To the Editors, British Journal.
Gentlemen,—Allow me to express my opinion on the suggestion to unite the North and South London Societies, and to point out a few of the advantages which, I think, would accrue from a more extensive amalgamation.
Though I am a member of all the three London photographic societies, I have long been of opinion that there are too many, and that the objects of all are considerably weakened by such a diffusion of interests. If the furtherance of the art and the free and mutual interchange of thought and experience among the members were the only things considered, there would be butone society in London; and with one society embodying all the members that now make the three, how much more good might be done!
In the first place, the amounts now paid for rent by the three would, if united, secure an excellent meeting room or chambers, in a central position, for theexclusiveuse of the society, where the ordinary and special meetings, annual exhibitions, andsoiréescould be held much more independently than now, and at a cost little or no more than what is now paid for the privilege of holding the ordinary meetings alone.
Secondly: If such a place of meeting were secured, then that laudable scheme of an art library, so strenuously advocated by Mr. Wall and Mr. Blanchard at the South London Photographic Society, might be successfully carried into effect. Then a library and a collection of works of art might be gradually gathered together, and one of the members could be chosen curator and librarian, to attend the rooms one evening in the week, or oftener, as circumstances might require, so as to give members access to the library to make exchanges, extracts from bulky books, &c.
Thirdly: If the union were effected, and the place of meeting more central, there would be a larger attendance of members, and more spirited and valuable proceedings would be the result. Papers to be read at the regular meetings would be much more certain, and the discussions would be more comprehensive and complete. The members would become personally acquainted with each other, and a much better feeling would pervade the whole photographic community.
These, gentlemen, are a few of the advantages which ought to accrue from a union of the three societies; but, if that cannot be effected, by all means let the triumvirate now existing be reduced to a biumvirate. If it be not possible for the “Parent Society” and her offspring to reunite their interests and affection for the common good, surely the other two can, and therebystrengthen themselves, and secure to their members a moiety of the advantages which would result from the triple alliance.
But, before proceeding farther, let me ask—Has such a thing as a triple alliance ever been considered? Has it been ascertained that an amicable amalgamation with the Photographic Society of London is impossible? If so, what are the motives of the proposers of the union of the North and South London Societies? Do they wish to form a more powerful antagonism to the other society, or do they simply and purely wish to further the advancement of our art-science, and not to gratify personal pique or wounded pride? I do not wish to impute such unworthy motives to anyone; but it does seem singular that the proposition should come from the Chairman of the North London Photographic Association almost simultaneously with the resignation of his seat at the council board of the Parent Society.
If, however, the motives are pure, honest, and earnest, I heartily approve of the suggestion as a step in the right direction, although I candidly admit that I would much rather see all the societies united in one, and fully believe that that would be the most advantageous arrangement that could possibly be made for all concerned.—I am, yours, &c.,
Union Jack(J. Werge).
London, February 18th, 1867.
To the Editors of the British Journal.
Gentlemen,—Perhaps I am in courtesy bound to answer the questions of your correspondents, Mr. Homersham and “Blue Pendant,” but in self-justification I do not think it necessary, for it turns out that my suspicions of antagonism to the Parent Society were well founded; and, from their remarks, and the observations of your contributor “D.,” I learn that the disaffection is more widely spread than I at first thought it was.
I may have been wrong in suspecting the Chairman of theNorth London Photographic Association of unworthy motives; if so, I frankly beg that gentleman’s pardon. But I am not wrong in suspecting that antagonism is mixed up with the movement.
Your contributor “D.” chooses to construe my unwillingness to make a direct charge—my hope that there were no such unworthy motives—into timidity; but I beg to remind “D.” that there is not much, if any, of that apparent in my putting the plain questions I did, which, by-the-by, have not yet been very satisfactorily answered.
I flatter myself that I know when and how to do battle, and when to sue for peace, as well as any in the service under whose flag I have the honour to sail; and I, as much as anyone, admire the man that can fight courageously when in the right, or apologise gracefully when in the wrong; but, as the object of this correspondence is neither to make recriminations, nor indulge in personal abuse, I return to the primary consideration of the subject, and endeavour to sift the motives of the movers of the proposition to unite the North and South London Societies, and ascertain, if possible, whether they have the good of those societies and the furtherance of photography really at heart or not.
Imprimis, then, let us consider the arguments of “D.,” who cites the resignation of three gentlemen in proof of the management of the London Photographic Society being “out of joint.” He might as well say, “because a man is sick, leave him and let him die.” If there were anything they disliked in the government of the Society, or any evil to be corrected, their most manly course was to have held on, and fought the evils down. They all had seats at the Council board, and if they had wished well to the Society, they would not have resigned them, but battled for the right, and brought their grievances, real or imagined, before the members. A special meeting has been called before now to consider personal grievances which affectedthe honour of the Society, and I should think it could have been done again. I do not maintain that all is right in the Society, but I do think that they were wrong in resigning their seats because an article appeared in the Society’s journal condemnatory of a process to which they happened to be devotedly attached.
It can scarcely be supposed that the cause of reform, or the general good of the country, would have been forwarded had Gladstone, Bright, and Earl Russell resigned their seats as members of either House because they could not carry their ministerial bill of last session. From this I argue that men who have the object they advocate, and the “best interests” of the Society, thoroughly at heart, will stick to it tenaciously, whether in or out of office, and, by their watchfulness, prevent bad becoming worse, in spite of captious opposition, fancied insults, or journalistic abuse.
The next paragraph by “D.” on which I shall comment contains that bold insinuation of timidity, which I have already noticed as much as I intend to do. But I wish to discuss the question of “absorption” a little more fully. I cannot at all agree with the sentiments of “D.” on that subject. Absorption is in many instances a direct and positive advantage to both the absorber and absorbed, as the absorption of Sicily by Italy, and Frankfort and Hanover by Prussia. Nitric acid absorbs silver, and how much more valuable and useful to the photographer is the product than either of the two in their isolated condition; and so, I hold, it would be with the Society were the two other Societies to join the old one, impart to it their chief characteristics, re-model the constitution, and elect the members of the Council by ballot. We should then have a society far more powerful and useful than could ever be obtained by the formation of a new one.
In the foregoing, I think I have also answered the question of Mr. Homersham, as well as that part of “Blue Pendant’s”letter relating to the establishment of afourthsociety. On that point my views harmonise with those of your contributor, “D.”
On the subject of “members of Council,” I do not agree with either “D.” or your correspondent “Blue Pendant.” The Council should be elected from and by the body of members, and the only qualifications necessary should be willingness and ability to do the work required. No consideration of class should ever be admitted. The members are all recommended by “personal knowledge,” and elected by ballot, and that alone should be test sufficient on the score of respectability.
Concerning “papers written as puffs,” I cordially agree with “Blue Pendant” as far as he goes; but I go further than that, and would insist on each paper being scrutinised, before it is read, by a committee appointed for the purpose, so as to prevent “trade advertisements” and such shamefully scurrilous papers as I have heard at the South London Photographic Society.
With reference to the questions put by “Blue Pendant,” I beg to decline answering his second, it not being pertinent; but I shall reply to his first more particularly. He seems to have forgotten or overlooked the fact that I thought the advantages I enumerated would result from a union of thethreesocieties—not from an alliance of the two only. That I still look upon suspiciously as antagonistic to the Parent Society; and “Blue Pendant’s” antagonism is proved beyond doubt when he says it is “tottering to its fall,” and he almost gloatingly looks forward to its dissolution coming, to use his own words, “sooner or later,” and “perhaps the sooner the better.” But I venture to think that “Blue Pendant” is not likely to be gratified by seeing the “aged Parent” decently laid in the ground in his time. There is too much “life in the old dog yet”—even since the secession—for that to come to pass. It cannot be denied that the Parent Society has amongst its members some ofthe best speakers, thinkers, writers, and workers in the whole photographic community.
While discussing this subject, allow me, gentlemen, to advert to an article in your contemporary of Friday last. In the “Echoes of the Month,” by an Old Photographer, the writer thinks that the advantages I pointed out as likely to accrue from a union of the societies are a “pleasant prospect that will not bear the test of figures.” It is a fact that “figures” are subject to the rules of addition as well as of subtraction, and I wish to show by figures that my ideas are not so impracticable as he imagines. In addition to the eight guineas a year paid by the North and South London Photographic Societies for rent, I notice in the report of the London Photographic Society, published last month, two items in the “liabilities” which are worth considering. One is “King’s College, rent and refreshment, £42 4s. 6d.,” which, I presume, is for one year. The other is “King’s Collegesoiréeaccount, £20 15s. 6d.,” part of which is undoubtedly for rent of rooms on that occasion. Now there is a clear showing of over £50 12s. 6d. paid in one year by the three societies for rent and refreshment, the latter not being absolutely necessary. I may be mistaken in my estimate of the value of central property; but I do think a sum exceeding £50 is sufficient to secure a room or chambers large enough for the purposes of meeting, and keeping a library, &c.; or, if not, would it not be worth while making a strain to pay a little more so as to secure the accommodation required? If the Coventry Street experiment were a failure from apathy or other causes, that is no proof that another attempt made by a more numerous, wealthy, and energetic body would also be abortive. In sea phraseology, “the old ship has made a long leg to-day!” but I hope, gentlemen, you will not grudge the space required for the full and careful consideration of this subject. The “developing dish” and the ordinarymodus operandiof photography can well afford to stand aside for awhile to have this question discussedto the end. I have not said all I can on the amalgamation project, and may return to it again with your kind permission, if necessary.—I am, yours, &c.,
Union Jack(J. Werge).
London, March 4, 1867.
Impressions and Convictions of “Lux Graphicus.”
Thebrief and all but impromptu Exhibition of the Photographic Society, recently held in the rooms of the Architectural Society, 9, Conduit Street, Regent Street, where the Society’s meetings are to be held in future, was one of the pleasantest and most useful expositions in connection with photography that has been consummated for many years. In the first place the idea of an exhibition evening free from the formalities of asoiréewas a happy one; thelocalewas happily chosen; and the whole arrangements most happily successful. Everybody seemed to be pleased; cordial expressions of agreeable surprise were freely exchanged; and there were abundance and variety enough of pictorial display to satisfy the most fastidious visitor.
As might have been expected, the works of M. Salomon, exhibited by Mr. Wharton Simpson, were the chief objects of attraction, and during the whole of the evening an anxious group surrounded the collection; and it was curious to remark with what eagerness these pictures were scrutinized, so as to ascertain whether they were examples of photography “pure and undefiled,” or helped by artistic labour afterwards. That they are the very finest specimens of art-photography—both in the broad and masterly treatment of light and shade, pose, manipulation, tone of print, and after finish—that have ever been exhibited, is unquestionable; but to suppose that they arephotographs unaided by art-labour afterwards is, I think, a mistake. All of the heads, hands, and portions of the drapery bear unmistakable proofs of after-touching. Some of them give evidence of most elaborate retouching on the hands and faces, on the surface of the print. I examined the pictures by daylight most minutely with the aid of a magnifying glass, and could detect the difference between the retouching on the negative, and, after printing, on the positive. The faces of nearly all the ladies present that appearance of dapple or “stipple” which nothing in the texture of natural flesh can give, unless the sitter were in the condition of “goose flesh” at the moment of sitting, which is a condition of things not at all likely. Again, hatching is distinctly visible, which is not the photographic reproduction of the hatch-like line of the cuticle. In support of that I have two forms of evidence: first,comparison, as the hatchings visible on the surface of the print are too long to be a reproduction of the hatch-like markings of the skin, even on the hands, which generally show that kind of nature’s handiwork the most. Besides, the immense reduction would render that invisible even under a magnifying glass, no matter how delicate the deposit of silver might be on the negative; or even if it were so, the fibre of the paper would destroy the effect. Again, the hatchings visible are not the form of nature’s hatchings, but all partake of that art-technical form called “sectional hatchings.” I could name several of the prints that showed most conclusive evidence of what I say, but that is not necessary, because others saw these effects as well as I did. But I wish it to be distinctly understood that I have not been at the pains to make these examinations and observations with the view of lessening the artistic merit of these pictures. I unhesitatingly pronounce them the most beautiful achievements of the camera that have ever been obtained by combining artistic knowledge and skill with the mechanical aid of thecamera and ability to handle the compounds of photographic chemistry. There is unmistakable evidence of the keenest appreciation of art, and all that is beautiful in it in the production of the negative; and if the artist see or think that he can perfect his work by the aid of the brush, he has a most undoubted right to do it. This question of pure and simple photography has been mooted all the summer, ever since the opening of the French Exhibition, and I am glad that I, as well as others, have had an opportunity of seeing these wonderful pictures, and judging for myself. Photography is truth embodied, and every question raised about the purity of its productions should be discussed as freely and settled as quickly as possible.
There was another picture in the exhibition very clever in its conception, but not so in its execution, and I am sorry to say I cannot endorseallthe good that has been said of it. I allude to Mr. Robinson’s picture of “Sleep.” How that clever photographer, with such a keen eye to nature as he generally manifests in his composition pictures, should have committed such a mistake I am at a loss to know. His picture of “Sleep” is so strangely untrue to nature, that he must have been quite overcome by the “sleep that knits up the ravell‘d sleeve ofcare” when he composed it. In the centre of the picture he shows a stream of light entering a window—a ghost of a window, for it is so unsubstantial as not to allow a shadow to be cast from itsseeminglymassive bars. Now, if the moon shone through a window at all, it would cast shadows of everything that stood before it, and the shadows of the bars of the window would be cast upon the coverlet of the bed in broken lines, rising and falling with the undulations of the folds of the covering, and the forms of the figures of the children. In representing moonlight, or sunlight either, there is no departing from this truth. If the direct ray of either stream through a closed window and fall upon the bed, so will the shadows of the intervening bars.Any picture, either painted or photographed, that does not render those shadows is simply untrue to nature; and if the difficulty could not have been overcome, the attempt should have been abandoned. Then the beams are not sharp enough for moonlight, and the shadows on the coverlet and children are not deep enough, and the reflections on the shadow side of the children’s faces are much too strong. In short, I do not know when Mr. Robinson more signally failed to carry out his first intentions. Wanting in truth as the composition is, it proves another truth, and that is, the utter inability of photography to cope with such a subject. Mr. Robinson exhibited other pictures that would bear a very different kind of criticism; but as they have been noticed at other times I shall not touch upon them here.
Herr Milster’s picture bears the stamp of truth upon it, and is a beautiful little gem, convincing enough that the effect is perfectly natural.
Mr. Ayling’s pictures of the Victoria Tower and a portion of Westminster Abbey are really wonderful, and the bit of aerial perspective “Across the Water” in the former picture is truly beautiful.
Mrs. Cameron persists in sticking to the out-of-the-way path she has chosen, but where it will lead her to at last is very difficult to determine. One of the heads of Henry Taylor which she exhibited was undoubtedly the best of her contributions.
The pictures of yachts and interiors exhibited by Mr. Jabez Hughes were quite equal to all that could be expected from the camera of that clever, earnest, and indefatigable photographer. The portrait enlargements exhibited by that gentleman were exquisite, and of a totally different character from any other exhibitor’s.
Mr. England’s dry plate pictures, by his modified albumen process, are undoubtedly the best of the kind that have been taken. They lack that appearance of the representation ofpetrifiedscenes that most, if not all, previous dry processes exhibited, and look as “juicy” as “humid nature” can well be rendered with the wet process.
Mr. Frank Howard exhibited four little gems that would be perfect but for the unnatural effect of the artificial skies he has introduced. The “Stranded Vessels” is nicely chosen, and one of the wood scenes is like a bit of Creswick uncoloured.
Messrs. Locke and Whitfield exhibited some very finely and sketchily coloured photographs, quite up to their usual standard of artistic excellence, with the new feature of being painted on a ground of carbon printed from the negative by the patent carbon process of Mr. J. W. Swan.
Mr. Adolphus Wing’s cabinet pictures were very excellent specimens, and I think it a great pity that more of that very admirable style of portraiture was not exhibited.
Mr. Henry Dixon’s copy of Landseer’s dog “Pixie,” from the original painting, was very carefully and beautifully rendered.
Mr. Faulkner’s portraits, though of a very different character, were quite equal in artistic excellence to M. Salomon’s.
Mr. Bedford’s landscapes presented their usual charm, and the tone of his prints seemed to surpass the general beauty of his every-day work.
Mr. Blanchard also exhibited some excellent landscapes, and displayed his usual happy choice of subject and point of sight.
An immense number of photographs by amateurs, Mr. Brownrigg, Mr. Beasley, and others, were exhibited in folios and distributed about the walls, but it is impossible for me to describe or criticise more.
I have already drawn my yarn a good length, and shall conclude by repeating what I said at starting, that a pleasanter evening, or more useful and instructive exhibition, has never been got up by the Photographic Society of London, and it is to be hoped that the success andeclatattending it will encouragethem to go and do likewise next year, and every succeeding one of its natural life, which I doubt not will be long and prosperous, for the exhibition just closed has given unmistakable evidence of there being “life in the old dog yet.”
Photographic News, Nov. 22nd, 1867.
Thesubject of printing skies and cloud effects from separate negatives having been again revived by the reading of papers on that subject at the South London Photographic Society, I think it will not be out of place now to call attention to some points that have not been commented upon—or, at any rate, very imperfectly—by either the readers of the papers or by the speakers at the meetings, when the subject was under discussion.
The introduction of clouds in a landscape by an artist is not so much to fill up the blank space above the object represented on the lower part of the canvas or paper, as to assist in the composition of the picture, both as regards linear and aerial perspective, and in the arrangement of light and shade, so as to secure a just balance and harmony of the whole, according to artistic principles.
Clouds are sometimes employed to repeat certain lines in the landscape composition, so as to increase their strength and beauty, and to unite the terrestrial part of the picture with the celestial. At other times they are used to balance a composition, both in form and effect, to prevent the picture being divided into two distinct and diagonal portions, as evidenced in many of the pictures by Cuyp; on other occasions they are introduced solely for chiaroscuro effects, so as to enable the artist to place masses of dark upon light, andvice versa. Of that use I think the works of Turner will afford the most familiar and beautiful examples.
In the instances cited, I make no allusion to the employmentof clouds as repeaters of colour, but merely confine my remarks to their use in assisting to carry out form and effect, either in linear composition, or in the arrangement of light and shade in simple monochrome, as evidenced in the engraved translations of the works of Rembrandt, Turner, Birket Foster, and others, the study of those works being most applicable to the practice of photography, and, therefore, offering the most valuable hints to both amateur and professional photographers in the management of their skies.
Before pursuing this part of my subject further, it may be as well, perhaps, to state my general opinions of the effects of so-called “natural skies,” obtained by one exposure and one printing. Admitting that they are a vast improvement on the white-sky style of the early ages of photography, they fall far short of what they should be in artistic effect and arrangement. In nearly all the “natural skies” that I have seen, their office appears to be no other than to use up the white paper above the terrestrial portion of the picture. The masses of clouds, if there, seem always in the wrong place, and never made use of for breadth of chiaroscuro.
No better illustrations of this can be adduced than those large photographs of Swiss and Alpine scenery by Braun of Dornach, which nearly all contain “natural clouds;” but, on looking them over, it will be seen that few (if any) really exhibit that artistic use of clouds in the composition of the pictures which evidence artistic knowledge. The clouds are taken just as they happen to be, without reference to their employment to enhance the effects of any of the objects in the lower portion of the view, or as aids to the composition and general effect. For the most part, the clouds are small and spotty, ill-assorting with the grandeur of the landscapes, and never assisting the chiaroscuro in an artistic sense. The most noticeable example of the latter defect may be seen in the picture entitled “Le Mont Pilate,” wherein a bald and almost white mountain is placed against alight sky, much to the injury of its form, effect, and grandeur; indeed, the mountain is barely saved from being lost in the sky, although it is the principal object in the picture. Had an artist attempted to paint such a subject, he would have relieved such a large mass of light against a dark cloud. An example of a different character is observable in another photograph, wherein a dark conical mount would have been much more artistically rendered had it been placed against a large mass of light clouds. There are two or three fleecy white clouds about the summit of the mountain, but, as far as pictorial effect goes, they would have been better away, for the mind is left in doubt whether they are really clouds, or the sulphurous puffs that float about the crater of a slumbering volcano. That photographs possessing all the effects required by the rules of art are difficult, and almost impossible to obtain at one exposure in the camera, I readily allow. I know full well that a man might wait for days and weeks before the clouds would arrange themselves so as to relieve his principal object most advantageously; and, even if the desirable effects of light and shade were obtained, the chances are that the forms would not harmonize with the leading lines of the landscape.
This being the case, then, it must be self-evident that the best mode of procedure will be toprint in skiesfrom separate negatives, either taken from nature or from drawings made for the purpose by an artist that thoroughly understands art in all its principles. By these means, especially the latter, skies may be introduced into the photographic picture that will not only be adapted to each individual scene, but will, in every instance where they are employed, increase the artistic merit and value of the composition. But to return to the subject chiefly under consideration.
Clouds in landscape pictures, like “man in his time,” play many parts—“they have their exits and their entrances.” And it is almost impossible to say enough in a short paper on asubject so important to all landscape photographers. I will, however, as briefly and lucidly as I can, endeavour to point out the chief uses of clouds in landscapes. Referring to their use for effects in light and shade, I wrote, at the commencement of this paper, that the engraved translations of Turner afford the most familiar and beautiful examples, which they undoubtedly do. But when I consider that Turner’s skies are nearly all sunsets, the study of them will not be so readily turned to practical account by the photographer as the works of others,—Birket Foster, for instance. His works are almost equal to Turner’s in light and shade; he has been largely employed in the illustration of books, and five shillings will procure more of his beautiful examples of sky effects than a guinea will of Turner’s. Take, for example, Sampson Low and Son’s five shilling edition of Bloomfield’s “Farmer’s Boy,” or Gray’s “Elegy in a Churchyard,” profusely illustrated almost entirely by Birket Foster; and in them will be seen such a varied and marvellous collection of beautiful sky effects as seem almost impossible to be the work of one man, and all of them profitable studies for both artist and photographer in the varied uses made of clouds in landscapes. In those works it will be observed that where the lower part of the picture is rich in variety of subject the sky is either quiet or void of form, partaking of one tint only slightly broken up. Where the terrestrial part of the composition is tame, flat, and destitute of beautiful objects, the sky is full of beauty and grandeur, rich in form and masses of light and shade, and generally shedding a light on the insignificant object below, so as to invest it with interest in the picture, and connect it with the story being told.
From both of these examples the photographer may obtain a suggestion, and slightly tint the sky of his picture, rich in objects of interest, so as to resemble the tint produced by the “ruled lines” representing a clear blue sky in an engraving.Hitherto that kind of tinting has generally been overdone, giving it more the appearance of a heavy fog lifting than a calm blue sky. The darkest part of the tint should just be a little lower than the highest light on the principal object. This tint may either be obtained in the negative itself at the time of exposure, or produced by “masking” during the process of printing. On the other hand, when the subject has little to recommend it in itself, it may be greatly increased in pictorial power and interest by a judicious introduction of beautiful cloud effects, either obtained from nature, or furnished by the skill of an artist. If the aid of an artist be resorted to, I would not recommend painting on the negative, but let the artist be furnished with a plain white-sky print; let him wash in a sky, in sepia or india ink, that will most harmonise, both in form and effect, with the subject represented, take a negative from that sky alone, and put it into each of the pictures by double printing. This may seem a great deal of trouble and expense, and not appear to the minds of some as altogether legitimate, but I strenuously maintain that any means employed to increase the artistic merit and value of a photograph is strictly legitimate; and that wherever and however art can be resorted to, without doing violence to the truthfulness of nature, the status of our art-science will be elevated, and its professional disciples will cease to be the scorn of men who take pleasure in deriding the, sometimes—may I say too often?—lame and inartistic productions of the camera.
Therehas long been in the world an aphorism that everything in Nature is beautiful. Collectively this is true, and so it is individually, so far as the adaptability and fitness of the object to its proper use are concerned; but there are many thingswhich are truly beautiful in themselves, and in their natural uses, which cease to be so when they are pressed into services for which they are not intended by the great Creator of the universe. For example, what can be more beautiful than that compound modification of cloud forms commonly called a “mackerel sky,” which is sometimes seen on a summer evening? What can be more lovely, or more admirably adapted to the purposes of reflecting and conducting the last flickering rays of the setting sun into the very zenith, filling half the visible heavens with a fretwork of gorgeous crimson, reflecting a warm, mysterious light on everything below, and filling the mind with wonder and admiration at the marvellous beauties which the heavens are showing? Yet, can anything be more unsuitable for forming the background to a portrait, where everything should be subdued, secondary, and subservient to the features of the individual represented—where everything should be lower in tone than the light on the face, where neither colour nor light should be introduced that would tend to distract the attention of the observer—where neither accessory nor effect should appear that does not help to concentrate the mind on the grand object of the picture—the likeness? Still, how often do we see a photographic portrait stuck against a sky as spotty, flickering, and unsuitable as the one just described! How seriously are the importance and brilliancy of the head interfered with by the introduction of such an unsuitable background! How often is the interest of the spectator divided between the portrait and the “overdone” sky, so elaborately got up by the injudicious background painter! Such backgrounds are all out of place, and ought to be abandoned—expelled from every studio.
As the photographer does not possess the advantages of the painter, to produce his effects by contrast of colour, it behoves him to be much more particular in his treatment of light and shade; but most particularly in his choice of a background thatwill most harmonise with the dress, spirit, style, and condition in life of his sitter. It is always possible for a member of any class of the community to be surrounded or relieved by a plain, quiet background; but it is not possible, in nine cases out of ten, for some individuals who sit for their portraits ever to be dwellers in marble halls, loungers in the most gorgeous conservatories, or strollers in such delightful gardens. In addition to the unfitness of such scenes to the character and every-day life of the sitter, they are the most unsuitable for pictorial effect that can possibly be employed. For, instead of directing attention to the principal object, they disturb the mind, and set it wandering all over the picture, and interfere most seriously with that quiet contemplation of the features which is so necessary to enable the beholder to discover all the characteristic points in the portrait. When the likeness is a very bad one, this may be advantageous, on the principle of putting an ornamental border round a bad picture with the view of distracting the attention of the observer, and preventing the eye from resting long enough on any one spot to discover the defects.
When clouds are introduced as backgrounds to portraits, they should not be of that small, flickering character previously alluded to, but broad, dark, and “massy,” so as to impart by contrast more strength of light to the head; and the lighter parts of the clouds should be judiciously placed either above or below the head, so as to carry the light into other parts of the picture, and prevent the strongly-lighted head appearing a spot. The best examples of that character will be found in the engraved portraits by Reynolds, Lawrence, Gainsborough, and others, many of which are easily obtained at the old print shops; some have appeared in theArt Journal.
As guides for introducing cloud effects, accessories, and landscape bits into the backgrounds of carte-de-visite and cabinet pictures, no better examples can be cited than those exquisite little figure subjects by R. Westall, R.A., illustratingSharpe’s Editions of the Old Poets. The engravings are about the size of cartes-de-visite, and are in themselves beautiful examples of composition, light, and shade, and appropriateness of accessory to the condition and situation of the figures, affording invaluable suggestions to the photographer in the arrangement of his sitter, or groups, and in the choice of suitable accessories and backgrounds. Such examples are easily obtained. Almost any old bookstall in London possesses one or more of those works, and each little volume contains at least half-a-dozen of these exquisite little gems of art.
Looking at those beautiful photographic cartes-de-visite by Mr. Edge, I am very strongly impressed with the idea that they were suggested by some such artistic little pictures as Westall’s Illustrations of the Poets. They are really charming little photographs, and show most admirably how much the interest and artistic merit of a photograph can be enhanced by the skilful and judicious introduction of a suitable background. I may as well observe,en passant, that I have examined these pictures very carefully, and have come to the conclusion that the effects are not produced by means of any of the ingeniously contrived appliances for poly-printing recently invented and suggested, but that the effects are produced simply by double printing, manipulated with consummate care and judgment, the figure or figures being produced on a plain or graduated middle tint background in one negative, and the landscape effect printed on from another negative after the first print has been taken out of the printing-frame; the figures protected by a mask nicely adjusted. My impressions on this subject are strengthened almost to conviction when I look at one of Mr. Edge’s photographs, in particular a group of two ladies, the sitting figure sketching. In this picture, the lower part of the added landscape—trees—being darker than the normal tint of the ground, shows alineround the black dress of the lady, as if the mask had overlapped it just a hair’s breadth during theprocess of secondary printing. Be that as it may, they are lovely little pictures, and afford ample evidence of what may be done by skill and taste to vary the modes of treating photography more artistically, by introducing natural scenery sufficiently subdued to harmonise with the portrait or group; and, by similar means, backgrounds of clouds and interiors may be added to a plain photograph, which would enrich its pictorial effect, and enable the photographer to impart to his work a greater interest and beauty, and, at the same time, be made the means of giving apparent occupation to his sitter. This mode of treatment would enable him, in a great measure, to carry out the practice of nearly all the most celebrated portrait painters, viz., that of considering the form, light, shade, and character of the backgroundafterthe portrait was finished, by adapting the light, shade, and composition of his background to the pose and condition of life of his sitter.
I shall now conclude my remarks with a quotation from Du Fresnoy’s “Art of Painting,” bearing directly on my subject and that of light and shade:—
“Permit not two conspicuous lights to shine
With rival radiance in the same design;But yield to one alone the power to blaze,And spread th’ extensive vigour of its rays;There where the noblest figures are displayed,Thence gild the distant parts and lessening fade;As fade the beams which Phœbus from the eastFlings vivid forth to light the distant West,Gradual those vivid beams forget to shine,So gradual let thy pictured lights decline.”
Dear Mr. Editor,—I have often troubled you with some of my ideas and opinions concerning the progress and status of photography, and you have pretty often transferred the same tothe columns of thePhotographic News, and troubled your readers in much the same manner. This time, however, I am going to tell you a secret—a family secret. They are always more curious, interesting, and important than other secrets, state secrets and Mr. McLachlan’s photographic secret not excepted. But to my subject: “TheSecret.” Well, dear Mr. Editor, you know that my vocations have been rather arduous for some time past, and I feel that a little relaxation from pressing cares and anxieties would be a great boon to me. You know, also, that I am a great lover of nature, almost a stickler for it, to the exclusion ofprejudicial art. And now that the spring has come and winter has fled on the wings of the fieldfares and woodcocks—that’s Thomas Hood’s sentiment made seasonable—I fain would leave the pent-up city, where the colour of the sky can seldom be seen for the veil of yellow smoke which so constantly obscures it, and betake myself to the country, and inhale the fresh breezes of early spring; gladden my heart and eyes with a sight of the bright blue sky, the glistening snowdrops and glowing yellow crocuses, and regale my ears and soul with the rich notes of the thrush and blackbird, and the earliest song of the lark at the gates of heaven.
It is a pleasant thing to be able to shake off the mud and gloom of a winter’s sojourn in a town, in the bright, fresh fields of the country, and bathe your fevered and enfeebled body in the cool airs of spring, as they come gushing down from the hills, or across the rippling lake, or dancing sea. I always had such a keen relish for the country at all seasons of the year, it is often a matter of wonder to me that I ever could bring my mind to the necessity of living in a town. But bread and butter do not grow in hedgerows, though “bread and cheese” do; still the latter will not support animal life of a higher order than grub or caterpillars. “There’s the rub.” The mind is, after all, the slave of the body, for the mind must bend to the requirements of the body; and, as a man cannot live by gazing at a“colt’s foot,” and if he have no appetite for horseflesh, he is obliged to succumb to his fate, and abide in a dingy, foggy, slushy, and bewildering world of mud, bricks, and mortar, instead of revelling in the bright fields, fresh air, and gushing melodies which God created for man, and gave man senses to enjoy his glorious works.
But, Mr. Editor, I am mentally wandering among “cowslips,” daises, buttercups, and wild strawberry blossoms, and forgetting the stern necessity of confining my observations to a subject coming reasonably within the range of a class journal which you so ably conduct; but it is pardonable and advantageous to allow mind to run before matter sometimes, for the latter is more frequently inert than the former, and when the mind has goneahead, the body is sure to follow. Melancholy instances of that present themselves to our notice too frequently. For example, when a poor lady’s or gentleman’s wits are gone,lettres des cachets, and some kind orunkind friends, send the witless body to some retreat where the wits of all the inmates are gone. I must, however, in all sober earnestness, return to my subject, or I fear you will say: “He is going to Hanwell.” Well, perhaps I am, for I know that photography is practised at that admirable institution; and now that I have struck a professional chord, I may as well play on it.
Lenses and cameras, like birds and flowers, reappear in spring, and, as the season advances and the sun attains a higher altitude, amateurs and professionals are quickened into a surprising activity. Renewed life is imparted to them, and the gregarious habits of man are developed in another form, and somewhat in the manner that the swallows return to their old haunts. At first, a solitary scout or reconnoitering party makes his appearance, then another, and another, until a complete flock of amateur and professional photographers are abroad, seeking what food they can devour: some preferring the first green “bits of foliage” that begin to gem the woods with emeralds,others waiting till the leaf is fully out, and the trees are thickly clothed in their early summer loveliness: while others prefer a more advanced state of beauty, and like to depict nature in her russet hues, when the trees “are in their yellow leaf.” Some are contented with the old-fashioned homesteads and sweet green lanes of England for their subjects; others prefer the ruined abbeys and castles of the feudal ages, with their deeply interesting associations; others choose the more mythical monuments of superstition and the dark ages, such as King Arthur’s round tables, druidical circles, and remains of their rude temples of stone. Some delight in pictorializing the lakes and mountains of the north, while others are not satisfied with anything short of the sublime beauty and terrific grandeur of the Alps and Pyrenees. Truly, sir, I think it may be safely stated that photographers are lovers of nature, and, I think, they are also lovers of art. If some of them do not possess that art knowledge which is so necessary for them to pursue advantageously either branch of their profession, it is much to be regretted; but there is now no reason why they should continue in darkness any longer. I know that it requires years of study and practice to become an artist, but it does not require a very great amount of mental labour or sacrifice of time to become an artistic photographer. A little hard study of the subject as it appears in the columns of your journal and those of your contemporaries—for I notice that they haveallsuddenly become alive to the necessity of imparting to photographers a knowledge of art principles—will soon take the scales off the eyes of a man that is blind in art, and enable him to comprehend the mysteries of lines, unity, and light and shade, and give him the power to compose his subject as readily as he could give a composing draught to an infant, and teach him to determine at a glance the light, shade, and atmospheric effects that would most harmonize with the scene to be represented. Supposing that he is master of the mechanical manipulations of photography, hehas acquired half the skill of the artist; and by studying and applying the rules of composition and light and shade to his mechanical skill, he is then equal to the artist in the treatment of his subject, so far as the means he employs will or can enable him to give an art rendering of nature, fixed and immovable.
I do not profess to be a teacher, but I do think it is much more genial in spirit, and becoming the dignity of a man, to impart what little knowledge he has to others, than to scoff at those who do not know so much. If, therefore, Mr. Editor, in the course of my peregrinations, I see an opportunity of calling your attention, and, through you, the attention of others, to any glaring defects or absurdities in the practice of our dearly beloved art, I shall not hesitate to do so; not, however, with any desire to carp and cavil at them for cavilling’s sake, but with the more laudable desire of pointing them out, that they may be avoided. During the coming summer I shall have, or hope to have, many opportunities of seeing and judging, and will endeavour to keep you duly advised of what is passing before me.
My letters may come from all parts—N., E., W., and S.—so that they will, in that sense at least, harmonize with the nomenclature of your periodical. Where I may be at the date of my writing, the post-mark will reveal to you. And now I must consider my signature: much is in a name, you know. I can hardly call myself your “Special Correspondent”—that would be too mucha la Sala; nor can I subscribe myself an “Old Photographer,” for that would be taking possession of another man’s property, and might lead to confusion, if not to difficulties; neither can I style myself a “Peripatetic Photographer”—though I am one—for that name sometimes appears in the columns of a contemporary; and my own name is such a long one, consisting of nearly half the letters of the alphabet. Well, I think, all things considered, I cannot do better than retain my oldnom de plume. And with many apologies for thislong, roundabout paper, and every expression of regard, I beg to subscribe myself your obliged and humble servant,