Académique Documents
Professionnel Documents
Culture Documents
ISBN 0-89236-322-3
COVER ILLUSTRATION
Gherardo Cibo, "Colchico," folio 17r of Herbarium, ca. 1570. Courtesy
of the British Library.
FRONTISPIECE
Detail from Jan Baptiste Collaert, Color Olivi, 1566-1628. After
Johannes Stradanus. Courtesy of the Rijksmuseum-Stichting,
Amsterdam.
cm.
1. Painting-Techniques-Congresses.
-Congresses. 3. Polychromy-Congresses.
1950-
ND1500.H57
I. Wallert, Arie,
1995
751' .09-dc20
95-9805
CIP
iv
Contents
vii
viii
Foreword
Preface
20
Ann Massing,
30
Sally A. Woodcock,
Significance
38
Oro:
48
58
Beate Federspiel,
65
Renate Woudhuysen-Keller,
70
Josephine A. Darrah,
Pigments
78
85
91
105
111
Andrea Rothe,
117
Andrea Mantegna's
Technical
A Note on Early
and Adonis:
Gerard David's
Evidence for Workshop Participation
St.
135
140
148
Jrgen Wadum,
Perspective
155
158
Melissa R. Katz,
Technique"
166
Painting
vi
176
186
Stephen Hackney,
191
John R. Gayer,
196
204
Index of Contributors
Joyce H. Townsend,
Abstract
The shift in the nineteenth century
from a tradition of artist-prepared
materials to an industry of mass-pro
duced commercial products greatly
endangered the artistic community
through the widespread distribution
of products of inferior quality and
unstable properties. For over fifty
years, the British Pre-Raphaelite
painter William Holman Hunt
waged a campaign for the reform of
the manufacture of artists' materials
and the rights of the artist as a con
sumer to expect materials of consis
tent quality and uniformity. The re
evaluation of the Pre-Raphaelite
technique, in conjunction with an
exploration of Hunt's advocacy on
behalf of artist-consumers, places in
perspective his focus on artistic
traditions at a crucial transition time
in the history of materials and tech
TUques.
Introduction
Hunt was among the first artists to note the increasingly poor quality of the
artists' materials for sale in the mid-nineteenth century, and the most vocif
erous in calling attention to their faults and advocating their improvement.
From the platform of leading painter of his day, he set out on a crusade to
reform the manufacture of artists' materials, to impose standards of quality
and workmanship, and to ensure access to consistently reliable products from
colormen informed of and interested in the durability of the goods they were
selling.
The market for artists' materials in the early and mid-nineteenth century had
changed overwhelmingly with the advent of industrial production and mass
marketing, and the rapid introduction and adaptation of newly developed
materials whose aging properties were unknown. Prior to the nineteenth
century, artists had used materials prepared for them in their own studios or
by local artisans who followed the exacting standards of their clients, allowing
the artist to determine the materials used and methods of preparation. With
the rise of the commercial colorman in an age of burgeoning capitalism, a
middleman was introduced between the manufacturer and the consumer of
1 58
the product, a salesman motivated by the need for profit and immediate short
term customer satisfaction rather than long-term stability.
The evolution of the art nurket also brought with it an expansion of materials
available for sale, aided by advances in scientific fields that greatly expanded
the range of available pigments and dyestuffs. The artist's palette roughly dou
bled in the nineteenth century, each decade bringing new colors, starting
with cobalt blue and lemon yellow. In the early part of the century, iodine
scarlet, chrome yellow, and emerald green were introduced; and, in the 1 820s,
synthetic ultramarine became available. Zinc oxide (Chinese white) and vi
ridian came in the 1 830s, and cadmium yellow and orange followed in the
1 840s. The 1 850s brought the aniline dyes, brilliantly colored and wildly
impermanent coal-tar derivatives. The 1 860s saw the dawn of aureolin yellow,
chromium oxide green, synthetic alizarin, manganese violet, cerulean blue,
and so on ( 1 ) . The colors produced by these new pigments were often daz
zling, but also alarmingly unstable.
Figure 2. William Holman Hunt sculpting a
model of Christ's head to aid him in the
painting <if The Light of the World, ca.
1 900.
Katz
1 59
with colormen and hired scientists to analyze paint samples from various
suppliers. He badgered the Royal Academy into appointing their first pro
fessor of chemistry to research and teach materials science. He formed an
artists' cooperative to secure hand-ground pigments and pure materials. He
monitored the condition of his own paintings, attentive to the conditions of
their display and handling. He made test panels and stored them in his studio
ten, fifteen, and twenty years to observe the effects of aging. With ever in
creasing obsession, he investigated material permanence, compatibility, and
composition. Like a true conservator, he forsook the artwork for the artmak
ing, producing fewer paintings over longer intervals in a painstakingly slow
technique.
Hunt's passions flared in the mid- 1 870s with the realization that Roberson's
orange vermilion, a favorite commercial tube paint, was being adulterated
with red lead, and thus blackening on the canvas. In frustration, Hunt wrote
to his friend and fellow artist, John Lucas Tupper (5) :
It seems as tho [sic] I were struggling against Fate. Every day sometimes
including Sundays I have been toiling every hour, and just as I have got
my task nearly completed the whole thing has fallen into disorder again for
at least five or six times and I have had to begin again. At last I have
found out what has been the cause oj this: Roberson 's tube oj Orange
Vermilion, which I used without suspicion because 25 years ago they sold
this color absolutely pure, is adulterated with 1 0 percent oj villainy, the
greater part lead, which has blackened so rapidly that when it had got dry
enough for the final glazings the flesh had got to such a color [sic] that I
nearly went crazy . . . I have had the color analysed and at the same time
have taken the opportunity to have others investigated and find that the
fraudulent habit is exercised in many other cases. What is to me more
discouraging than this is that many artists I have spoken to about [it] are
quite satisfied to go on dealing in these spurious colors saying "Oh, they
will last my time, " and "I never found my pictures change" and with
base humility "they, " the colors, "are good enough for my work. " Leigh
ton, when I proposed a little co-operative society for importing and grinding
pure colors said, "And what's poor Roberson to do? "
The culmination came o n Friday, 23 April 1 880, when Hunt addressed the
members of the Royal Society of Arts on the subject, "The Present System
of Obtaining Materials in Use by Artist Painters, as Compared with that of
the Old Masters." At a conservative estimate, the talk lasted at least two-and
a-half hours. Concerned as much with the decline in knowledge of artists'
techniques as well as materials, Hunt observed, "In the old days the secrets
were the artist's; now he is the first to be kept in ignorance of what he
using" (6) . Eloquently he informed his audience (7) :
IS
I feel called upon to avow that I regard the artists ' colourmen oj London
as gentlemen of intelligence, of character, and great enterprise, to which
qualities we are much indebtedfor the comparatively safe positions we enjoy;
for indeed, at the worst, it must be recognised that we might have gone
further astray. It is needful, however, that we should be not only in good
hands, but we should give strong prooJ that we can distinguish between
that which is faulty and that which is perfect; and it is the want of dis
criminating power in the painter which produces all the indifference on the
part oj the preparer to the permanent character of the materials he supplies.
The painter has really not the power to trace the causes of difects. The
colourman naturally judges of the character of the materials he vends by the
condition they are in while under his own eye. To him, the evils revealing
themselves in the work which has passed through his shop do not exist if
he never sees them; and if he hears of them only, as evils untraceable in
their cause which have occurred to one of his customers (who may, some
times, have obtained materials elsewhere), his sense oj responsibility is qui
eted, when he has received the assurance of his men in the workshop that
the usual rules, which have hitherto resulted in work of a kind not eliciting
1 60
complaints, have been strictly adhered to. The workmen, too, in these shops
are not permanent, and there is virtually no responsibility for any one
preparation. In most cases the complaint is never made, for the evil may
be a very serious one, and yet it may not manifest itself bifore the death
of the artist.
In conclusion, he stated, "The cure that we have to seek is one it is possible
to defme compactly. It is to establish a means of transmitting the practical
wisdom of one generation of painters to another" (8) .
With striking prescience, he addressed the need " to found a society for look
ing after the material interests of painting . . . composed of important mem
bers of the profession of painting . . . [joined by] gentlemen of reputation in
chemical science." This society would form "a library . . . of all works of
literature which exist on the subject of artistic practices . . . , establish a workshop for the preparation of materials . . . , arrange for the importing of colours
from abroad for collecting specimens of experiments. An important aspect of
the society will be to cultivate the opportunities of obtaining further samples
of every variety of colours existing in the far East, of proving these, and
putting them on record in our museum for all generations to see." A technical
school would be established, and artists trained, "that thus we should be the
inheritors, not only of our immediate predecessors, but the heirs of all the
ages, and that, though our pretensions would not be ostentatious in our hum
ble way, we might be proud that we should be repeating the chosen tasks of
the gods, the directing of inert matter to a spiritual end" (9) .
The Pre-Raphaelite technique
Fully aware of the frailty of the materials of painting, Hunt became a master
technician. Most of his paintings have remained well preserved, retaining the
exceptional brilliancy of color which he strove so hard to achieve via suc
cessive layering of minute strokes of transparent and semi-transparent paint.
He chose quality linen canvas stretched on paneled stretcher supports as "pro
tection against accidental injuries, such as a push from a corner of a picture
frame in the confusion which precedes and follows exhibitions, a kind of
injury which, if not visible at the time, may show years afterwards in starred
cracks in the hard paint" ( 1 0) .
With some notable exceptions (such as the Liverpool Triumph of the Innocents,
painted on handkerchief linen from an Arab bazaar because the artist was too
impatient to await a delayed shipment of supplies from England) , many of
Hunt's paintings remain unlined today and on their original stretchers, in the
same gilt frames he designed for them. On other occasions, he had the paint
ings lined as a prophylactic measure, either during execution or shortly after
completion ( 1 1 ) .
Hunt chose his medium and surface coating with the same view to perma
nency as his pigments and support. Instead of the popular megilp, a gelled
preparation of linseed oil and mastic varnish much used and abused by nine
teenth-century British painters, Hunt used amber colors, smooth-flowing
tube paints with pigments bound in a drying oil and copal resin. For once,
Hunt diverged from sound technique, failing to foresee the embrittling effect
to the paint layer over time from the addition of copal to the medium, along
with the eventual yellowing of his colors due to the oxidation of the varnish
component. With the best of intentions, he defended his choice of medium,
noting that "amber varnish . . . protects the colours very perfectly, but has
two slight disadvantages, as it lessens the brilliance of the white by the richness
of the yellow tone in the varnish, and permits each touch to spread, though
very slightly. Both these difficulties, however, occur immediately and may be
calculated for" ( 1 2) .
In spite o f his profound interest i n stability o f materials and techniqu e s, if
Hunt is remembered at all today as a technical innovator, it is as the author
of the Pre-Raphaelite technique, a technique actually attempted by very few
Katz
161
Pre-Raphaelite painters and never to any great extent. The myth of the Pre
Raphaelite technique arose from a single paragraph in Hunt's 1 ,000-page,
two-volume autobiography. Citing as an example the painting Valentine Res
cuing Sylvia from Proteus (Fig. 7) , Hunt stated that he would ( 1 3) :
Select a prepared ground, originally Jor its brightness, and renovate it, if
necessary, with Jresh white when first it comes into the studio, white to be
mixed with a very little amber or copal varnish. Let this last coat become
oj a thoroughly stone-like hardness. Upon this suiface complete with ex
actness the outline oj the part in hand. On the morning Jor the painting,
with Jresh white (from which all supeifluous oil has been extracted by means
oj absorbent paper, and to which a small drop oj varnish has been added)
spread a Jurther coat very evenly with a palette knife over the part Jor the
day's work, oj such consistency that the drawing should Jaintly show
through. In some cases the thickened white may be applied to the Jorms
needing brilliancy with a brush, by the aid oj rectified spirits. Over this
wet ground, the colour (transparent and semi-transparent) should be laid
with light sable brushes, and the touches must be made so tenderly that
the ground below shall not be worked up, yet so Jar enticed to blend with
the superimposed tints as to correct the qualities oj thinness and staininess
[sic] , which over a dry ground transparent colours used would inevitably
exhibit. Painting oj this kind cannot be retouched except with an entire
loss oj luminosity.
In spite of the attention given to this quotation, however, it is rarely pointed
out that Hunt describes this as a technique with which he experimented at
one point in his career, used for specific design areas rather than entire can
vases and not as a wholesale working method, as has been interpreted. Indeed,
until the appearance of the autobiography in 1 905, Hunt appears to repudiate
his early experimental technique. It remains unmentioned in his first version
of his memoirs, nor does it crop up in the frequent handwritten inscriptions
in which he recorded details of technique on bare sections of canvas or sup
port (1 4) (Fig. 8) . Hunt dismisses its relevance to his career in an article on
his painting technique that appeared in the magazine Porifolio in 1 875, stating
that he used wet grounds only from 1 850 to 1 854 to capture the effects of
sunlight ( 1 5) . While these five early years are viewed today as Hunt's period
of greatest productivity and success, to his contemporaries his highest achieve
ments came later in a career that spanned seven decades ( 1 6) .
The sudden prominence accorded t o the technique i n 1 905, may be due not
to Hunt himself, but to his wife, Edith, seeking to enhance his reputation
through the implication of technical innovation. Suffering from glaucoma,
Hunt dictated much of his memoir to Edith who, according to their grand
daughter, among others, took liberties with the text, "deleting passages . . .
she considered unsuitable for posterity" (author's emphasis) ( 1 7) . Edith's urge
to improve went so far as taking advantage of her husband's blindness to have
a studio assistant repaint Hunt's portrait of her, secretly slimming her waist
and reddening her lips ( 1 8) . It may well have been at her suggestion that the
wet-ground technique, after fifty years of oblivion, abruptly became of im
portance in her husband's career, serving as one more opportunity to assert
his innovation, skill, and pivotal role in the movement he had helped to shape.
Along with the disproportionate attention given to the Pre-Raphaelite tech
nique comes a misunderstanding of the technique itself, due to a fundamental
misreading of the word "ground." In Hunt's writings, the term often refers
to an imprimatura, or underpaint, layer, rather than the intermediary priming
that prepares a solid or fabric support to receive paint. In his diary, for ex
ample, Hunt refers to "lay[ing] a new ground for the left shoulder, which I
do of white, cobalt green, and cadmium" ( 1 9) . Further investigation confirms
that Hunt's "wet ground" was actually a layer of paint, the "fresh white" of
his writings referring to flake white oil paint, as he indicated in a letter of
1 878 (20) :
1 62
F(gure 8. Illfrared rriflectograph of the hal1dwritten notatioll under the paint layer il1 the upper right
corner of The Miracle of the Sacred Fire, Church of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem, at the
HalVard University Art Museums. Inscriptions such as this one are frequel1tly found in paintillgs by
HUllt, either on the reverse of the supports, 011 bare spandrels, or ul1derneath the pail1t layers. Image
provided by the author.
I am obliged to wait long Jor the drying oj the paint I put on to Jorm a
Jresh ground, and while patience is being exercised as a necessity it seems
but a little virtuous to summon hope to help me over the completing oj the
parts where the ground has finally become workably [sic] even and dry.
Indeed, Hunt complains here that the underpaint layer is wet, rather than
seeking to exploit its freshness as part of his technique.
This reevaluation of the Pre-Raphaelite technique is consistent with the re
sults of analyses carried out on cross sections taken from various paintings by
Hunt, which indicate the blending of paint layers wet-into-wet, a common
technique throughout the history of painting, rather than the swirling of paint
layers into wet primings (2 1 ) . This clarification not only places Hunt's
achievements in a far more plausible technical frame, but also emphasizes, as
he did throughout his career, his connection with and indebtedness to the
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1 63
paintings techniques of the past masters, rather than the faddish disregard for
tradition prevalent among his contemporaries.
Conclusion
In seeking reform, Hunt sought not to stop the wheels of progress but to
channel them. His advocacy for the rights of the consumers in a time of
rampant laissez-faire capitalism had ramifications throughout his century and
our own, contributing directly to the enactment of regulations governing the
safety of commercial goods and legislation regarding truth in advertising. His
sophisticated understanding of the science of painting, in spite of limited
formal schooling, and the impact of environment in the preservation of art
place him as a key figure in the development in the professions of art con
servation and museology. His understanding of historic painting techniques,
well advanced for his day as well as our own, generated a revival of the craft
of painting after a generation notorious for technical inadequacies. Too often
he has been dismissed by art historians as a minor painter of deeply tasteless
religious scenes. His contribution to nineteenth-century British painting and
to the current stability of commercial artists' materials must not be underes
timated.
Acknowledgments
The author wishes to thank Kate Olivier (Fogg Art Museum, Harvard University)
for having encouraged the undertaking of this research; Jacqueline Ridge (National
Museums and Galleries on Merseyside, Liverpool) , Zahira Veliz (private practice, Lon
don), and David Bomford (National Gallery, London) for facilitating research in Brit
ain; Judith Bronkhurst (Witt Library, Courtauld Institute, London) and Leslie Carlyle
(Canadian Conservation Institute, Ottawa) for their valuable insights into nineteenth
century British art and techniques; and the staff of the following institutions for
generous access to curatorial and conservation files pertaining to William Holman
Hunt: Fogg Art Museum, Cambridge, Massachusetts; Wadsworth Atheneum, Hart
ford, Connecticut; Tate Gallery, London; Courtauld I nstitute of Art, London; Guild
hall Art Gallery, London; Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool; Lady Lever Art Gallery, Port
Sunlight; Manchester City Art Galleries, Manchester; Birmingham Museums and Art
Gallery, Birmingham; and the Roberson Archives, Hamilton Kerr Institute, Cam
bridge University, Cambridge.
Notes
1 . Harley, R. D. 1 970. Artists' Pigments c. 1 600- 1 835: A Study in English Documentary
Sources. London: Butterworth Scientific. Also, Gettens, R., and G. Stout, 1 966.
Painting Materials: A Short Encyclopaedia. New York: Dover Publications, Inc.
2. Bomford, D. , et al. 1 990. Art in the Making: Impressionism. London: The National
Gallery.
3 . Standage, H . C. , 1 886. The Artists ' Manual of Pigments showing their Composition:
1 64
Katz
1 65