Having endeavoured to conduct our readers to Dublin, and give them a glance at the Exhibition, photographically and generally, we shall now take our leave of the capital of Ireland, and return to town in much the same manner as we went. We leave the Irish capital at 1.30 in the afternoon, and, after a pleasant and quiet run across the Channel, enter Holyhead harbour about seven o‘clock. This arrangement gives you an opportunity of seeing the Welsh coast to the best advantage as you approach. Stepping into the train which is waiting ourarrival, we are speedily on our way home. At Rugby we have to change, and wait a little; but before leaving there we pass the sign which only old masons and travellers know, and are provided with a first-class bed andboard, and so make ourselves comfortable for the night. We know nothing more of the remainder of the journey. Old Somnus has charge of us inside, and an old kind-hearted guard takes care of us outside, until we are aroused by the guard’s “Good morning, gentlemen!” about six o‘clock, a.m., within a few miles of Euston Square. In conclusion, we sincerely recommend as many of our readers as can to take a trip “to Dublin and back,” and a glance at the Dublin International Exhibition.
Ona recent journey northwards, I was tempted to stop at York, take a look at the Exhibition there, and see if there were anything worth notice in the Photographic Department. That part of the Exhibition is exceedingly scanty, but the best Yorkshire photographers are well represented, both in landscape and portraiture. Among the contributors are the names of Sarony, Glaisby, Holroyd, Gowland, and other well-known names. Mr. Sarony exhibits a couple of frames containing several “new photo-crayons,” cartes-de-visite vignettes, which are very sketchy and effective, exhibiting those free and “dashy lines” and “hatchings” so characteristic of the “softening off” of artistic crayon drawings. This effect may be produced by a process of double printing, but it is more likely to have been obtained direct in the camera from a screen, having the edges of the aperture “softened off” with some free touches, the screen, in all probability, being placed between the lens and the sitter. Mr. Sarony also exhibits some large photographs very beautifully finished in colours. Messrs. Gowland exhibit, in a revolving case, a very unique collection of medallions andvignettes, both plain and coloured, mounted on tinted grounds, which give the pictures a very chaste and delicate appearance. The photographs themselves are exquisite bits of artistic pose and careful manipulation. They also exhibit a charming vignette of twenty-nine young ladies, all cleverly arranged, each figure sharp and distinct, and evidently recognisable portraits. This picture reminds one of Watteau, for the figures are in the woods, only, instead of semi-nude nymphs, the sitters are all properly and fashionably dressed young ladies. Messrs. Holroyd contribute some very excellent cartes-de-visite and enlargements. Mr. E. C. Walker, of Liverpool, exhibits some very beautiful opalotypes, or “photographs on enamelled glass.” Mr. Swan, Charing Cross, London, also sends specimens of his crystal cube portraits. Mr. A. H. Clarke, a deaf and dumb photographer, exhibits some very good groups of the Princess of Wales, Lady Wharncliffe, Lady Maud Lascelles, Countess Granville, and the Hon. Mrs. Hardinge, taken in the conservatory, when the Princess and suite were on a visit to Studley Royal, Yorkshire.
Amongst the landscape photographs are to be found some of Bedford’s finest views of Egypt and Jerusalem, Devonshire and Warwickshire, the beauties of which are so well-known to everyone interested in photography. Some of the local views by local artists are very fine; W. P. Glaisby’s views of York Minster are capital, especially the interiors. Messrs. Jackson Brothers, of Oldham, exhibit some very fine views, and show what atmospheric effects the camera is capable of rendering. That view of “Birstall Church” is a perfect master-piece of photo-aerial perspective. There are also a considerable number of photographic productions from the South Kensington Museum. Mr. Gregson, of Halifax, exhibits some excellent photographs of machinery. In apparatus there is nothing novel or striking, there being but one case of cameras, &c., exhibited by a London maker. There is a “water agitator” in the machinery“annexe,” for washing photographic prints, but the invention is more ingenious than effective, for the water is not agitated sufficiently, except in the immediate neighbourhood of the fan or “agitator,” which moves backwards and forwards in the water, in a manner somewhat similar to the motion of the pendulum of a clock, and so laves the water to and fro; but the force is not sufficient to prevent the prints from lying close together at the extremities of the trough, and imperfect washing is sure to be the result. The motion is given to the “agitator” by the water falling on a small wheel, something like “Williams’s revolving print washing machine.”
To describe the Exhibition itself: It is rather like a “compound mixture” of the church, the shop, and the show. The “Great Hall” is something like the nave of a wooden cathedral, with galleries running all round, and a grand organ at the end, peeling forth, at intervals, solemn strains of long measure. Over the organ, in white letters on a red ground, is the quotation, “He hath made all things beautiful in his time.”
The show cases on the floor of the Grand Hall are arranged as indiscriminately as the shops in Oxford Street. In one case there are exhibited samples of Colman’s mustard, in that next to it samples of “Elkington and Co.’s plated goods,” and in another close by are samples of saddlery, which give the place more the business aspect of a bazaar than the desirable and advantageous classification of an exhibition. Then you are reminded of the show by the frequent ringing of a loud bell, and cries of “This way to the fairy fountain, just going to begin, only twopence.” Such things jar on the ears and nerves of quiet visitors, and are only expected in such a place as the Polytechnic in London.
The great features of the York Exhibition are the picture galleries; and here a better order of things prevails. The collections are classified; one gallery, or part of it, being devoted to the works of the old masters, anotherto the modern, and another to the water-colours. Among the old masters are some fine portraits by Velasquez, Tintoretto, Rembrandt, Vandyke, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Gainsborough, Sir Peter Lely, and others. And some of those grand old landscapes by Salvator Rosa, Rubens, Claude, Wilson, the English Claude, and George Morland, such pictures as are rarely seen out of private collections. The modern masters are abundantly represented by Wilkie, Etty, Frith, Westall, Faed, Cope, E. Nicol, Stanfield, Linnell, and a host of others. Amongst the water-colours are many fine examples of the works of Turner, the Richardsons (father and sons), Birket Foster, &c., &c.
Sculpture is very faintly represented, but there is a charming little Canova, Dirce, exhibited by Lord Wenlock; an antique bust of Julius Cæsar, which seems to have been found in fragments and carefully joined together. This bust is exhibited by the Hon. P. Downay, and was found in Rome amongst some rubbish, while some excavations were being made. There is also an interesting series of marble busts of the Twelve Cæsars, exhibited by Lord Londesborough. The Exhibition is open in the evening, and brilliantly lighted with gas till ten o‘clock; and, taking it “all in all,” it is a very creditable effort in the right direction, and does honour to York and Yorkshiremen.
Further north still, at Newcastle-on-Tyne, there is another exhibition of “Arts and Manufactures,” the chief photographic feature of which is a considerable display of “Swan’s Carbon Prints,” from several well-known negatives by Bedford and Robinson. The promise of this process is very great, and its commercial advantages were singularly demonstrated to me when visiting the printing establishment of Mr. Swan, which I happened to do on a dark and unfavourable day—one totally unfit for silver printing; and yet I saw several very beautiful carbon prints that had been produced that day, the rate of production being about eight to one over silver printing. As a proof ofthe certainty and commercial application to which Mr. Swan has reduced his beautiful process, I need only mention that he has undertaken the printing of two thousand copies of the celebrated picture of “The First General Assembly of the Church of Scotland,” painted by D. O. Hill. This historical picture contains four hundred and fifty portraits: the negatives were taken from the original painting by Mr. Annan, photographer, Glasgow, and are 32 by 14 inches, and 24 by 9 inches; and Mr. Swan has to turn off one thousand copies of each within a given time. The publishers of the work give a guarantee to their subscribers that every print shall be of a high standard, for each one has to pass the examination of two competent judges. They also very justly pride themselves on being the very first to translate and multiply such noble works of art by a process “so beautiful, and, at the same time,imperishable.” I saw several of the prints, both in process of development and complete; and anything more like rich, soft, and brilliant impressions of a fine mezzotint engraving I never saw, by any process of photography.
Mr. Swan’s arrangements for conducting the various parts of his process are very extensive and complete; and his mode of “developing and transferring” seems to be the very acme of perfection. But, as Mr. Swan is about to publish a work containing a full description of the process, with a beautiful specimen print as frontispiece, I will not anticipate him, or mar his own comprehensive account of the details of a process which he has brought to such a state of beauty and perfection, by an amount of patient perseverance and thoughtful application rarely exhibited or possessed by one individual.
I also visited the photographic establishment of Messrs. Downey in Newcastle, and there saw somecabinet picturesof the Princess of Wales, taken recently at Abergeldie Castle. Messrs. Downey have just returned from Balmoral with upwards of two hundred negatives, including whole-plate, half-plate,andcabinetsize, which will be published in one or all those sizes, as soon as the orders of Her Majesty have been executed. From the well-known reputation of the Messrs. Downey as photographers, it is, in all probability, a treat in store for the lovers of photography, to get a sight of their latest works at Balmoral and Abergeldie.
Mr. Parry, another excellent photographer in Newcastle, was also making arrangements to introduce the new cabinet size picture in a style that will insure its success.
Altogether, the movements of the best photographers in the North are highly commendable, and, with their notoriously practical minds, there is little doubt of their undertakings becoming a success. Let us hope that the same elements of energy and “push” will speedily impregnate the minds of all photographers, and create a combination that will develop a new form of popular beauty, and result in forming a salt that will savour their labours, produce deposits of gold, and create innumerable orders of merit.
Wehave recently had a few papers on the necessity of art culture and art knowledge in relation to photography, but they have chiefly been of a theoretical and speculative character, few, if any, assuming a practical form. “Apply the rod to teach the child” is an old saying, and our artist-friends and teachershaveapplied the rod and belaboured photography most unmercifully, but they havenottaught the child. They have contented themselves with abusing photographers for not doing what was right, instead of teaching them how to avoid what was wrong.
It will be my endeavour to point out, in this paper, some errors that have crept into photographers’ and artists’ studios, and I hope to be able to suggest a remedy that will lessenthese evils, and elevate photography in the scale of art. The faults in pictorial backgrounds that I invite your attention to, arise from the neglect of the principles of linear and aerial perspective. I do not speak of the errors in perspective that may exist in the backgrounds themselves, viewing them as pictures; but I refer to the manifest fault of depicting the sitter—the principal object—according to one condition of perspective, and the background that is placed behind him according to another. An unpardonable error in any work of art, whether photograph or painting, is to represent a natural object in an unnatural position. By this I do not mean an awkward and constrained attitude, but a false position of the principal subject in relation to the other objects by which it is surrounded. We frequently see portraits, both full-length and three-quarter size, with landscape backgrounds—or a bit of landscape to be seen through a painted or actual window—of the most unnatural proportions in relation to the figure itself. The head of the subject is stuck high in the heavens—sometimes so high that, in relation to the painted landscape, nothing shorter than a church steeple could attain such an altitude. The trees and castles of the pretty landscape, supposed to be behind the sitter, are like children’s toys; the mountains are like footballs in size, and the “horizon” is not so much in relation to the figure as the width of a fishpond is to a man standing on one side of it. It must be admitted that artists themselves have set this bad example of departing from truth to give increased importance to their subjects by placing their figures against diminutive backgrounds; but that is a liberty taken with nature which photographers should neither imitate nor allow. Photography is, in all other respects, so rigidly truthful that it cannot consistently sanction such a violation of natural laws.
Pictorial backgrounds have usually been painted on the same principle as a landscape picture, and one of the earliest things the painter has to determine is, where he shall represent thatline where the sky and earth appear to meet—technically, thehorizontal line. This settled, all the lines, not vertical or horizontal in the picture, below this are made to appear to rise up to it, and those above descend, and if all these are in due proportion the perspective is correct, no matter whether this governing line is assumed to be in the upper, lower, or middle part of the picture. A painter can suppose this imaginary line to be at any height he pleases in his picture, and paint accordingly. In photography it is invariable, and is always on a level with the lens of the camera. To illustrate the relation of the horizontal line to the human figure, when a pictorial background is to be introduced, let us imagine that we are taking a portrait out-of-doors, with a free and open country behind the person standing for his carte-de-visite. The camera and the model are, as a matter of course, on the same level. Now focus the subject and observe the linear construction of the landscape background of nature. See how all the lines of the objects below the level of the lens run up to it, and the lines of the objects above run down to it. Right across the lens is the horizontal line, and the centre is the point of sight, where all the lines will appear to converge. Suppose the lens to be on a level with the face of the subject, the horizontal line of the picture produced on the ground glass will be as near as possible as high as the eyes of the subject. Trees and hills in the distance will be above, and the whole picture will be in harmony. This applies to interior views as well, but the ocular demonstration is not so conclusive, for the converging lines will be cut or stopped by the perpendicular wall forming the background. Nevertheless, all the converging lines that are visible will be seen to be on their way to the point of sight. Whether a natural background consisted of an interior, or comprised both—such as a portion of the wall of a room and a peep through a window on one side of the figure—the conditions would be exactly the same. All the lines above the lens mustcome down, and all that are below must go up. The following diagrams will illustrate this principle still more clearly.
Fig. 1.Fig. 2.
Fig. 1 is a section of the linear construction of a picture, and will show how the lines converge from the point of observation to the point of sight. Artists, in constructing a landscape of an ordinary form, allot to the sky generally about twice the space between the base and horizontal lines. But for portraits and groups, where the figures are of the greatest importance and nearer to the eye, the proportion of sky and earth is reversed, so as to give increased value to the principal figures,by making them apparently larger, and still preserving the proper relation between them and the horizontal line (see fig. 2). This diagram represents the conditions of a full-length carte portrait, where the governing horizontal line is on a level with the camera. If a pictorial background, painted in the usual way, with the horizontal line low in the picture, is now placed behind the sitter, the resulting photograph will be incongruous and offensive. It will be seen, on referring to fig. 2, that all the lines below the horizon must of necessity run up to it, no matter how high the horizontal line may be, for it is impossible to have two horizons in one picture; that is, a visible horizon in the landscape background, and an imaginary one for the figure, with the horizontal line of the background far below the head of the figure, and the head far up in the sky. The head of a human figure can only be seen so far above the horizontal line under certain conditions; such as being elevated above the observer by being mounted on horseback, standing on higher ground, or otherwise placed considerably above the base line, none of which conditions are present in a studio. Whenever the observed and observer are on the same level, as must be the case when a photographer is taking the portrait of a sitter in his studio, the head of the subject could not possibly be seen so high in the sky, if the lens included a natural background instead of a painted one. As, for convenience, the painted background is intended to take the place of a natural one, care should be taken that the linear and aerial perspectives should be as true to nature as possible, and in perfect harmony with the size of the figures. The lens registers, on the prepared plate, the relative proportions of natural objects as faithfully as the retina receives them through the eye, and if we wish to carry out the illusion of pictorial backgrounds correctly, wemusthave the linear construction of the picture, which is intended to represent nature, as true in every respect as nature is herself.
Aerial perspective has not been sufficiently attended to by the painters of pictorial backgrounds. There are many other subjects in connection with art and photography that might be discussed with advantage—such as composition, arrangement of accessories, size, form, character, and fitness of the things employed; but I leave all these for another opportunity, or to someone more able to handle the subjects. For the present, I am content to point out those errors that arise from neglecting true perspective, and while showing the cause, distinctively supply a remedy.
It is not the fault of perspective in the background where the lines are not in harmony with each other—these too frequently occur, and are easily detected—but it is the error of painting a pictorial background as if it were an independent picture, without reference to the conditions under which it is to be used. The conditions of perspective are determined by the situation of the lens and the sitter. If the actual objects existed behind the sitter, and were photographed simultaneously with the sitter, the same laws of perspective would govern the two. What I urge is, that if, instead of the objects, a representation of them be put behind the sitter, that representation be also a correct one. The laws of perspective teach how it may be made correctly, and the starting point is the position of the lens in relation to the sitter.
Some may say that these conditions of painting a background cannot be complied with, as the lens and sitter are never twice exactly in the same relation to each other. There is less force in this objection than at first appears. Each photographer uses the same lens for all hiscarteportraits—and pictorial backgrounds are very frequently used for these—and the height of his camera, as well as the distance from his sitter, are so nearly constant, that the small amount of errors thus caused need not be recognized. If the errors that exist were not far more grave, there would be no necessity for thispaper. Exceptional pictures should have corresponding backgrounds.
When a “sitter” is photographed standing in front of a pictorial background, the photograph will represent him either standing in a natural scene, or before a badly-painted picture. Nobody should wittingly punish his sitter by doing the latter when he could do the former, and the first step to form the desirable illusion is pictorial truth. There is no reason why the backgrounds should not be painted truthfully and according to correct principles, for the one is as easy as the other. I daresay the reason is that artists have not intentionally done wrong—it would be too bad to suppose that—but they have treated the backgrounds as independent pictures, and it is for photographers to make what use of them they think proper. The real principles are, however, now stated, by which they can be painted so as to be more photographically useful, and artists and photographers have alike the key to pictorial truth.
In conclusion, I would suggest to photographers the necessity of studying nature more carefully—to observe her in their walks abroad, to notice the gradual decrease of objects both in size and distinctness, to remember that their lens is to their camera what their eye is to themselves, to give as faithful a transcript of nature as they possibly can, to watch the flow of nature’s lines, as well as natural light and shade, and, by a constant study and exhibition of truth and beauty in their works, make photography eventually the teacher of art, instead of art, as is now the case, being the reviler of photography.
To the Editors.
Gentlemen,—At the end of Mr. Alfred H. Wall’s reply to Mr. Carey Lea’s letter onArtists and Photographers, I noticethat he cautions your readers not to receive the very simple rules of perspective laid down in my paper, entitledErrors in Pictorial Backgrounds, until they have acquired more information on the subject. Allow me to state that all I said on perspective in that paper only went to show that there should be but one horizon in the same picture; that the lines of all objectsbelowthat horizon should run up to it; that the lines of all objectsaboveshould run down, no matter where thatonehorizon was placed; and that the horizon of the landscape background should be in due relation to the sitter and on a level with the eye of the observer, the observer being either the lens or the painter.
If your correspondent considers that I was in error by laying down such plain and common sense rules, which everyone can see and judge for himself by looking down a street, then I freely admit that your correspondent knows a great deal more aboutfalseperspective than I do, or should like to do.
Again, if your correspondent cannot see why I “volunteered to instruct artists” or painters of backgrounds, perhaps he will allow me to inform him that I did so simply because background painters have hitherto supplied photographers with backgrounds totally unfit for use in the photographic studio.
In spite of Mr. Wall’s assumption of superior knowledge on subjects relating to art, I may still be able to give him a hint how to produce a pictorial background that will be much more natural, proportionate, and suitable for the use of photographers than any hitherto painted.
Let Mr. Wall, or any other background painter, gooutwith the camera and take acarte-de-visiteportrait out-of-doors, placing the subject in any well-chosen and suitable natural scene, and photograph the “sitter” and the natural scene at the same time. Then bring the picture so obtained into his studio and enlarge it up to “life-size,” which he can easily do by the old-fashioned system of “squaring,” or, better still, by the aid of a magic lantern, and with the help of a sketch of the scene aswell, to enable him to fill in correctly that part of the landscape concealed by the figure taken on the spot; so that, when reproduced by the photographer inhisstudio, he will have a representation of a natural scene, with everything seen in the background in correct perspective, and in natural proportions in relation to the “sitter.” This will also show howfewobjects can naturally be introduced into a landscape background; and if the distant scenery be misty and undefined, so much the better. It is the sharpness, hardness, and superabundance of subjects introduced into pictorial backgrounds generally that I object to, and endeavoured to point out in my paper; and I consider it no small compliment to have had my views on that part of my subject so emphatically endorsed by so good an authority as Mr. Wallis, in his remarks on backgrounds at the last meeting of the South London Photographic Society.
I make no pretensions to the title of “artist,” although I studied perspective, drawing from the flat and round, light and shade, and other things in connection with a branch of art which I abandoned many years ago for the more lucrative profession of a photographer. Were I so disposed, I could quote Reynolds, Burnett, and Ruskin as glibly as your correspondent; but I prefer putting my own views on any subject before my readers in language of my own.
I endeavour to be in all my words and actions thoroughly independent and consistent, which is more than I can say for your correspondent “A. H. W.” In proof of which, I should like to call the attention of your readers to a passage in his “Practical Art Hints,” in the last issue ofThe British Journal of Photography, where he says:—“It is perversion and degradation to an art like ours to make its truth and unity subservient to conventional tricks, shams, and mechanical dodges,” while at the last meeting of the South London Photographic Society, when speaking of backgrounds, he admitted they wereall conventional.
Now, that is just what we do not want, and which was the chief object I had in view when I wrote my paper. We have had too many of those art-conventional backgrounds, and want something more in accordance with natural truth and the requirements of photography.
In conclusion, allow me to observe that I should be truly sorry were I to mislead anyone in the pursuit of knowledge relative to our profession, either artistically or photographically. But let it be borne in mind that it is admitted on all sides, and by the best authorities, that nearly all the pictorial backgrounds now in use are quite unnatural, and totally unsuited for the purposes for which they are intended. Therefore the paper I read will have done the good I intended, and answered the purpose for which it was written, if it has been the means of calling attention to such glaring defects and absurdities as are now being perpetrated by background painters, and bringing in their place more natural, truthful, and photographically useful backgrounds into the studios of all photographers.—I am, yours, &c.,
J. Werge.
February 10th, 1866.
To the Editors.
Gentlemen,—I must beg of you to allow me to reply to Mr. Wall once more, and for the last time, on this subject, especially as that gentleman expects an answer from me.
To put myself into a fair position with regard to Mr. Wall and your readers, I will reply to the latter part of his letter first, by stating that I endeavour to avoid all personality in this discussion, and should be sorry to descend to anything of the kind knowingly. When I spoke of “independency and consistency,” I had not in view anything relative to his private character, but simply that kind of independence which enablesa man to trust to his own powers of utterance for the expression of his ideas, instead of that incessant quoting the language of others, to which your correspondent, Mr. Wall, is so prone. As to his inconsistency, I mean that tendency which he exhibits to advocate a principle at one time, and denounce it at another. I shall prove that presently. Towards Mr. Wall, personally, I have neither animosity nor pique, and would take him by the hand as freely and frankly as ever I did were I to meet him at this moment. With his actions as a private gentleman I have nothing to do. I look upon him now as a controvertist only. So far, I hope I have made myself clearly understood by Mr. Wall and all concerned.
I also should like to have had so important a question discussed without introducing so much of that frivolous smartness of style generally adopted by Mr. Wall. But, as he has introduced two would-be-funny similes, I beg to dispose of them before going into more serious matter. Taking the “butcher” first (see the fifth paragraph in Mr. Wall’s last letter), I should say that, if I wereeatingthe meat, I should be able to judge of its quality, and know whether it was good or bad, in spite of all the butcher might say to the contrary; and surely, no man not an out-and-out vegetarian, or lacking one of the five senses—to say nothing ofcommon sense—will admit that it isnecessaryto be a “butcher” to enable him to be a judge of good meat. On the same ground, I contend that it isnotnecessary for a man to be an artist to have a thorough knowledge of perspective; and I have known many artists who knew as little about perspective, practically, as their easel did. They had a vague and dreamy idea of some governing principles, but how to put those principles into practice they had not the slightest notion. I once met an artist who could not put a tesselated pavement into perspective, and yet he had some right to the title of artist, for he could draw and paint the human figure well. Perspective is based on geometrical principles, and can be as easily masteredby any man not an artist as the first book of Euclid, or the first four rules of arithmetic; and, for all that, it is astonishing how many artists know so little about the working rules of perspective.
Again: Mr. Wall is surely not prepared to advance the dictum that no one can know anything about art but a professional artist. If so, how does he reconcile that opinion with the fact of his great and oft-quoted authority, Ruskin, not being an artist, but simply, in his public character, a voluminous writer on art, not always right, as many artists and photographers very well know.
Mr. Wall objects to my use of the word “artist,” but he seems to have overlooked the fact that I used the quotation marks to show that I meant to apply it to the class of self-styled artists, or men who arrogate to themselves a title they do not merit—not such men as Landseer, Maclise, Faed, Philips, Millais, and others of, and not of, the “Forty.” Mr. Wall may be an artist. I do not say he is not. He also is, or was, a painter of backgrounds. So he can apply to himself whichever title he likes best; but whether he deserves either one or the other, depends on what he has done to merit the appellative.
Mr. Wall questions the accuracy of the principles I advocated in my paper. I contend that I am perfectly correct, and am the more astonished at Mr. Wall when I refer to vol. v., page 123, of thePhotographic News. There I find, in an article bearing his own name, and entitled “The Technology of Art as Applied to Photography,” that he says:—
“If you make use of a painted cloth to represent an interior or out-door view, the horizontal line must be at somewhere about the height which your lens is most generally placed at, and the vanishing point nearly opposite the spot occupied by the camera. * * * * I have just said that the horizon of a landscape background and the vanishing point should be opposite the lens; I may, perhaps, for the sake of such operators as arenot acquainted with perspective, explain why. The figure and the background are supposed to be taken at one and the same time, and the camera has the place of the spectator by whom they are taken. Now, suppose we have a real figure before a real landscape: if I look up at a figure I obtain one view of it, but if I look down on it, I get another and quite a different view, and the horizon of the natural landscape behind the figure is always exactly the height ofmyeye. To prove this, you may sit down before a window, and mark on the glass the height of the horizon; then rise, and, as you do so, you will find the horizon also rises, and is again exactly opposite your eye. A picture, then, in which the horizontal line of the background represents the spectator as looking up at the figure from a position near the base line, while the figure itself indicates that the same spectator is at that identical time standing with his eyes on a level with the figure’s breast or chin—such productions are evidently false to art, and untrue to nature. * * * * The general fault in the painted screens we see behind photographs arises from introducing too many objects.”
Now, as I advanced neither more nor less in my paper, why does Mr. Wall turn round and caution your readers not to receive such simple truths uttered by me? I was not aware that Mr. Wall had forestalled me in laying down such rules; for at that date I was in America, and did not see theNews; but, on turning over the volume for 1861 the other day, since this discussion began, I there saw and read, with surprise, the above in his article on backgrounds. I am perfectly aware that I did not say all that I might have said on perspective in my paper; but the little I did say was true in principle, and answered my purpose.
When Mr. Wall (in the second paragraph of his last letter) speaks of the “principal visual ray going from the point of distance to the point of sight, and forming a right angle to the perspective plane,” it seems to me that he is not quite sure ofthe difference between the points ofsight,distance, andobservation, or of the relation and application of one to the other. However, his coming articles on perspective will settle that. It also appears to me that he has overlooked the fact that my diagrams weresections, showing the perspective inclination and declination of the lines of a parallelogram towards the point of sight. In my paper I said nothing about thepoint of distance; with that I had nothing to do, as it was not my purpose to go into all the dry details of perspective. But I emphatically deny that anything like a “bird’s eye view” of the figure could possibly be obtained by following any of the rules I laid down. In my paper I contended for the camera being placed on a level with the head of the sitter, and that would bring the line of the horizon in a pictorial background also as high as the head of the sitter. And if the horizon of the pictorial background were placed anywhere else, it would cause the apparent overlapping oftwoconditions of perspective in the resulting photograph. These were the errors I endeavoured to point out. I maintain that my views are perfectly correct, and can be proved by geometrical demonstration, and the highest artistic and scientific testimony.
I wish it to be clearly understood that I do not advocate the use of pictorial backgrounds, and think I pretty strongly denounced them; but if theymustbe used by photographers, either to please themselves or their customers, let them, for the credit of our profession, be as true to nature as possible.
I think I have now answered all the points worth considering in Mr. Wall’s letter, and with this I beg to decline any further correspondence on the subject.—I am, yours, &c.,
J. Werge.
March 5th, 1866.
Inthe following notes on some of the pictures in the National Gallery, it is not my intention to assume the character of an art-critic, but simply to record the impressions produced on the mind of a photographer while looking at the works of the great old masters, with the view of calling the attention of photographers and others interested in art-photography to a few of the pictures which exhibit, in a marked degree, the relation of the horizon to the principal figures.
During an examination of those grand old pictures, two questions naturally arise in the mind: What is conventionality in art? and—In whose works do we see it? The first question is easily answered by stating that it is a mode of treating pictorial subjects by established rule or custom, so as to obtain certain pictorial effects without taking into consideration whether such effects can be produced by natural combinations or not. In answer to the second question, it may be boldly stated that there is very little of it to be seen in the works of the best masters; and one cannot help exclaiming, “What close imitators of nature those grand old masters were!” In their works we never see that photographic eye-sore which may be called a binographic combination of two conditions of perspective, or the whereabouts of two horizons in the same picture.
The old masters were evidently content with natural combinations and effects for their backgrounds, and relied on the rendering of natural truths more than conventional falsehoods for the strength and beauty of their productions. Perhaps the simplest mode of illustrating this would be to proceed to a kind of photographic analysis of the pictures of the old masters, and see how far the study of their works will enable the photographer to determine what he should employ and what he should reject as pictorial backgrounds in the practice of photography. As a photographer, then—for it is the photographic application of artwe have to consider—I will proceed to give my notes on pictures in the National Gallery, showing the importance of having the horizontal line in its proper relation to the sitter or figure.
Perhaps the most beautiful example is the fine picture by Annibale Carracci of “Christ appearing to Peter.” This admirable work of art as nearly as possible contains the proportions of a carte-de-visite or whole-plate picture enlarged, and is well worthy the careful attention and study of every photographer; not only for its proportions and the amount of landscape background introduced, showing the proper position of the horizon and the small amount of sky visible, but it is a wonderful example of light and shade, foreshortening, variety and contrast of expression, purity of colour, simplicity of design, and truthfulness to nature. Neither of the figures lose any of their force or dignity, although the horizontal line is as high as their heads, and the whole of the space between is filled in with the scene around them. In its linear perspective it is quite in keeping with the figures, and the scenery is in harmonious subjection, controlled and subdued by aerial perspective.
The large picture of “Erminia takes refuge with the Shepherds,” by the same artist, is also a fine example of a horizon high in the picture. The figure of Erminia is separated from the other figures, and could be copied or reproduced alone without any loss of beauty and dignity, or any violation of natural laws.
Murillo’s picture of “St. John and the Lamb” suggests an admirable background for the use of the photographer. It consists of dark masses of rock and foliage. Nothing distinct or painfully visible, the distant masses of foliage blend with the clouds, and there is nothing in the background but masses of light and shade to support or relieve the principal objects.
In the picture of “Christ appearing to Mary Magdalene,” by Titian, the water-line is above the head of Christ, but if thefigure were standing upright, the head of the Saviour would break the horizontal line.
Titian’s “Bacchus and Ariadne” also has the water-line breast high, almost to the neck of Ariadne. The figure of Bacchus springing from the car, as a matter of course, is much higher in the sky. This picture presents the perspective conditions of the painter having been seated while painting such figures from nature, or similar to the results and effects obtained by taking a group with the lens on a level with the breast or lower part of the necks of figures standing.
In Titian’s portrait of Ariosto there is a dark foliated background which gives great brilliancy to the picture, but no sky is visible. The “Portrait of a Lady,” by Paris Bardone, has an architectural background in which no sky is to be seen. The picture is very brilliant, and the monotony of a plain background is skilfully overcome.
The picture of “St. Catharine of Alexandria,” by Raphael, has a landscape background, with the horizon about as high as the breast, as if the artist had been seated and the model standing during the process of painting.
Raphael’s picture of “The Vision of a Knight” is another example of the fearlessness of that artist in putting in or backing up his figures with a large amount of landscape background.
The proportions of Correggio’s “Venus, Mercury, and Cupid,” are as nearly as possible those of a carte-de-visite enlarged; and that picture has no sky in the background, but a very suitable dark, cool, rocky scene, well subdued, for the rocks are quite near to the figures. This background gives wonderful brilliancy to the figures, and contrasts admirably with the warm and delicate flesh tints.
Correggio’s “Holy Family” has a landscape and architectural background, with a very little sky visible in the right-hand corner.
In the “Judgment of Paris,” by Rubens, the horizontal lineof the background cuts the waist of the first female figure, showing that the artist was seated. The other two female figures are placed against a background of rocks and dark masses of foliage. Rubens’ picture of the “Holy Family and St. George” is also a good example of the kind of picture for the photographer to study as to the situation of the horizontal line.
The picture of “The Idle Servant,” by Nicolaes Maes, is also an excellent subject for study of this kind. It shows the due relation of the horizon of an interior in a very marked degree, and its shape and subject are very suitable to the size and form of a carte-de-visite. So are his pictures of “The Cradle” and “A Dutch Housewife.”
The picture of “John Arnolfini of Lucca and his Wife,” painted by John Van Eyck in the fifteenth century, is an excellent specimen of an interior background, with a peep out of a window on one side of the room. This is a capital subject for the study of photographers who wish to use a background representing an interior.
“The Holy Family at a Fountain,” a picture of the Dutch school, painted by Schoorel in the sixteenth century, has an elaborate landscape background with the horizon above the heads of the figures, as if the artist had been standing and the models sitting.
For an example of a portrait less than half-length, with a landscape background, look at the portrait of “An Italian Gentleman,” by Andrea da Solario. This picture shows how very conscientiously the old masters worked up to the truth of nature in representing the right amount of landscape in proportion to the figure; but the background is much too hard and carefully worked out to be pleasing. Besides, it is very destructive to the force and power of the picture, which will be at once visible on going to the portraits by Rembrandt, which have a marvellous power, and seem to stand right before thedark atmospheric backgrounds which that artist generally painted in his portraits.
There are other examples of half-length portraits with landscape backgrounds, wherein the horizontal line passes right through the eyes of the principal figure, one of which I will mention. It is that of the “Virgin and Child,” by Lorenzo di Credi. In this picture the horizontal line passes right through the eyes of the Virgin without interfering with the interest of the chief object.
Several examples of an opposite character are to be seen in the National Gallery, with the horizon of the landscape background much too low in the picture. It is needless to call special attention to them. After carefully examining the works already named, and comparing them with the natural effects to be observed daily, it will be quickly seen which is a truthful picture in this respect, and which is a false one.
Thediscussion on “Sharpness: what is it?” at the meeting of the South London Photographic Society in May, 1861, and the more recent discussion on “Focussing” at the last meeting of the same Society, seem to me to have lost much of their value and importance to photographers for want of a better definition of the termhardnessas applied to art, and as used byartistsin anartistic sense. Webster, in his second definition of the word “hardness,” gives it as “difficulty to be understood.” In that sense Mr. Wall succeeded admirably when he gave the termconcentration, in reply to Mr. Hughes, who asked Mr. Wall what he meant byhardness. Fairholt gives theart meaningof the word as “want of refinement; academic drawing, rather than artistic feeling.” But even that definition would not have been sufficiently comprehensive to convey an adequate idea of the meaning of the term in contradistinction to the wordsharpness,and I cannot but think that Mr. Wall failed in his object in both papers, and lost considerable ground in both discussions, by not giving more attention to the nice distinctions of the two terms as used in art, and explaining their artistic meanings more clearly.
Sharpness need not be hardness; on the contrary, sharpness and softness can be harmoniously combined in the representation of any object desired. On the other hand, a subject may possess abundance of detail, and yet convey to the mind an idea ofhardnesswhich the artist did not intend. This kind of hardness I should attribute to a miscarriage of thought, or a failure, from want of manipulative skill, to produce the desired effect. For example: one artist will paint a head, model it carefully, and carry out all the gradations of light and shade, and for all that it will behard—hard as stone, resembling the transcript of a painted statue more than flesh. With the same brushes and colours another artist will paint a head that may be no better in its drawing, nor any more correct in its light and shade, but it will resembleflesh, and convey to the mind of the observer a correct impression of the substance represented—its flexibility and elasticity—that it is something that would be warm and pleasant to the touch, and not make you recoil from it as if it were something cold, hard, and repulsive, as in the former case. Again, two artists will paint a fabric or an article of furniture (say a table) with the same brushes, pigments, and mediums: the one artist will render it so faithfully in every respect that it would suggest to the mind the dull sound peculiar to wood when struck, and not the sharp, clear ring of metal which the work of the other artist would suggest.
Another example: one artist paints a feather, and it appears to have all the feathery lightness and characteristics of the natural object; the other will paint it the same size, form, and colour, and yet it will be more like a painted chip, wanting the downy texture and float-in-the-air suggestiveness of the other.Thus it will be seen that both artists had similar ideas, had similar materials and means at their disposal to render on canvas the same or similar effects. The one succeeded, and the other failed, in giving a faithful rendering of the same subjects; but it was no fault in the materials with which they worked. The works of one artist will convey to the mind an idea of the thing itself; with its texture, properties, weight, and proportions; nothing undervalued; nothing overrated, nothing softer, nothing harder, than the thing in nature intended to be portrayed. The other gives the same idea of form and size, light and shade, and colour, but not the texture; it is something harder, as iron instead of wood, or hard wood instead of soft wood, or stone instead of flesh. This, then, is the artistic meaning of hardness (or concentration, as Mr. Wall said), and that is an apparent packing together, a compression or petrifaction of the atoms or fibre of which the natural materials are composed. This difference in the works of artists is simply the effects offeeling, of power over the materials employed, and ability to transfer to canvas effects that are almost illusions. And so it is with photographers in the production of the photographic image. There is the same difference in feeling and manipulative skill, the same difference of power over the materials employed, that enables one photographer to surpass another in rendering more truthfully the difference of texture. Photographers may and do use the same lenses and chemicals, and yet produce widely different results. One, by judgment in lighting and superior manipulation, will transfer to his plates more texture and suggestiveness of the different substances represented than the other. It is a fact well-known to old photographers that in the best days of the Daguerreotype practice two widely different classes of pictures were produced by the most skilfulDaguerreotypists, both sharp and full of exquisite detail; yet the one washard, in an artistic sense, not that it wanted half-tone to link the lights and shades together, but because it was of a bronzyhardness, unlike flesh from which it was taken, and suggested to the mind a picture taken from a bronze or iron statue of the individual, rather than a picture taken from the warm, soft flesh of the original. The other would be equally sharp as far as focussing andsharp lensescould make it, and possess as much detail, but it would be different in colour and texture; the detail would be soft, downy, and fleshy, not irony, if I may use that word in such a sense; and this difference of effect arose entirely from a difference of feeling, lighting, preparation of the plate, and development of the pictures. They might all use the best of Voightlander’s or C. C. Harrison’s lenses, the favourite lenses of that day. They might all use the same make of plates, the same iodine, bromine, and mercury, yet there would be this difference in the character of the two classes of pictures. Both would be sharp and possess abundance of detail, still one would besoftand the other hard in an artistic acceptation of the wordhardness.
Collodion positives exhibited a similar difference of character. The works of one photographer would be cold and metallic looking, while the works of another would be softer and less metallic, giving a better idea of the texture of flesh and the difference of fabrics, which many attributed to the superiority of the lens; but the difference was really due to manipulation, treatment, and intelligence. And so it is with the collodion negative. A tree, for instance, may be photographed, and its whole character changed by selecting a bad and unsuitable light, or by bad manipulation. The least over-development or “piling up” of a high light may give it a sparkling effect that would change it into the representation of a tree of cast iron, rather than agrowing tree, covered with damp, soft, and moss-stained bark. Every object and every fabric, natural or manufactured, has its own peculiar form of “high light” or mode of reflecting light, and care must be taken by both artist and photographer not to exceed the amount of light reflected by each particularobject, else ahardness, foreign to the natural object, will be represented. But not only should the artist and photographer possess this feeling for nature in all her subtle beauties and modes of expressing herself, to prevent a miscarriage in the true rendering of any object, the photographic printer should also have a sympathy for the work in hand, or he will, by over-fixing, or in various other ways, mar the successful labours of the photographer, and make a negative that is full of softness, and tenderly expresses the truth of nature, yield prints that are crude, and convey to the mind a sense ofhardnesswhich neither the natural objects nor the negative really possess.
Now, I think it will be seen thathardnessin a painting or a photograph does not mean sharpness; nor is the artistic meaning of the wordhardnessconfined to “rigid or severe drawing,” but that it has a broader and more practical definition than concentration; and that the converse to the art meaning ofhardnessis softness, tenderness, truthfulness in expressing the varied aspects of nature in all her forms, all of which are coincident with sharpness.—J. Werge(Photographic News).