“He does not sufficiently understand that things are of value only according to their fundamental qualities, and he still believes that the care with which a thing is done, even if it is aimless, ought to be taken into account. In fact it would be a good thing to make him understand that things exist only to the extent of the stuff they contain.”
We are all born mentally blind, but almost immediately we detect light, as can some of the lowest animals, then we learn to distinguish the colours and forms of objects as we grow older, and there the majority of us stop, and yet we all think we can see equally well. That we cannot is a truism, for after being able to distinguish colours and forms, but very few persons go on to educate their sight more perfectly. |Trades.| Some of us may learn to distinguish certain kinds of material, the different aspects of these materials under different conditions, and so they learn trades and are excellent judges of tea, coffee, hosiery and paper. |Science.| Still higher come the scientific men who pay more attention to the education of the sight. They learn to distinguish the microscopic beings, the life-histories of the lower forms of animal life, the histology of flowers, the structure of the trees, the aspects of the skies, the physical and chemical phenomena of the elements, the movements of the planets, so that in all their walks nature is full of interest to them; they find wisdom in a pond, they revel in a marsh, or they travel to a far country for the sake of rare birds' eggs, or spend days and nights in their laboratories to solve new chemical problems, or organize expeditions to study unusual phenomena of the heavenly bodies; they see and love all these things. The man uneducated in science finds no interest in a drop of muddy water, he finds nothing wonderful in the vegetation of the country side, he passes unheeded the rarest birds, and the rainbow, and storm cloud, and the blazing comet, all alike to him have no interest, he is blind to them; or if he sees them at all, it is as through a glass, darkly.
All this the world allows, and allows that no one save those who by hard work have trained themselves can see these things. But mark the stupidity of mankind, he allows he is blind to the pleasures of science and will remain so, unless he studies the subject, but when it comes to art matters, like a weathercock, he shifts round and thinks he can understand all that without any training at all, yet he is born as blind and incapable of understanding art as he is of understanding science until he has trained himself to understand.
The artist, like the scientific man, begins by studying closely his subject—nature as a whole—he studies her in all her aspects, he seeks for harmonies and arrangements in colour and form, for beautiful lines of composition, and only after long and close observation do the scales drop from his eyes and he sees a beautiful pose, even in a child digging up potatoes, or a man throwing a hammer or running a race, or he sees subtle beauties of colour in a reed-bed, or poetry and pathos in an old peasant stooping under a load of sticks, and this is far more difficult to see than it is to learn to see the scientific truths, and that is why there are so few real artists and poets and so many more scientific men. Art, alas, cannot be learned like science, hard work will not necessarily make an artist. |Photographers art-blind.| Most photographers are art-blind, but they are like the colour-blind old lady who did not know it, and of course the only hope for them is to be convinced of their blindness, then perhaps they may do something towards getting rid of the defect.
The student should now clearly understand why it is so necessary that this faculty of artistic sight should be cultivated and trained, for since it is our fundamental principle that all suggestions for pictures should come from nature, we must first see the picture in nature and be struck by its beauty so that we cannot rest until we have secured it on our plate; we must therefore learn to see it in nature. If we see a beautiful pose, or a beautiful effect in nature, we should at least make a note of it if we cannot secure it. A slight sketch made at the time will do. Therefore, amateur reader, if you have not trained yourself by study to see these things in nature, blame no one but yourself, but remember you are blind, blind, blind; but there is a remedy, and no surgical operation is required either.
Study! You must ever be on the look-out for beauties, that is the necessary mental attitude, otherwise they will never be seen. You must look for a thing if you wish to find it, and it is only by showing us your finds that you will prove you have artistic insight, we shall not believe a word you say about art until we see it in your work. If you do not study, or if you are incapable, you will remain blind in spite of your looking, and there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth when you show to the world commonplaces which you think are gems, for the world will soon tell you they are commonplace. We once knew a person who was colour-blind, who resented the suggestion as a personal insult, until one evening her eyesight was tested, when her colour-blindness was proved.
Let the student then be assured that he is blind, he cannot see art and nature until he has studied them long and closely. He may be arrogant enough to think he knows all about her without study. If that is so, as he grows older let him refer back to his earlier works, and if he has progressed meanwhile, let him recall how perfect he thought those early works at the time he did them, and then let him lash himself for his folly. A really good work will always bear looking back at, and will hold its own however old the artist gets. |No royal road.| There is no royal road to this appreciation of the beauties of art and nature, none but incessant and loving study, and though the cockney, or sage of the university, who dwells in towns and learns his art and his nature in the National Gallery and British Museum, may lecture on nature and art, let the student avoid him and his example. Lectures on art at any time are but Dead Sea fruit.
The student then must educate his eyesight in order to see the beauties of nature and art, and to do this he must study hard, for the true artist wishes to see these beauties and to record them, that is all, nothing more. The seers who see deeply, they are the poets! In science the original discoverers are the seers, and since but few can aspire to become seers, nevertheless let the rest be content to go on studying, for all of us can see these things with an educated and intelligent eye, and seeing, understand, and that reward is worth the pains.
No chapter of this book has given us so much thought as this chapter on composition.
We could easily, as most writers have done, have given a digest of Mr. Burnet’s laws of composition, but we have no faith in any “laws of composition.” A law, to be logical, must hold good in all cases; now the so-called “laws of composition,” are often broken deliberately by great artists, and yet the result is perfect. This is easily explained, for these so-called laws are mere arbitrary rules, deduced by one man from the works of many artists and writers; and they are no more laws in the true sense than are the laws of Phrenology or Astrology.
The great question then, which presented itself to us, was this: Will the study of these so-called rules do good or harm to the student? Will a knowledge of them lead him to the production of conventional work, or will it in any way help him in his future work? We had many earnest discussions on this point with artists, and they seemed equally uncertain in the matter, though one condemned all such laws as absurd and unnecessary. |“Treatise on Painting.”| We most certainly feel inclined to agree with that one dissentient, but in trying to place ourselves in the position of the photographic student, with absolutely no knowledge of art, we have come to the conclusion that, perhaps, the student had better study Mr. Burnet’s “Treatise on Painting.” A cheap edition of this book is published by Dr. E. Wilson, of 835, Broadway, New York, and every student should get a copy of it. It can be thoroughly mastered in a week or two, so that not much time will be lost. The numerous plates will at any rate be of some use to the student.
Now, from these remarks, it must not be assumed that we are no believer in “composition.” Composition is really selection, and is one of the most—if not the most—vital matters in all art, certainly the most vital in the art of photography. But the writer maintains there are no laws for selection. Each picture requires a special composition, and every artist treats each picture originally; his method of treatment, however, often becomes a “law” for lesser lights.
It has been assumed by opponents to “Naturalism” that naturalistic artists ignore composition, and portray nature “anyhow,” just as she happens to present herself to them. Nothing could be further from the truth. None is more careful in selection and arrangement than the naturalistic painter, at the same time none is less conventional. Nature is not always suitable for pictorial purposes, though she is often enough suitable, and it is when she is propitious that the artist depicts her; hence the great principle of naturalism, that all suggestions should come from nature. The object of art training is to show these propitious moods, and to enable the painter to portray them. We prefer, then, the word “selection” to composition. The matter really stands thus, a good naturalistic artist selects a composition in nature which he sees to be very fine.
By composition, as used in this paragraph, is meant the harmonious and fitting combination of the various component parts of the picture which shall best express the picture.
Our best method will be to follow Mr. Burnet’s division of his subject, and offer a running commentary on the essentials of his work from a photographer’s standpoint, giving our ideas on the subject when they differ from those of the author of “A Treatise on Painting.”
Omitting to comment on Mr. Burnet’s remarks, we put the matter thus, that it is highly desirable for all photographers to learn drawing, and to learn it intelligently. Nothing could be more lamentable than the way in which drawing is taught in our schools, it is worse than useless. The student should go to some good art school for a few months, and learn drawing, for in that way are learned the analysis and construction of objects, and, above all, the eye is trained to careful observation, which will be invaluable in the study of tone and selection.
This section the student should read over carefully, understanding thoroughly the “point of sight” and the causes of violent perspective. For in photography, though his lens may be true in drawing, he can as easily obtain violent perspective as the draughtsman, by placing the lens too close to his model. Fore-shortening, too, should be thoroughly understood. Aërial perspective has been simply treated by us in this work, and the various remarks of Burnet on this subject must be taken cum grano salis.
This term means light and shade. Now the term “chiaro-oscuro” is very misleading, for it is used by different artists to mean different things. The whole of photography depends on the proper management of light and shade, for our drawing is done for us; but we prefer to use the more modern term, “tone,” to express what we mean by light and shade; that term we have already fully explained. Chiaro-oscuro, as we understand it, is the arbitrary placing of masses of light against masses of shade to produce certain desired effects; it is, therefore, conventional, and akin to the law which required all trees to be painted fiddle-brown. It is needless to say the only way such a conventional chiaro-oscuro can be obtained in photography is by arranging the objects in nature, or by retouching, and both are against our principles. The student, then, must, as we have said, master “tone,” that is his chiaro-oscuro, his light and shade, and he must always remember to look for “breadth” in his treatment. |Breadth.| Breadth is found in all good work, and it depends in photography not entirely upon light and shade, but upon the focussing and developing as well, as we have already indicated. Why are spotty-lighted, sharply-focussed, brightly-developed negatives so “noisy” and garish and inartistic? It is that they lack “breadth.” It must not be thought from this that no sunny pictures have breadth; on the contrary, if the masses are large, and the planes well rendered, and the tonality true, there can be as much breadth in a sunny picture as in a grey-day effect. It has been said that “breadth” is a device of the painters, but this is mere nonsense. Let the student look well at a simple stretch of grass-land bordering a still lake, on a damp, misty evening, and then he will see breadth. Let him focus that scene as sharply as he likes, including a portion of sky as well, and develop and print from it, and he will find breadth, and he will probably have a clear understanding as to the meaning of the word.
Mr. Burnet divides chiaro-oscuro into five parts, viz. light, half-light, middle tint, half-dark, dark. This arbitrary division is hypercritical. For working purposes, light, half-tone or middle tint, and dark, are quite sufficient; other subdivisions are far too subtle and numerous to be considered theoretically, and, practically, truth of tone is only to be learned by long experience and study, and we believe all the directions given by Mr. Burnet for producing relief, harmony, and breadth, to be artificial and useless. An examination of the plates shows clearly how futile are his deductions, and how untrue in light and shade, viz. tone, they all are.
Mr. Burnet opens with the statement that “geometric forms in composition are found to give order and regularity to an assemblage of figures.” This is the first principle on which is built his structure of geometrical composition. We will omit the dicta of literary men on pictorial art which Mr. Burnet is so fond of quoting, but which we consider too worthless to do more with than mention. Let us then apply ourselves to the study of his thesis.
His first remarks are upon angular composition, and as he finds that these lead him into conventional methods, he goes on to say that this conventionality can be rectified by balance. Even if we would follow this form of composition our means are limited, for, unlike the painter, we cannot alter and re-arrange. However, we have no wish to make “angular compositions,” and consider them false in theory. Painters, on the other hand, must settle these matters for themselves; we know how many settle them, that is by ignoring all such teachings as nonsense. Next we come to the “circular composition,” which, we are told, is “applicable to the highest walks of art,” wherever they may be. Soon after this we come upon the truest remark in the book. “Artists generally prefer the opinions of untutored children to the remarks of the most learned philosophers,” and we fear most modern artists prefer the teachings of nature to those of that philosopher John Burnet, F.R.S. Finally, Mr. Burnet winds up with the words, “I must also caution the young artist against supposing that these modes of arrangements are given for his imitation. I merely wish him to be acquainted with the advantages any particular composition possesses, that in adopting any invention of his own, he may engraft upon it these or similar advantages.”
Now this reads very oddly after talking of rules of composition, for what is the good of a rule if it is not to be followed? and it reads very illogically when compared with the quotation from Reynolds (Brougham?), which goes to back up the excuse for advocating rules as Burnet gives them,—viz. “to those who imagine that such rules tend to fetter genius, &c.”
In short, the whole work is illogical, unscientific, and inartistic, and has not a leg to stand on. It is very specious to say that all compositions are made according to geometrical forms, for nothing can be easier than to take arbitrary points in a picture and draw geometrical figures joining them. The pyramid is a favourite geometrical form of composition. Now take any picture, and take any three points you like, and join them, and you have a pyramid, so does every composition contain a pyramid, as does a donkey’s ear. But enough of this. The student is distinctly warned against paying any serious attention to these rules; it is, however, as we have said, well that he should know of them, and we suspect he will learn something of design from merely looking carefully at the plates. Of tone he will learn nothing.
With Mr. Burnet’s remarks upon colour we are in no way concerned.
But the student will say, how, then, can composition be learned? Our answer to this is that composition, that isis selection, cannot be learned save by experience and practical work—there is no royal road to it, no shilling guide. This subtle and vital power must be acquired if we are to do any good work, for we are dumb until we do acquire it. We can no more express ourselves in art without having mastered composition, than a child can express himself in prose until he has learnt the art of writing. It is for this reason that we must learn art practically, for no written “rules or laws” can be given. Each picture is a problem in itself, and the art-master can help the student to solve the problems as they arise, in that way only can composition be learned. The proof of this is that young painters who have been through the schools are very weak in composition, it is only by continual failures that they acquire the necessary knowledge. Let the student trace the development of any painter’s work, and he will find that his early works are always poor in composition and feeble in motif.
It is presumed the student has thoroughly mastered and applied all that has preceded this chapter, especially the matter of tone, otherwise it is no use attempting to make pictures, which means attempting composition.
Presuming then the student is master of the subject as already treated, we will now proceed to offer some suggestions on picture-making, but be it distinctly understood they are only suggestions.
We shall divide the subject into two sections, beginning with out-door work.
Very fine portraits and groups can be taken out of doors. In taking such pictures, it is admissible to dictate the dress of the model, and to arrange tea-parties, sporting, athletic, and other groups. But if the student intends to make them artistic, he must be very particular with his types, and see above all things that the sentiment is true. For example, it is a fine parody on nature to photograph a gaunt and self-conscious girl in æsthetic clothing, for dress it cannot be called, with a tennis-bat in her hand. For a tennis picture, fine girls, physically well-formed, should be chosen.
Next the student should choose a simple background, which with the dress and flesh tints form a harmony or fine study in tone. The model’s dress should be very simple and well-fitting, such dresses as were worn by Botticelli’s women (dresses quite unlike the modern æsthetic gowns), being very artistic for women, while flannel shirts or simple white trousers will look well on the men. All monstrosities and exaggerations of fashion should be avoided, such as flowers, chatelaines, wasp-waists, high heels, and dress improvers. |Materials for dresses.| The best material for dresses for pictures is a coarse, limp, self-coloured muslin (butter-cloth is excellent for the purpose). |Jewellery.| All jewellery should be eschewed, the only decoration of this kind that photographs simply and well is perhaps a string of pearls, which looks charming.
The work must be true in sentiment, and the student must choose an appropriate treatment of the subject. The portrait being out of doors, we must be made to feel that fact; thus, a girl resting from tennis, a girl in a riding-habit, or better still on horseback, would be very appropriate. The background must be carefully selected to be in keeping with the figure, and to help to tell the story fully and emphatically, and yet it must be kept subdued.
Groups are very difficult to treat artistically, and our never-failing rule is to limit as much as possible the number of people in the group. |Treatment of model.| Having now chosen his model and arranged other matters, the student must remember to let his model stand or sit, as he or she likes, and all suggestions for the pose should come from the model; this is a fundamental principle of naturalism. A great friend of ours, a well-known sculptor, assures us he would not dare to pose a model according to any preconceived idea, but he watches the model pose in different ways, and when he sees a striking and beautiful attitude be seizes on that and makes a rapid sketch of it. That is the only true way for the photographer to work, he must have the camera ready, focussed and arranged, and when he sees his model in an unconscious and beautiful pose, he must snap his shutter. It is thus very evident how important is art-knowledge and insight for all good photographic work, and it is thus evident how a man who is sympathetic and of a refined temperament will show his individuality in his work.
With commercial groups of bands, football teams, &c., the student has nothing to do, and let him never be induced to photograph anything which he does not think will make a picture. He must have patience also, when waiting for nature’s suggestions; we have waited a whole morning, rubber ball in hand, for a suitable grouping of colts, but we finally got one of the best things we ever produced. If our photographer be a smoker, let him light his pipe and take it easy, talking meanwhile to the model; at length his chance will come, but it may only come once, and then he must not hesitate or the picture may be lost in a moment. It is preferable that all out-door portraits should be taken on a grey day, or in the shade if the sun be shining.
There is a wide field open to wealthy photographers for producing really good pictures of their friends at country houses. But the student must remember that to produce a perfect picture takes a long time and can only be achieved by long and patient practice, coupled with artistic ability. The hurried representations of shooting, boating, and family groups, which are so often produced by industrial photographers, are artistically beneath contempt. They are mere statements of facts, and as much akin to art as the directions in a cookery-book are akin to literature. Photography up to a certain point, and in a haphazard way, is so easily learned now-a-days that there is absolutely no merit in producing such work. Such photographs are only the confessions of untrained and commonplace minds.
The student who would become a landscape photographer must go to the country and live there for long periods; for in no other way can he get any insight into the mystery of nature. All nature near towns is tinged with artificiality, it may not be very patent but the close observer detects it. Among fisher-folk this may be seen in the sealskin cap, in the rustic it shows itself in the hard billycock hat, in landscape pure it may be seen in some artificial forms of the river-banks, or in artificial undergrowths; the mark of the beast, the stamp of vulgarity, that hydra-headed monster which always appears whereever a few men are gathered together, is sure to be found somewhere. For this reason then the would-be landscape-photographer should pack up his things and go to some locality with which he is in sympathy, just as a painter does. |“Outings.”| Here let him be cautioned against taking part in any of those “outings,” organized by well-meaning but mistaken people. It is laughable indeed to read of the doings of these gatherings; of their appointment of a leader (often blind); of the driving in breaks, always a strong feature of these meetings; of the eatings, an even stronger feature; and finally of the bag, 32 “Ilford’s,” 42 “Wrattens',” 52 “Paget’s,” &c.
Apply the same sort of thing to painting, and would it not indeed be ridiculous? Would it not lower painting in the eyes of the world if say thirty academicians with a leader for the day, assembled at Victoria Station with pastels and boards, or with paint-tubes and small canvasses, and went by train to some village and there proceeded to pastel or paint what the leader suggested; then would follow the dinner (the best part, no doubt), and next day how edified would be the world to read in the daily papers of the most successful outing, the result of which was the covering of 32 “Rowney,” 29 “Windsor and Newton,” and 40 “Newman” canvasses! All these “playings” bring photography down to the level of cycling and canoeing, and yet many photographers wonder that artists will have no official connection with photography. We know well that it is for these and similar reasons that serious artists will not allow their names to be officially connected with photography, and we here earnestly appeal to all who really have the advancement of photography at heart to do all in their power to bring such trivial “play” to an end. |Choice of district.| Having then decided to go to the country, let the student think well with which kind of landscape he is most in sympathy, but let him always remember this fact that all landscape is not suitable for pictorial purposes; he must therefore learn to distinguish between the suitable and the unsuitable. Landscapes there are full of charm, pleasant places for a picnic or encampment, but when you come to put them into a picture, they become tame and commonplace.
Again let the student avoid imitation. If he knows that an artist has been successful in one place, do not let him, like a feeble imitator, be led thither also, for the chances are, if his predecessor were a strong man, that he will produce commonplaces where the other produced masterpieces, and thereby confess his inferiority. It is far better to be original in a smaller way than another, than to be even a first-rate imitator of another, however great.
For this reason the present method adopted by inartistic writers of publishing “Photographic Haunts” is strongly to be deprecated, such guides can but lead to conventional and imitative, therefore contemptible work. The fact of the matter is nature is full of pictures, and they are to be found in what appears to the uninitiated the most unlikely places. Let the honest student then choose some district with which he is in sympathy, and let him go there quietly and spend a few months, or even weeks if he cannot spare months, and let him day and night study the effects of nature, and try at any rate to produce one picture of his own, one picture which shall show an honest attempt to probe the mysteries of nature and art, one picture which shall show the author has something to say, and knows how to say it, as perhaps no other living person could say it; that is something to have accomplished. Remember that your photograph is as true an index of your mind, as if you had written out a confession of faith on paper.
We will now offer a few remarks on the component parts of a picture.
As we have said there can be no rules for the arrangement of lines, yet they are all-important and essential to the expression of harmony and directness. The student must cultivate the habit of quickly analyzing the lines of a picture, and coming to a decision whether they are harmonious and pictorially suitable. For example, he must not have the lines of different objects cutting each other and forming unpleasant angles, for if he does this the eye of the observer will never get away from the geometrical figure, however good the other part of the picture may be. He should look for repeated line, and his lines should run into the picture, thus all uncomfortableness is avoided. |Balance.| There is no necessity for balance or the equal arrangement of masses on either side of the picture, for this, though it may produce pretty pictures, will never produce strong ones. Every line must help to tell the story and strengthen the picture, otherwise it weakens it.
It is of vital importance that this be well rendered, the method for obtaining it having already been shown.
The student must remember that he must give the true value to the separate planes of the picture, or it is worthless for reasons already stated. The state of the weather, has, as we have indicated, a wonderful modifying effect on this perspective, and must be carefully studied.
Of vital importance is the relatively true rendering of tone as already indicated. This is such a subtle subject that no directions can be given for it, and the student can only master the subject by a long and ardent study of nature. He can test his knowledge by his power of criticizing pictures away from nature, for their truth or falsity of tone. The key in which the picture is pitched should always be in keeping with the subject rendered.
The objects must be arranged so that the thing expressed is told clearly and directly, in short, the student should try to express his subject as it has never been expressed before. All things not connected with the subject should be removed, and all but the chief thing to be expressed should be carefully subdued. The interest must not be divided, but all must go to help the expression of the motif of the picture. Thus a white patch the size of a threepenny piece may ruin a twelve by ten inch plate, as many a hat, a basket, as many a small article has done; just as a false foot may ruin an otherwise fine stanza. Be most careful how you introduce a detail, it may either make or mar your picture.
The sentiment and detail must always be appropriate or the result is a travesty. Thus haymakers do not wear new-fashioned buttoned boots, nor do rustics wear sun-bonnets and aprons all clean and fashionably cut. But this is only a superficial matter, the artist must carry appropriateness much deeper than in mere costume; for example, a flock of sheep on a pasture may be made quite false in sentiment, if they are driven in a way that suggests a march to the slaughter-house, and they very easily huddle together in a manner that suggests that final procession. The student will now see how subtle all these matters are, and how little yet how much divides the masterpiece from mediocrity. Some photographers think naturalism consists only in taking things as they are, and they will exclaim, if you criticize their work, “Oh! it was just like that any way.” True, oh ingenuous one, but it was just some other way as well, and perhaps that other way might have given a work of art, whereas this way has given a bald and uninteresting fact. Selection or composition is a most subtle matter, and one very difficult to learn, but let the student persevere, and if he has the ability he will find that the scales will fall from his eyes as he goes on.
The impression must be true throughout, and if all the preceding components are true the impression will be true.
Our student may now have carried out all these things and yet there may be no picture, his mind may be commonplace. He may have wasted a good technique on a commonplace subject, such as a yacht going in full sail, an express train, some very ordinary dogs or horses, or some very extraordinary men or women. We are then brought to a very important matter, the subject.
The subject must have pictorial qualities, it must be typical, and must give æsthetic pleasure. The student must look for elegance and a distingué air in his subject. You will find that the best pictures will be of those subjects which hit you hardest in nature, those which strike you so much that you feel an irresistible desire to secure them.
You must then train your feelings, for, as John Constable said, “the art of feeling nature is a thing almost as much to be cultivated as the art of reading the Egyptian hieroglyphics.” You must then, when you have felt your subject, be resolute and only take in what is necessary to express your subject; this is the text of the artist. Everything must be harmonious and comfortable, but that alone will not suffice any more than will the subject alone. Everything must be in keeping in the picture. The artist must be in sympathy with his subject, “entrer dans la même peau,” as the French say. He must have no preconceived notion of how he is going to do a subject, but take all his suggestions from nature and humbly follow them and lovingly portray them. Pure imitation of nature (even if it were possible) won’t do, the artist must add his intellect, hence his work is an interpretation. To photograph a “flying express” so that it looks as if standing still is imitation, to render it with the suggestion of motion by its smoke and steam is an interpretation. The great question which the student should ask himself is: My aim, what is it? If that be serious and honest, and not feeble and vainglorious, he is all right. Remember that the aim of art is to give æsthetic pleasure, and that artists are the best judges of this matter, and you will find that so good is their training that they often elevate the meanest things they touch.
The highest expression is that of poetry, and therefore the best works of art all contain poetry. What poetry is and how it is to be got is not to be discussed in our present state of knowledge, suffice it to say that the poet is born and not made, though the poet’s speech may be improved by training.
Thus it will be seen how difficult a matter it is to produce a picture, even when we have thoroughly mastered our technique and practice, for, to recapitulate, in a picture the arrangement of lines must be appropriate, the aërial perspective must be truly and subtily yet broadly rendered, the tonality must be relatively true, the composition must be perfect, the impression true, the subject distinguished, and if the picture is to be a masterpiece, the motif must be poetically rendered, for there is a poetry of photography as there is of painting and literature.
Never rest satisfied then until these requirements are all fulfilled, and destroy all works in which they are not to be found.
That it will be possible for comparatively few to succeed is evident, but the prize is worth striving for, for even if we do not all attain to the production of perfect works, we shall have gained a knowledge of art and an insight into nature, that will be a never-failing source of pleasure to us in our daily walks.
By far the most difficult branch of photography is that in which figures occur in landscapes. All previous remarks apply to this branch of the art, only here it is more necessary than ever that every detail be perfect. This is a branch which we have perhaps studied and developed more than any other, and yet even now we feel but a beginner in it. One thing you must never forget, that is the type; you must choose your models most carefully, and they must without fail be picturesque and typical. The student should feel that there never was such a fisherman, or such a ploughman, or such a poacher, or such an old man, or such a beautiful girl, as he is picturing. It is a great mistake for photographers to attempt rural subjects unless they have lived in the country for a long time and are thoroughly imbued with the sentiment of country life. The truth of this axiom is proved by the falseness of sentiment seen in most country pictures done by painters even. The student who lives in town will find good figure-subjects in the town, and if he has no sympathy with such life, he should try such subjects as shooting parties, coursing meets, riding subjects, and beautiful women. It is fallacious to try and cultivate an unsympathetic field and is sure to end in mediocrity or failure.
The easiest branch of photography is portraiture in the studio, for all conditions, including even the dress of the model, are in the photographer’s hands. The lighting is also perfectly under control.
The principles of lighting a face are briefly these: A top light gives the best and subtlest modelling, and gives more relief than any other lighting. But the aim of pictorial art is not to give relief to illusion, therefore the top light effect is modified by a side light and by reflectors. The principle of using a reflector is this: Light falling at right angles on a plane surface gives the highest light, then as we turn the reflector through a circle, we get all gradations up to full dark, when the reflector is turned right round. This principle must be remembered in lighting the planes of the face. The portraitist must work as does the sculptor, in planes and tone, that is, he must quickly make an analysis of the face and observe the most suitable treatment of the subject, and then he must focus and develop so as to bring the planes well out, and they must be broad in treatment and relatively true in tone.
These are the only principles which can be given for lighting, their application can be learned by study first on a plaster cast, and afterwards on the living model.
The great thing to obtain is the character or expression of the model, everything must be sacrificed for this in portraiture, and enough of the figure must be taken in to thoroughly express the character. Thus the head alone may do in some cases, in others it will be necessary to include the hands, in others the whole body. It is needless to repeat that all portraits should be taken by quick exposures. The best way is for the student to have a very long elastic tube to his shutter, then he can walk about and talk to the model, and when he sees a good natural pose, he can expose, and his picture will probably be good. The present way of posing, using head-rests, &c., is feeble and archaic, and nearly certain to result in failure.
Another important hint is to place the lens on the same level as the eye of the model, neither higher nor lower, especially if large heads are taken. When the picture is to be full length or three-quarter length, the head should still receive the principal attention, and all else be subdued.
We have already treated of arrangements of backgrounds and dresses in harmonies, and of the absolute necessity for using only suitable accessories. In addition all other principles of composition, harmony, breadth, as already described, must be remembered.