Part 3

A single mass of light will have the greatest force when brought in immediate contact with a dark background: so will a dark object tell with equal power when opposed to the strongest light. So a figure, clothed in black and white, and placed on one side of the foreground, will focus _all the other_ lights and shadows, which will immediately keep their places in the picture--so they be less in strength. In proportion to the number of forms in the composition, this rule may be equally applied to a group, if it agree in its outline, and does not disturb the masses on which it depends for repose.

If the picture be generally light, or the greater part in half tint, a single object or point of dark will be often found sufficient to key the whole,--placed at the opposing angle on the side opposite the darkest part.

The outline of an object we would bring most forward should come out _cutting_ and strong from its surrounding shadow, while the other masses will retire in proportion to the absence of the opposition of _density_ employed in preventing their approach. It may not be impossible that these few words convey the impression of what we mostly intend.

The small and immaterial lights, catching the edges of objects carried into the shadow, are of the greatest usefulness in giving depth and intensity to it, while they assist the work by carrying the communicating medium through it.

Carrying the shadow across the _middle_ of the subject is attended with many advantages; among which are, bringing the foreground into extreme vigour; furnishing ourselves with greater facilities in getting away the background; and more readily obtaining distance and repose by blending the horizon with the clouds; while the figures are brought up in cutting relief against it. (_Plate 3._)

A mass of landscape in middle tint--such as a broken common, fields, clumps of foliage, &c.--sweeping across the picture at a third, or little more, its height from the bottom, with a bold tree or group printing its dark form on the lightest part of the sky, and lifting itself from a bright sunny bank laid on the bottom edge of the design, carried on by a dark object or two, with cutting lights and intense shadows in the weeds, stones, &c., of the foreground to support it, the clouds graduating upwards from the horizon and mingling with the middle space at the opposite side of the principal group, seems to have been a favourite arrangement with Gaspar Poussan, Cuyp, and many of the Dutch, as at present it is with Turner, and many of the modern,--offering great advantages from the numerous scenes in nature for ever opening to our view through the broad masses of shadow, flung from the passing clouds across the country, and possessing every variety of tint, sobered and covered down by the extent and transparency of the shadows, while the brilliant lights come out with all the vigorous warmth the sun invests them with.

A walk into the fields, or across a heath, can scarcely be taken, when the clouds are floating along, without an effect corresponding with this being seen. A part of the principal group will sometimes be in light while the rest is in deep shadow, or may appear so from the different colours of the trees; in which case, it will blend more gently with the sky, and more intensely focus the depth of shadow, if the lighter colour be interposed between it and the sky, losing a little of its force, but gaining harmony and union, together with the advantage of carrying the warm colour of the foreground up into the foliage, and extending it more gradually through the clouds.

_Three_ lights, differing in strength--the _centre_ one the strongest--and placed at different angles, has universally been found an agreeable arrangement. This mode may be always pursued with a certain degree of success. The etchings and drawings after this manner are very numerous,--perhaps from its easy management.

As our senses are carried through the varieties of a tale, so the eye _must_ be diverted from any _particular_ object in a picture, by judiciously absorbing or bringing into notice the accessories necessary to complete the composition, without disturbing it, or prejudicing the principal. An harmonious intimacy with all the parts, and the _means_ of that intimacy rendered as imperceptible as possible, will absorb hardness in the masses, and give distinctness and articulation to that which should predominate in acute solidity, all disjointed and unconnected appearances being carefully guarded against. Different arrangements of the same subject will be found the best means of exemplifying this.

The shadow of a cloud may accidentally be thrown over the greatest distance, while a sunbeam may suddenly illumine the middle space or foreground: the distance then would be the darkest part of the picture. Or a gleam of light may rest upon the distant mountains, while the middle space and foreground may be in shadow; then the case would be reversed, the greatest spread of light occupying the farthest distance. Even this arrangement has succeeded with some.

The highest defined light will be that which comes boldest off the darkest part of the ground. All others will decrease in proportion, as they mingle with the ground. And, as the aforesaid light is pure, so the darks will appear darker than they are. (_Plates 5, 6._)

That part of a body in light will be the brightest that is nearest to the luminary. In the theory of light, it often happens there are double and treble reflexes, which must be stronger than single ones, and the shadows of course proportionally faint. (_Plate 4._)

In proportion as reflected lights are thrown upon a darker or lighter ground, will their appearance be more or less brilliant. We deduce from this, that all those reflexes, that brighten up and play so harmoniously among the obscurity of shadows, must be in proportion to the strength of the light that occasions them. (_Plate 4._)

The light made to graduate too softly, by means of the half-tint, into the shadow, unless some part be boldly and cuttingly opposed to the other, will have a tame and insipid appearance, however sharp and forcible other portions of the work may be. (_Plates 3, 4._)

'_Fulness_ of effect is produced by melting and losing the shadows in a ground still darker than those shadows: whereas _relief_ is produced by opposing and separating the ground from the figure; either by light, or shadow, or colour.' (_Plate 3, fig. 2._)

Any thing intercepting the line of light upon an object, will render its shadows soft, and its lights beautifully blended.

Accidental shadows are those occasioned by objects interposed between the light and the surface reflected on. Natural shadows, those which the light connects with every opaque body. (_Plate 4, consists of natural and accidental shadows._)

The outline of the shadow should partake of the forms, at its edges, of the character of the surface receiving, as well as the one giving it.

In many, otherwise, excellent pictures of Claude's, the sun is placed at, or near the point of sight: so that all the shadows, running from that point, almost mechanically carry the eye into the picture. Whatever of good may proceed from this arrangement, its purpose is too easily detected; and it has an artificial effect.

Da Vinci says, 'The appearance of _motion_ is lessened, according to the distance, in the same proportion as objects diminish in size.'

Open the side of a book against the light, and observe the gradations of shadow on the leaf.

If you turn half a sheet of paper up against the light (in the manner of the book), it will explain, by its shadows on the parallel part, the phenomena of half or demi-tint.

In any body that has many indentures, there will be many shadows and their grades: that body will have a greenish hue over its superfice, where the light falls on it. To keep the colour of that light pure, in this instance, requires great management; as the markings of the masses of foliage, &c., receiving the light. And yet, without these markings, or as it were carrying the shadow into the light, it would look _bald_. As this is done cleverly, so it will have the effect of subduing the harshness of the lights; which not being in compact masses, lose their force.

I often rumple a piece of paper, to observe the infinite variety of its shadows. And place a ball against the light, on a white surface, and observe its gradations. So, if you roll up a sheet of white paper, and lay it on a white surface, against the light, or make it stand up, it will describe the gradations of a column.

It is a very excellent method to keep a solid square, a solid sphere, a cylinder or tube, a cone (make a paper one), a cup, &c., by you, and place them in various directions in the light, making various memoranda of their lights, shadows, and reflexes, in one colour. By this means, light and shade will soon become familiar, and the task get easier at every trial.

A piece of white paper _folded several ways_, and laid on a table against the light, will reveal all the different degrees of shade. Then, observe the highest light and the deepest shade, with their gradations.

Observe, in a room with one window, having chairs, tables, sofas, &c. in it, where and how their shadows fall. This will assuredly lead the mind into the mysteries of light and shade, which must end in knowledge. At the very least, the power to see things as they are!

To render bodies in sunshine, the shadows must be dark, and marked strongly and _distinctly_, and the lights extended and broad. So, _in-door_ objects have equally strong shadows, with the lights and shades _distinctly_ divided and precise. All should, as a peremptory rule, receive the light from above. The light should come in from a sufficient height to give a shadow on the ground the same length as the object is high.

If any projection occurs on a plain on which a shadow is thrown, the shadow takes the _form_ of the projection, as it _passes_ it; but, if it ends _upon it_, the shadow will be shaped by the _object_ that flung it, still qualified by the section of the projection. The rough surfaces of many things would describe the same in a lesser degree.

Light objects, as they retire, become darker; and dark ones, lighter; but light ones are seen at a greater distance than dark.

The darkest opposing object brought up against the most retiring, should not extend itself to the edges of the picture, but let the half tints creep in, to bring the light down with more effect--diffusing it more extensively.

The shadow on the ground on which it is thrown, should be darker than the object projecting it; and, if the object be round, a reflected light will be found on the edge where it joins the shadow, as in a column.

I placed a chair in the shade, and the sun's _reflection_ threw a _shadow_ from it!

The light of every body is qualified by the ground that surrounds it.

Breadth is acquired by blending the light parts of the figures with the light of the ground; and the same rule will apply to the shadows.

When the ground of the picture is mostly dark, the lights, in my opinion, should take some one or other good decided _form_ in composition, in their developement, as their meaning is only to be explained by themselves. (_Plate 4._)

If a single light or luminous mass be surrounded on all sides by a dark ground, one or more of its edges should be strong and cutting; and if a dark centre be placed on a light ground, if the same management be not observed, it will look like a hole.

Leonardo says 'The ground which surrounds the figures in any painting, ought to be _darker_ than the light part of those figures, and lighter than the shadowed part.'

Great beauty is obtained by laying the shadowed part of an object against a darker ground; the light receiving increased brightness from this arrangement, and the softness of the shadow on the light side being nearly imperceptible, gives great relief and beauty. This mode is much resorted to in the management of portraits, while it equally applies to landscape.

Most _repose_ is obtained by placing a light group or object on the light side of the picture, and dark objects on the dark side, as no interference of the one or the other then occurs to disturb the masses; but the effect will be less than when carried the one into the other, and the difficulty of uniting the two parts become greater.

In some of the best works of Ostade, and many of the Dutch school, a dark figure or group is brought out from a darker background, with great brilliance, and even force, when the colour of the one is cold, and the other warm.

Corregio's management of light and shade placed him in the highest sphere of this department of the art.

An object or figure, having a dark and a light side, the dark side being opposed to the light part of the ground, and the light side coming off the darker part, will have great effect.

When a dark body terminates on a light ground, it will detach itself. If a round object, it will not carry its light to the extremity of its outline, but finish in a half shade, darker than the ground.

A large mass of light in the middle of the picture, surrounded by shadow, is a rule; and, when reversed, has an equally imposing effect. (_Plate 2, fig. 5._)

The largest division of the light and the dark parts of a picture, so they differ in quantity, will of necessity produce the greatest breadth; but the extent and magnitude of that breadth will be entirely qualified by the judicious management employed in producing a union between them.

One greatly approved method of producing this effect is, by bringing the light up to a brilliant focus, and absorbing the shadows into the darkest obscurity; while the larger portion of the work is pervaded by the half light and the half dark, as well as their shadows by strong local colour; while those in the shadow should come out sharp and distinct. The vigour of the light will dissolve all chance of influence in the half tints; while the extreme depth of the shadow, carried perhaps to a little excess, will gather up and absorb all the subordinate shadows. (_Plate 1, figs. 5 and 6._)

Marking, with a stump and bit of black lead, when we are abroad, the principal points, in sketching from nature; and noticing in what manner those points refer to, and assist each other; tracing their effects, and ascertaining the laws that bring them harmoniously, or by contrast, together, is the best method to be pursued for the arrangement of our own ideas in composing. Sketches so obtained, should be preserved as models to exercise the invention by.

A more distinct idea of light and shade is best obtained by the use of one colour only, as many only tend to perplex the eye, and divert the attention from the great object that should be distinctly kept in view.

In laying on the tints (of one colour only), the method to be pursued is as follows:--Mix the separate shades in separate saucers, three, four, or five, as may be required; keep the board you have previously strained the paper on inclined at moderate elevation, that the colour may flow freely; lay in the sky first; the farthest distance next; then all those masses of shadow which principally influence the division and interest of the picture; working downwards to the foreground from the middle distance, using a large brush, filled with colour, to produce clearness and transparency. Then proceed to delicately touch upon the lights, in order to blend them with the shadows, that they may not appear too abrupt, as well as to break down their asperity, and prevent the work looking bald. Now a darker shade than any should be mixed up, to put in the markings of the foliage and foreground, rocks, or whatever the composition may consist of. Lay the whole on with freedom and boldness; and, if any parts require strength, they may be lightly floated over again, when quite dry.

Do not disturb the surface of the paper more than can be avoided; and endeavour to keep all the tints _even_, or flat, in the first instance, without attention to the details. Always mind to take up enough of the colour at once to cover down the space intended, without sweeping it contrary ways. Thick rough paper is the best.

The power of making large masses of flat tints, commonly comes of great practice; it is, therefore, necessary that this difficulty is conquered, before attempting to blend them.

The use of that important thing, in the hands of an artist, the sponge, must be taught and seen to be understood.

The most forcible arrangement in the composition of light and shade is, where it is spread and diffused, until reaching the strongest point; which point, opposed immediately to the most retiring part, and clothed in strong colour, will have the effect of balancing and combining the most complicated forms, that, but for this method, had been all confusion.

If a sketch be too outliny, it will want solidity; if too much filled in, it will be heavy.

Do not let the lights be too scattered, or too equal, lest the struggle for precedence be observed.

When clouds are interposed between the sun and the object, the shadows will be soft, and their terminations almost imperceptible.

In conclusion, the concentration, the diffusion, or the contrast of light and shade, is best understood from a few blots made from the pictures of those great masters, who strike us as having excelled most in this department of the art, carefully preserving their arrangements, and applying them to our own compositions, until we feel and think like them. And a very little practice, in pursuing this method, will place the student in as quick a habit of effecting it, as of writing down his thoughts, together with the immeasurable advantage of snatching from Nature her faultless effects of chiaroscuro--let them be as fleeting as they may--and the lights and shades of _our own minds_ will influence the effect they have on the minds of others.

Is there not practical wisdom in commencing every day with the steady effort to make as much of it as if it were to be our whole existence? If we have duties to perform, in themselves severe and laborious, we may enquire if there be not some way by which to invest them with pleasant associations? How many men find their pleasure in what would be the positive horror and torment of the indolent, whose inefficient and shrinking spirit recoils from these tasks as insupportable burdens?

In exact proportion as you have cultivated your taste and education in this, as in all other things, will be your happiness and enjoyment in your productions.

In a work of this nature, tautology is not altogether unavoidable, as that which occurs in one division of it, equally applies to another.

I shall revert to the subject of light and shade again, under the head of its application to Colour.

ON COLOUR.

COLOUR, perhaps, is one of the most expressive languages we possess--the easiest understood by all.

'Style in painting,' says Sir Joshua Reynolds, 'is, the same as in writing, a power over materials, whether words or colours, by which conceptions or sentiments are conveyed.

'When an opportunity offers, _paint_ your studies, instead of drawing them. This will give you such a facility in using colours, that in time they will arrange themselves under the pencil.

'If painting comprises both drawing and colouring, and if, by a short struggle of resolute industry, the same expedition is attainable in painting as in drawing on paper, I cannot see what objection can justly be made to the practice, or why that should be done in parts which may be done altogether.

'Of all branches of the Art, Colouring is the least mechanical.' We cannot measure colour by lines as we can drawing.

Art is not a thing merely to be admired, and with which the spectator has nothing to do, however much he may suppose it: he has perhaps, unconsciously, as much to do with it as it may have to do with him. A man, wholly regardless of art, will remember having seen a picture twenty years ago, when shown him again: its influence on his memory, his taste, or his passions, could alone effect this.

'Colouring,' says Mr. Burnet, 'must either add to, or diminish the effect of any work upon the imagination; it must add to it by increasing, or diminish it by destroying the deception.' And he farther quotes this passage from Addison: 'We cannot, indeed, have a single image in the fancy that did not make its first entrance through the sight; but we have the power of retaining, altering, and compounding those images, which we have once received, into all the varieties of picture and vision that are most agreeable to the imagination.'

'We can form no idea of colouring beyond what has an existence in nature. From this source all our materials must be drawn.' And again:--'The artist must never forget that the mind is composed of ideas received from early impressions, from perceptions frequently occurring, and from reflections founded on such perceptions. Painting can reach the mind only through the medium of the eye, which must be gratified sufficiently to interest it in the communication.'

There should always exist a corresponding feeling between the subject and the manner of treating it.

The student should at least make himself acquainted with the leading principles of every variety of art; because, 'that which would be applicable to one style, would, in some measure, be destructive to another.' It matters nothing how _low_ the branch or particular walk he has chosen; for it will acquire quite another accent from his acquaintance with the higher, whose powers of fascination will in time imperceptibly infuse something of their own dignity into his works.

Something of this infusion has come down from the greatness, the grandeur, and severity of the Roman and Florentine schools, through all varieties they have passed, to the modern. To reach this, however, the mind must habituate itself to become quite 'disdainful of vulgar criticism,' before it can well feel a congenial sympathy with these high latitudes, as well as having to unlearn much it has acquired.

There are many excellencies in painting not at all compatible with each other, and that should never occur together--not even to gratify that fastidious disposition that is dissatisfied with every thing short of perfection: lightness would seem to want solidity, while precision will have dryness and hardness. The excellencies of others frequently corrupt ourselves: just as one coat, however well made, will not adapt itself to two persons, any more than their talents will blend with and lessen our defects.

There is no particular style or branch of art, that the student may be in pursuit of, that does not possess some excellence or other--that is not alone, or at all, perhaps, to be found in the great manner of the Roman or Florentine schools of colour: in composition, breadth and arrangement (particularly of light and shade), and masterly treatment of colour, the Flemish and Dutch, as will our own school, furnish sufficient instances.

Light and shade, colour, novelty, variety, contrast, and even simplicity, all become defects in their excess!--the spirit of the rules by which they are regulated is to be more observed than their literal sense. It will generally be found sufficient to preserve this spirit of their laws alone, to which our ideas may be proportioned and accommodated.

Colour, in my opinion, is as useful in composition as lines: a few colours, scientifically woven together, will form agreeable composition of themselves.