
be acquired all at once, but it is amazing of how
much development it is capable. Just as the faculty
of committing to memory long poems or plays can
be developed, so can the faculty of remembering
visual things. This subject has received little at-
tention in art schools until just recently. But it
is not yet so systematically done as it might be.
Monsieur Lecoq de Boisbaudran in France experi-
mented with pupils in this memory training, begin-
ning with very simple things like the outline of
a nose, and going on to more complex subjects by
easy stages, with the most surprising results. And
there is no doubt that a great deal more can and
should be done in this direction than is at present
attempted. What students should do is to form
a habit of making every day in their sketch-book

260

• • *•• J

*•••** • *••••

Plate LIV

STUDY ON BROWN PAPER IN BLACK AND WHITE CONTE CHALK

Illustrating a simple method 01 studying drapery forms.

THE VISUAL MEMORY

a drawing of something they have seen that has in-
terested them, and that they have made some at-
tempt at memorising. Don't he discouraged if the*
results are poor and disappointing at first — you will
find that by persevering your power of memory
will develop and be of the greatest service to you
in your after work. Try particularly to remember
the spirit of the subject, and in this memory-draw-
ing some scribbling and fumbling will necessarily
have to be done. You cannot expect to be able to
draw definitely and clearly from memory, at least
at first, although your aim should always be to
draw as frankly and clearly as you can.

Let us assume that you have found a subject
that moves you and that, being too fleeting to
draw on the spot, you wish to commit to memory.
Drink a full enjoyment of it, let it soak in, for
the recollection of this will be of the utmost use
to you afterwards in guiding your memory-draw-
ing. This mental impression is not difficult to
recall; it is the visual impression in terms of line
and tone that is difficult to remember. Having ex-
perienced your full enjoyment of the artistic matter
in the subject, you must next consider it from the
material side, as a flat, visual impression, as this
is the only form in which it can be expressed on
a flat sheet of paper. Note the proportions of the
main lines, their shapes and disposition, as if you
were drawing it, in fact do the whole drawing in
your mind, memorising the forms and proportions
of the different parts, and fix it in your memory
to the smallest detail.

If only the emotional side of the matter has
been remembered, when you come to draw it you
will be hopelessly at sea, as it is remarkable how

261

THE VISUAL MEMORY

little the memory retains of the appearance of
things constantly seen, if no attempt has been made
to memorise their visual appearance.

The true artist, even when working from nature,
works from memory very largely. That is to say,
he works to a scheme in tune to some emotional
enthusiasm with which the subject has inspired
him in the first instance. Nature is always chang-
ing, but he does not change the intention of his
picture. He always keeps before him the initial im-
pression he sets out to paint, and only selects from
nature those things that play up to it. He is a
feeble artist, who copies individually the parts of a
scene with whatever effect they may have at the
moment he is doing them, and then expects the
sum total to make a picture. If circumstances
permit, it is always as well to make in the first
instance a rapid sketch that shall, whatever it may
lack, at least contain the main disposition of the
masses and lines of your composition seen under
the influence of the enthusiasm that has inspired
the work. This will be of great value afterwards
in freshening your memory when in the labour of
the work the original impulse gets dulled. It is
seldom that the vitality of this first sketch is
surpassed by the completed work, and often, alas!
it is far from equalled.

In portrait painting and drawing the memory
must be used also. A sitter varies very much in
the impression he gives on different days, and the
artist must in the early sittings, when his mind
is fresh, select the aspect he means to paint and
afterwards work largely to the memory of this.

Always work to a scheme on which you have
decided, and do not flounder on in the hope of some-

262

THE VISUAL MEMORY

thing turning up as you go along. Your faculties
are never so active and prone to see something
interesting and fine as when the subject is first
presented to them. This is the time to decide your
scheme ; this is the time to take your fill of the
impression you mean to convey. This is the time
to learn your subject thoroughly and decide on
what you wish the picture to be. And having de-
cided this, work straight on, using nature to sup-
port your original impression, but don't be led off
by a fresh scheme because others strike you as you
go along. New schemes will do so, of course, and
every new one has a knack of looking better than
your original one. But it is not often that this is
so ; the fact that they are new makes them appear
to greater advantage than the original scheme to
which you have got accustomed. So that it is not
only in working away from nature that the memory
is of use, but actually when working directly in
front of nature.

To sum up, there are two aspects of a subject,
the one luxuriating in the sensuous pleasure of it,
with all of spiritual significance it may consciously
or unconsciously convey, and the other concerned
with the lines, tones, shapes, &c., and their
rhythmic ordering, by means of which it is to be
expressed — the matter and manner, as they may-
be called. And, if the artist's memory is to be of
use to him in his work, both these aspects must
be memorised, and of the two the second will need
the most attention. But although there are these
two aspects of the subject, and each must receive
separate attention when memorising it, they are
in reality only two aspects of the same thing,
which in the act of painting or drawing must be

263

THE VISUAL MEMORY

united if a work of art is to result. When a sub>
ject first flashes upon an artist he delights in it
as a painted or drawn thing, and feels instinctively
the treatment it will require. In good draughts-
manship the thing felt will guide and govern every-
thing, every touch will be instinct with the thrill
of that first impression. The craftsman mind, so
laboriously built up, should by now have become
an instinct, a second nature, at the direction of a
higher consciousness. At such times the right
strokes, the right tones come naturally and go on
the right place, the artist being only conscious of
a fierce joy and a feeling that things are in tune
and going well for once. It is the thirst for this
glorious enthusiasm, this fusing of matter and
manner, this act of giving the spirit within out-
ward form, that spurs the artist on at all times,
and it is this that is the wonderful thing about
art.

264

XIX

PROCEDURE

IN commencing a drawing, don't, as so many
students do, start carelessly floundering about with
your chalk or charcoal in the hope that something
will turn up. It is seldom if ever that an artist puts
on paper anything better than he has in his mind
before he starts, and usually it is not nearly so
good.

Don't spoil the beauty of a clean sheet of paper
by a lot of scribble. Try and see in your mind's eye
the drawing you mean to do, and then try and make
your hand realise it, making the paper more beauti-
ful by every touch you give instead of spoiling it
by a slovenly manner of procedure.

To know what you want to do and then to do
it is the secret of good style and technique. This
sounds very commonplace, but it is surprising how
few students make it their aim. You may often
observe them come in, pin a piece of paper on their
board, draw a line down the middle, make a few
measurements, and start blocking in the drawing
without having given the subject to be drawn a
thought, as if it were all there done before them,
and only needed copying, as a clerk would copy a
letter already drafted for him.

Now, nothing is being said against the practice
of drawing guide lines and taking measurements

265

PROCEDURE

and blocking in your work. This is very necessary
in academic work, if rather fettering to expressive
drawing; but even in the most academic drawing
the artistic intelligence must be used, although
that is not the kind of drawing this chapter is
particularly referring to.

Look well at the model first ; try and be moved
by something in the form that you feel is fine 01
interesting, and try and see in your mind's eye
what sort of drawing you mean to do before touch-
ing your paper. In school studies, be always un-
flinchingly honest to the impression the model gives
you, but dismiss the camera idea of truth from your
mind. Instead of converting yourself into a me-
chanical instrument for the copying of what is
before you, let your drawing be an expression of
truth perceived intelligently.

Be extremely careful about the first few strokes
you put on your paper : the quality of your drawing
is often decided in these early stages. If they are
vital and expressive, you have started along lines
you can develop, and have some hope of doing a
good drawing. If they are feeble and poor, the
chances are greatly against your getting anything
good built upon them. If your start has been bad,
pull yourself together, turn your paper over and
start afresh, trying to seize upon the big, significant
lines and swings in your subject at once. Remember
it is much easier to put down a statement correctly
than to correct a wrong one ; so out with the whole
part if you are convinced it is wrong. Train your-
self to make direct, accurate statements in your
drawings, and don't waste time trying to manoeuvre
a bad drawing into a good one. Stop as soon as
you feel you have gone wrong and correct the work

266

PROCEDURE

in its early stages, instead of rushing on upon a
wrong foundation in the vague hope that it will all
come right in the end. When out walking, if you
find you have taken a wrong road you do not, if
you are wise, go on in the hope that the wrong way
will lead to the right one, but you turn round and
go back to the point at which you left the right
road. It is very much the same hi drawing and
painting. As soon as you become aware that you
have got upon the wrong track, stop and rub out
your work until an earlier stage that was right is
reached, and start along again from this point. As
your eye gets trained you will more quickly perceive
when you have done a wrong stroke, and be able
to correct it before having gone very far along the
wrong road.

Do not work too long without giving your eye
a little rest ; a few moments will be quite sufficient.
If things won't come, stop a minute ; the eye often
gets fatigued very quickly and refuses to see truly,
but soon revives if rested a minute or two.

Do not go labouring at a drawing when your
mind is not working; you are not doing any good,
and probably are spoiling any good you have already
done. Pull yourself together, and ask what it is
you are trying to express, and having got this idea
firmly fixed in your mind, go for your drawing with
the determination that it shall express it.

All this will sound very trite to students of any
mettle, but there are large numbers who waste no
end of time working in a purely mechanical, lifeless
way, and with their minds anywhere but concen-
trated upon the work before them. And if the
mind is not working, the work of the hand will
be of no account. My own experience is that one

267

PROCEDURE

has constantly to be making fresh effort during the
procedure of the work. The mind is apt to tire and
needs rousing continually, otherwise the work will
lack the impulse that shall make it vital. Particu-
larly is this so in the final stages of a drawing or
painting, when, in adding details and small refine-
ments, it is doubly necessary for the mind to be
on fire with the initial impulse, or the main quali-
ties will be obscured and the result enfeebled by
these smaller matters.

Do not rub out, if you can possibly help it, in
drawings that aim at artistic expression. In acade-
mic work, where artistic feeling is less important
than the discipline of your faculties, you may, of
course, do so, but even here as little as possible.
In beautiful drawing of any facility it has a weaken-
ing effect, somewhat similar to that produced by
a person stopping in the middle of a witty or bril-
liant remark to correct a word. If a wrong line
is made, it is left in by the side of the right one
in the drawing of many of the masters. But the
great aim of the draughtsman should be to train
himself to draw cleanly and fearlessly, hand and
eye going together. But this state of things cannot
be expected for some time.

Let painstaking accuracy be your aim for a long
time. When your eye and hand have acquired the
power of seeing and expressing on paper with some
degree of accuracy what you see, you will find
facility and quickness of execution will come of
their own accord. In drawing of any expressive
power this quickness and facility of execution are
absolutely essential. The waves of emotion, under
the influence of which the eye really sees in any
artistic sense, do not last long enough to allow of

268

PROCEDURE

a slow, painstaking manner of execution. There
must be no hitch in the machinery of expression
when the consciousness is alive to the realisation
of something fine. Fluency of hand and accuracy
of eye are the things your academic studies should
have taught you, and these powers will be needed
if you are to catch the expression of any of the
finer things in form that constitute good drawing.

Try and express yourself in as simple, not as com-
plicated a manner as possible. Let every touch
mean something, and if you don't see what to do
next, don't fill in the time by meaningless shading
and scribbling until you do. Wait awhile, rest your
eye by looking away, and then see if you cannot
find something right that needs doing.

Before beginning a drawing, it is not a bad idea
to study carefully the work of some master draughts-
man whom the subject to be drawn may suggest.
If you do this carefully and thoughtfully, and take
in a full enjoyment, your eye will unconsciously be
led to see in nature some of the qualities of the
master's work. And you will see the subject to be
drawn as a much finer thing than would have been
the case had you come to it with your eye unpre-
pared in any way. Reproductions are now so good
and cheap that the best drawings in the world can
be had for a few pence, and every student should
begin collecting reproductions of the things that
interest him.

This is not the place to discuss questions, of
health, but perhaps it will not be thought grand-
motherly to mention the extreme importance of
nervous vitality in a fine draughtsman, and how his
life should be ordered on such healthy lines that
he has at his command the maximum instead of the

266

PROCEDURE

minimum of this faculty. After a certain point, it
is a question of vitality how far an artist is likely
to go in art. Given two men of equal ability, the
one leading a careless life and the other a healthy
one, as far as a healthy one is possible to such a
supersensitive creature as an artist, there can be
no doubt as to the result. It is because there is still
a lingering idea in the minds of many that an artist
must lead a dissipated life or he is not really an
artist, that one feels it necessary to mention the
subject. This idea has evidently arisen from the
inability of the average person to associate an un-
conventional mode of life with anything but riotous
dissipation. A conventional life is not the only
wholesome form of existence, and is certainly a
most unwholesome and deadening form to the
artist; and neither is a dissipated life the only un-
conventional one open to him. It is as well that
the young student should know this, and be led
early to take great care of that most valuable of
studio properties, vigorous health.

270

MATERIALS

THE materials in which the artist works are of the
greatest importance in determining what qualities
in the infinite complexity of nature he selects for
expression. And the good draughtsman will find
out the particular ones that belong to whatever
medium he selects for his drawing, and be careful
never to attempt more than it is capable of doing.
Every material he works with possesses certain
vita/1 qualities peculiar to itself, and it is his business
to find out what these are and use them to the
advantage of his drawing. When one is working
with, say, pen and ink, the necessity for selecting
only certain things is obvious enough. But when
a medium with the vast capacity of oil paint is
being used, the principle of its governing the nature
of the work is more often lost sight of. So near
can oil paint approach an actual illusion of natural
appearances, that much misdirected effort has been
wasted on this object, all enjoyment of the medium
being subordinated to a meretricious attempt to
deceive the eye. And I believe a popular idea of
the art of painting is that it exists chiefly to pro-
duce this deception. No vital expression of nature
can be achieved without the aid of the particular
vitality possessed by the medium with which one
is working. If this is lost sight of and the eye is

271

MATERIALS

tricked into thinking that it is looking at real
nature, it is not a fine picture. Art is not a sub-
stitute for nature, but an expression of feeling
produced in the consciousness of the artist, and
intimately associated with the material through
which it is expressed in [his work. Inspired, it may
be, in the first instance, by something seen, and
expressed by him in painted symbols as true to
nature as he can make them while keeping in
tune to the emotional idea that prompted the work ;
but never regarded by the fine artist as anything
but painted symbols nevertheless. Never for one
moment does he intend you to forget that it is a
painted picture you are looking at, however natural-
istic the treatment his theme may demand.

In the earlier history of art it was not so neces-
sary to insist on the limitations imposed by different
mediums. With their more limited knowledge of
the phenomena of vision, the early masters had
not the same opportunities of going astray in this
respect. But now that the whole field of vision
has been discovered, and that the subtlest effects
of light and atmosphere are capable of being
represented, it has become necessary to decide how
far complete accuracy of representation will help
the particular impression you may intend your
picture or drawing to create. The danger is that
in producing a complete illusion of representation,
the particular vitality of your medium, with all the
expressive power it is capable of yielding, may be
lost.

Perhaps the chief difference between the great
masters of the past and many modern painters is
the neglect of this principle. They represented nature
in terms of whatever medium they worked in, and

272

MATERIALS

never overstepped this limitation. Modern artists,
particularly in the nineteenth century, often at-
tempted to copy nature, the medium being subordi-
nated to the attempt to make it look like the real
thing. In the same way, the drawings of the great
masters were drawings. They did not attempt any-
thing with a point that a point was not capable
of expressing. The drawings of many modern artists
are full of attempts to express tone and colour
effects, things entirely outside the true province of
drawing. The small but infinitely important part of
nature that pure drawing is capable of conveying
has been neglected, and line work, until recently,
went out of fashion in our schools.

There is something that makes for power in the
limitations your materials impose. Many artists
whose work in some of the more limited mediums
is fine, are utterly feeble when they attempt one
with so few restrictions as oil paint. If students
could only be induced to impose more restraint
upon themselves when they ' attempt so difficult a
medium as paint, it would be greatly to the ad-
vantage of their work. Beginning first with mono-
chrome in three tones, as explained in a former
chapter, they might then take for figure work ivory
black and Venetian red. It is surprising what an
amount of colour effect can be got with this simple
means, and how much can be learned about the
relative positions of the warm and cold colours.
Do not attempt the full range of tone at first, but
keep the darks rather lighter and the ligttts darker
than nature. Attempt the full scale of tone only
when you have acquired sufficient experience with
the simpler range, and gradually add more colours
as you learn to master a few. But restraints are

273 s

MATERIALS

not so fashionable just now as unbridled licence.
Art students start in with a palette full of the
most amazing colours, producing results that it
were better not to discuss. It is a wise man who
can discover his limitations and select a medium the
capacities of which just tally with his own. To
discover this, it is advisable to try many, and below
is a short description of the chief ones used by the
draughtsman. But very little can be said about
them, and very little idea of their capacities given
in a written description ; they must be handled by
the student, and are no doubt capable of many more
qualities than have yet been got out of them.

This well-known medium is one of the most
beautiful for pure line work, and its use is an
excellent training to the eye and hand in
Pencil. precision of observation. Perhaps this is
why it has not been so popular in our art
schools recently, where the charms of severe dis-
cipline are not so much in favour as they should be.
It is the first medium we are given to draw with,
as the handiest and most convenient is unrivalled
for sketch-book use.

It is made in a large variety of degrees, from
the hardest and greyest to the softest and blackest,
and is too well known to need much description.
It does not need fixing.

For pure line drawing nothing equals it, except
silver point, and great draughtsmen, like Ingres,
.have always loved it. It does not lend itself so
readily to any form of mass drawing. Although it
is sometimes used for this purpose, the offensive
shine that occurs if dark masses are introduced is
against its use in any but very lightly shaded
work.

274

Plate LV

FROM A SILVER-POINT DRAWING

MATERIALS

Its charm is the extreme delicacy of its grey-
black lines.

Similar to lead pencil, and of even greater
delicacy, is silver-point drawing. A more ancient
method, it consists in drawing with a silver sllver ^4
point on paper the surface of which has Gold
been treated with a faint wash of Chinese
white. Without this wash the point will not make
a mark.

For extreme delicacy and purity of line no
medium can surpass this method. And for the
expression of a beautiful line, such as a profile,
nothing could be more suitable than a silver point.
As a training to the eye and hand also, it is of great
value, as no rubbing out of any sort is possible,
and eye and hand must work together with great
exactness. The discipline of silver- point drawing
is to be recommended as a corrective to the pic-
turesque vagaries of charcoal work.

A gold point, giving a warmer line, can also be
used in the same way as a silver point, the paper
first having been treated with Chinese white.

Two extreme points of view from which the
rendering of form can be approached have been
explained, and it has been suggested that
students should study them both separately
in the first instance, as they each have different
things to teach. Of the mediums that are best suited
to a drawing combining both points of view, the
first and most popular is charcoal.

Charcoal is made in many different degrees of
hardness and softness, the harder varieties being
capable of quite a fine point. A chisel-shaped point
is the most convenient, as it does not wear away
so quickly. And if the broad side of the chisel point

275

MATERIALS

is used when a dark mass is wanted, the edge can
constantly be kept sharp. With this edge a very
fine line can be drawn.

Charcoal works with great freedom, and answers
readily when forceful expression is wanted. It is
much more like painting than any other form of
drawing, a wide piece of charcoal making a wide
mark similar to a brush. The delicacy and lightness
with which it has to be handled is also much more
like the handling of a brush than any other point
drawing. When rubbed with the finger, it sheds a
soft grey tone over the whole work. With a piece
of bread pressed by thumb and finger into a pellet,
high lights can be taken out with the precision of
white chalk ; or rubber can be used. Bread is, per-
haps, the best, as it does not smudge the charcoal
but lifts it readily off. When rubbed with the
finger, the darks, of course, are lightened in tone.
It is therefore useful to draw in the general pro-
portions roughly and rub down in this way. You
then have a middle tone over the work, with the
rough drawing showing through. Now proceed
carefully to draw your lights with bread or rubber,
and your shadows with charcoal, in much the same
manner as you did in the monochrome exercises
already described.

All the preliminary setting out of work on canvas
is usually done with charcoal, which must of course
be fixed with a spray diffuser. For large work,
such as a full-length portrait, sticks of charcoal
nearly an inch in diameter are made, and a long
swinging line can be done without their breaking.

For drawings that are intended as things of
beauty in themselves, and are not merely done as
a preparatory study for a painting, charcoal is per-

276

MATERIALS

haps not so refined a medium as a great many
others. It is too much like painting to have the
particular beauties of a drawing, and too much
like drawing to have the qualities of a painting.
However, some beautiful things have been done
with it.

It is useful in doing studies where much finish
is desired, to fix the work slightly when drawn hi
and carried some way on. You can work over
this again without continually rubbing out with
your hand what you have already drawn. If neces-
sary you can rub out with a hard piece of rubber
any parts that have already been fixed, or even
scrape with a pen-knife. But this is not advisable
for anything but an academic study, or working
drawings, as it spoils the beauty and freshness of
charcoal work. Studies done in this medium can
also be finished with Conte* chalk.

There is also an artificial charcoal put up in
sticks, that is very good for refined work. It has
some advantages over natural charcoal, in that
there are no knots and it works much more evenly.
The best natural charcoal I have used is the French
make known as "Fusain Rouget." It is made in
three degrees, No. 3 being the softest, and, of course,
the blackest. But some of the ordinary Venetian
and vine charcoals sold are good. But don't get the
cheaper varieties : a bad piece of charcoal is worse
than useless.

Charcoal is fixed by means of a solution of white
shellac dissolved in spirits of wine, blown on with a
spray diff user. This is sold by the artists' colourmen,
or can be easily made by the student. It lightly de-
posits a thin film of shellac over the work, acting
as a varnish and preventing its rubbing off

277

MATERIALS

Charcoal is not on the whole the medium an
artist with a pure love of form selects, but rather
that of the painter, who uses it when his brushes
and paints are not handy.

A delightful medium that can be used for either
pure line work or a mixed method of drawing, is

Red c&aik cna^k. This natural red earth is one

(San- of the most ancient materials for drawing.
It is a lovely Venetian red in colour, and
works well in the natural state, if you get a good
piece. It is sold by the ounce, and it is advisable to
try the pieces as they vary very much, some being
hard and gritty and some more soft and smooth.
It is also made by Messrs. Conte of Paris in sticks
artificially prepared. These work well and are never
gritty, but are not so hard as the natural chalk,
and consequently wear away quickly and do not
make fine lines as well.

Red chalk when rubbed with the finger or a
rag spreads evenly on paper, and produces a middle
tone on which lights can be drawn with rubber
or bread. Sticks of hard, pointed rubber are every-
where sold, which, cut in a chisel shape, wrork
beautifully on red chalk drawings. Bread is also
excellent when a softer light is wanted. You can
continually correct and redraw in this medium by
rubbing it with the finger or a rag, thus destroying
the lights and shadows to a large extent, and enab-
ling you to draw them again more carefully. For this
reason red chalk is greatly to be recommended for
making drawings for a picture where much fumb-
ling may be necessary before you find what you
want. Unlike charcoal, it hardly needs fixing, and
much more intimate study of the forms can be got
into it.

278

MATERIALS

Most of the drawings by the author reproduced
in this book are done in this medium. For drawings
intended to have a separate existence it is one of
the prettiest mediums. In fact, this is the danger
to the student while studying : your drawing looks so
much at its best that you are apt to be satisfied too
soon. But for portrait drawings there is no medium
to equal it.

Additional quality of dark is occasionally got
by mixing a little of this red chalk in a powdered
state with water and a very little gum-arabic,
This can be applied with a sable brush as in water-
colour painting, and makes a rich velvety dark.

It is necessary to select your paper with some
care. The ordinary paper has too much size on
it. This is picked up by the chalk, and will pre-
vent its marking. A paper with little size is best,
or old paper where the size has perished. I find
an O.W. paper, made for printing etchings, as
good as any for ordinary work. It is not perfect,
but works very well. What one wants is the
smoothest paper without a faced and hot-pressed
surface, and it is difficult to find.

Occasionally black chalk is used with the red
to add strength to it. And some draughtsmen use
it with the red in such a manner as to produce
almost a fuU colour effect.

Holbein, who used this medium largely, tinted
the paper in most of his portrait drawings, vary-
ing the tint very much, and sometimes using
zinc white as a wash, which enabled him to
supplement his work with a silver-point line here
and there, and also got over any difficulty the
size in the paper might cause. His aim seems
to have been to select the few essential things

279

MATERIALS

in a head and draw them with great finality and
exactness. In many of the drawings the earlier
work has been done with red or black chalk and
then rubbed down and the drawing redone with
either a brush and some of the chalk rubbed up
with water and gum or a silver-point line of great
purity, while in others he has tinted the paper
with water-colour and rubbed this away to the
white paper where he wanted a light, or Chinese
white has been used for the same purpose.

Black Conte is a hard black chalk made in
small sticks of different degrees. It is also put
up in cedar pencils. Rather more gritty
Conte' and than red chalk or charcoal, it is a favourite
carbon medium with some, and can be used with
advantage to supplement charcoal when
more precision and definition are wanted. It has
very much the same quality of line and so does
not show as a different medium. It can be rubbed
like charcoal and red chalk and will spread a tone
over the paper in very much the same way.

Carbon pencils are similar to Conte, but smoother
in working and do not rub.

White chalk is sometimes used on toned paper to
draw the lights, the paper serving as a half tone
while the shadows and outlines are drawn
in black or red. In this kind of drawing
the chalk should never be allowed to come
in contact with the black or red chalk of the
shadows, the half tone of the paper should always
be between them.

For rubbed work white pastel is better than
the ordinary white chalk sold for drawing, as it
is not so hard. A drawing done in this method
with white pastel and red chalk is reproduced on

280

MATERIALS

page 46, and one with the hard white chalk, on
page 260.

This is the method commonly used for making
studies of drapery, the extreme rapidity with which
the position of the lights and shadows can be ex-
pressed being of great importance when so unstable a
subject as an arrangement of drapery is being drawn.

Lithography as a means of artistic reproduc-
tion has suffered much in public esteem by being
put to all manner of inartistic trade uses.
It is really one of the most wonderful means
of reproducing an artist's actual work, the
result being, in most cases, so identical with the
original that, seen together, if the original drawing
has been done on paper, it is almost impossible
to distinguish any difference. And of course, as
in etching, it is the prints that are really the
originals. The initial work is only done as a means
of producing these.

A drawing is made on a lithographic stone, that
is, a piece of limestone that has been prepared with
an almost perfectly smooth surface. The chalk used
is a special kind of a greasy nature, and is made in
several degrees of hardness and softness. No rub-
bing out is possible, but lines can be scratched out
with a knife, or parts made lighter by white lines
being drawn by a knife over them. A great range
of freedom and variety is possible in these initial
drawings on stone. The chalk can be rubbed up
with a little water, like a cake of water-colour, and
applied with a brush. And every variety of tone can
be made with the side of the chalk.

Some care should be taken not to let the warm
finger touch the stone, or it may make a greasy
mark that will print.

281

MATERIALS

When this initial drawing is done to the artist's
satisfaction, the most usual method is to treat the
stone with a solution of gum-arabic and a little
nitric acid. After this is dry, the gum is washed off
as far as may be with water; some of the gum
is left in the porous stone, but it is rejected where
the greasy lines and tones of the drawing come.
Prints may now be obtained by rolling up the stone
with an inked roller. The ink is composed of a
varnish of boiled linseed oil and any of the litho-
graphic colours to be commercially obtained.

The ink does not take on the damp gummed
stone, but only where the lithographic chalk has
made a greasy mark, so that a perfect facsimile
of the drawing on stone is obtained, when a sheet
of paper is placed on the stone and the whole put
through the press.

The medium deserves to be much more popular
with draughtsmen than it is, as no more perfect
means of reproduction could be devised.

The lithographic stone is rather a cumbersome
thing to handle, but the initial drawing can be done
on paper and afterwards transferred to the stone.
In the case of line work the result is practically
identical, but where much tone and playing about
with the chalk is indulged in, the stone is much
better. Lithographic papers of different textures
are made for this purpose, but almost any paper
will do, provided the drawing is done with the
special lithographic chalk.

Pen and ink was a favourite means of making
studies with many old masters, notably Rembrandt.
Often heightening the effect with a wash, he con-
veyed marvellous suggestions with the simplest
scribbles. But it is a difficult medium for the young

282

Plate LVI

Photo Giraudon

STUDY IN PEN AND INK AND WASH FOR TREE IN " THE BOAR HUNT
RUBENS (LOUVRE)

MATERIALS

student to hope to do much with in his studies,
although for training the eye and hand to quick
definite statement of impressions, there is
much to be said for it. No hugging of half
tones is possible, things must be reduced to
a statement of clear darks — which would be a useful
corrective to the tendency so many students have
of seeing chiefly the half tones in their work.

The kind of pen used will depend on the kind of
drawing you wish to make. In steel pens there are
innumerable varieties, from the fine crow-quills to the
thick " J " nibs. The natural crow-quill is a much
more sympathetic tool than a steel pen, although
not quite so certain in its line. But more play and
variety is to be got out of it, and when a free pen
drawing is wanted it is preferable.

Reed pens are also made, and are useful when
thick lines are wanted. They sometimes have a
steel spring underneath to hold the ink somewhat in
the same manner as some fountain pens.

There is even a glass pen, consisting of a sharp-
pointed cone of glass with grooves running down
to the point. The ink is held in these grooves,
and runs down and is deposited freely as the pen
is used. A line of only one thickness can be drawn
with it, but this can be drawn in any direction, an
advantage over most other shapes.

Etching is a process of reproduction that consists
in drawing with a steel point on a waxed plate of
copper or zinc, and then putting it in a
bath of diluted nitric acid to bite in the
lines. The longer the plate remains in the bath
the deeper and darker the lines become, so that
variety in thickness is got by stopping out with a
vuriiish the light lines when they are sufficiently

283

MATERIALS

strong, and letting the darker ones have a longer
exposure to the acid.

Many wonderful and beautiful things have been
done with this simple means. The printing consists
in inking the plate all over and wiping off until
only the lines retain any ink, when the plate is put
in a press and an impression taken. Or some slight
amount of ink may be left on the plate in certain
places where a tint is wanted, and a little may be
smudged out of the lines themselves to give them
a softer quality. In fact there are no end of tricks
a clever etching printer will adopt to give quality
to his print.

The varieties of paper on the market at the
service of the artist are innumerable, and nothing
need be said here except that the texture of
your paper will have a considerable influence
on your drawing. But try every sort of paper so as
to find what suits the particular things you want to
express. I make a point of buying every new paper
I see, and a new paper is often a stimulant to some
new quality in drawing. Avoid the wood-pulp papers,
as they turn dark after a time. Linen rag is the
only safe substance for good papers, and artists now
have in the O.W. papers a large series that they can
rely on being made of linen only.

It is sometimes advisable, when you are not
drawing a subject that demands a clear hard line,
but where more sympathetic qualities are wanted,
to have a wad of several sheets of paper under the
one you are working on, pinned on the drawing-
board. This gives you a more sympathetic surface
to work upon and improves the quality of your work.
In redrawing a study with which you are not quite
satisfied, it is a good plan to use a thin paper,

284

MATERIALS

pinning it over the first study so that it can be seen
through. One can by this means start as it were
from the point where one left off. Good papers of
this description are now on the market. I fancy
they are called " bank-note " papers.

285

XXI

CONCLUSION

MECHANICAL invention, mechanical knowledge, and
even a mechanical theory of the universe, have so
influenced the average modern mind, that it has
been thought necessary in the foregoing pages to
speak out strongly against the idea of a mechanical
standard of accuracy in artistic drawing. If there
were such a standard, the photographic camera
would serve our purpose well enough. And, con-
sidering how largely this idea is held, one need not
be surprised that some painters use the camera;
indeed, the wonder is that they do not use it more,
as it gives in some perfection the mechanical accu-
racy which is all they seem to aim at in their work.
There may be times when the camera can be of use
to artists, but only to those who are thoroughly com-
petent to do without it — to those who can look, as
it were, through the photograph and draw from it
with the same freedom and spontaneity with which
they would draw from nature, thus avoiding its dead
mechanical accuracy, which is a very difficult thing
to do. But the camera is a convenience to be avoided
by the student.

Now, although it has been necessary to insist
strongly on the difference between phenomena
mechanically recorded and the records of a living
individual consciousness, I should be very sorry if

286

CONCLUSION

anything said should lead students to assume that
a loose and careless manner of study was in any
way advocated. The training of his eye and hand
to the most painstaking accuracy of observation and
record must be the student's aim for many years.
The variations on mechanical accuracy in the work
of a fine draughtsman need not be, and seldom are,
conscious variations. Mechanical accuracy is a much
easier thing to accomplish than accuracy to the
subtle perceptions of the artist. And he who cannot
draw with great precision the ordinary cold aspect
of things cannot hope to catch the fleeting aspect
of his finer vision.

Those artists who can only draw in some weird
fashion remote from nature may produce work of
some interest ; but they are too much at the mercy
of a natural trick of hand to hope to be more than
interesting curiosities in art.

The object of your training in drawing should be
to develop to the uttermost the observation of form
and all that it signifies, and your powers of accu-
rately portraying this on paper.

Unflinching honesty must be observed in all your
studies. It is only then that the "you" in you
will eventually find expression in your work. And
it is this personal quality, this recording of the
impressions of life as felt by a conscious individual
that i& the very essence of distinction in art.

The " seeking after originality " so much advo-
cated would be better put "seeking for sincerity."
Seeking for originality usually resolves itself into
running after any peculiarity in manner that the
changing fashions of a restless age may throw up.
One of the most original men who ever lived did
not trouble to invent the plots of more than three

287

CONCLUSION

or four of his plays, but was content to take the
hackneyed work of his time as the vehicle through
which to pour the rich treasures of his vision of
life. And wrote :

" What custom wills in all things do you do it."

Individual style will come to you naturally as
you become more conscious of what it is you wish tc
express. There are two kinds of insincerity in style,
the employment of a ready-made conventional
manner that is not understood and that does not
fit the matter ; and the running after and laboriously
seeking an original manner when no original matter
exists. Good style depends on a clear idea of what
it is you wish to do ; it is the shortest means to the
end aimed at, the most apt manner of conveying
that personal " something " that is in all good work.
"The style is the man," as Buffon says. The
splendour and value of your style will depend
on the splendour and value of the mental vision
inspired in you, that you seek to convey; on the
quality of the man, in other words. And this is
not a matter where direct teaching can help you,
but rests between your own consciousness and those
higher powers that move it.

288

APPENDIX

IF you add a line of 5 inches to one of 8 inches you
produce one 13 inches long, and if you proceed by
always adding the last two you arrive at a series of
lengths, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55 inches, &c. Mr. William
Schooling tells me that any two of these lines adjoin-
ing one another are practically in the same propor-
tion to each other ; that is to say, one 8 inches is 1-600
times the size of one 5 inches, and the 13-inch line is
1-625 the size of the 8-inch, and the 21-inch line being
1-615 times the 13-inch line, and so on. With the
mathematician's love of accuracy, Mr. Schooling has
worked out the exact proportion that should exist
between a series of quantities for them to be in the
same proportion to their neighbours, and in which
any two added together would produce the next.
There is only one proportion that will do this, and
although very formidable, stated exactly, for practical
purposes, it is that between 5 and a fraction over 8.
Stated accurately to eleven places of decimals it is
(1 + V5)-f 2 = 1-61803398875 (nearly).

We have evidently here a very unique proportion,
Mr. Schooling has called this the Phi proportion, and
it will be convenient to refer to it by this name.

I I

O D

THE PHI PROPORTION
BC is 1-618033, &c., times size of AB,
»» » »» » BC,

DE „ „ „ „ CD, &c,,

AC = CD
BD = DE, &c.

289 T

APPENDIX

Testing this proportion on the reproductions of
pictures in this book in the order of their appearing,
we find the following remarkable results :

"Los Meninas," Velazquez, page 60. — The right-
hand side of light opening of door at the end of the
room is exactly Phi proportion with the two sides of
picture ; and further, the bottom of this opening is
exactly Phi proportion with the top and bottom of
canvas.

It will be noticed that this is a very important
point in the " placing " of the composition.

"F6te Champetre," Giorgione, page 151. — Lower
end of flute held by seated female figure exactly
Phi proportion with sides of picture, and lower side
of hand holding it (a point slightly above the end
of flute) exactly Phi proportion with top and bottom
of canvas. This is also an important centre in the
construction of the composition.

"Bacchus and Ariadne," Titian, page 154. — The
proportion in this picture both with top and bottom
and sides of canvas comes in the shadow under chin
of Bacchus ; the most important point in the com-
position being the placing of this head.

"Love and Death," by Watts, page 158. — Point
from which drapery radiates on figure of Death
exactly Phi proportion with top and bottom of
picture.

Point where right-hand side of right leg of Love
cuts dark edge of steps exactly Phi proportion with
sides of picture.

"Surrender of Breda," by Velazquez, page 161. —
First spear in upright row on the right top of
picture, exactly Phi proportion with sides of canvas.
Height of gun carried horizontally by man in middle
distance above central group, exactly Phi proportion

290

APPENDIX

with top and bottom of picture. This line gives
height of group of figures on left, and is the most
important horizontal line in the picture.

" Birth of Venus," Botticelli, page 166.— Height of
horizon line Phi proportion with top and bottom
of picture. Height of shell on which Venus stands
Phi proportion with top and bottom of picture, the
smaller quantity being below this time. Laterally
the extreme edge of dark drapery held by figure
on right that blows towards Venus is Phi proportion
with sides of picture.

"The Rape of Europa," by Paolo Veronese,
page 168. — Top of head of Europa exactly Phi pro-
portion with top and bottom of picture. Right-
hand side of same head slightly to left of Phi
proportion with sides of picture (unless in the
reproduction a part of the picture on the left has
been trimmed away, as is likely, in which case it
would be exactly Phi proportion).

I have taken the first seven pictures reproduced
in this book that were not selected with any idea
of illustrating this point, and I think you will admit
that in each some very important quantity has been
placed in this proportion. One could go on through
all the illustrations were it not for the fear of
becoming wearisome; and also, one could go on
through some of the minor relationships, and point
out how often this proportion turns up in composi-
tions. But enough has been said to show that the
eye evidently takes some especial pleasure in it,
whatever may eventually be found to be the physio-
ogical reason underlying it.

INDEX

ABSORBENT canvas, 192
Academic drawing, 34
Academic and conventional, 68
Academic students, 68
Accuracy, scientific and artistic, 30
Anatomy, study of, its importance,

36, 122

' ' Ansidei Madonna," Raphael's, 231
Apelles and his colours, 31
Architecture, proportion in, 230
Art, some definitions of, 18
Artist, the, 27
Atmosphere indicated by shading,

102

Atmospheric colours, 39
Audiey, Lady, Holbein's portrait of,

248

"BACCHUS and Ariadne," Titian's,

154, 193

Backgrounds, 93, 141
Balance, 219
Balance between straight lines and

curves, 220
Balance between fial and gradated

tones, 221
Balance between light and dark

tones, 222
Balance between warm and cold

colours, 223
Balance between interest and mass,

224
Balance between variety and unity,

225

" Bank-note" papers, 285
Bastien Lepage, 204
Bath for etching, 283
Beauty, definition of, 23
Beauty and prettmess, 135
Beauty and truth, 22

" Birth of Venus, the," Botticelli's,

163

Black chalk, 179
Black Conte, 280

Black glass, the use of a, 120, 202
Blake, example of parallelism, 145
Blake's designs, 51, 169
Blake's use of the vertical, 155
Blocking in the drawing, 90
Blocking out with square lines, 85,

120

"Blue Boy," Gainsborough's, 223
Botany, the study of, 36
Botticelli's work, 34, 51, 145, 163
Boucher's heads compared with

Watteau's, 211
Boundaries of forms, 93
Boundaries of masses in Nature,

195
Bread, use of, in charcoal drawing,

276

Browning, R., portraits of, 250
Brush, manipulation of the, 114
Brush strokes, 115
Brushes, various kinds of, 115
Burke on "The Sublime and the

Beautiful," 135
Burne-Jones, 55, 71, 125, 177

CAMERA, use of the, 286

Carbon pencils, 180

Carlyle, 64

Circle, perfect curve of, to be

avoided, 138
Chalks, drawing in, 125
Charcoal drawing, 54, 111, 113, 192,

275; fixing solution, 277
Chavannes, Peuvis de, 55, 103
Chiaroscuro, 53
Chinese art, 21

292

INDEX

China and Japan, the art of, 59
Colour, contrasts of, 208
Colours for figure work, 273
Colours, a useful chart of, 191
Classic architecture, 148
Claude Monet, 62, 190
Clothes, the treatment of, 253
Composition of a picture, the, 216
Constable, 149
Conte crayon, 192, 277
"Contrasts in Harmony," 136
Conventional art, 74
Conventional life, deadness of the,

270
Corners of the panel or canvas, the,

160
Corot, his masses of foliage, 197,

214

Correggio,, 206
Crow-quill pen, the, 283
Curves, how to observe the shape

of, 90, 162, 209
Curves and straight lines, 220

DARWIN, anecdote of, 243
Deadness, to avoid, 132, 193
Decorative work, 183
Degas, 66
" Dither," 71
Diagonal lines, 160
Discord and harmony, 173
Discordant lines, 172
Draperies of Watteau, the, 211
Drapery studies in chalks, 125
Drapery in portrait-drawing, 253
Draughtsmanship and impression-
ism, 66

Drawing, academic, 35
Drawing, definition of, 31

EAST, arts of the, 57

Edges, variety of, 192

Edges, the importance of the

subject of, 198
Egg and dart moulding, 138
Egyptian sculpture, 135
Egyptian wall paintings, 51
El Greco, 169
Elgin Marbles, the, 135
Ellipse, the, 138
" Embarquement pour Pile de

Cy there," Watteau 's, 211
Emerson on the beautiful, 214

Emotional power of the arts, 20

Emotional significance of objects, 31

Erechtheum, moulding from the, 138

Etching, 283

Exercises in mass drawing, 110

Exhibitions, 57

Expression in portrait-drawing, 242

Eye, anatomy of the, 105

Eye, the, in portrait- drawing, 242

Eyebrow, the, 105

Eyelashes, the, 108

Eyelids, the, 106

' ' F&TE Champetre, " Giorgioni' s, 151

Figure work, colours for, 273

"Finding of the Body of St. Mark,"
123, 236

Fixing positions of salient points,
86

Flaubert, 68

Foliage, treatment of, 196

Foreshortenings, 93

Form and colour, 18

Form, the influence of, 32

Form, the study of, 81

Frans Hals, 246

French Revolution, Carlyle's, 64

French schools, 68

Fripp, Sir Alfred, 91

Fromentin's definition of art, 23

Fulness of form indicated by shad-
ing, 102, 124

GAINSBOROUGH, the charm of, 209,

223

Genius and talent, 17
Geology, the study of, 36
Giorgioni, 151, 196
" Giorgioni, The School of," Walter

Pater's, 29
Giotto, 222
Glass pens, 283
Goethe, 64
Gold point, 275
Gold and silver paint for shading,

125

Gothic architecture, 148, 150
Gradation, variety of, 199
Greek architecture, 221
Greek art in the Middle Ages, 130
Greek art, variety in, 133
Greek vivacity of moulding, 134
Greek and Gothic sculpture, 147

293

INDEX

Greek type of profile, 140
Greuze, 221

HAIB, the treatment of, 77, 102

Hair, effect of style upon the face,
180

Half tones, 98

" Hannibal crossing the Alps," Tur-
ner's, 163

Hardness indicated by shading, 102

Harsh contrasts, effect of, 171

Hatching, 118

Health, questions of, 269

Henner, the work of, 124

High lights, 94

Hogarth's definition, 136

Holbein's drawings, 99, 179, 247

Holl, Frank, 222

Horizontal, calm and repose of the,
150

Horizontal and vertical, the, 149

Hwnan Anatomy for Art Students, 91

Human figure, the outline of the, 52

IMPRESSIONISM, 195, 257
Impressionist vision, Gl
Ingres, studies of, 73, 274
Ink used in lithography, 282
Intellect and feeling, 19
Intuitions, 17

Italian Renaissance, the, 51
Italian work in the fifteenth century,
34

JAPANESE art, 21
Japanese method, a, 47
Japanese and Chinese use of con-
trasts of colour, 208

KEATS' definition of beauty, 22

LANDSCAPES of Watteau, the, 211
Lang, Andrew, his definition of

art, 19

Lawrence, Lord, portrait of, 250
Lead pencil, 192, 274
Lecoq de Boisbaudran, M. , 260
Lehmann, R., portraits by, 250
Leonardo da Vinci, 51, 206, 227
Light, 38
Light and shade, principles of, 51,

95
Lighting and light effects, 202

Likeness, catching the, 240

Line and the circle, the, 137

Line drawing and mass drawing,

48, 50
Lines expressing repose or energy,

163

Line, the power of the, 50, 80
Lines, value of, in portrait -painting,

138

Lines of shading, different, 102, 123
Lithographic chalk, 192
Lithography, 281
" Love and Death," Watts' 156

MANET, 206

Mass drawing, 49, 58, 80, 81, 110

Masters, past and modern, 272

Materials, 271

Mathematical proportions, 228

Measuring comparative distances,
88

Measurements, vertical and hori-
zontal, 88

Medium, the use of, 111

Michael Angelo, the figures of, 33,
53,56

Michael Angelo and Degas, 66

Millais, 196

Mist, effect of a, on the tone of a
picture, 188

Model, the, 61, 81

Monet, Claude, 118

Morris's definition of art, 19

NATURE, variety of forms in, 187
Nature's tendency to pictorial unity

of arrangement, 186
Newspaper as a background, 99
Norman architecture, 148

OIL, surplus in paint, 191

Originality, 76

"Our Lady of the Rocks," L. da

Vinci's, 206
Outline drawing, 50
Outline studies and models, 81

PAINT, the vitality of, 114
Paint, the consistency of, 117
Paint, effect of oil in thick, 191
"Painted Poetry," 46
Painter's training, the object of
the, 29

294

INDEX

Painting and drawing, 110
Panel or canvas, the, 159
Paolo Uccello, 171
Paolo Veronese, 145, 163
Paper for drawing, 279, 284
Parallel shading, 100
Parallelism of lines, 145
Parthenon, the, 55
Pater, Walter, 29
Pen-and-ink drawing, 101, 282
Pens for pen-and-ink drawing, 283
Perspective, the study of, 36, 195
Philip IV, Velazquez' portrait of,

Photograph, failure of the, 72
Picture galleries, the influence of,

33
Pictures, small and large, treatment

of, 183
Planes of tone, painting in the,

122

Pre-Raphaelite paintings, 46
Pre-Raphaelite movement, the, 257
Preparatory drawings, disadvantage

of, 121

Primitive art, 55, 128
Primitive emotions, 21
Procedure, in commencing a draw-
ing, 265

Profiles, beauty of, 140
Proportions, 228
Poppy oil and turpentine, the use

of, 119

Portrait-drawing, 99, 239
" Portrait of the Artist's Daughter,"

Sir B. Burne-Jones's, 177
Pose, the, 251
Peuvis de Chavannes, 55, 103

QUALITY and tezture, variety in,
189

RADIATING lines, 171

"Rape of Europa, The," Paul
Veronese's, 163

Raphael, 53, 231

Red rays, 39, 192, 278

Reed pens, 283

Rembrandt and his colours, 31, 204,
208

Reproduction, advantages of up-to-
date, 104, 269

Retina, effect of light on the, 38

Reynolds' contrasts of colour, 208
Rhythm, definition of, 27, 127,

227

Right angle, power of the, 156
Roman sculpture, lack of vitality

in, 133
Rossetti, 55

Royal Academy Schools, 69
Rubens, 162
Ruskin, 17

SCHOOLS of Art, 68

Scientific and artistic accuracy, 36

Scientific study, necessity for, 36

Scumbling, 111

Shading, 51, 93, 101, 124

Shape, variety of, 185

Silhouette, the, 66

Silver-point, 275

Silver-point work, shading in, 101

Sitter, the, 249

Softness indicated by shading, 102,
123

Solar spectrum, the, 38

Solids as flat copy, 84

Spanish school, the, 62

Straight lines indicative of strength,
148

Straight lines and flat tones, analogy
between, 209

Strong light in contrast with dark
shadow, 206

Study of drawing, the, 80

Stump, the, 54

Style, 288

" Sublime and the Beautiful, The,"
Burke's, 135

" Surrender of Breda, The," Velaz-
quez', 161, 194

Sympathetic lines, 173

TALENT and genius, 17
Teachers in Art Schools, 69
Technical side of an art, the, 21
Thickness and accent, variety of,

143

Tintoretto, 123. 237
Titian, 53, 154

Tolstoy's definition of art, 19
Tone, meaning of the word, 121

187, 208

Tone values, variety of, 187
Toned paper, drawing on, 126

295

INDEX

Tones, large flat, the effect of, 207
Touch, the sense of, 40
Trafalgar Square lions, the, 78
Trees, the masses of, 196
Turner, 163, 205, 214, 223
Types, lifelessness of, 134

"ULYSSES deriding Polyphemus,"

Turner's, 214
Unity and variety, 132
Unity of line, 144

" VALE of Rest," Millais', 196
Value, meaning of the word as

applied to a picture, 188
Values of tone drawing, the, 122
Van Dyck, his use of the straight

line, 151

Variety in symmetry, 142
" Variety in Unity," 136
" Varying well," 136
Velazquez, 53, 60, 161
Venetian painters, and the music

of edges, 193
Venetians, the, their use of straight

lines, 151

Venetians, system and principles of

design of the, 217
"Venus, Mercury, and Cupid,"

Correggio's, 206
Vertical, the, associated with the

sublime, 149
Vertical lines, feeling associated

with, 182
Vision, 38

Visual blindness, 47
Visual memory, the, 256

WARD, the animal painter, 124
Warm colours, 224
Watteau, the charm of, 209
Watts, Gr. F., portraits by, 249
Watts' use of the right angle, 156
Windsor, Holbein's portraits at.

247
Whistler, a master of tone, 190,

222, 251

White casts, drawing from, 99
White chalk, 180
White paint, 191
White pastel, 280

Tki Mayflower Prtss, Plymouth, England. William Brendon & Son, Ltd.

1920

TO BORKOWED

LOAN DEPT.

r* «ihiect to immediate recall.

Renewed books are subject to

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LD 21A-4
(J6057slO)4

Library .
University of California
Berkeley

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY

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