Chapter 6

ON THE RELATIONS AND HARMONY OF COLOUR.

Assured as we must be of the importance of colouring as a branch of art, colours in all their bearings become interesting to the artist, and on their use and arrangement his reputation as a colourist must depend.

Colour, remarks Ruskin, is wholly _relative_; each hue throughout a work is altered by every touch added in other places. Thus, to place white beside a colour is to heighten its tone; to set black beside a colour is to weaken its tone; while to put grey beside a colour, is to render it more brilliant. If a dark colour be placed near a different, but lighter colour, the tone of the first is heightened, while that of the second is lowered. An important consequence of this principle is, that the first effect may neutralize the second, or even destroy it altogether. What was cold before, becomes warm when a colder colour is set near it, and what was in harmony before, becomes discordant as other colours are put beside it. For example, to place a light blue beside a yellow, tinges it orange, and consequently heightens its tone. Again, there are some blues so dark relatively to the yellow that they weaken it, and not only hide the orange tint, but even cause sensitive eyes to feel that the yellow is rather green than orange--a very natural result when it is considered that the paler the yellow becomes, the more it tends to appear green.

We learn from these relations of colours, why dapplings of two or more produce effects in painting so much more clear and brilliant than uniform tints obtained by compounding the same colours: and why hatchings, or a touch of their contrasts, thrown as it were by accident upon local tints, have the same effect. We see, too, why colours mixed deteriorate each other, which they do more--in many cases--by imperfectly neutralizing or subduing each other chromatically, than by any chemical action. Finally, we are impressed with the necessity, not only of using colours pure, but of using pure colours; although pure colouring and brilliancy differ as much from crudeness and harshness, as tone and harmony from murkiness and monotony.

The powers of colours in contrasting each other agree with their correlative powers of light and shade, and are to be distinguished from their powers individually on the eye, which are those of light alone. Thus, although orange and blue are equal powers with respect to each other, as regards the eye they are totally different and opposed. Orange is a luminous colour, and has a powerfully irritating effect, while blue is a shadowy colour, possessing a soothing quality--and it is the same, in various degrees, with other colours.

There are yet further modes of contrast or antagonism in colouring, which claim the attention and engage the skill of the colourist. Of the contrast of _hues_, upon which depend the brilliancy, force, and harmony of colouring, we have just spoken; but there is, secondly, the contrast of _shades_. To this belong all the powers of chiaroscuro, by which term the painter denotes the harmonious effects of light and shade; and though they form the simplest part of colouring, yet they cannot be separated from it--light and shade, the chiaroscuro, being a distinct and important branch of painting. A third mode of contrast in colouring is that of _warmth_ and _coolness_, upon which depend the toning and general effect of a picture. Fourthly, there is the contrast of _colour_ and _neutrality_, the chromatic and achromatic, or hue and shade. By the right management of this, local colours acquire value, gradation, keeping, and connection: whence come breadth, aërial perspective, and the due distribution of greys and shadows in a picture.

This principle of contrast applies even to _individual colours_, and conduces greatly to good colouring. It may be carried with advantage into the variety of hue and tint in the same colour, not only as regards light and shade, but likewise with respect to warmth and coolness, as well as to colour and neutrality. Hence the judicious landscape-painter knows how to avail himself of warmth and coolness in the juxtaposition of his greens, in addition to their lightness and darkness, or brilliancy and brokenness, in producing the most beautiful and varied effects; effects which spring in other cases from a like management of blue, white, &c. These powers of a colour upon itself are highly important to the artist, and lead to that gratification from fine colouring, which a good eye ever enjoys.

In landscape we see nature employing broken colours in harmonious consonance and variety, while, equally true to picturesque relations, she uses also broken forms and figures, in conjoint harmony with colours; occasionally throwing into the composition a regular form, or a primary colour, for the sake of animation and contrast. And if we inspect her works more closely, we shall find that they have no uniform tints. Whether in the animal, vegetable or mineral creation--flesh or foliage, earth or sky, flower or stone--however uniform the colour may appear at a distance, it will, when examined nearly, be found to consist of a variety of hues and shades, compounded with harmony and intelligence.

It is for this reason that no two colours are ever found discordant in nature, however much so they may be in art. Blue and green have been termed discordant, and in painting they may undoubtedly be made so. Yet those are two colours which nature seems to intend never to be separated, and never to be felt, either of them, in its full beauty, without the other--a blue sky through green leaves, or a blue wave with green lights through it, being precisely the loveliest things, next to clouds at sunrise, in this coloured world of ours. A good eye for colour will soon discover how constantly nature puts green and purple together, purple and scarlet, green and blue, yellow and neutral grey, and the like; and how she strikes these colour-concords for general tones, before working into them with innumerable subordinate ones.

Upon the more intimate union, or the blending and gradience of contrasts from one to another mutually, depend some of the most fascinating effects of colouring. The practical principle employed in producing them is important, and consists in the blending and gradating by _mixture_, while we avoid the _compounding_ of contrasting colours. That is, the colours must be kept distinct in the act of blending them, or otherwise they will run into dusky neutrality and defile each other. This is the case in blending and gradating from green to red, or from hue to hue--from blue to orange, or to and from coldness and warmth--from yellow to purple, or to and from advancing and retiring colours. It is the same in light and shade, or white and black, which _mix_ with clearness. Now, there are only two ways in which this distinctness in union of contrasts can be effected in practice: the one is by hatching or breaking them together in mixture, without compounding them uniformly; and the other is by glazing, in which the colours unite and penetrate mutually, without monotonous composition.

The former process may be said to be the carrying out of the principle of separate colours to the utmost possible refinement, by using atoms of colour in juxtaposition, instead of in large spaces. And it is to be noted, in filling up minute interstices of this kind, that if the colour with which they are filled be wanted to show brightly, a rather positive point of it had better be put, with a little white left beside or round it in the interstice. This plan is preferable to laying a pale tint of the colour over the whole interstice. Yellow or orange, for instance, will hardly show, if pale, in small spaces; but they show brightly in free touches, however small, with white beside them. The latter mode is founded on the fact, that if a dark colour be laid first, and a little blue or white body-colour struck lightly over it, a more beautiful gray will be obtained than by mixing the colour and the blue or white. Similarly, if over a solid and perfectly dry touch of vermilion there be quickly washed a little very wet carmine, a much more brilliant red will be produced than by mixing the two colours.

Transparency and opacity constitute another contrast of colouring, the former of which belongs to shade and blackness, the latter to light and whiteness. Even contrast has its contrast, for _gradations_ or _intermedia_ are opposed to contrasts or _extremes_; and, upon the right management of contrasts and gradations depend the harmony and melody, the tone, effect, and general expression of a picture. Thus, painting is an affair of judicious contrasting so far as regards colour, if even it be not such altogether.

Colour, it has already been observed, is wholly _relative_. In contrasting, therefore, any colour, if we wish it to have light or brilliancy, we cast its opposite into the shade; if we would have it warm, we cool its antagonist; and if transparent, we oppose it by an opaque contrary, and _vice versâ_: indeed, in practice, all these must be in some measure combined.

Such are some of the powers of contrast in colouring alone, and such is the diversity of art upon which skill in colouring depends. It must not be forgotten, however, that contrasts or extremes, whether of light and shade, or of colours, become violent and offensive when they are not reconciled by the interposition of their media, or intermediates, which partake of both extremes of the contrasts. Thus blue and orange in contrast become reconciled, softened in effect, and harmonized, when a broken colour composed of the two intervenes. The same may be said of other colours, shades, and contrasts.

Seeing that the management and mastery of colours are to a great extent dependent on the same principles as light and shade, it might become a point of good discipline, after acquiring the use of black and white in the chiaroscuro, to paint designs in contrast; that is, with two contrasting colours only, in conjunction with black and white--for example, with blue and orange, before attempting the whole. Indeed, black can be dispensed with in these cases, because it may be compounded, since the neutral grey and third colours always arise from the compounding of contrasting colours. In this way, even flesh may be painted--for instance, with red and green alone, as Gainsborough is said at one period to have done.

Some artists have produced pictures in the above hot and cold colours only; which, although captivating to the eye, and true in theory with respect to colour, light and shade, are generally false in practice with regard to nature, which rarely employs such extreme accordances. Colouring like this, therefore, is more beautiful than true. It is as though a painter were to execute a landscape in the full light of day, as he saw it looking through a prism, so that every object glowed with rainbow hues. Such a picture would present a beautiful fairy scene, and be true as regards colours, but as respects nature, it would be false.

Colour, and what in painting is called transparency, belong chiefly to shade. It has been a common error to ascribe those properties to light only, and hence many have employed a uniform shade tint, regarding shadows as simply darkness, blackness, or the mere absence of light; when, in truth, shadows are infinitely varied by colour, and always so by the colours of the lights which produce them. But while we incline attention toward the relation of colour to shade, both light and shade being strictly co-essential to colour, a vicious extreme must be avoided. For although, as transparent, colour inclines to shade, and, as opaque, it partakes of light; yet the general tendency of colour is to transparency and shade, all colour being a departure from light. Hence it becomes a maxim, which he who aspires to good colouring must never lose sight of, that _the colour of shadow is always transparent, and only that of extreme light objects opaque_. It follows, that white is to be kept as much as possible out of shadow, and black, for the same reason, out of colour. In their stead, whenever it is necessary to cover, opaque tints may be employed, glazed over with transparent colours. Such practice would also be more favourable to durability of the tones of pictures, than the shades and tints produced with black and white. The hues and shadows of nature are in no ordinary case either black or white, which, except as local colours, are always poor and frigid. The perfection of colouring is to combine harmony with brilliancy, unity with variety, and freshness with force, without violating the laws of nature.

With regard to the _perspective of colours_, or the manner in which they affect the eye, according to position and distance, it is a branch of aërial perspective or the perspective of light and shade. This is distinguished from linear perspective, or the perspective of drawing, as drawing is from colouring; and they have progressed alike in the art. The most ancient painters seem to have known little of either; and linear perspective was established as science before the aërial, as drawing and composition preceded colouring.

The perspective of colours depends upon their powers to reflect the elements of light, powers which are by no means uniform. Accordingly, blue is lost in the distance before red, and yellow is seen at a point at which red would disappear; yet blue preserves its hue better than yellow, because colours are cooled in the distance. In this respect, the compound colours partake of the powers of their components, in obedience to a general rule, by which local colours closely connected with black are first lost in the distance, and those nearly related to white disappear last. The same may be said of local light and shade, the latter of which is totally lost at great distances; and it is for this reason the shadowed side of the moon is not generally seen. These powers of colours are, however, varied by mist, air, altitude, and mixture, which produce evanescence; and by contrast, which preserves the force of colours by distinguishing them. Colours do not decline in force so much by height as by horizontal distance, because the upper atmosphere is less dense and clouded with vapour: and hence it is that mountains of great elevation appear much nearer than they really are. From all these circumstances, it is evident that a simple scumbling or uniform degradation of local colours will not effect a true perspective--for this will be the aërial of light and shade only--but such a subordination of hues and tints, as the various powers of colours require, and as is always observable in nature.

In furnishing or _setting the palette_ philosophically and upon principle, it is necessary to supply it with pure blue, red, and yellow; to oppose to these an orange, of a hue that will neutralise the blue--green, of a hue that will neutralise the red--and purple, of a hue that will neutralise the yellow; and so on to black and white, which will neutralise each other. As in nature, the general colour of the sky is blue, and the colour of light is always opposite to that of the sky and shade, so the white which is to represent light should be tinged with the orange of the palette sufficiently to neutralise the predominant coldness of black. Pure neutral white may thus be reserved as a "local" colour, which is a technical term for the _natural_ colour of an object, unvaried by distance, reflection, or anything interfering with distinct vision; although, properly speaking, local colours are subject to all the relations and effects of the places they occupy in a composition--whether of light, shade, reflection, or distance.

From what we have said, it will be seen that the relations and harmony of colours form a complex subject, requiring constant and careful study; one, indeed, into which he who would become a colourist must enter heart and soul. For as colouring is the beginning and end of a painter's craft, so colour in all its aspects must be the chief lesson of his life. And this lesson can only be learnt, by ever watching with a loving eye those wondrous colourings of nature, in which there is nothing inharmonious or out of place.