CHAPTER II.

COMPOSITION.

[Sidenote: Composition.]

No chapter of this book has given us so much thought as this chapter on composition.

[Sidenote: Laws of composition.]

We could easily, as most writers have done, have given a digest of Mr. Burnet’s laws of composition, but we have no faith in any “laws of composition.” A law, to be logical, must hold good in all cases; now the so-called “laws of composition,” are often broken deliberately by great artists, and yet the result is perfect. This is easily explained, for these so-called laws are mere arbitrary rules, deduced by one man from the works of many artists and writers; and they are no more laws in the true sense than are the laws of Phrenology or Astrology.

[Sidenote: Our problem.]

The great question then, which presented itself to us, was this: Will the study of these so-called rules do good or harm to the student? Will a knowledge of them lead him to the production of conventional work, or will it in any way help him in his future work? We had many earnest discussions on this point with artists, and they seemed equally uncertain in the matter, though one condemned all such laws as absurd and unnecessary. [Sidenote: “Treatise on Painting.”] We most certainly feel inclined to agree with that one dissentient, but in trying to place ourselves in the position of the photographic student, with absolutely no knowledge of art, we have come to the conclusion that, perhaps, the student had better study Mr. Burnet’s “Treatise on Painting.” A cheap edition of this book is published by Dr. E. Wilson, of 835, Broadway, New York, and every student should get a copy of it. It can be thoroughly mastered in a week or two, so that not much time will be lost. The numerous plates will at any rate be of some use to the student.

[Sidenote: Our ideas on composition.]

Now, from these remarks, it must not be assumed that we are no believer in “composition.” Composition is really selection, and is one of the most—if not the most—vital matters in all art, certainly the most vital in the art of photography. But the writer maintains there are no laws for selection. Each picture requires a special composition, and every artist treats each picture originally; his method of treatment, however, often becomes a “law” for lesser lights.

It has been assumed by opponents to “Naturalism” that naturalistic artists ignore composition, and portray nature “anyhow,” just as she happens to present herself to them. Nothing could be further from the truth. None is more careful in selection and arrangement than the naturalistic painter, at the same time none is less conventional. Nature is not always suitable for pictorial purposes, though she is often enough suitable, and it is when she is propitious that the artist depicts her; hence the great principle of naturalism, that all suggestions should come from nature. The object of art training is to show these propitious moods, and to enable the painter to portray them. We prefer, then, the word “selection” to composition. The matter really stands thus, a good naturalistic artist selects a composition in nature which he sees to be very fine.

By composition, as used in this paragraph, is meant the harmonious and fitting combination of the various component parts of the picture which shall best express the picture.

Our best method will be to follow Mr. Burnet’s division of his subject, and offer a running commentary on the essentials of his work from a photographer’s standpoint, giving our ideas on the subject when they differ from those of the author of “A Treatise on Painting.”

“A TREATISE ON PAINTING,” by J. BURNET, F.R.S.

_Education of the Eye.—Measurement and Form._

[Sidenote: Burnet’s “Painting.”]

Omitting to comment on Mr. Burnet’s remarks, we put the matter thus, that it is highly desirable for all photographers to learn drawing, and to learn it intelligently. Nothing could be more lamentable than the way in which drawing is taught in our schools, it is worse than useless. The student should go to some good art school for a few months, and learn drawing, for in that way are learned the analysis and construction of objects, and, above all, the eye is trained to careful observation, which will be invaluable in the study of tone and selection.

_Perspective._

[Sidenote: Perspective.]

This section the student should read over carefully, understanding thoroughly the “point of sight” and the causes of violent perspective. For in photography, though his lens may be true in drawing, he can as easily obtain violent perspective as the draughtsman, by placing the lens too close to his model. Fore-shortening, too, should be thoroughly understood. Aërial perspective has been simply treated by us in this work, and the various remarks of Burnet on this subject must be taken _cum grano salis_.

_Chiaro-oscuro._

[Sidenote: Chiaro-oscuro.]

This term means light and shade. Now the term “chiaro-oscuro” is very misleading, for it is used by different artists to mean different things. The whole of photography depends on the proper management of light and shade, for our drawing is done for us; but we prefer to use the more modern term, “tone,” to express what we mean by light and shade; that term we have already fully explained. Chiaro-oscuro, as we understand it, is the _arbitrary_ placing of masses of light against masses of shade to produce certain desired effects; it is, therefore, conventional, and akin to the _law_ which required all trees to be painted fiddle-brown. It is needless to say the only way such a conventional chiaro-oscuro can be obtained in photography is by arranging the objects in nature, or by retouching, and both are against our principles. The student, then, must, as we have said, master “tone,” that is his chiaro-oscuro, his light and shade, and he must always remember to look for “breadth” in his treatment. [Sidenote: Breadth.] Breadth is found in all good work, and it depends in photography not entirely upon light and shade, but upon the focussing and developing as well, as we have already indicated. Why are spotty-lighted, sharply-focussed, brightly-developed negatives so “noisy” and garish and inartistic? It is that they lack “breadth.” It must not be thought from this that no sunny pictures have breadth; on the contrary, if the masses are large, and the planes well rendered, and the tonality true, there can be as much breadth in a sunny picture as in a grey-day effect. It has been said that “breadth” is a device of the painters, but this is mere nonsense. Let the student look well at a simple stretch of grass-land bordering a still lake, on a damp, misty evening, and then he will see breadth. Let him focus that scene as sharply as he likes, including a portion of sky as well, and develop and print from it, and he will find breadth, and he will probably have a clear understanding as to the meaning of the word.

Mr. Burnet divides chiaro-oscuro into five parts, viz. light, half-light, middle tint, half-dark, dark. This arbitrary division is hypercritical. For working purposes, light, half-tone or middle tint, and dark, are quite sufficient; other subdivisions are far too subtle and numerous to be considered theoretically, and, practically, truth of tone is only to be learned by long experience and study, and we believe all the directions given by Mr. Burnet for producing relief, harmony, and breadth, to be artificial and useless. An examination of the plates shows clearly how futile are his deductions, and how untrue in light and shade, viz. tone, they all are.

_Composition._

[Sidenote: Composition.]

Mr. Burnet opens with the statement that “geometric forms in composition are found to give order and regularity to an assemblage of figures.” This is the first principle on which is built his structure of geometrical composition. We will omit the dicta of literary men on pictorial art which Mr. Burnet is so fond of quoting, but which we consider too worthless to do more with than mention. Let us then apply ourselves to the study of his thesis.

His first remarks are upon angular composition, and as he finds that these lead him into conventional methods, he goes on to say that this conventionality can be rectified by balance. Even if we would follow this form of composition our means are limited, for, unlike the painter, we cannot alter and re-arrange. However, we have no wish to make “angular compositions,” and consider them false in theory. Painters, on the other hand, must settle these matters for themselves; we know how many settle them, that is by ignoring all such teachings as nonsense. Next we come to the “circular composition,” which, we are told, is “applicable to the highest walks of art,” wherever they may be. Soon after this we come upon the truest remark in the book. “Artists generally prefer the opinions of untutored children to the remarks of the most learned philosophers,” and we fear most modern artists prefer the teachings of nature to those of that philosopher John Burnet, F.R.S. Finally, Mr. Burnet winds up with the words, “I must also caution the young artist against supposing that these modes of arrangements are given for his imitation. I merely wish him to be acquainted with the advantages any particular composition possesses, that in adopting any invention of his own, he may engraft upon it these or similar advantages.”

Now this reads very oddly after talking of _rules_ of composition, for what is the good of a rule if it is not to be followed? and it reads very illogically when compared with the quotation from Reynolds (Brougham?), which goes to back up the excuse for advocating rules as Burnet gives them,—viz. “to those who imagine that such _rules_ tend to fetter genius, &c.”

In short, the whole work is illogical, unscientific, and inartistic, and has not a leg to stand on. It is very specious to say that all compositions are made according to geometrical forms, for nothing can be easier than to take arbitrary points in a picture and draw geometrical figures joining them. The pyramid is a favourite geometrical form of composition. Now take any picture, and take any three points you like, and join them, and you have a pyramid, so does every composition contain a pyramid, as does a donkey’s ear. But enough of this. The student is distinctly warned against paying any serious attention to these rules; it is, however, as we have said, well that he should know of them, and we suspect he will learn something of design from merely looking carefully at the plates. Of tone he will learn nothing.

With Mr. Burnet’s remarks upon colour we are in no way concerned.

But the student will say, how, then, can composition be learned? Our answer to this is that composition, that is selection, cannot be learned save by experience and practical work—there is no royal road to it, no shilling guide. This subtle and vital power must be acquired if we are to do any good work, for we are dumb until we do acquire it. We can no more express ourselves in art without having mastered composition, than a child can express himself in prose until he has learnt the art of writing. It is for this reason that we must learn art practically, for no written “rules or laws” can be given. Each picture is a problem in itself, and the art-master can help the student to solve the problems as they arise, in that way only can composition be learned. The proof of this is that young painters who have been through the schools are very weak in composition, it is only by continual failures that they acquire the necessary knowledge. Let the student trace the development of any painter’s work, and he will find that his early works are always poor in composition and feeble in _motif_.