Take a piece of pine about 3 or 4 ft. long and 7 or 9 ins. wide by 3/4 in. thick. Trace on your pattern and drill circular holes in the middle of each space to be cut through. Then take a keyhole saw, and remove the wood by sawing round the space close to the blue line, taking care not to cut through it in any place. The saw must be held very truly upright in order to cut the sides of the spaces at right angles to the face of the wood. Now carve the pattern on the surface in whatever manner you have designed—in grooves suggesting the articulation of the leaves, in short grooves which may pass for additional leaves, or in a dozen ways which practise may help you to invent.
The wood should be held tightly down to the bench in all its parts, or, at least, in those being operated upon, as it may, if unsupported, crack across some of the narrow parts. The sides of all the holes must be carved out clean to remove the rough saw marks. This can be done partly by gouges, or still better, the wood may be held up on its edge and the holes cut round with a sharp penknife where the grain allows it. Now turn the work over on its face and carve bevels round each of the holes. This reduces the apparent thickness of wood, and adds to the effect of delicacy in the pattern.
This work may be used for the cresting of some large piece of furniture, or may be adapted to fill screens or partitions, stair newels, and balusters, or it may be used as a cornice decoration in the manner suggested by No. 26, where the pierced work can be backed by a hollow cornice which it fills and enriches.
In our next exercise we shall try our hands upon a piece of hardwood for a change—meantime do one or two of these fret patterns by way of disciplinary exercise in outline forms.
CHAPTER XIV
HARDWOOD CARVING
Carvings can not be Independent Ornaments—Carving Impossible on Commercial Productions—The Amateur Joiner—Corner Cupboards—Introduction of Foliage Definite in Form, and Simple in Character—Methods of Carving Grapes.
We now come to the question, what are we going to do with all the pieces of carving which we propose to undertake.
There is no more inexorable law relating to the use of wood-carving than the one which insists upon some kind of passport for its introduction, wherever it appears. It must come in good company, and be properly introduced. The slightest and most distant connection with a recognized sponsor is often sufficient, but it will not be received alone. We do not make carvings to hang on a wall and be admired altogether on their own account. They must decorate some object. A church screen, a font, a piece of furniture, or even the handle of a knife. It is not always an easy matter to find suitable objects upon which to exercise our wood-carving talents. Our furniture is all made now in a wholesale manner which permits of no interference with its construction, while at the same time, if we wish to put any carving upon it, it is absolutely essential that both construction and decoration should be considered together.
A very modest beginning may be made in adapting ornament to a useful article, by carving the surface of a bread plate. These are usually made of some hard wood, such as sycamore. They may be made of oak, but sycamore has the advantage in its lighter color, which is more likely to be kept clean. Two suggestions are given in Figs. 27 and 28 for carving appropriate to this purpose. The essentials are, that there should be a well-defined pattern simple in construction, and as effective as possible with little labor; that there should be little or no rounding of surface, the design consisting of gouge cuts and incisions arranged to express the pattern. The incisions may form a regular sunk ground, but it should not be deep, or it will not be easily kept clean. Then, as in cutting bread the knife comes in contact with the surface, no delicate work is advisable; a large treatment with broad surfaces, and some plain spaces left to protect the carved work, is likely to prove satisfactory in every way. A piece of sycamore should be procured, ready for carving; this may be got from a wood-turner, but it will be as well to give him a drawing, on which is shown the section of edge and the position of all turned lines required for confining the carving. If the plate is to be of any shape other than circular, then it must be neatly made by a joiner, unless you can shape it yourself.
Many of you are, I have no doubt, handy joiners, and may with a little help put together some slight pieces of furniture to serve at least as an excuse for the introduction of your carving. Here are some suggestions for corner cupboards, chosen as giving the largest area for carved surface with the minimum of expense in construction. The material should be oak—English if possible, or it may be Italian walnut. The doors of Figs. 40 and 41 are in three narrow boards with shallow beads at the joints, those of the others are each made of a single board, and should be 1/2 in. to 5/8 in. thick, the doors may be about 2 ft. 6 ins. high, each having two ledges about 3 ins. wide, screwed on behind top and bottom to keep them from twisting. All moldings, beads, etc., are to be carved by hand, no planes being used. Having traced the lines of your design upon the board, you may begin, if there are moldings as in Fig. 32, by using a joiner's marking gage to groove out the deepest parts of the parallel lines in the moldings along the edges, doing the same to the curved ones with a V tool or Veiner. Then form the moldings with your chisels or gouges. Keep them very flat in section as in Fig. 29. The fret patterns on Figs. 32, 35, and 36, where not pierced, should also be done in low relief, not more than 1/8 in. deep, and the sides of the bands beveled as in section a, Fig 30. The widths of these bands ought not to be less than 1/2 in., and look better if they are wider. Very narrow bands have a better appearance, if, instead of being cut straight down, they are hollowed at sides like b in Fig. 30.
Fig. 31 is a detail of a kind of gouge work which you must all know very well. One perpendicular cut of a gouge driven in with the mallet, and one side cut, should form one of these crescent or thimble-shaped holes. They should not be too deep in proportion to their size. Their combinations may be varied to a great extent. Two or three common ones are shown in the illustration. This form of ornament was in all likelihood invented by some ingenious carpenter with a turn for art and a limited stock of carving tools. His humble contribution to the resources of the carver's art has received its due share of the flattery which is implied by imitation. In all these patterns it is well to remember that the flat surface of the board left between the cuts is really the important thing to consider, as all variety is obtained by disposing the holes in such a way as to produce the pattern required by means of their outlines on the plain surface. Thus waved lines are produced as in Fig. 31, and little niches like mimic architecture as in Fig. 34, by the addition of the triangular-shaped holes at the top, and the splayed sills at the bottom. (It is obvious that an arrangement like the latter should never be turned upside down.) If this attention to the surface pattern is neglected the holes are apt to become mere confused and meaningless spots.
In small pieces of furniture like these, which are made of comparatively thin wood, the carving need not have much depth, say the ground is sunk 1/4 in. at the deepest. As oak is more tenacious than pine, you will find greater freedom in working it, although it is so much harder to cut. You may find it necessary to use the mallet for the greater part of the blocking out, but it need not be much used in finishing. A series of short strokes driven by gentle taps of the mallet will often make a better curve than if the same is attempted without its aid.
It will be well now to procure the remainder of the set of twenty-four tools if you have not already got them, as they will be required for the foliage we are about to attempt. The deep gouges are especially useful: having two different sweeps on each tool, they adapt themselves to hollows which change in section as they advance.
Fig. 32 contains very little foliage, such as there is being disposed in small diamond-shaped spaces, sunk in the face of the doors, and a small piece on the bracket below. All this work should be of a very simple character, definite in form and broad in treatment.
Fig. 33 is more elaborate, but on much the same lines of design varied by having a larger space filled with groups of leaves. Fig. 34 gives the carving to a larger scale; in it the oak-leaves are shown with raised veins in the center, the others being merely indicated by the gouge hollows. There is some attempt in this at a more natural mode of treating the foliage. While such work is being carved, it is well to look now and then at the natural forms themselves (oak and laurel in this case) in order to note their characteristic features, and as a wholesome check on the dangers of mannerism.
It is a general axiom founded upon the evidence of past work, and a respect for the laws of construction in the carpenter's department, that when foliage appears in panels divided by plain spaces, it should never be made to look as if it grew from one panel into the other, with the suggestion of boughs passing behind the solid parts. This is a characteristic of Japanese work, and may, perhaps, be admirable when used in delicate painted decorations on a screen or other light furniture, but in carvings it disturbs the effect of solidity in the material, and serves no purpose which can not be attained in a much better way.
Expedients have been invented to overcome the difficulty of making a fresh start in each panel, one of which is shown in Fig. 34, where the beginning of the bough is hidden under a leaf. It is presumable that the bough may go on behind the uncarved portions of the board to reappear in another place, but we need not insist upon the fancy, which loses all its power when attention is called to it, like riddles when the answer is known.
In Fig. 35, like the last, the treatment is somewhat realistic. This is shown to a larger scale in Fig. 38. Nevertheless, it has all been "arranged" to fit its allotted space, and all accidental elements eliminated; such, for instance, as leaves disappearing in violent perspective, or even turned sidewise, and all minute details which would not be likely to show conspicuously if carved in wood. In Fig. 39, (a) is an outline of a group of vine-leaves taken from nature, as it appeared, and in which state it is quite unfitted for carving, on account of its complicated perspective and want of definite outline; Fig. 39 (b) is a detail also copied from nature, but which might stand without alteration provided it formed part of a work delicate enough to note such close elaboration in so small a space. This, of course, would entirely depend upon the purpose for which the carving was intended, and whether it was meant for distant view or close inspection. As there is arrangement necessary in forming the outline, so there is just as much required in designing the articulation of the surfaces of the leaves, which should be so treated that their hollows fall into a semblance of some kind of pattern. Fig. 36 is a more formal design, or, to use a very much abused word, more "conventional," in which such leafage as there is only serves the purpose of ornamental points, marking the divisions of the general design. The gouge work upon the leaves should be of the simplest description, but strict attention is necessary in drawing the grooves, so that their forms may be clear and emphatic, leaving no doubt as to the pattern intended. Designs of this kind have no interest whatever except as pieces of patterned work, to which end every other consideration should be sacrificed. It must not be cut too deep—say 1/4 in. at the deepest—and the sides of the panels should be very gently hollowed out with a flattish sweep (see section on Fig. 37) in order to avoid any appearance of actual construction in what more or less imitates the stiles and rails of a door. Fig. 37 shows a portion of the leafage to a larger scale, and also a plan explaining the construction of all these cupboards.
Fig. 40 is designed upon the barest suggestion of natural foliage, the wavy stem being quite flat, and running out flush into the flat margins at the sides, connecting them together. The leaves in this case should be carved, leaving the veins standing solid; grooved veins would have a meager look upon such rudimentary leaves. Of course a more natural treatment may be given to this kind of design, but in that case it would require to be carried all over the door, and replace the formally ornamental center panel. The pierced pattern in cresting should be done as already described for Fig. 24.
Fig. 41 is a variant on the last design. In this case a little more play of surface is attempted, making a point of carving the side lobes of the leaves into little rounded masses which will reflect points of light. This is shown better on Fig. 42.
In carving foliage like that of the vine, where small dark holes or eyes occur, enough wood should be left round them to form deep dark little pits. They are very valuable as points of shadow. In doing this, cut the rim all round with a very slight bevel as in section, Fig. 43. Whenever leaves run out to a fine edge they also should have a small bevel like this in order to avoid an appearance of weakness which acute edges always present. As a general rule leave as much wood as possible about the edges of leaves as you want shadow from them—dipping them only where you are sure the variety will be effective. In the execution of bunches of rounded forms like grapes there is no special mechanical expedient for doing them quickly and easily; each must be cut out separately, and carved with whatever tools come handiest to their shape and size. It is a good way to begin by cutting triangular holes between the grapes with the point of a small chisel (see Fig. 44), after which the rough shapes left may gradually be formed into ovals. When the work is very simple in character, and does not require a realistic treatment, the grapes may be done in a more methodical way, as in Fig. 45. First cut grooves across both ways with a V tool, dividing the grapes as at a a, then with a gouge turned hollow down round each line of grapes into rolls as at b b. Do this both ways, and afterward finish the form as best you can.
CHAPTER XV
THE SKETCH-BOOK
Old Work Best Seen in its Original Place—Museums to be Approached with Caution—Methodical Memoranda—Some Examples—Assimilation of Ideas Better than Making Exact Copies.
In holiday time, and as other opportunity arises, be sure to visit some old building, be it church or mansion. In this way you will make acquaintance with many a fine specimen of old work which will set your fancy moving. In the one there may be a carved choir-screen or bench ends, in the other a fireplace or table. The first sight of such things in the places and among the surroundings for which they were designed, is always an eventful moment in the training of a carver, because the element of surprise acts like a tonic to the mind by arousing its emulative instincts. It is by seeing such things in their proper home and associations that the best lessons are learned. One sees in that way, for instance, why the tool marks left by the old carvers on their work look more effective than smoothly perfect surfaces, when associated with the rough timbers of the roof, or the uneven surface of the plastered wall. One sees, too, the effect of time and friction in the polished surfaces of bench ends, rubbed and dusted by countless hands until they have become smooth to the eye and touch, and a mental note is made to avoid sharp or spiky work in anything that is likely to be within reach of the fingers. In this way a certain balance is given to the judgment in proportioning to each piece of work its due share of labor, and we come away with a fixed determination to pay more attention in future to breadth of design and economy of actual carving, a problem which no carver finds easy, but which must be faced if wasted work is not to be his only reward.
In museums, too, we shall find many useful lessons, although there we see things huddled together in a distracting fashion which demands great wariness of selection. The great point to be observed in making our notes for future reference is, that each sketch should contain some memorandum of a special quality, the one which attracted us at the time of making it. One may be made for sake of a general arrangement, another to remind us of some striking piece of detail or peculiarity of execution. The drawings need not be elaborate or labored, provided they make clear the points they were intended to record. Thus Fig. 46 is a sketch which is meant as a memorandum of a lively representation of birds, taken from an old Miserere seat. Fig. 47 was done for sake of the rich effect of an inscription on the plain side of a beam, and also for the peculiar and interesting section to which the beam had been cut. Fig. 48, again, for sake of the arrangement of the little panels on a plain surface, and the sense of fitness and proportion which prompted the carver to dispose his work in that fashion, by which he has enriched the whole surface at little cost of labor, and by contrast enhanced the value of the little strips and diamonds of carved work, otherwise of no particular interest. Figs. 49 and 50 are two sketches of Icelandic carved boxes. Fig. 49 was drawn as an example of the rich effect which that kind of engraved work may have, and of the use which it makes of closely packed letters in the inscription. The pattern is, of course, a traditional Norse one, although the carving is comparatively modern. The points to be noted in the other box were its quaint and simple construction, the use of the letters as decoration, more especially the unpremeditated manner in which they have been grouped, the four letters below making a short line which is eked out by a rude bit of ornament. The letters are cut right through the wood, and are surrounded with an engraved line. Fig. 51 was noted on account of the way in which a very simple pierced ornament is made much of by repetition. The ornament is on a Portuguese bed, and this is only a detail of a small portion. The effect greatly depends upon the quantity, but in this case that is a point which is easily remembered without drawing more of it than is shown. The fact that this work is associated with richly turned balusters is, however, noticed in the sketch, as that might easily be forgotten. Figs. 47 to 51 are from South Kensington Museum.
Then we come to the sketch of a chair (Fig. 52), or combined table and chair. The richly carved back is pivoted, and forms the table top when lowered over the arms, upon which it rests. The points to be noted in this are, the general richness of effect, the contrast of wavy and rigid lines, and the happy way in which the architectural suggestion of arch and pillars has been translated into ornament. As this sketch was not made so much for the chair itself as for its enriched back, no measurements have been taken; otherwise chairs, as such, depend very much upon exact dimensions for their proportions. This chair is at Exning in Suffolk.
Now we shall suppose that you are going to make many such sketches both in museums and in country churches or houses. You will find some too elaborate for drawings in the time at your disposal, in which case you should obtain a photograph, if possible, making notes of any detail which you wish particularly to remember—such, for instance, as the carved chest shown in Plate I. The subject, St. George and the Dragon, is given with various incidents all in the one picture. This is a valuable and suggestive piece of work to have before you, as the manner in which the pictorial element has been managed is strikingly characteristic of the carver's methods, and well adapted to the conditions of a technique which has no other legitimate means of dealing with distant objects. The king and queen, looking out of the palace windows, are almost on the same scale as the figures in the foreground; the walls of the houses, roofs, etc., have apparently quite as much projection as the foreground rocks—distance is inferred rather than expressed. The very simple construction, too, is worth noting. It is practically composed of three boards, a wide one for the picture, and two narrower ones for ends and feet.
The object in making these sketches should be mainly to collect a variety of ideas which may brighten the mind when there is occasion to use its inventive faculties. Suggestive hints are wanted; rarely will it be possible, or wise, to repeat anything exactly as you see it. These sketches, if made with care, and from what Constable used to call "breeding subjects," will give your fancy a very necessary point of vantage, from which it may hazard flights of its own.
As much of our knowledge must necessarily be gained from museums, and as they now form such an important feature of educational machinery, I think it will be well to devote a word or two of special notice to the drawbacks which accompany their many advantages. This I propose to do in the following chapter.
CHAPTER XVI
MUSEUMS
False Impressions Fostered by Fragmentary Exhibits—Environment as Important as Handicraft—Works Viewed as Records of Character—Carvers the Historians of their Time.
A new world of commerce and machinery, having slain and forgotten a past race of artist craftsmen, makes clumsy atonement by sweeping together the fragments of their work and calling the collection a museum. From the four corners of the earth these relics have been gathered. Our hungry minds are bidden to make choice according to fancy, for here is variety of food! Here are opportunities, never before enjoyed by mortal, for an intellectual feast!—and of a kind which might be considered god-like, were it not for the suspicion of some gigantic joke. That out of all this huge mass of chaotic material we have not as yet been able to make for ourselves some living form of art, must indeed be to the gods a continual subject of merriment.
Museums of art are in no respect the unmixed blessings which they appear to be. They have, to be sure, all the advantages of handy reference; but at the same time, on account of the great diversity in the character of their exhibits, they tend to encourage the spread of a patchy kind of knowledge, far from being helpful to the arts in the interests of which they are established. It must be remembered that, in these collections, all specimens of architecture and architectural carving are invariably seen in false positions. All have been wrenched from their proper settings, and placed, more or less at random, in lights and relationships never contemplated by their designers. To the environment of a piece of architecture, and the position and surroundings of carved decorations, are due quite half of their interest as works of art. Deprive them of these associations, and little is left but fragmentary specimens of handicraft, more or less unintelligible in their lonely detachment, misleading to the eye, and dangerous as objects of imitation, in proportion to the dependence they once had upon those absent and unknown associations.
The educational purpose which these collections are intended to serve is liable to be construed into an unreasoning assumption that every specimen exhibited is equally worthy of admiration. How often the plodding student is to be seen carefully drawing and measuring work of the dullest imaginable quality, with no other apparent reason for his pathetically wasted industry!
It would be strange, indeed, if all in this vast record of past activity was of equal value; if merely to belong to the past was a sure warrant that such work was the best of its kind. Far from this being the case, it requires the constant use of a more or less trained and critical judgment to separate what is good from the indifferent or really bad in these collections, for all are usually present. There is inequality in artistic powers, in technical skill, and a distinction of yet greater importance, which lies in the significance the works bear as records of the inner life of their creators. Artists, carvers in particular, are the true scribes and historians of their times. Their works are, as it were, books—written in words of unconscious but fateful meaning. Some are filled with the noblest ideals, expressed in beautiful and serious language, while others contain nothing but sorry jests and stupidities.
As all the works of the past, whether good or bad, are the achievements of men differing but little from ourselves, save in the direction of their energies and in their outward surroundings, there is surely some clue to the secret of their success or failure, some light to be thrown by their experience upon our own dubious and questioning spirit.
What better could we look for in this respect than a little knowledge of the lives led by the carvers themselves, a mental picture of their environment, an acquired sense of the influence which this, that, or the other set of conditions must have imposed upon their work. With a little aid from history in forming our judgments, their works themselves will assist us—so faithful is the transcript of their witness—for, with more certainty than applies to handwriting, a fair guess may be made by inference from the work itself as to the general status and ideals of the workman. The striking analogy between its salient characteristics and the prevailing mood of that ever-changing spirit which seeks expression in the arts, is nowhere more marked than in the work of the carver.
CHAPTER XVII
STUDIES FROM NATURE—FOLIAGE
Medieval and Modern Choice of Form Compared—A Compromise Adopted—A List of Plant Forms of Adaptable Character.
It is high time now that we had some talk about the studies from nature which are to furnish you with subjects for your work. I shall at present deal only with studies of foliage, as that is what you have been practising, and I wish you to carry on your work and studies as much as possible on the same lines.
Between the few abstract forms, representing a general type of foliage, so dear to the heart of the medieval carver, and the unstinted variety of choice displayed in the works of Grinling Gibbons and his time, there is such a wide difference that surely it points to a corresponding disparity of aim. Although there is no doubt whatever that such a striking change of views must have had its origin in some deeper cause than that which is to be explained by artistic and technical development, yet I think that for our immediate purpose we shall find a sufficiently good lesson in comparing the visible results of the two methods. Broadly speaking, then, the medieval carver cared more for general effect than for possibilities of technique. He therefore chose only such natural forms as were amenable to his preconceived determination to make his work telling at a distance. He had no botanical leanings, and rejected as unfit every form which would not bend to his one purpose—that of decoration on a large scale—and which he aimed at making comprehensive at a glance, rather than calling for attention to its details. He invented patterns which he knew would assist in producing this result, and here he further handicapped his choice by limiting it to such forms as would repeat or vanish at regulated intervals, reflecting light or producing shadow just where it was wanted to emphasize his pattern.
The more modern carver, on the contrary, offered an all-embracing welcome to every form which presented itself to his notice. He rejected nothing which could by any possibility be carved. Nothing was too small, too thin, or too difficult for his wonderful dexterity with the carving tools. His chief end was elaboration of detail, and it was often carried to a point which ignored the fact that nearly all of it would become invisible when in position, or, if seen at all, would only appear in confused lumps and unintelligible masses.
Now, for many reasons, I think we had better take the medieval method as our model up to a point, and make a certain selection of material for our studies, based upon some relation to general effect, but not necessarily imitating a medieval austerity of rejection, which would be the merest affectation on our part. Upon these principles, and taking somewhat of a middle course, I shall here note a few types of foliage which I think may be useful to you in the work upon which you are engaged.
Leaf forms, with their appropriate flowers or fruit, afford the carver a very large proportion of his subject material. They serve him as principal subject, as bordering or background to figures of men or animals; they occur as mere detached spots, to break the monotony of spaces or lines; and in a thousand other ways give exercise to his invention.
As a general rule, those leaves with serrated, or deeply cleft and indented edges, lend themselves most readily to decorative treatment. Large, broad leaves, with unbroken surfaces, and triangular or rounded outlines, are less manageable. Those most commonly taken as models are:
The Vine, with its Grapes.—This was freely used by medieval carvers, at first for its symbolic significance, but afterward even more on account of its rare beauty of form. The play of light and shade on its vigorous foliage, the variety of its drawing in leaf, vine, and tendril, and the contrast afforded by its bunches of oval fruit, caused it to be accepted as a favorite subject for imitation in all kinds of carving. It lends itself kindly to all sorts of relief, either high or low, in almost any material. It is so recognizable, even in the rudest attempts at imitation, that its popularity is well deserved.
The hop-vine shares some of these qualities, though much less strongly marked in character.
The Acanthus.—This leaf was first adapted for the purpose of ornament by the workmen of classical Greece. The inspiration was one of the few which they took directly from nature's models. It was also freely used by medieval carvers, but with an insistence upon the flowing and rounded character of its surface forms; and again by the Renaissance artists, with a return to its classical character of fluted and formal strength of line. The graceful drawing of its elaborately articulated surface, and the extraordinary accentuation of its outline, provide an endless source of suggestion. It has been adapted in all manners, according to the fancy of the carver—sometimes long and drawn out, at others wide and spreading. Altogether it has been more thoroughly "generalized" than any other natural form.
The Oak, with its Acorns, appears in early medieval work, but without much attempt to represent its form with anything like individual character. In later work it has more justice done to its undoubted merits as a decorative feature by a clearer recognition of its beauty in clumps and masses. Fruit, other than the grape and a nondescript kind of berry, was seldom represented by medieval craftsmen; it formed, however, a marked feature in Renaissance ornament, where pomegranate, apple, fig, and melon were in constant requisition.
Flowers in general were very little used in early times, and then only in a highly abstract form corresponding to that of the foliage. The rose and lily were the two most frequently seen, but they seldom had more individuality about them than was sufficient to make them recognizable. During the Renaissance flowers were treated with much more regard to their inherent beauties, and were represented with great skill and power of imitation, although often carried beyond legitimate limits in this direction. When dealt with as ornaments, rather than botanical details, they form a rich source of suggestion to the carver, and offer a ready means of contrast with masses of foliage. The rose and lily are such conspicuous flowers that they should, in modern times, be used in a way consistent with our demands for individual character and likeness. They should be fairly well defined and easily recognizable. It is quite possible to treat these flowers in a very realistic way, without endangering their effect as decorative details: they have both such distinguished forms in flower and foliage.
Flowers should be chosen for their forms; color should not be allowed to deceive the eye in this respect, unless the color itself is suggestive of lines and contours.
Foliage should always be studied at its prime, never when it is dried and contorted in its forms.
Here is a short list of subjects, including those I have mentioned, all having a sufficiently pronounced character to make them valuable as stock in trade. Many more might be named, but these are chosen as being commonly familiar, and as being representative types of various forms.
For their Leaves and Fruit.—The grapevine, hop-vine, globe artichoke, tomato, apple, plum, pear, bramble, and strawberry.
For Fruit and Vine-like Growths (leafage too massive and smooth to be of much value without adaptation).—The melon, vegetable-marrow, pumpkins, and cucumber.
For Leafage, Flowers, or Seed Vessels.—The acanthus, oak, thistles, teazle, giant hemlock, cow-parsley, buttercup.
Of Garden Flowers.—The rose, lily, larkspur, peony, poppies, columbine, chrysanthemum, tulip, Christmas rose, Japanese anemone.
For Close and Intricate Designs.—Periwinkle, winter aconite, trefoils of various kinds.
Many valuable hints on this subject may be gleaned by a study of Gerrard's Herbal, which is full of well-drawn illustrations, done in a way which is very suggestive to the designer.
A careful study of the outline forms of leaves is a schooling in itself, so much may be learned from it. It teaches the relation between form and growth in a way which makes it possible to use the greatest freedom of generalization without violating structural laws. The same causes which govern the shaping of a tree are present in the leaf, settling its final outline, so that, however wandering and fantastic it may appear, there is not the smallest curve or serration which does not bear witness to a methodical development, and to every accidental circumstance which helped or hindered its fulfilment.
You could not do better than make a collection of suitable leaves, press them flat and trace them very carefully, keeping the tracings together in a book for reference. Accompanying this you should have in each case a drawing of the leaf as it appears in its natural state, always being careful to do this from a point of view which will accommodate itself to carving the leaf if you should have occasion to use it.
CHAPTER XVIII
CARVING ON FURNITURE
Furniture Constructed with a View to Carving—Reciprocal Aims of Joiner and Carver—Smoothness Desirable where Carving is Handled—The Introduction of Animals or Figures.
You will find in the illustrations, Figs. 53 to 62, certain suggestions for various pieces of furniture. They are given with the intention of impressing upon you the fact that very little carving can be done at all without some practical motive as a backbone to your fancies. To be always carving inapplicable panels is very dull work, and only good for a few preliminary exercises. It is much better to consider the matter well, and resolve upon some "opus," which will spread your efforts over a considerable period. When you have decided upon the piece of furniture which is most likely to be useful to you, and which lies within your powers of design and execution, then make a drawing for it, and have it made by a joiner (unless you can make it entirely yourself), to be put together in loose pieces for convenience of carving, and glued up when that is finished. You should certainly design the piece yourself, as you should make all your own designs for the carving. The two departments must be carried on in the closest relation to each other while the work is in progress, otherwise their association will not be complete when it is finished. Take, for instance, the head of the bed in the illustration. Why should it stand up so high, like the gable of a house? It is for no other reason than to give an opportunity for carving. A plain board of half the height would have been just as effective as a protection to the sleeper. Useless as carving may be from this practical point of view, it must nevertheless be amenable to utilitarian laws. It must be smooth where it is likely to be handled, as in the case of the knobs on top of the posts; and even where it is not likely to be handled, but may be merely touched occasionally, it should still have an inviting smoothness of surface. As a matter of fact, all carving on a bed should be of this kind, with no deep nooks or corners to hold dust. Here, then, are a number of conditions, which, instead of being a hindrance, are really useful incentives to fresh invention. Just as the construction of joiner's work entails concessions on the part of the carver, so the carver may ask the joiner to go a little out of his way in order to give opportunities for his carving. A little knowledge of this subject will make a reasonable compromise possible.
You will find a further advantage in undertaking a fairly large piece of work. As it is almost certain to be in several parts, each may thus receive a different treatment, by which means you not only obtain contrast, but get some idea of the extraordinary power with which one piece of carving affects another when placed in juxtaposition. Whatever designs you may decide upon, should you undertake to carve the panels for a bed, let them be in decidedly low relief. The surface must be smoothly wrought, doing away with as much of the tool marking as you can, but this smoothing to be done entirely with the tools, not by any means with glass paper. Great attention must be paid to the drawing of the forms, as it is by this that the impression of modeling and projection will be expressed. A very pleasant treatment of such low relief when a smooth and even appearance is wanted, is to carve the ground to the full depth, say 1/8 in., only along the outlines of the design, and form the remainder into a kind of raised cushion, almost level in the middle with the original surface of the wood. The whole design need thus be little more than a kind of deepish engraving, depending for its effect upon broad lights defined by the engraved shadows. See Fig. 54 for an example of this treatment applied to letters.