Mi]

painting in oil by tlie 5-color method

painting in oil b)
 michael carver

he l^-color method

McGraw-Hill Book Company, Inc. New York Toronto London

to edna

painting in oil by the 5-color method

Copyright © 1961 by the McGraw-Hill Book Company, Inc.

Printed in the United States of America. All rights reserved.

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any

form without permission of the publishers.

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 61-15908

First Edition
 introduction vii

part I

1 a good solid beginning 3

2 the colors you need 8

3 working conditions 14

4 how important to good painting is skillful drawing? 18

5 gimmicks and gadgets supposed to help you paint 23

6 still life composition 25

7 the beginner's attitude toward color 34

contents
8 the function of color 39

9 an exercise in mixing color 42

10 how to keep a color library 49

11 painting the still life 52

12 how to paint flowers 57

13 space I 63

14 painting the landscape: selecting the elements 69

15 painting the landscape: color and value relationships 74

16 painting the landscape: some final pointers 78

17 rhythm 81

part II

18 what is art? 87

19 the meaning and beauty of art 90

20 imagination in art 96
21 originality in art 101

22 expanding the palette 106

23 sketching out-of-doors 112

24 space II : perspective 123

25 marine painting 134

26 portrait painting 139

27 drawing the human figure 154

28 texture techniques of the oil painter

: 172
29 space III : shallow space 182

30 an analysis of some great paintings 189

conclusion 197
a dictionary of art terms and phrases 201
 introduction

This is a book for anyone who wants to paint-anyone with a

nature; any-
feehng for color, for design, for what is beautiful in
love of
one who wants to learn how to paint simply for the
doing it.
Never before has there been so much popular interest
in
longer the
painting as a hobby-and with good reason. Art is no
exclusive dominion of the highbrow. The average
person has

begun to learn that he, too, has need for creative expression. And
he has begun to realize that creative activity is within his reach.

This book will be specific in advice. Every step in the crea-

its

tion of a picture will be clearly outlined. The reader

is certain

to
to acquire a working knowledge of oil painting. In addition
becoming acquainted with the principles of composition and
design, he will become familiar with the materials of the
artist

and learn how to use them. He will get detailed instruction in

the use of color, and he will discover the joy of creating lovely
harmonies.
There will be little reference to drawing, as such. Fine drawing
is amount of training and practice. People
the result of a great
who draw well generally rely too heavily on their skill at the
ex-pense of composition and design, which are more important
to good painting.
It is not the object of this book to teach people how to paint

pictures that look like colored photographs. There is more skill

and training necessarv for this kind of work than the average
person can bring to bear. Those who manage to acquire these
skills wind up with very little that the camera can't do better. The

great painters of all time have not been distinguished by any

slavish imitation of nature. Individuality of vision and imagina-
tiveness of conception are what stamp the creative artist.

Just as surely as each one has a handwriting (or a fingerprint,

or voice, or walk) distinctly his own, so is he certain of finding
individual expression in painting. Not by trying to copy someone
else's clever tricks with the brush, but by seeking his own per-
sonal mode of expression. What can be more rewarding than to
have completed a painting entirely one's own, even though it
may be a little crude! This is far better than trying to acquire a
bagful of tricks which look as if they might have been done by
almost anyone else. For though the painting may look a little
amateurish, it may at the same time reveal a joyous response to

color or may have an excitement that reflects the painter's enthu-

siasm. It can be fresh and heartwarming in its effect, which even
the slickest painting could never hope to achieve.
So it is for those who have need for a creative outlet in paint-
ing that this book was written. Nothing will be stressed here but
the fundamentals of picturemaking. Fortified with the knowledge
he gains here, the reader will have a chance to create his very
own conception of what he sees or feels. Although his early efforts
may appear a little crude at first, they will become less so the
more experience he gains. But whatever he does, he will be able
to say, with pride, that it is all his ov^ti.
parti
 1. a good solid beginning

The most common complaint of people who want to paint and

are afraid to try is: "I can't even draw a straight line." One hears

it everywhere. This objection is entirely without foundation. It is

true that great artists had to learn how

draw. But since great
to

art is not the aim of the amateur painter, the emphasis should be
on composition and design, which anyone can learn. I have had
many students poorly at first, but who went on to
who drew
paint beautiful pictures.love of color and a feeling for pattern
A
and rhythm will carry the amateur painter a much longer way
than mere drawing wdll.

But let us, for a moment, consider wheeze of the

this ancient

"straight line." Actually, there few straight lines in

are very
nature. Practically all straight lines are man-made. There is little
point in debunking a meaningless cliche. But for the sake of the
reader who would feel more comfortable about being able to
draw that straight line, he will now be quickly shown how easily
it can be done— by anyone!
Take a short piece of charcoal and lay it down flat on a sheet
of paper. Pull the charcoal firmly in the desired direction, and a
straight line is bound to result— one which no skilled draftsman
could improve.
Another thing that seems to frighten away some potential be-
ginnersis the feeling of hopelessness that they can ever learn how

to draw likenesses of people or things. They seem to hold this to

be a criterion of talent for painting, and their repeatedly disap-
pointing results while doodling at the telephone appear to confirm
this disbelief in their ability to improve. It should be of some
comfort for such people to learn that Cezanne was rejected by
the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, the leading French art academy, be-
cause he was obviously not considered talented enough; yet he
went on to become one of the greatest painters of all time. Many
of those who were accepted, however, developed into mediocrities
or nonentities; no one hears of them today.
 ) ) ) )

Talent by meaningless thing. If you are not musical,

itself is a

the mere possession good voice will not make you a good
of a
singer. And there are pianists with phenomenal technique who
never amount to much, because all they have is the remarkable
facility toplay notes. So it is with painting. Dexterity with a
pencil not necessarily an indication of how well you may do
is

with a brush. Besides, most drawing ability is not innate, but has
to be learned just like anything else. It is true that some people
show drawing ability faster than others, but, as I have said before,
it doesn't prove anything when it comes to painting. Furthermore,
many students draw much better after having painted a while
than they did before. Their eyes and hands begin to correlate
with experience and, as a consequence, drawing becomes more
natural to them.
With these obstacles out of the way, we can concentrate on a
more important element of painting— composition. The foundation
Oil paints: of every good painting is its composition. Without it the picture
- ALIZARIN will fall apart, no matter how well its individual parts are exe-
CADMIUM RED PALE cuted. A house cannot be built \vithout an architect's plan; so,
- CADMIUM YELLOW LIGHT too, the picture must follow some plan to make its structure secure.
ULTRAMARINE RLUE Once a person has decided he would like to try painting in
VIRIDIAN (Guignet's Green) oils, his first concern is about materials. For some unaccountable
plus: titanium or zinc white ( lb. tube reason there is a belief prevalent that in order to equip oneself
Rrushes: Size No.l, No.3, No.5, No.8 with the supplies necessary for painting, there must be an outlay
Palette ( disposable paper of money beyond what the average person can afford— and this
palette preferred scares some people away. But it so happens that ten or eleven

Palette knife dollars (depending on the quality of the merchandise and where
Oil cup it's bought) will provide all the materials necessary for a good

Linseed Oil (2M oz. bottle) start in oil painting, and that includes brushes, six full-sized tubes
Gum Turpentine ( 8 oz. bottle of paint, palette, canvas, oil cup, linseed oil, turpentine, charcoal,
Box of Vine Charcoal fixatif and sprayer.
Canvas Panel (14x18) It is only logical that you should know something about the
Fixatif and Sprayer materials you have to work with before you can proceed to the
Newsprint Pad ( 18 x 25 ) (rough actual business of composing and painting your picture. Conse-
quently, the first item will be a thoroughgoing discussion of all
that you need to know about supplies: their selection, use, care,
and how to get the best results out of them.
At the left is a list of the basic necessities for oil painting.
You must bear in mind that though art supply stores are full of
interesting and attractive-looking gadgets, including fancy paint-
boxes and intricate easels, none of these are essential. All you
really need are the paints and the tools for mixing and brushing,
and the canvas and charcoal for drawing your composition.

materials and mixing of color

Avoid buying ready-made paint sets. Most of these contain
inferior colors and brushes. Should you receive one of these as
a gift from a well-meaning friend or relation, it would be best to
exchange it, if possible, for more useful material. The best thing
is to get an unfinished-wooden paintbox, or kit, and equip it

yourself with a supply of good student-grade colors and brushes.

oil paints

When buying oil paints, special care must be made in their

selection.Most reputable manufacturers turn out a fairly good
product; but some try to get by on their names, and turn out sub-
standard materials. Tubes of paint should be tested before buying.
The way to do this is to unscrew the cap of each tube and examine
the paint for consistency. If there is any suggestion of oil oozing
out of the pigment, then it has not been properly ground and
should not be bought. The color under the screw cap should
present a firm, homogenized look of its ingredients to the examin-
ing eye.
It is unfortunately true that there is no real standardization of

paint manufacture regarding color hues. on some tubes The label

of paint may read cadmium red and it can

light, for instance,

turn out to be the same hue as that which another manufacturer

labels medium red. The same holds true for oranges and yellows.
The best thing to do in this case is to examine the colors of
various brands and try to arrive at some approximation of the
desired hues.

miscellaneous articles
The rest of the materials needed are: a palette knife, oil cup, a
small bottle of linseed oil, and a larger bottle of gum turpentine.
(Make sure it is not wood-distilled turpentine. Gum turps, by
virtue of its resinous base, has an affinity with the materials used
in the manufacture of artists' oil paints ). As for a palette, I recom-
mend the disposable paper kind. It is made of specially treated
paper that resists absorption of oil, and can be peeled ofiF and
thrown away when the work is done. As a result, there is very
little fuss or cleaning to be done afterward.

easel
A cheap easel of the folding variety will do, but is not essential.
In the absence of an easel, the canvas may be leaned against the
back of a Fancy equipment can wait until later. When the
chair.
beginner convinced that he loves painting so much that he
is

wants better equipment, he can decide whether the extra expense

is within his means, and worth his while.

brushes
Brushes, too, should be carefully examined before bought, as
they are an important tool of the painter. It is advisable to get flat

bristle brushes, preferably with longer bristles. The short-haired

brushes lose their due to the accumulation of paint
utility sooner,

in the ferrule (the which the bristles are set). The

metal part in
bristles of most new brushes are held together at the tips by an
adhesive substance to give the effect of a tapered shape. When
examining brushes, the hairs should be worked free of this sub-

stance with the fingers. Thus it is possible to see if the bristles

taper naturally, which the tips of good brushes must do. If they
don't taper, after some use the bristles will begin to spread at the
tips and become difficult to control while painting.
canvas
In the old days painters had to buy raw canvas and tack it on to
stretchers, and then had to heat rabbit or fish glue with which
to "size" the canvas. After this they had to paint one or more
layers of "ground" white or gesso ^ over that-depending on the
degree of absorbency they wanted. ( Some painters still go through
all this trouble because, in addition to being more expensive, the
commercially prepared canvas does not suit their needs. ) In those
days art students also had to learn how to prepare their ovm
canvases.
The amateur painter today, however, does not have to have
any of this bother, and can purchase perfecdy serviceable pre-
pared canvases at moderate prices. These can be had either
stretched or in cardboard-backed panels. The panels are the least
expensive and are the ones recommended for the absolute be-
ginner. The advantage of painting on a stretched canvas is the
resiliency, or "give" that it affords, as opposed to the rigid
surface of the panels. After you have completed your second or
third painting, you might find it fun to try working on a stretched
canvas.
The material that goes into the manufacture of canvas cloth
can be either cotton or linen. Artists generally prefer linen for its
texture as well as durability. However, the very fine textural dis-
tinctions of linen over cotton will not prove to be of any appre-
ciable benefit to the beginning painter, and certainly cotton-duck
will outlast the average individual. Most panels are made of pre-
pared cotton-duck canvas.
For those who can afford the additional expense of buying
canvases ready-stretched, they can be found in most art supply
stores. The average amateur doesn't have much time to spend on
stretching canvases; besides, the diflierence in expense is not so
great. But if an obstacle, then there's nothing wrong
expense is

with painting on canvas panels. The most beautiful pictures can

be painted on panels, and once they are framed no one will be
able to detect whether the painting was done on stretched canvas
or on panels.
As regards the size of canvas to paint on, by all means avoid
very small canvases, as these will only make for tightness in your
work. For any of the exercises in this book, I would recommend
nothing smaller than 14 x 18. It is all right to use 12 x 16 panels
which fit into the slots in your paintbox, but I would advise using
these for rough oil studies (see chapter "Sketching Out-of-Doors")
rather than for finished paintings.Some of these quick studies
can have a charm, and even look handsome in a frame. But
lot of .,

the inexperienced amateur should be wary of working too care-

fully on such small canvases, as there is a danger of them look-
ing fussy.
If you should want to paint a picture larger than 16 x 20, I

'
Gesso: a chalky compound of gypsum, or plaster. Whiting: pulverized
chalk, sometimes used as a pigment.
would advise against doing it on a panel, as these have a tendency
to warp in the larger sizes. The warp is not permanent and the
panel is capable of being bent back ( although care must be taken
in doing this so as not to crack the backing). However, it is best

to use the stretched canvas for sizes above twenty inches.

2. the colors you need

I have my students begin to paint with a hmited number of tubes

of color because it gives the beginner an opportunity to famil-
with the character, property, and function of each
iarize himself
before expanding his palette to include new colors.
To begin painting with a dozen-and-a-half tubes of color is
likeexpecting to play an organ before one knows anything about
music. It is, of course, possible to buy paint tubes of almost every

describable shade. Spread out fanwise on the palette in nice neat

little piles, they can look as seductive as a flower garden. But

they will not help the beginner to paint well. On the contrary,
they only make for confusion.
By confining himself at the outset to a hmited number of tubes,
the student learns something about each color. Since he will have
to mix a lot of the colors that he could have bought ready-made
in tubes, he will have a chance to learn a great deal about his
six tubes of paint. In the process of mixing the various combina-
tions he learns why certain pigments fuse with others to
produce
different colors, etc. As the student becomes more experienced in
thehandhng of his medium, additional colors may be added.
The following is a description of each of the colors recom-
mended for the beginner in oil painting. The character, property,
and function of each is explained in detail. The reader will
be
well advised to pay a lot of attention to these instructions.
In
fact, it won't hurt to refer to them again and
again in the early
stages of painting.
Jslote: If you already possess a set of
oil colors and have been
painting with them for some time with unsatisfactory
results,
it might be well for you to put
aside temporarily all but the tubes
of paint recommended below. In the chapter
on "Expanding the
Palette" I will separately analyze the various
colors available in
art supply stores.
should not be in the least surprising that colors
It
which look
so attractive in the tube, or set off
against the old-fashioned
dark-brown palette, should produce such disappointing results on
the canvas. Many people who fall heir to, are given, or (in their

haste to get started painting) go out and buy an assortment

of

paints, don't have the vaguest idea of what these paints are
com-
posed of. \Vhen you have acquired a satisfactory
acquaintance
with the properties of the beginner's palette of the five tubes of
color (plus white), and feel ready to e.xpand your palette, then
the advanced chapter will provide you with the information you
should ha\e about the rest of your paints. You will then be in a
better position to judge which colors you may later use to advan-
tage and which it would, for specifically stated reasons, be best to
discard entirely.

ALIZARIN This is mostly a tinting color and should never be

used bv itself. It is slow drying, and is more of a dye than a
pigment. It requires a tremendous amount of absorption of oil

in its manufacture, hence very thin in body and has little

it is

covering power." It is very beautiful in combination with other

colors and can produce shades of violet and gray-violet. A little

of this color goes a long way, so only a small amount of it

should be put out on the palette.

CADMIUM RED PALE Most people think of this as orange

until asked to compare it with the rind of the fruit, which is
clearly much lighter. This is a rich color of great covering
power. Combined with white it produces a peach hue— also
flesh tones. In combination with blue it will make brown. With
vellow, it will make orange.

CADMIUM YELLOW LIGHT A brilliant color of moderate

covering power. In combination with blue it will make various
shades of green. Should almost never be used by itself, as it is

too acid in its raw state. Needs mi.xing with a little white to give
it body and make it bland.

ULTRAMARINE BLUE A deep blue that leans a little toward

violet. Seldom used bybut when combined with white
itself,

produces a fiery blue. When mi.\ed with too much white, how-
ever, it becomes milky and loses character. Combines with
yellow to make green. With alizarin and white to make violet,
with red to make brown. Fairly quick-drying.

VIRIDIAN This is a dark green, very thin in body, hence having

little covering power. It requires a great deal of oil absorption
in its manufacture (about 100 per cent) and is inclined to be
rather gelatinous as it comes out of the tube. This color, like

alizarin and ultramarine blue, should never be used by itself,

but is capable of producing very beautiful hues in combination
with other colors. It produces a turquoise shade when mixed
with white. Combines with alizarin and white to produce use-
ful shades of violet-green. This is a fairly quick-drying color.

'
By covering power is meant the capacity of a color to conceal what is

iindemeatli. Those which contain a heavier concentration of pigment will

have greater covering power; those which have less will proportionally
reveal the color they have been painted over.

9
TITANIUM WHITE Preferred to zinc white because it has a
greater covering power. Never to be used by itself, as it will look
small amounts of
chalky or pasty. Needs to be mixed with
yellow or green for areas of the painting that are
meant to be
white. Makes all colors it is mixed with lighter, but at the same
time makes them less bright, excepting the deep colors such as
alizarin, viridian and ultramarine. It is essential for mixing of
grays and violets. (For additional combinations see Color
Wheel)

Here we have just five tubes of paint, plus white. The beginner
will be amazed at the range of tones and hues that he can get
from Later on I will introduce several addi-
this limited palette.

tional pigments; you should become familiar with the

but first,
enable you
contents of these few tubes. You have enough here to
to paint very lovely pictures.

some pointers on getting started

In an exercise that is to follow, I will show, step by step, how to

these colors. But first, it is necessary to em-
go about mixing all

phasize a few things about technique.

Don't start out with too many brushes— four or five at the most,
progressing in size from very-small to medium-large. It's a good
idea to keep one brush for each color family: one brush for reds,
another for greens, one for blues, etc. Larger brushes are for
larger areas.
Note: When speaking of brush sizes, I am referring to the width

of the combined bristles. It has nothing to do with the length of

the handles, which are all of standard length in bristle brushes.'
Your paint is spread out on the palette (see Fig. 1), the tur-
pentine is in the cup, and now you begin to paint. Dip your
brush into the turpentine, but do not saturate it. If you do, it will
cause the paint to run. With the end of the brush, pick up a
quantity of the color you've chosen to paint. Test it by stroking it
on a small area of the white palette. If the white shows through,
then you have either not enough paint in the brush, or too much
turpentine. If it's pasty, then you have too much paint and not
enough turpentine. Add more of whichever is needed to give the
paint the right consistency.
It's a keep a jar in which to pour your turpentine
good idea to
when it you can use to squoosh your brush around
gets dirty. This
in before dipping it in the clean turps (remember to wipe the
brush between dippings). Try to keep the turpentine clean by
dipping the brush into it without touching the sides or bottom of
the cup. For if the turps becomes discolored, it will affect the

clearness of the other colors.

Old rags are essential for wiping the brushes after cleaning
them with turpentine. The palette knife is for mixing colors. If
you want to make green, you pick up some blue with the knife and
•
There is no standardization of brush sizes. There are brushes of for-
eign manufacture on the market which are at variance with the numerical
size index of domestic make. Consequently, the brushes you get
should
measure rouglily Va, %, K, % of an inch across the tips of the bristles.

10
place it in tlie center of the palette. Wipe the knife elean, pick up
some vellow and put it beside the blue. Mix them together, but
do not use the tip of the knife. Gently slide the blade with its
full length under both colors and keep turning the batch o\er

imtil they have mixed into green.

Oil paints should be mixed as lightly as one would mix a batter
for making biscuits. The reason for this is that the crystals of
pigment lose their luster if crushed. The pigment has already
been subjected to considerable grinding in the manufacture.
With all the other ingredients that go to make up the color in the
tube, there ismuch abuse it can take. So, as much as
just so
possible, while mixing keep from pressing the color against the
palette with the knife, and you will be sure of having a good,
clean color— not something tortured and drab-looking that has
had the life cnished out of it.

hotv to apply paint

Painting should be done at the beginning in broad, flat washes of
color.Beginners have a tendency to stroke their paint horizontally
throughout the entire picture causing ridges, like tiny trolley
tracks, to form across the surface of the canvas after the paint has
dried. Such ridges give the painting a streaky appearance, be-
cause light runs lengthwise along these little ridges in a monot-
onous way. It also makes the surface more difficult to work on in
cases where additional painting has to be done.
A good rule to remember is to stroke the paint opposite to
THE MOVEMENT ( DIRECTION ) OF THE PLANE. This, of course, means
the longest surface of each object. Housewives know that beef
has to be cut against the grain of the meat. The same principle
can be applied to painting. With the plane moving in one direc-
tion, and the paint stroked opposite to the movement, a bal-
ance between them results. An overall feeling of balance is created
by the alternation of strokes throughout the picture.

houj much paint should you squeeze on the palette?

This is a question that almost every beginner asks, and it is

only natural that he should want to know. The answer is that

there any specified amount, and that each one has to de-
isn't

termine for himselfhow much of each color he will find it neces-

sary to use during an average session of painting. This knowl-
edge can only come from experience, of course, once you have
determined roughly how much of each color is left over on the
palette after you have finished painting.
But in relation to this, it might be helpful for you to know one
or two things that will be of assistance to you in determining the
amounts of paint to be squeezed out of your tubes. To begin
with, there no worse way of starting to paint than by squeezing
is

on your palette. This has an exceedingly

tiny little squibs of color
restrictive effect on your work, and your painting is bound to
suffer as a consequence.

11
 The desire for economy is perfectly understandable; no one

likes to see good paint go to waste. But where it comes to a choice

think that
between wastefulness of the paint or the painting,
I

there would be little doubt about which

comes first. There's just
away from the fact that, once you have begun to paint
no getting
kind of work so
and are caught up in the enthusiasm that this
quickly generates, it becomes a nuisance to
have to stop to rum-
for fugitive tubes of paint, im-
mage through your paintbox
patiently scanning the labels for the name of
the desired color,

unscrewing the caps, squeezing out more paint, etc.

Take it from
one who has been painting for many years, and who still finds it

bothersome.
What happens when you start out to paint with little smidgins

of color without realizing it, you put off hunting for the
is that,
the remain-
desired color, and the attempt is made to "stretch"
increasing amounts
ing morsels of pigment on the palette with
into the canvas,
of turpentine. The turpentine is rapidly sucked
and the cardboard backing of the panel becomes a
veritable
on the surface giving
blotter, leaving' dry, crusty residues of color
the picture a hfeless appearance.
The best thing to do is to put out ample amounts of each
This
color-and you should certainly do this at the beginning.
way you will have a chance to observe how much of each color
is left over, and when it begins to
appear that more is left over
of some than of others, then you will be in a good
position to

judge where to cut down. But if you begin with tiny amounts you
will never be able to ascertain the real difference in the quantities
of each color used.
When you get right down to it, the amount of paint you are
capable of wasting after one session of painting can run into
pennies-unless you squeeze tremendous gobs of it out on the
palette. But it is true that some people will have a tendency
to

paint thinner, and some will paint thicker, and the only formulas
in this regard are the dictates of one's personal preference.
Here,
the matter of personality or temperament enter into it and no one
is to say which person is to paint thin or which
one is to paint
thick, provided, of course, that one paints neither too thin nor
too thick.
stands to reason that some people are going to find
them-
So it

selves with more paint left over than others. If you should happen
into this category, you must be vigilant against
the tempta-
to fall
tion to cut down too much; for the person who has the tendency
to work thinner also has the tendency to work tighter, and a

niggling kind of painting the result. Better to waste a

may be
little paint than to run the risk of having it limit
you. Further-

more, seeing all that paint on your palette may have a psycho-
in your
logical effect in inducing you to be a little more expansive
work, which would be all to the good.
But if you are concerned about economy and are bothered by
seeing perfectly good paint go to waste, then here is what you can
do: Transfer the remaining color onto a pane of glass (or an old
plate) and submerge it in a pan of water, making sure that the

12
level of the water is sufficiently over the paint to allow for evapo-
ration, and your paint can stay this way for weeks. The water
prevents the oxidization that normally dries up your paints, and
keeps it fresh for the next time you are able to paint again.
It is preferable that you follow this method of saving rather

than to fall into the habit of becoming skimpy about the amounts
of color you squeeze on your palette. It will also be helpful, in
this respect, for you to learn about the characteristics of various
of your tubes of color. After a certain amount of experience in
painting you will begin to observe that some colors, such as
viridian, ultramarine blue (and umber, ochre, sienna, etc.— which
are discussed in Chapter 22), are relatively quick drying, whereas
alizarin, cadmium yellow light, and to a lesser degree, cadmium
red pale are slower-drying colors.
But there isone thing that you should never do. You may
think that your painting is so near completion that all you need

is one or two colors on your palette. Under no circumstances,

however, should you ever start to paint without your full comple-
ment of colors. The improvisational element that must inevitably
enter into your work (which is one of the reasons why painting
is such an exciting experience) must not have the restraint imposed

on it that the absence from your palette of any color is almost

certain to produce. It is like trying to play a violin without all of
its strings, just because you only expect to play the "Air for the

G-string." It is almost impossible, even for the most experienced

of painters, to plan beforehand exactly which colors he will find
it necessary to use or not to use. And for the beginner to adopt
restrictive practices of this nature can only prove injurious to his
growth as a painter, as it will certainly reflect itself in his work.

13
3. working conditions

:s mce
early fall, when the weather
In the spring, summer, or
out-of-doors and try your hand
at
you will probably want to go
(see Chapter 14). But during colder months,
doing a landscape
rainy weather, or if you don't
have time for paintmg in the day-
problem of working indoors. For
time you must consider the
people this really does present a problein, because not
some
spare room, attic, or shed to do his paintmg m.
everyone has a
take chances of messing up the
And certainly no one wants to

house and furniture with paint.

everything they do
Some people are so instinctively neat about
paint anywhere without getting paint on anything
that they can
but their canvas. But most people
become so enthusiastically in-
their customary neatness, wi
h
volved in painting that they forget
clothing and furniture. It would
disastrous consequences to both
the precautionary measures
be well, therefore, to observe most of
save you a lot of grief later on.
outlined here, as they can
it is a good thmg
to have
First of all under any circumstances,
of a paint cabinet. This can be
purchased in art-supply
some sort
stores but generally runs into a lot
ofmoney. It's easier to make
and
fruit dealer ask him to give you an
your own. Go to your
casters and attach
apple box. Get yourself a set of four screw-on
have a very practical
them to one end of the box, and you will
rests on top, and the
paint cabinet (see Fig. 2). Your palette
of the box serves as a shelf on which
dividing board in the center
to rest your dirty-turps jar, rags,
brushes, etc.
good clothing, but always
If you can help it, never paint in
shoes that
wear either an old smock, housecoat, or jeans-and
paint on. you wear a smock, make cer-
you don't mind getting If

half-length kind, unless the skirt or pants

you have
tain it isn't the
on are old and need not be protected from
paint.
clothing, don t
Should you be careless and get paint on your
apparel with turpentine, because in some cases
start soaking the
kind of stain)
(depending on the nature of the fabric and the

14
 can only serve to work the stain deeper into the weave
of
this
the cloth. do is to take a dry, clean cloth and
The first thing to

scuff off as surface paint as you can, turning the

much of the
cloth in a ball-like \\ay with each stroke ( make sure you
stroke

in just one direction without rubbing). If the

material is cotton
turpentine,
or any washable material, then a clean rag soaked in
followed by a washing in soap and water should remove the rest
of the stain. In most cases where the fabric is wool or
other

un washable material, turpentine will remove all of the stain.

But if the paint you got on your clothing should happen to
be alizarin, then my advice to you is to take it to the cleaner, as
the chances of your being able to remove it yourself are not very
good. Alizarin is more of a dye than a pigment and can be \'ery

insidious in working its your clothing. And turpentine

way into
will only tend to spread its stain over a wider area. But if you
take it to the cleaner when it is fresh, then you are almost certain
to have it removed.
If vou have no other place to work but in an apartment where

there are rugs and good furniture, then you should pro\ide your-
self with something underfoot such as a tarpaulin, old bedspread,
or sheet. These can be rolled up and tucked into the bottom
cubicle of your apple-box cabinet.
There are perfectly good lanolized waterless hand-cleaners on
the market (not to be used on clothing). A little bit of this cleaner
rubbed into the hands and then wiped off with a paper towel \vill
remove almost all of the paint. Soap and water will do the rest—
with a fingernail brush to take care of your manicure. If your
hands have any tendency to chap, then a few drops of a mixture
of glycerin and water ( glycerin and rose water can be purchased
in any drugstore, but unless you want the scent you can mix your
own; about one part of glycerin to four parts of water) rubbed
into the hands after washing will do better than any fancy lotions.
Always work under good light. If you can manage it, a blue
"davlight" bulb or fluorescent light is best, as the ordinary electric
bulbs give a vellowish light tending either to cancel out
light
yellows somewhat, or give a yellowish tinge to other colors.
All of the above instructions are obviously not intended to
be a deterrent or to discourage you in your desire to paint. On the
contrary, they should only serve to keep you from becoming dis-
couraged because of consequences to your clothing and furni-
ture, had you not been forewarned. As you gain experience you
will find it increasingly possible to paint without fear of getting
You will learn how to go about doing things in a
things soiled.
more workmanlike fashion in proportion to the familiarity you
gain with vour materials.

on the treatment and handlinf! of your materials

The need for cleanness of color in painting cannot be stressed
enough. Remember to keep your turpentine from getting muddy,
.so as to avoid soiling the colors you are going to paint with. But
if vou should happen and it becomes discolored,
to get careless

dump it into vour dirtv-turps jar, wipe ovit your cup and pour in

15
some fresh turpentine. It only takes a second to do it, and you
>

this practice.
will be sure of having clean color if you follow
Wipe palette knife and brushes clean after each using. Paints
always
should be laid out on the palette in an orderly fashion,
with the same arrangement. This way there is no need to
hunt
for a color you want, as after a while you know
instinctively

where to reach for it. Squeeze your paints as close to the outer
rim of your palette as possible (see Fig. 3). Allow yourself as
much room on the palette as you can for mixing and testing
colors. It stands to reason that if you squeeze your colors two
inches away from the edge of the palette there will be that much
wasted working space.
Brushes should be washed with soap and warm ( not hot ) water
after each day's use, otherwise the paint will dry and harden
between the bristles and in the ferrule, impairing their usefulness.
Unused paints should be transferred with the knife to another
surface (a pane of glass will do), the palette cleaned with cloth
and turpentine, and then the paints transferred back to their
position on the palette again. This makes it possible to resume
work the next day without very much fuss or delay. If you are
using the disposable palette, you just transfer the unused paints
to a new sheet and there will be no cleaning of the palette
necessary.
Paint that hasn't been used for several days may or may not be
used again, depending on the nature of the pigment. A skin gen-
erally forms over color as it dries. You can test it with the knife.

'
Sediment will accumulate bottom of your dirty-turps jar and it
in the

may be necessary to pour it For this reason

off into a fresh jar after a while.

it is a good idea to keep around a few of your used-up instant-coffee jars.

If there is a skin, it is best to discard this layer and squeeze fresh
color in its place.
Squeeze yoiir paint from the bottom of the tube and, if possible,
rollthe end gradually up toward the cap as the tube empties. It's
a much neater way of working— and more economical— too, as
there is less apt to be a waste of good paint.
A tip on the washing of brushes: Students have a tendency to
wash each brush separately. This is a needless waste of time and
effort.Hold the brushes loosely in your hand, with the bristles
resting on the bottom of the sink, the tips all in line. Then grip
the bunch firmly and scrub them all together into a wetted cake
of soap (brown soap is best), until a lather forms. Work the
lather between the bristles with your fingers (especially close to
the ferrule), then rinse the brushes and put them away to dry.
They can be put in any convenient receptacle— can or jar— with
the bristles up, of course. Make sure they are not put any place
where there will be pressure on the wet bristles, as it will distort

their shape.
Good habits of working pay off in the long run. They save time,
rather than the reverse. It takes very little e.xtra effort to work in
an orderly way. The eagerness to get started working is some-
times very compelling, to be sure. Nevertheless, there is more to
be lost than gained by this impatience. So take your time getting
set up, and vou are bound to have better results than if you did
not. Continued practice eliminates the need to fish around for
elusive implements and other time-wasting obstructions to good
painting.'
'
For additional hints abont painting conditions, sec Cliapter 7.

17
4. how important to good painting

is sl(illful drawing?

people to thmk
There seems to be a great tendency among most
connected. What is
of drawing and painting as being integrally
not generally known is that the slickest
drawing can still be a
pencil or charcoal are
poor composition. Flourishing strokes with a
the elements in a
frequently a cover-up for poor organization of
picture. And good composition is neither
more nor less than good
organization. A person who is capable of
putting things into
or her house or apartment is capable of
attractive order in his

doing the same thing in composing a picture. What

remains is

simply to learn how.

When building a house, the first thing one must think of is the
the con-
foundation. Just as there are certain laws governing
of a foundation, so are there rules to guide
one in the
struction
that
composing of a picture. And these rules are so elementary
to know
everyone can learn them. What is of greatest importance
is you to attempt to draw the contour (or outline) of
that for
things as you see them can be very frustrating if you have no
training or experience in drawing; and, furthermore,
such an at-
tempt serves no purpose whatever in composition. What
is im-

your
portant are the means you use to organize the elements of
picture so that they give the feeling of being part of a
whole.

What one must learn to do in painting is simply to ignore the

contour of things, and identify objects by a system of four visual
"common denominators." These are: the sphere, cone, cylinder,
and cube. There isn't anything in nature that cannot be reduced
to one or another, or a combination of two or more of
these basic

forms. Stripped of all surface detail, everything the eye encounters

is identifiable as belonging to one of each of these geometric
"families."
The object, of course, is to avoid being confused by the welter
of surface detail so as to be able to see how the things you want
to paint relate to each other terms of their basic shapes-and
in

this is the essence of composition. What is more, once you have

18
reduced an object to its visual "denominator," it is so much easier

to reconstruct it than would have been

to look like the real thing
possible by attempts at fancy sketching, or what is popularly
known as freehand drawing.
Let us examine the possibilities that exist with this approach
to drawing and see if you are not amazed at the results you are
capable of getting. Take an ordinary wine bottle. By drawing a
cylinder (which is exactly the shape of the can of beans or soup
on your pantry shelf) and then drawing a more slender cylinder
to stand right on top of it, you have the basic geometric structure
of the bottle. All that remains is to join them with simple curved
lines for the shoulders, and you have a perfect drawing of the
shape of a wine bottle. The illustrations here (see Fig. 4) show
how infinite are the possibilities in reconstructing things in terms
of these visual "denominators."

how to use charcoal

Now we have to address ourselves to the problem of how to use
the charcoal with which we are about to draw. This, too, becomes
fairly easy witli just a little practice.
Vine charcoal, as the name implies, is a slender coal of the
vine. It is very fine and is capable of producing great sensitivitv
of line as well as good solid mass, when properly used. It should
not be used in one long piece but broken into short lengths. The
long stick, as it comes out of the box, is only for sketchy drawing
and is imsuited for composition as preparation for painting.
We've learned how to hold the charcoal for making long,
straight lines. But for other drawing and designing it should not
be held quite as flat against the paper or canvas. It should be
held between the first two fingers and the thumb, at about a
thirt\'-dcgree angle to the paper. The weight of the hand is on
the fingernails of the remaining t\\'() fingers (see Fig. 5). Tlius,
the hand skates over the surface of the paper on three points of

19
contact-the point of the charcoal and the two fingernails. The
advantages ofthis are twofold: there is greater freedom of move-

ment than the charcoal were held like a pencil, and there is no
if

danger of knuckles passing over the paper and smudging the

drawing. The charcoal should not be held tightly, as it is likely

to snap under pressure.

Don't draw with the blunt end of the charcoal, but constantly
twist the stick around between your fingers to bring the sharp-
est edge of the charcoal in contact with the paper. This helps to
produce a finer, more incisively etched line that is more pleasing
to the eye than that which you get with the blunt end.
In drawing masses, the charcoal is held flat against the paper;
but, instead of pulling it the way we would for a straight line,

we awmj from the length

pull of the charcoal, in a sidesweeping
movement (see Fig. 6).

the solidness of things in nature

Almost everything the eye sees has dimensions of depth, breadth,
and length. The eye is capable of seeing just three dimensions. It
infers the remaining dimensions. It does so on the basis of past
experience in holding or feeling identical or similar objects.
The viewer who sees three dimensions of an object drawn or
painted gets a sense of the fullness and solidness of such objects,
making them seem real to him. He can visualize grasping them
with his own
hand. Thus, they take on what is called a "tactile"
quality. Now
the four visual "common denominators" (sphere,
cone, cylinder, cube) were shown before only in outline. Their
three dimensionality was only implied, but a real "tactile" sense
of them was not fully communicated. We are now going to
produce a more convincing suggestion of solidness in these forms.
We do this by the introduction of "values."
what is meant by "values"
By "values" is meant the relation of one part of an object to an-
other, with respect to lightness or darkness.^ Although there are
infinite degrees of lightness and darkness to be found in nature,
we will, for the time being, concentrate on just three values.
These will be "light," "intermediate," and "dark" (or deep).
We start with the simplest of the geometric forms— the cube.
By placing any bo.x-like object on a table vidth one corner toward
you three distinct surfaces can be seen. Each of these surfaces

'
Beginners frequently confuse values with color, and it takes a certain
amount of experience to learn the difference between the two. It is diffi-
cult for the inexperienced person to see that something that has color can
be darker than something that has comparatively little color in it. This per-
ception comes with time, but whenever there is any doubt the surest way
of settling it is by using what is called the "artists' squint." By closing the
eyes until they are practically shut— so that you can just barely see— you are
able to judge value relationships ( independent of color ) that would fool
the naked eye. This squint can be one of your most valuable tools in
painting, and you can fall back on it with confidence every time— that is,
if you squint properly. Some students, when told to squint, wrinkle their

nose a little and think they're squinting. The eyeHds must be practically
touching to make effective use of this device.

20
has a value distinctlv dilfeieiit from the other two. The one that
is farthest awav from the light is deep; the one closest to, or
facing the light, is, of course, light; and the one in between (that
is, in half-light) is intermediate.
The problem, now, is to try to reproduce the three values you
see with charcoal, so that you can create a solid-looking, box-like
form on paper. It will require several practice strokes with the
charcoal on a separate sheet of paper to trv matching the values
that you see. \\'hen you have succeeded in getting the three val-
ues of the cube, there will be no mistaking the sense of solidness,
or tactilit)', that it gives (see Fig. 7).
Note: Each of the surfaces of the cube is called a "plane."
Planes occur in exervthing you see in nature, but thev are not
always as perceptible as in the cube, because of its well-defined
edges.
The next form to which we introduce \alues is the cylinder.
It gets a little tricky when any of the forms have roundness, as
does the shaft of the cylinder. But, again, we will stick to the
three values. The side farthest from the light will again receive
the deep value. The intermediate value, however, will be used
t\vice here— once on either side of the light (that will be running
lengthwise along the ridge of the curve). For the stub end of
the cylinder we use the deep value.
And now Placed on its butt end, with the point
for the cone:
up, it be treated somewhat the way we did the cylinder
will
shaft. The difference will be in the way the values radiate down-
ward from the point in steadily widening planes.
The trickiest of all is the sphere. As we see it in outline, it
appears as just a flat circle. There are no ends or corners to help
us feel a third dimension. We cannot, simply by putting three
values in any order across the surface of the circle, create the
sensation of roundness like a ball. If we place a ball on the table
at an angle to light (overhead) we see that the light strikes the
round object at the point that rises closest to it. In this respect it
is very much like the earth in its relation to the sun at high noon.
The problem, here, is to isolate that small point of light, not
by shading or blending of tones, but adhering to the use of
still

the three basic values. In this case, however, it will be necessary

to allow some of the planes to overlap.

a fete vital aids to drawing

There are a number of subdivisions of the four visual denomina-
tors which, in one form or another, occur in almost everything
you see about you. These act, so to speak, as the connective tissue
between the more solid forms in nature represented by the
"parent" structural molds; the sphere, cone, cylinder and cube.
The most prominent and useful of these subdivisional denomina-
tors the "S" curve (see Chapter 6). A few others of these are
is

the "L," the crescent, and the ellipse (see Fig. 8).
Apart from their function in composition of "connecting"
things to give greater organic unity to the picture, they also act
as "motifs" which, when repeated in different parts of the compo-

21
 . .

sition, create another kind of unity in the picture, which we call

"rhythm" ( see Chapter 17 )

Of these four "motifs," the one that appears to give beginners

the greatest difficulty in drawing appears to be the ellipse. The
more they struggle with it, the worse it seems to get. The lines
become thick and black, and the drawing messy from constant
erasure. But when I say to them: "Can you draw a pair of paren-
theses?" the answer, almost without hesitation, is that they be-
lieve they can. Once they are shown how close a pair of care-
fully drawn parentheses is to an almost perfect ellipse, their

difficulty in drawing it begins to disappear.

The point is that so many of the things that seem to frighten
the beginner in drawing are the very things he does almost every
day in doodling while telephoning, or in one form or another in
the course of his work.It's true that when one is more conscious

or deliberate about what he is doing, the importance that it takes

on induces a certain amount of apprehension as to the success of
its outcome. However, when the beginner is fortified with the

conviction that these are things which he has proven himself

able to do under more relaxed circumstances, it facilitates things
considerably; and before long, he gains the necessary confidence,
so that it becomes relatively easy for him to draw a form such
as the ellipse.
To return to the ellipse for a moment—in order for it to func-

tion properly, it must be drawn so as to be 'Tjisymmetrical,"

which is to say, its curve must appear to measure the same on

both sides of an imaginary "axis" running lengthwise through it.

If you were to draw a short horizontal line on either side of

which to make your pair of parentheses, and then join them at
each end with a narrow curve, you should have a fairly bisym-
metrical ellipse. The "parent" form of ellipse is, as you have
guessed, the sphere (or, to be more precise, the circle). You
might call the ellipse a "flattened" circle, which, in effect, it is;
because, if you take a round, flat form and turn it slowly away
from you, you see that it narrows to an ellipse ( see Fig. 9 )
The "S" curve's parent form is also the sphere. The sides of
two circles, drawn at a tangent to each other, join in forming
the "S." It can also be the bases of two adjacent cones, one seen
from above and one from below. The sphere, as you can readily
see, is also the parent of the crescent. Any further analysis of
the crescent, I believe, won't be necessary beyond pointing out
that this, too, must be drawn bisymmetrically if it is to function
properly.
The "L" should also not be difficult for you to identify. It is
but two sides of a plane, which happens to be one face of a cube.
In the drawing of any of these motifs, a little practice may be
necessary before you get them right. But if you take your time
and don't get anxious about it, you should be able to draw them
without difficulty, and get better at it as you go along.

22
 5. gimmicks and gadgets

supposed to lielp you paint

In recent years there have cropped up a number of gimmicks

and gadgets in the art-supplies market, advertising various
claims for making painting easier for the amateur. No one who
has taught beginners for years can remain unsympathetic to the
eagerness with which untrained people will grasp at almost any-
thing which promises to
make it easier for them to paint.
About one of these recent devices, which purports to teach
people how to paint by "numbers," the less said the better. I
leave it to the reader to judge whether, in the final analysis, this
way of painting is very much different from working out a
jigsaw puzzle. It's true that some people manage
to get polished-
looking duplications of the original painting. But at best, they
can only be imitations of someone else's work.
Surprisingly enough, however, the introduction of these kits
on the market has indirectly had some beneficial value by induc-
ing many people to paint who would have been afraid to try.
Many of these people, once they have tasted the enjoyment of
painting, soon realize how little it is actually possible to learn
by means of such gimmicks. Quite a few of these people have
begun to enter art classes for the adult amateur, and many of
them have turned to reading books of this type for the answers
to questions about painting that no mechanical system of copy-
ing can teach them.

the copying of picture post cards

There also appears a tendency on the part of lots of people to
learn how by copying picture post cards. This practice
to paint
must be frowned on for prett)' much the same reason as use of
the "numbers" kits. It can lead onlv to a tight, imitative way of
working. This type of painting, if pursued indefinitely, can but

develop into a kind of crutch on which the amateur becomes in-

creasingly dependent. Its sole advantage, as in the case of the
"numbers" painting, is tliat it may start some people to paint

23
who soon discover the inadequacies of this method, and who
eventually seek more wholesome and satisfying ways of painting.
There is no harm in trying to get some ideas about nature from
picture post card if you are stuck indoors on a
wintry day and
a
feel likedoing a landscape. More than one great painter has re-
sorted to this means of refreshing his memory about things that
are not available for him to see at the time he is
working on a
details
particular picture. But to copy a post card exactly in all
infinitely more
will teach you nothing. It is always better-and
satisfying-to paint something based on your own feeling
and
perception (even if it should turn out a little clumsy at first).
you keep painting, you're bound to improve. It does not mat-
If
ter you experience occasional disappointments in your progress
if

—everyone experiences them at one time or another, even the

best of painters. The important thing for you to reaUze is
that

every time ijou lift a brush you learn something, even though it
may not be apparent to you at the time. Remember that painting
own reward; and though there will be times when you feel
is its

low because you are dissatisfied with the progress of a painting

on which you have pinned a great deal of hope, the enjoyment
of painting itself must never be lost sight of.

24
 6. still life composition

There are some people who don't care very much for still life,
and there are others who prefer it to any other type of painting.
But it is a fact that the student of painting can learn more from
still life than from any other subject. Its advantages are almost

too many to relate. Its best feature is the fact that the objects you
are painting remain perfectly still. This immobility affords the
painter an opportunity for the most careful study, with atten-
tion to all details of lightand shade, color, form, te.xture, etc.
In still-life painting there
is no concern about atmospheric

changes, shifting of light, or any of the hazards of working out-

of-doors. You set up the still life the way you want it, under
lighting conditions that you like, and you can take your time
painting it. The subject obediently remains in the same position
for as long as you wish to continue your study of it.
There is a certain logic in setting up an attractive and func-
tional still life. It is not enough to merely throw a few things
haphazardly on a table and call it a suitable subject for painting.
Things must be assembled in such a way as to give a composi-
tion unity. Sentimental interest in objects you want to paint
cannot be gainsaid. You must have a natural liking for things
you wish to include in your still life. So, by all means, include
things around the house of which you are fond. But first you
must make sure that they have functional value for your study,
or else they won't be convincing in the picture, regardless of their
sentimental interest.
Now, that's twice I'xo mentioned the word "functional" in
rapid succession; what precisely doesmean? "Functional"
it

means simply the doing of a required job. In a machine the

functional elements would be the nuts, bolts, or levers, or what-
ever it is that makes the machine work. In painting it is anything
tliat helps to achieve good design and space on the
canvas, and
there are certain ways of getting this in a composition, as you
will .see.

25
 In the little drama that is going to be unfolded, you will be
director, stage manager, lighting director, casting director; in
short, you are in supreme command. As casting director, while
you may have a personal liking for an applicant, you must first
consider whether he or she has the qualifications necessary for
a particular role. Similarly, in the still life, sound judgment must
have precedence over sentiment. Things that are very frilly or
vague in shape won't have much to recommend them as having
functional value in composition. Later on, when you have become
more expert in composition, not everything you paint will have
to be absolutely functional. But while you are learning, it is
best to select just those things capable of helping you create
space in your picture.
10 a

advantages of still life

Still life provides one immediate advantage in painting. The

table becomes ground plan. The table edge
a very convenient
nearest us instantly becomes the point from which all of the
things on the table lead into the picture, depending on their
position in relation to that table edge. If the table edge were
to run straight across the picture surface, then the composition
would threaten to become static.

For order to see the table edge running straight across your
in
vision, you have to be situated exactly equidistant from both
ends of the table, and there would be nothing gained by this
except to make it more difficult to get a feeling of space in your
picture. For instead of the edge of the table helping to lead the
eye into the picture, it would become a barrier to the eye. The
eye would then be compelled to leap-frog over that barrier to
get into the picture.
Let me explain this simply by pointing out a very simple rule:
THE EYE WILL AUTOMATICALLY FOLLOW AN OBJECT IN THE DIBEC-
10 b
TiON OF ITS LONGEST SURFACE. Try it somctimc with any object
around. Take a pencil, a ruler— or any long object. Notice whether
your eye will tend to follow it by its length or width. It should
be clear then that the eye will have a tendency to follow the
edge of the table in a direction away from us, but if the table
edge runs straight across our vision then it cannot gain the im-
pulse into the picture that seeing it at a slight angle would
provide.
But if you place yourself nearer to one corner of the table,
then you can begin to have space. For in drawing the corner of
the table in the composition close to the bottom of your canvas,
you are really pushing two sides of a plane into space (see Fig.
10 A). The impulse of this plane is, of course, in the direction of
its longest surface. Avoid putting the corner of the table near
the center of the canvas, however, for this would divide the pic-
ture in half and create additional confusion, as the eye wouldn't
know which way to follow.
There have been great still-life painters, such as Chardin and
Cezanne (see Figs. 12, 79) who painted masterpieces showing
the front of a table parallel to the picture surface. But these men

26
 )

were consummate masters of composition who knew exactly

what they were about in adopting a more static concept in their
work. Thev knew where to make the necessary compensations.
It is helpful to know how the masters solved some of their com-

positional problems, a few of which I will explain in the chapter

on the analysis of great masterworks. But until vou become more
experienced, avoid the more difficult approach to composition.
The a\erage household table is roughly 2M feet high. Whether
you are standing or sitting, you will be seeing your still-life setup
from abo\e. The farther away you are from the table, the less of
its surface you can see. You can easily test this by putting a sheet

of paper on a table close to vou and another of the same size near
the far end of the table. You cannot mistake how much more of
the first sheet you see. 10 d

Standing is, of course, best; but if \ou must sit try using a
high stool. The higher your position, the more vantage you will
have of your still-life objects. It gives you better command of
the space around them, and you don't have to rely as much on
tricks with highlights to make them seem real.
For example, take an ordinary water glass and set it on a table.
Look at it from a sitting position, then rise gradually. Notice how
both the mouth and bottom of the glass grow steadilv wider the
higher you rise above it. Also observe how much more of the
table area surrounding it you see from the higher position. Paul
Cezanne, one of the greatest masters of spatial composition,
would deliberately tilt still-life objects (such as vases, bowls,
etc.) forward, so as to show wider openings in these receptacles.
This gives the viewer an increased sense of the volume of these
objects. This also makes them more convincing than if he had
reduced their openings to narrow elliptical slits, such as you are
from a sitting position.
likely to see
(Very frequently Cezanne took a position high above a land-
scape setting he intended to paint. By looking down upon the
terrain he had a better grasp of its expanse, which is one reason
why his work communicates such a spatial feeling.
Many conventional painters do still-life pictures from a de-
cidedly frontal view. They show a lot of the table front (or
apron ) and hardly anything, if at all, of the sides. The table top
is quite shallow,' with not very much suggestion of spatial re-
cession into the picture. The objects are also treated frontally,
Figures 10 A, B, C, D, and E shown
and you don't see very much of the openings of jugs, vases, or
here represent the logical progres-
other receptacles. In such pictures the artist is called upon to
sion of composition in the sample
display his virtuosity with the brush. Deftly applied highlights
still life. For instruction in the use of
do the trick of presenting an illusion of three dimensionality to
color, see Fig. 15
the objects. By the use of certain tricks, they are made to gleam
like either glass, pewter, silver, or copper, as the case may be.
But all that is created is an effect, and no real sense of the volume
of the objects is achieved.
.Amateurs have a tendency to admire cle\er brushwork, but it
is a mistake to try to imitate it. Unless one has years of training

' Not to be confused with "Shallow Space" composition discussed in

Chapter 29.

Z7
 drawing and the perfecting of painting techniques, such
imi-
in
something that looks pathetically inept. There
tation can result in
is no harm in admiring clever
performance of any kind, but it
must be remembered that much of this kind of painting has been
reduced to an art of mere legerdemain and does not have
very

recommend Good amateur painting does

much to it esthetically.

not require the finish and polish of sHck brushvi'ork.

The ama-
teur's work will have merit only if it is fresh
and individual in its
conception and execution.

what kind of things to paint

When selecting objects for your still life, be careful not to have
any of them identical in size or height. Also, avoid repetition of
identical shapes as much as possible. And do not limit the num-
ber of objects you use because you think that it will be easier if

there are just a few things to paint. Your picture will gain inter-
est through the diversity of its objects. Furthermore, it takes
much more skill to paint one or two things effectively than it

does to do a grouping of six or seven objects.

What kind of things do you find around the house that would
go to make up a good still-life setup? To begin with, the shapes
of your objects should be simple in their outline. Choose objects
not only for difference in size and height, but also with an eye
for diversity in their geometrical makeup. It would be monoto-
nous to have too many sphere-shaped, cylindrical, or cone-shaped
objects in the picture. Wherever possible, it's preferable to have
at leastone of each of these basic shapes in the still life.
In trying to decide what to include in your still life-setup (or
any subject you are preparing to paint, for that matter) try to
observe one rule above all others: anything that does not help
YOUR piCTUBE, HURTS YOUR PICTURE. By all means, feel free to

include anything that you think belongs in the picture you plan
to paint, just so long as does not have an indifferent status in
it

your composition. You will appreciate the importance of this

principle the further you progress in your work.

scale
By "scale" is meant the relative proportion of things. You
have
seen pictures of an artist holding a pencil at arm's length, meas-
the
uring the proportions of his subject by sliding his thumb, in
manner of a gauge, along the pencil a certain distance from the
tip.This practice has gone out with the horse and buggy, but
remains one of the most popular stereotypes of artistic proce-
dure. Proportions of things need not be exact, but by the same
token they should not be so vastly disproportionate as to be
absurd. There is no need to go through the rigmarole of the
extended pencil. Simply take a good long look at your subject
and measure relative sizes with your eye. After you have put
RIGHT WAY
them down with charcoal on your canvas, step back from your
easel and, by shifting your eye back and forth from your subject
to your canvas, check to see whether size relationships in your
drawing compare more or less with those of your subject.

^
 Another thing for you to make certain of in your drawang, is
that objects which stand close together in your still life don't
crowd each other so much as to destroy their ability to coexist
in your picture. For example, if a bottle and a wine glass stand
side-by-side the base of one must not impinge on the area of
canyas occupied by the other (see Fig. 11 ).
In solid (nontransparent) objects it is difficult to perceive
very much of their bases, consequently many beginners tend to
draw horizontal lines for the bases of objects, as that is almost the
way they appear underneath the bulk of their upper parts. But
it is important that you remember that, whatever they may look

like to you, bases will be more or less elliptical, and that i/ou
must allow enough space for these ellipses otherwise the objects
will look like they are on the verge of toppling over.

foreshortening
There will be occasions when you will see objects of some length
"foreshortened"; which is to say they will appear very much
shorter to you when seen at a certain angle, so that they do not
seem to perform the function of leading the eye in the direction
of their longest surface. In such instances it is always wiser to
state the object as you know it to be, rather than being bound
by any necessity of painting it exactly as you see it.

Of course when you're setting up your own still life you are
free to arrange things so as to avoid this type of problem. There
is certainly no point in looking for trouble; therefore, my advice
to you is to avoid problems in composition in\'olving too much
foreshortening until you have gained more experience. The logi-
cal thing is to place some of your objects at an angle which will
permit you to see enough of their surface, so that when you draw
you don't make them appear so stunted as to impair their spatial
function-that of leading the eye into the picture. But what if
you happen to be painting out-of-doors? You obviously can't go
around manipulating fields or bodies of water and you may find
yourself confronted by elements of this sort, which from your
view happen to be considerably foreshortened. There is no law
which states that you are bound to reproduce the scene exactly as
you see it. Your painting is going to be judged on the basis of
its merits, and your primary obligation is to make the picture

spatially convincing. Consecjuently,you have to be guided by the

facts asyou know them to be and not try foreshortening any part
of your scene merely because you just happen to see it that wav.
What I am trying to impress upon you, of course, is the impor-
tance of visualizing the objects you wish to include in your pic-
ture primarily in terms of their functional attributes. Therefore,
when composing a still life in which you are going to have a
magazine lying on the table in the foreground of your picture,
to draw it from a foreshortened view negates the possibilih- of
WRONG WAY
having it provide your picture with the necessary spatial thrust.
In other words, it is the length of its surface which will serve to
propel the eve into the scene, and if you foreshorten it you simply
eliminate the possibility of this happening. The same applies in

29
 scene, whether landscape, sea-
the composition of any kind of
of this book you will receive
scape or whatever. In the latter half
will enable you to ap-
some 'instruction in perspective which
problem of foreshortening with more assurance, and
proach the
until you are ready for it,
with greater possibility of success. But
it is best that you avoid
foreshortening.
"cubic volume,
The table must first be painted in terms of its
three values of light, intermediate, and
deep (see Chap-
with its

ter 7)- after this is accomplished, then it is time to consider the

painting of the details. Remember to check your source of hght.
setup broadside, (which
Unless the light is hitting your still-life
your light should be striking somewhere
is not a good idea)
the table would take
from above; consequently, the top surface of
the Hghtest value.
Remember also that the darker values of an object are always
this rule is to risk
deeper shades of the same color. To ignore
are painting clamor
having different surfaces of the object you
for separate attention, thereby
impairing the reahzation of the

unity of that object.

erasure
eraser for
When drawing with charcoal you can use a "kneaded"
can be purchased
taking out lines you want to correct. This eraser
for about a dime. In drawing on a canvas
an eraser is not actu-
so heavy that
ally necessary, unless your lines have become
a soft
there's nothing else that will take them out. But ordinarily
for rubbing out charcoal lines on
canvas. It
cloth is adequate
completely, as the
does not matter if the lines don't come out
an eraser, make
paint will cover them eventually. But if you use
sure you don't torture the canvas too much.
You must bear in
guide for
mind that your charcoal drawing is only intended as a
so there no need to be too fussy about the
your painting, is

drawing as such.

a sample still-life composition

In the sample still life (see Fig. 10 E), observe how the objects
are distributed in such a way as to lead the eye from one to the
other around the picture. The table top provides one impulse in
from the right-hand side. The magazine starts a movement in a
different direction, leading up to the base of the fruit bowl. The
music
eye swings around the contour of the fruit bowl to the open
to two
sheet leaning against the wall in the rear. Here we come
the other.
interesting movements that are like counterpoint one to
the upper right-hand side, a long movement downward
From
is begun by the flowing line of the drape. And from the upper

left-hand side, the contour of the bottle carries the eye

down to
the little teapot. Functionally speaking, the music
sheet is not just

an idle bystander, either. It acts as a kind of twin

movement
bringing the eye down to the table; but leaning the way
it does,

it manages this in a way different from

the vertical bottle.
Notice that there are three little subsidiary movements: The
pipe, straddling magazine and table in one direction; the teapot

30
12 STILL LIFE WITH APPLES by Paul Cezanne. Collection of the Museum of Modern Art, New York. Lillie P. Bliss Collection

Here is a painting well worthwhile for any student of painting to

study again and again for the many secrets of architectonic
structure that it unfolds, as well as for the beauty of its color
orchestration. Note in particular the sheer economy of state-
ment the artist has employed so as to avoid detracting from the
clarity of his presentation. This painting, more than any I can
think of, exemplifies the principle often referred to in this book:
anything that doesn't help your picture, hurts your picture.
 )

pointing in another direction; and the semicircular shape of the

banana in still another direction. And
no accident that certain it is

"motifs" recur in different objects in the Thus, you find a still life.

curve in the pipe, in the spout of the teapot, and in the shape of
the pear. In a larger wav, it also occurs in the shape of the bottle
and the edge of the drape. This motif is sometimes called the
"S" curve. ( It occurs very frequentlv in nature. You will find it in

the winding of a road, the rolling of a hill, and even in human

and animal forms.
In addition to creating space on the flat surface, there is another
function that is good composition. I refer to the
a by-product of
interesting patterns that occur everywhere in the sample still
life. Not only the positixe areas (those occupied by the objects)

but also the negative areas (those in between the objects) form
attractive and diversified patterns. All of these functions help to
engage the eye and keep it interested.
Note that none of the objects repeat each other in either size,
height, or bulk. Apart from their "active" function, they also
appear to have different "passive" functions. There are things
that stand, lie, lean, and hang. All of these separate, yet interre-
lated functions in the picture create a powerful sense of unity
among the objects. When a picture is organized in such a way
it takes a derrick, figuratively speaking, to pull it apart.
I think it would be helpful for the reader to be able to follow
each step in a samplewas composed. Notice that
still life as it

the complete table top was not drawn first. The idea is not to
make a table and put the objects on it, as one would in real life.
The reason for this is that space must be created first, otherwise
your objects, no matter how well drawn or painted, will not
come For space is the life-giving element in painting.
alive.
As soon I had one "L" of the table top drawn, (representing
as
the corner of the table nearest me) I immediately put down a '

plane for the magazine. My first concern was to "push" into the
picture spatially, and the length of the magazine starts the ball
rolling, so to speak, in that direction. Diagrams A, B, C, etc.
show, step-by-step, how each successive stage in the composi-
tion is accounted for until every object is spatiaUii situated. Ob-
serve how I did not complete the table top until all of the stand-
ing objects were drawn. For prior to that I would not have been
able to tell at what point the rear line of the table top intersects
these objects.
Notice that there no fancy drawing here— just a design for
is

a painting. But how much

space there is! The eye moves easily
through the picture, from object to object; and even though the
composition is in its most skeletal form, there is no mistaking
the feeling of realness that you get from it.

Notice that this "L" ff)rtTi.s an obtu.se angle, ( an obtuse angle being a
wide angle, and an acute angle being narrow, or sharp) as corners of rec-
tangular objects that are nearest you have the optical illusion of appearing
wider. And the same holds true of the corners directly opposite; whereas,
the two remaining side angles have the appearance of narrowing to acute
angles. You will observe how this operates later on when you come to the
painting of houses, bams, or rectangular fields in landscape painting.

.37
 I have ignored most of
the lower part of the
Notice, also, that
have get the whole table in-legs and
table. Were I to tried to

all-there just wouldn't have been room

enough for what goes
Beginners frequently try to solve that problem
by
011the table.
in the picture looks
dra^ving things so small that everything
unconvincing. Furthermore, this leaves vast sur-
miniature and
making it a much
faces of the canvas unaccounted for spatially,
more difficult problem when it comes to using color.
table with room
It is possible to get the full height of the
on by turning the canvas on its end
enough for the objects it,

vertical composition of it. But this is a difficult

and making a
composition for the amateur to undertake. The
area of the
together in a man-
table top is compressed, crowding the objects
painting. For still life
ner that goes against the spirit of still-life
very pleasant to
has about it the quality of repose that makes it
"psychological" effect
look at. There is a certain unmistakable
between vertical and horizontal "stresses"
that the difFerence
of tension,
produces in painting. The vertical is suggestive
whereas the horizontal induces a feeling of repose.

a few important points about your still life

the number
In your first still-life painting you should try to limit
objects to as few as possible. It's all right to
have a
of shiny
being
bottle-and maybe a porcelain object. But for the time
nature, for
stay away from copper teapots and things of that
they will only confuse you. Apart from the highlights
bouncing
off their surface, there is the problem of
producing the coppery
tones and irridescent hues which require more experience and
training they are to be painted effectively. As you gain confi-
if

dence in the handling of your materials, you can begin to experi-

ment with such things and learn from the mistakes you are bound
to make.
Ifyou are going to include glass objects, make sure they are

made of colored glass, otherwise you problem

will run into the

of making them look transparent. This also calls for more tech-
nique than you can expect to have just yet. Besides, you should
want to include as many different colors in your still life as you
can. Clear glass obviously has no color interest. Just as you
plan

your still life in terms of diversity of size and form, you must also
think of having diversity of color in your objects.

the contour of objects in light and shade

You will observe that the contours of objects become suppressed
in shadows, whereas in the light they become more sharply de-
fined. This is of great help to the painter, for to show the
entire

contour of objects would only serve to re-emphasize the flatness

of the surface on which they are painted. But having them
emerge, as it were, from the shadows which obscure part of their
form tends to reinforce the sensation of three
into the light,
dimensionality of objects in painting. Caravaggio was the painter
who invented this concept of painting which was called "chiaro-
scuro" (chiaro being Italian for clear, and oscuro meaning ob-

32
scure). This interplay between light and shade was one of the first
means devised for creating lifelike appearance of reality on a
two-dimensional surface.

artificial light

If you should be painting under artificial ( electric ) light, be

sure to check the qualit)- of that light. The ordinary household
bulb gives off a yellowish, or warm light, (although there are
also blue, or so-called "daylight" bulbs, which produce a cold
light). Fluorescent tubes, on the other hand, give a cold light—
although there are slight variations in these too— ranging from
blue-violet to rose-yellow. Regardless of their tint, however, the
light from all fluorescent tubes is, to a lesser or greater degree,
cold.
Note: Before you start doing any actual painting there some- is

thing you must do: You can compo-

either spray your charcoal
sition with "fixatif," (a lacquer-base liquid which can be bought
very inexpensively) or dust the drawing by lightly flicking an
end of cloth at the canvas ( do not rub, or you will obliterate the
lines). The purpose of this is to prevent the black of the charcoal
from dirtying your color.

33
 color
7. the beginner's attitude toward

eager for the excite-

The averacre person who wants to paint is
of beautiful color,
ment of mixins color. He buvs a flock of tubes
palette some brushes, etc. But unless he has some mstructions
a
or euidance in their use, he is apt to
wind up ^ith mud. The zest
is a wonderful thing, and
there is ahnost
for creative expression
However, the color
nothing as excitine as working mth color.
besides pigment, they con-
that comes to us ii^ tubes is not pure:
tain other ingredients such as oil, wax, and a quantity- of filler
for preser%-ation,
(barium sulphate). These make for fluidit^-,
more fiUer to gi^'e them
and for bodv. Cheaper colors contain
expensive.
body, as pigments (particularly in the cadmiums) are
colors of "stu-
But' it is perfectlv all right for' the beginner to use
dent qualib.-.' These are adequate for learning purposes.
Now. we take a bunch of colors and mis them haphazardly
if

together we are bound to have mud. Whereas in the spectrum-

the reverse is true of
or Hght-all colors combine to make white,
will cancel out each
oil TOlors. Colors mixed together at random

other's luster. For pigments are nothing

but powdered mebaUic
and a
compounds, charred ground bone, chemical waste, clays,
mentioned oil,
host of other substances (apart from the already
wax, and fiUer).
therefore, important for the beginner to learn
which
It is,

colors mix what proportions. Painting can prove most

well, and in
will be seen
discouraging, other\^Tse. So, with a httle patience it
what pleasing harmonies of color can result.
But before we get into the mixing of paints, we must
first ex-

impor-
amine our attitude toward color. This is of the utmost
thinking of
tance. For at the outset we should absolutely not be
whatsoever. At
subtle hues, blending of tones, or any nuances
this point of the painting women have an
advantage over men,
harmonies in
for thev are more experienced in using broad color
their evendav dress. And it is precisely with that
approach to
color that the painting at this stage of its development
should be

34
concerned. Just as a woman might ask herself which color scarf
she should wear with the blouse, handbag, hat, or skirt she has
on, so should one attack the problem of coloring one's painting.
The trouble is that most women fail to capitalize on this ad-

vantage. For, like everyone else, when they begin to paint they
see the subtlety in things and want immediately to start to paint
them as realistically as they appear. What most people fail to
realize, until it is pointed out to them, is that a picture has to

grow like everything else, and to rush prematurely into at-

tempts at getting verisimilitude defeats the possibility of that

growth.
At this stage of the picture one must think only of color-just
a pure obedience to the instinct for harmonious color. The
brightest colors should be painted first-they set the key for the
^
painting. In the old days painters relied on a series of glazes
to produce an effect of objects bathed in atmosphere, so as to
capture the realistic appearance of objects. But underneath these
glazes they painted with the brightest of colors. Today painting
is much more have learned many shortcuts to the
direct. Artists
realization of lifelike appearance of things, without trying to be
photographically imitative of what they see. They start out with
the correct assumption that nature, everywhere, is full of color.

Any tonal mutations that may be found necessary to give things

a more realistic appearance must be taken care of in the later

stages of the painting.

tvhy bright colors?

If you have one bright color, you're going to have to put in other
bright colors for balance. And there can never be too many
bright colors at the beginning of the painting. There is a very
good reason for this, as we shall see.
To begin with, there is a definite reason why we paint on
white surfaces. The coloring agents in oil paints are nothing
more than ground crystals of pigment in a base of oil. If you take
any crystalline substance and hold it against a white background,
and then against something dark, you will see the difference in
the amount of light coming through. Well, the same thing hap-
pens with paints. Light from the white canvas shines through
bright colors more so than if dull tones had been painted on
first. Painting with dull tones on the white surface is like pulling

a shade over your window to block out the light.

It is not my intention to try to make modern painters of those
who read this book. Each one must follow his own inclinations
in based on individual experience, taste, values, etc. So
art,

encouragement to start out to paint with bright colors is not with

the object of making the beginner a van Gogh, Matisse or Pi-
casso. These men are well-known as creative giants with vivid
imaginations and daring individual concepts. There is little point
in emulating them, for none of them started out by painting in
the way that eventually made him famous. The object is rather
to make the beginner conscious of the importance of color as such.
'
Sec "Art Terms and Plirascs."

35
 Another important advantage in painting at the outset with
clear, bright colors is that paints that have been mixed too much
( especially with white ) make for tacky
surfaces requiring longer
drying periods before painting can be resumed. For there is a
certain amount of pastiness that results whenever you mix white
with other colors. Unless one knows from great experience how
to handle such surfaces when they are still wet, many discourag-
ing things can happen. Therefore, everything is to be gained by
starting your painting with clear, bright washes of pure color.

how to avoid getting tacky-looking surfaces

One of the best safeguards against getting tacky surfaces is to

follow this simple procedure after each session of painting: Hold

your canvas at an angle against the light in such a way as to be
able to see whether ridges of paint have formed. You are not
likely to be able to detect these ridges any other way, as the
paint has a tendency to pile up here and there and form these
ridges which a frontal view of your canvas won't reveal. With
the blade of your knife, gently remove most of the ridges that
you see.
The best way without disturbing the painting itself
to do this

is to is almost parallel to the

hold the knife so that the blade
canvas, and carefully slide it under the paint you wish to remove.
Make sure your knife is wiped free of any other paint before you
do this. The object of this procedure is to facilitate continued

painting on your picture without the danger of unevenly dried

surfaces fusing with fresh layers of color. For this is what hap-
13 a
pens when ridges of paint are left on your canvas, as these ridges
naturally dry more slowly than paint that is thinner. And paint
that is half-dry can be exceedingly gummy, and when it fuses
with fresh color it only tends to make that color pasty and robs
it of its luster.

Even assuming that there will be a great lapse of time between

sessions of painting, when these ridges dry they harden into a
bumpy is not always good to paint on. It
kind of surface that
will take just aminute or two to remove such ridges as may
have formed, and you will have the reward of better surfaces to
paint on and the greater assurance of fresh-looking color in your
picture. When your painting is near completion, however, then
you can be free to load your canvas with whatever weight of
pigment that satisfies your emotional and esthetic requirements.
Our composition is set; the lines are fairly well fixed; and
space is "carved out" for us. We are free to put on our colors,
broad and flat, dictated by the same feeling for harmony and
contrast that we apply to dressing or in decorating our home.
Caution must be exercised not to work too close to the canvas.
Burying your nose in the painting can make you lose sight of
the more important problems involved in bringing the picture to
completion. For the painter is capable of becoming enamored
of certain little effects that become insignificant under more
objective appraisal. It is wise to back away from your work at
frequent intervals. By doing so, the relationship of all the parts
of the painting can be more easily seen.

36
how to ait

If you're tired, or for any reason find it difficult to stand, then,

of course, you must sit. But you have to sit,
if try using a high
stool if you can. There is a definite advantage in this. For one
thing, when you're sitting too comfortable in a chair it's not so
easy to get up often to move back for a better look at your can-
vas. It must be remembered that no one looks at a painting at
close range unless he is terribly nearsighted. Most people stand

off from a work of art in order to judge it in the totality of all its
parts. Too much sublety in the painting, especially in the early
stages of development, will be lost on the viewer.

the brush
Brushes should never be held as one would a pen or a pencil.
This only makes for tightness of work and brings the painter up
too close to the canvas. It is best to hold the brush lightly be-
tween the finger tips, an inch or so below the ferrule. Balanced
this way, the handle of the brush rests against the heel of the
palm (see Fig. 13 A).
The idea is to treat the brush as though it were an instrument
(which it is, but which a lot of people seem to forget) responsive
to the most sensitive of impulses from the painter. There must be
freedom in the stroking of the paint. When the motion comes
from the shoulder it eliminates the possibility of niggling work.

the palette
As for how to hold the palette, there seems to be some con-
fusion about The thumbhole in the palette is a carryover
this.

from oldfashioned techniques of painting. It serves no real pur-

pose in present-day work. The most convenient way of painting
13 b
is to place the palette on some bo.x or cabinet of about table

height (or the homemade cabinet shown in Chapter 3). Then

the hands are free to occupy themselves with brushes, knife, and
paint rag. And it generally makes for more comfortable work.
Some people, howe\er, like the feel of holding the palette in
the traditional way. Ifit will make the beginner feel better about

his work, then there's no harm in it. Tlie palette is balanced on

the left forearm (assuming the painter is righthanded) with the
thumb jutting through the hole from underneatli. Brushes, knife,
and cloth are clutched loosely together in the fist so that any of
them can be withdrawn as needed (see Fig. 13 B).

avoid the mistake of rushing your picture

You must be vigilant against the temptation to try to make your
picture "realistic" too soon. The idea, of course, is not to complete
the painting of one object and then proceed to the painting of
the There is no surer way of getting a stilted picture.
ne,\t object.

All the elements of a picture have to grow more or less in unison;

that is to say, if you develop one object to a certain point you
must instantly proceed to give the rest of the painting an equal
degree of development.
For example, if you ha\ c painted the values in one object of

37
your still life, you should go on to painting the values of all the
I know, to
other objects in the picture. It is awfully tempting,
get started on the painting of an object of which
you are particu-
larly fond, and to try to make it look real.
But try to remember
that no object in a painting is more important
than the painting

itself. And in order for a painting to succeed it can only do so as

a unity of all its parts.

38
 8. the function of color

the various things color can do

Before we get into any actual mixing of color it is necessary
that you understand the many different functions that color can
perform in painting, and how important the knowledge of these
functions will be to you. To begin with, there is the difference
between warm and cool colors. Generally speaking, warm colors
tend to come forward and cool colors to retire. Since painting is
done on a flat surface, with the object of getting a feeling of
spatial depth in the picture, then the importance of knowing
which colors function in this way, and why, should be only too
apparent. But precisely what do we mean by "warm" or "cool"
colors?
Well, let's think of fire. Even though we may not be in a posi-

tion to feel the heat of a flame, warm sensation

we can get a
merely by looking at it. And if we look at ice or snow we get the
reverse sensation. Something like that happens when we look at
colors that have the suggestiveness of fire in their hues (red,
orange, and yellow) or of coldness in their hues (blue and
violet). Good painting contains a balancing quantity of both;
otherwise some pictures may appear uncomfortably "hot," and
others "cold" and lifeless.

But there is still another factor that will cause certain colors
J
to come forward and others to retire. Certain colors are opaque,
such as white or black, and have a tendency to obstruct the eye
as if a wall had been erected before it. Others do so by virtue of
a density and heavy concentration of pigment in their makeup.
Still others, which are saturated and murky, such as dark browns

and dull grays, do so because the very weight of their hues

demands attention.
Violet is the least insistent of colors, and has the greatest tentl-
ency to retire. It is literally "the shrinking violet" of the color
family. That is why alizarin, winch is a rather violety crimson, is

39
 .

ideal in the mixing of shadowy hues-or for any part of the pic-

ture that not intended to be prominent, for that matter. Ahzarin

is

is also invaluable in helping a form to turn when you are attempt-

ing to bring about the feeling of "volume" in the painting of an

object.For example, when you want to paint a form that does not
have sharply defined angles dividing the planes as they turn
away from the light, a little alizarin stroked into the color at the
point where you feel the form should turn, will help it to turn
more decisively.
i
Another important thing to know is that complementary colors
intensify one another. A r ed peeping out from a forest of greens
will always be more vivid thanif it were surrounded by colors
of its own family ( red, orange, and brown )

Check your painting for harshness or excessive sweetness of

color. If you like your color intense, that's perfectly all right. But
don't let the intensity be of the grating, acid kind that can be
so irritating to the eye, as well as unpleasant in its effect. If you
likeyour colors sweet, be wary of the baby-blue and pink har-
monies that have the effect of saccharine.
Above all, keep your color fresh and alive looking. Don't mute
the guts out of your color in the attempt to make your painting
look naturalistic. Remember that color is the lifeblood of paint-
ing—that many a promising canvas "dies" of color anemia.

the actual painting of the still life

Once you have gotten all the surfaces of the canvas covered with
broad clear washes of harmonious color, the next step is to break
each object up into its component values of dark, intermediate,
and light. Remember, again, that the dark parts of an object are
deeper values of the same color. Proceed to introduce values in
all parts of the picture, which must, of course, include the cast

shadows (on the table, wall, or wherever they may occur); and
don't stick to painting the objects only. All the parts of your
painting, particularly at this stage of its development, are equally
important. Later on, when you are about to bring the picture to
its completion, will be the time to dramatize the features that

are intended to be more prominent.

Highlights must be avoided for the time being. These, too, are
the last things you must concern yourself with. Continue to
"build" your picture, steadily bringing out the form in your
objects— those which are spherical, cone-shaped, cylindrical, or
cubic. Be careful about being merely descriptive, that is to say,
by trying to explain a form in terms of its contour. For if you do
this, there is a danger of it turning out flat, which very often

happens when beginners attempt to paint the more complicated

forms, such as the sphere or cylinder.
Observe that even a cloth or drape has very definite form.
Cloth that hangs or drapes over the side of a table generally
falls into cone-shaped folds. Here, too, the values would be dark,

intermediate, and Hght, with the deepest value in the trough of

the folds.
'
See "Art Terms and Phrases."

40
 Pay strict attention also to warm and cool colors.
the matter of
A emphasized is that w here
rule that cannot be too frequently
THE LI GHT IS vv ARM^ sHAnnws j^RRj-Qni., and vice-versa. Check
your light and see whether it is of the yellow ( warm ) or blue
(cold) kind, and be guided in your painting accordingly. You
will have difBculty in getting your forms to turn if you don't
have the necessary balancing quality of both warm and cool
colors in your painting of them— one for the shadows and the
other for the light— depending on whichever quality of lighting
you have in your room.

details, decorations, and accents

When you have satisfied yourself that you have gotten your
forms to turn, you can then begin to pay attention to the paint-
ing of details. Anything that is decorative or textural in quality
(see Chapter 28, "Te.xture in Painting"), or any accents you feel
your painting lacks, can be attended to at this stage of the paint-
ing. Be very careful about putting your accents in with heavy
colors such as black ' or dark brown. Wherever possible your
accents should be closely related in color to the object or area
in which they are to be painted. A little alizarin mixed with
these accents will always be helpful in keeping them from
"jumping" out of the picture.

highlights
Highlights are something else that, unless properly and tastefully
handled, have a tendency to "jump" out of the picture. To paste
a gob of white where you perceive a highlight to occur is ob-
viously not going to suggest light reflected at the highest point of
an object (which is what highlights literally are) but will look
like just so much white stuck on the surface of your canvas.

HIGHLIGHTS SHOI.ILD ALWAYS BE THE LIGHTEST POSSIBLE VALUE OF

THE COLOR OF THE OBJECT ITSELF, Conditioned, of course, by factors
of cool or warm in the lighting under which you are working.
You may see more than one point of light reflected in the sur-
face of a bottle or porcelain object in yourstill life. Even though

you may have one main source of light, shiny objects are capable
of reflecting lights from more remote areas of your room. Try to
ignore these, as they can only create confusion and add little of
any value to your painting. Also try to see if you can't give them
some interesting pattern, shape, or rhythmic linear flow (see
Figs. 12, .30, 79 for the way Chardin and Cezanne painted high-
lights), regardless of how small the area of reflected light may be.
Highlights, in order to be effective, must be painted with the
greatest amount of delicacy and sensitivity. Never mind the slap-
dash technique you may see used in pictures shown in the win-
dows of framing shops. These were done by highly skilled crafts-
men, and, if the truth be told, not always in the best of taste or
artistic motivation.

' Black is not yet part of your working palette of colors, but a very good
approximation of black can be made by nii.\ing your three deep colors:
alizarin, ultramarine and viridian.

41
9. an exercise in mixing color

We come to the point in the study of painting where it is neces-

sary for the beginner to do some exercises in the mixing of color.

This can be very helpful to the beginner, for it teaches him

something about color for its own sake. No matter how en-
lightened he is, the novice, when planted in front of a scene he

is about to paint, is often tempted into making things look scenic

and real. Advanced ideas on art go out the window as soon as he
is confronted with nature in all her abundant beauty. He forgets
all about color in his haste to make things look natural.

Away from his subject, however, he is capable of abandoning

himself to the adventure of discovering the many secrets of color.
It is a world all its own, and seeking its mysteries is like
enter-

ing a labyrinth full of awe and wonderment.

By doingthese exercises the amateur not only develops a sensi-
tivity for color, but also acquires a familiarity vidth the nature of
pigment. For pigment is the very substance of color. If you
mutilate that substance, you take the life out of color. But if
you do not overtax its physical resources, it affords many oppor-

tunites for exploiting the textural effects it can provide.

arranging the palette

Arrange the color on your palette in the following manner:
Alizarin in the lower left-hand corner. In the middle of the palette,
along the left-hand side, put cadmium red pale. The upper left-
hand corner is for cadmium yellow light. To the right of that put
ultramarine blue followed by viridian.
More white is used than any other paint, so a larger quantity
of white is squeezed on the palette, on the right-hand side, above
the thumbhole. Pour a few drops of linseed oil on the white and,
with the palette knife, whip it up into a buttery consistency. This
is all the use you will have of linseed oil for the time being. There
is plenty of oil that goes into the manufacture of paints, and the
amount you whip into your white will provide all the additional

42
 )

lubrication that is necessary. (Later, I will discuss various tech-

niques involving different painting mediums, some of which you
may want to experiment with.
The old masters had a sound principle with regard to the use
of oil in painting, and that was fat over lean. All of the under-
painting was done with the admi.xture of as little oil as possible.
The undercoats thus ha\e a chance to dry more rapidly (oil slows
up the drying), allowing the colors to set firmly in the canvas.
This pre\ents the color of the later stages in the painting from
fusing with or disturbing the underpainting. Thus, in the work
of the masters, color shone through the fatter layers of the over-
painting, and beautiful surfaces were the result.
Now to get back to the palette. You have a space between
alizarin and cadmium red pale. Mix a quantity of each until you
get a hue that is chromatically halfwav between both colors.
Also, find an orange that will be chromatically between the light
red and the yellow. Now glance at the column of colors on the
left of \our palette. If you see a chromatic progression of colors,
from very deep to very light (as from bass to treble notes in
music), then so far you have done all right.
Now, with a piece of charcoal, draw a facsimile of a palette
on a sheet of charcoal paper. Draw a large palette, filling up most
of the sheet, as you are going to need as much room as the paper
will afford. With a brush lightly dipped in turpentine pick up a
little alizarin, testing it first on the palette for proper painting con-

sistency. Paint a dab of the color on the drawn palette in the

lower left-hand comer.
It doesn't matter much whether the shape of the dab is round,
oval, or rectangular, as long as the color is applied flat. It wall not
do to paint with a circular stroke because when the paint dries,
little circular ridges will show. Thelight revolves around these
ridges, likes the turning of a carousel, and it just isn't possible to
see color properly when
happens.
this
Follow the same procedure in painting the rest of the colors
in the column. Make sure you have cleaned vour brush carefully

after you have painted each dab. Accidentally muddied color

will prevent your being able to maintain the same chromatic
sequence (which you must do in order to get the most out of this
exercise).When you have finished painting this column, proceed
with the other colors (ultramarine and viridian), painting them
in exactly the same position that they occupy on your actual
palette.There is no need to paint the white, however, as the
white of the paper will take care of that as far as this exercise
is concerned.
In the upper right-hand corner mix your greens. Begin with
yellow and blue. Too much blue will make the mixture a darker
green which will also be a cooler green; conversely, more of the
yellow will make the green both lighter (as well as brighter) and
warmer. For the present, try to mix a green that will be neither
too much of one nor the other. Paint this mixed green
in its
corresponding place on your drawn palette. Do the same with a
green that you get by mixing viridian and yellow ( since viridian

43
is a cool green, the addition of yellow will tend to make it

warmer). When you have your dab of the second green down,
mix a green of orange and blue, and then orange and viridian.
These should give you, respectively, an olive-green and a bottle-
green. So much about green for the time being.
Returning to the lower left-hand corner of the palette— a little
to the right of your alizarin— will be the place for your violet.
This you get by mixing ahzarin, blue, and white (first mix alizarin
and blue to get a deep purple, and then add white ) Again, the .

difiEerence in the relative warmth or coolness (redness or blue-

ness ) of the violet will be determined by the preponderance of
one or the other of the colors in the mixture. Also, lightness or
depth will be determined by the amount of white that you add.
And now for browns, which you will keep near the right-hand
corner (leaving the entire center of the palette clear for mixing):
put a brown that you get by mixing cadmium red pale and blue
( too much blue will make the brown chocolaty ) To the right of
.

that, another brown that you get by mixing alizarin, ultramarine

and orange. When you have dabbed these colors on the drawn
palette,you are ready to proceed to another stage of the exercise.
Note: Before we go on, however, it might be well to point out a
few variations you can experiment with on your own. Alizarin
and light yellow will produce a nice burnt-orange. Alizarin with
green makes interesting violet-greens, etc.

what happens to colors when mixed with white

The next step add white to all the colors on your palette.
is to
The idea is to learn what happens when increasing amounts of

white are added to each color. Ranging from alizarin to orange,

lovely rose, peach, and amber hues will result. Not much will
happen to yellow except to give it more body, as white and
yellow are too close to each other in value for one to effect any
kind of change in the other. When white is added to blue or to
viridian you get, correspondingly, light blue, and turquoise. You
will notice that interesting things happen when you add white to
your greens, especially the ones mixed with orange— which will
produce pearly grays.
Note: Do not mix white into the entire batch of each color that
has been squeezed on your palette. Make sure you take just a little
of each to the center of your palette with your knife and do all
your mixing there.
Clearly, white changes the value of the color with which it is
mixed. The more white you add the lighter, or higher in value,
the color becomes. There is a perceptible step in the direction of
light with each addition of white. There is no specification as to
the number of "steps" one should try to take. You are on your
own here. But it certainly will do no harm to experiment and see
whether you can, by increased additions of white, succeed in
getting a sequence of these steps in each color toward light. The
important thing, of course, is what you learn from doing this
exercise. The colors that come to us in tubes are, for the greater
part, dissimilar in value. But it is interesting to note what hap-

44
 pens to them when tliey are all brought close to each other
in value.
Note: Some will obviously require more of these steps than
others: For example, yellow and red, being lighter colors than
alizarin, blue, or viridian, are already higher in value (or
closer to white, which is the highest value) than these three deep
colors. Consequently, several steps in the addition of white
would be necessary to bring them up to value-par with cadmium
yellow or cadmium red pale.
You can expand this exercise further with variations of warm
and cold hues in all combinations involving blue in their mixture.
For instance, red-violet as opposed to blue-violet; blue-green as
opposed to yellow-green, etc. Observe what happens to these
wnth each successive addition of white.
Titanium white unlike zinc white has a tendency to turn yellow-
ish in time though it has the advantage of greater covering power.
\Miiche\er you use, you have to take these factors into account.
Consequently, when the underpainting color is of a cool variety,
it is preferable that the painting of any white object be done
with
titanium as the yellowish cast that this white acquires will be
offsetby the cool underpainting.
Thus we come to the end of a very valuable exercise. The
quantit)' of colors you get from these few tubes of paint is ob-
viously very great. The following chapter will tell you how to
keep a convenient record of all the colors you have learned how
to mix here. But before I bring this chapter to a close, I want to
discuss one color that is very vital in painting. That color is gray.

grays
Gray is one of the most useful and desirable colors in painting.

Being neutral, it acts as a sort of mediator between the more

intense colors in a picture.It makes the painting tranquil-looking,
whereas might otherwise be too hot, and it offsets the clashing
it

of intensities that can be irritating to the eyes.

But gray is a sort of gypsy among colors and belongs to no
particular land of color-so to speak. It wanders all over the world
of colors and finds a home among each of them.
It borrows a
little from this one and a little from that one and has, for that
reason, rather polyglot characteristics.
So merely to call it gray, is the most anonymous definition you
can gi\e a color. There are innumerable grays, with infinite varia-
tions in each of them. There are warm grays and
cool grays, both
light and dark. And the degrees possible in each
are incalculable.
There is a gray for e\ery known color, as every color can be
grayed.
The most obvious way of getting gray, is by mixing black and
white. But a heavy, uninteresting gray that is leaden and
it is

forbidding, and for that rea.son generally undesirable

in painting.
But when you add a touch of yellow or green to this mixture
it
becomes softer and warmer and a much more suitable
gray.'
' Since black is not one of the colors in your beginner's palette,
yon arc
not ready to experiment with tbis tvpe of grav.

45
 Complementary colors, or those that are opposite to each other
in the ColorWheel (see Fig. 14) combine to make gray. But
is the prime agent
they require the addition of white, as white
forproducing grays. A good rule to remember is to make com-
plementary colors equal in value before mixing them. For ex-
ample, orange is lighter in value than blue. Therefore, add the
necessary amount of white to the blue to make it as light as
the

orange. When you mix the two colors that are now equal in value,
you get a lovely shade of gray.
Make the same experiment with the other opposites in the
color wheel. The squint should settle any doubt about value
dif-

ferences. For the squint, again, is one of your most invaluable

guides in painting.
Note: This exercise is not a test. You are bound tomake mis-
takes; furthermore, it is preferable that you should make them.
The purpose of this exercise is not to prove anything about your
abihty to paint. Its object is to teach you something about color
and how various shades are arrived at. It does not matter so
much that you don't immediately get the results that the instruc-
tions say you should. What is more important is that you should
try to understand why you got what you did in mixing certain
colors. If it is at variance with what the instructions say that you
should expect, then try to analyze your mixture and see what it
appears to lack or what it has too much of. It may be of some
comfort to you to know that in an entire class of students, I have
never found two persons who got identical results in this exercise.

THINGS TO KNO^V 3s.

ABOUT YOUR COLOR >VHEEL.

1 primary colors:
Blue (here indicated by their triangular shape). Note: None
of
Red Yellow
It is more important that you
the colors used here are true primaries.
should know how to place your tubes of paint in terms of their position on
in the cre-
the wheel, than to be concerned with any orthodox method used
is the cadmium
ation of the Color Wheel. Consequently, the yellow here
your tube. The red is a combination of
yellow light which you have in

a combination of ultramarine and

alizarin and cadmium red pale. The blue is

viridian, with the addition of white.

2 complementary colors:
Any mixture of two primaries is a comnlementary of the third.^ or example:

yellow and blue combine to make green; hence, green is the complementary
hold true of red
of the third primary, red. Note: Technically the same would

and blue, which in theory combine to make violet. However, since

we are
dealing here with colors containing impure ingredients, a
mixture of these

In this case, as you see demon-

two primaries would not result in violet.

strated here, we use a combination of alizarin and ultramarine with the

addition of white to get violet.

46
 : -

3 secondary colors
Secondary colors are a combination of two primaries in e qual proportion .'

Note: The colors you see on the outer ring of the Wheel are not all true
secondaries. The light red is the cadmium red pale in your tube. The same
is true of the alizarin, ultramarine, and viridian.' The rest— orange, yellow
medium, violet, and the light and dark green — are the result of mixtures in-
dicated on the rectangles (simulating the index cards you will use in your
"color library") adjacent to each of the colors.

4 tertiary colors:

(Tertiary means "third" in the order of mixing.) Tertiary colors are mixtures
^
of two secondary colors. They are gray^: ceiL£tay, hliie-gray and yellow-gray
/where the primaries in the mixture predominate. Where the secondary colors
predominate, you have green-gray, violet-gray, or orange-gray. The tertiaries
you see here are on the inner ring of the Color Wheel. They are a com-
bination of the two colors at either end of each "spoke" of the Wheel. The
two different hues of the same mixture represent the greater amount of one
or the other color in the mixture. For example: where blue and orange were
combined, the tertiary shown underneath the blue has a cooler cast, while
that underneath the orange obviously appears warmer.
Tertiaries require the addition of white to their mixture; consequently, you

must remember the rule from your color mixing exercises— when mixing
two colors of different value you must first raise the value of the deeper
color (with white) to that of the lighter color before combining them. Also
don't forget to squint, otherwise you won't be able to judge the values of

your colors correctly.

What is remarkable about this Color Wheel is the fact that all the colors
shown here came out of just five tubes of paint, plus white. Nor is this all

that can be accomplished with these few colors, for the range of hues pos-

sible from different combinations is almost infinite. The reason we stick to

these tubes of paint (alizarin, ultramarine blue, viridian, cadmium yellow
light, and cadmium red pale) and do not include such colors as black, yellow some suggested combinations
ochre, burnt sienna, umber, etc., is that the principle of the Color Wheel
for you to experiment with
is

based on that of "prismatic colors" (those which occur in the atmosphere)^

Beginning with the primaries:
in which the heavier earth colors, such as ochre, sienna and
umber, must
1 Yellow and alizarin. Add white (re-
naturally be excluded. This is obviously also true of black.
member to add the white to the
Yet, as you can see in the Color Wheel, it is possible to achieve hues
alizarin first) until it is the value of
strongly resembling the earth colors, while a combination of alizarin and
yellow. Follow the same procedure
ultramarine will combine to make a more intense black that is at the same
throughout.
' Follow the rules as much as possible, but don't be rigid about it. Common sense and Blue and yellow. Add white.
your own feeling for color are your best guide in resolving any discrepancy between
Blue and red. Add white.
what the rules say you should expect and the results you get. Consequently, when
mixing two primaries to get your secondary color you have to take into account the Blue and yellow medium. Add white.
fact that different tubes of paint don't
have the same tinting strength, so that more Red and
all viridian. Add white.
of one primary is sometimes necessary to produce a satisfactory secondary color.
Yellow and ultramarine. Add white.
Here again must remind you that tubes of paint include several other ingredients
I

besides color, and (particularly in the more costly cadmiums) manufacturers will be
more sparing in the use of certain pigments than
Now the secondaries:
in others.
' Note that in the "color wheel" proper, each of the three deep colors (alizarin, ultra- 1 Orange and viridian. Add white.
marine, and viridian) were made a shade lighter in order to keep them in a more logi- 2 Orange and ultramarine. Add white.
cal value sequence.
^Obviously, none of the deep colors (as they exist
3 Alizarin and viridian. Add white.
in the tube), such as alizarin,
ultramarine, or viridian, can be technically called "prismatic." But with the addition of 4 Cadmium red pale and ultramarine.
white, they can be made to approximate the hues found in the spectrum. Add white.

47
time less opaque than black paint. Alizarin and viridian will also produce a

handsome black.

As for browns, mixtures of cadmium red pale and ultramarine; alizarin,

ultramarine, and orange (see color mixing exercise, p. 44); cadmium red pale
and viridian; etc., will provide you with a handsome variation of browns.

Note: All sorts of further experiments are possible, following the same pro-

cedure. I recommend the use of at least two stages in the addition of white
to your mixtures — first in raising the value of the deeper color to that of
the lighter, and then an additional stage of adding white to the final mix-

ture. Thus you are able to discover a host of variations in off-shades of

gray. These will prove very valuable for your "color library."
Remember, there are no absolutes in the mixing of colors. Also, there are
no exact measurements; consequently, the secondaries you mix may differ
to a certain degree from those 1 have prepared here, and the tertiaries will

correspondingly be affected. A whole classroom of students will invariably

come up with widely different results, one not necessarily better or worse
than the other. So don't let it bother you if you didn't get a set of hues pre-
cisely like those you see here. It is also worth knowing that one manufac-

turer's product may to some extent be different in hue from that of another's.
Once you have followed the instructions you will see what command you
gain over the whole business of color mixing. From then on it will be child's
play to keep a detailed record for your "color library" of all the colors you
ever mix, and you will then be able to understand exactly what you got
and why.

Note: that the color wheel is divided into two zones of warm and cool colors.
The terms WARM and COOL here are relative, those whicii are on the
"equator" being practically neutral in this regard, the rest being progres-

sively warm or cool depending on their position in relation to this equator.

It will prove of considerable help to you in all your future painting to be

able to determine the relative warmth or coolness of colors on the basis of

their position in the color wheel.

When you have advanced to the "Expanded Palette" in Chapter XXII you will
then be able to substitute some of the secondaries on the Color Wheel with
colors directly out of the tube, such as, cadmium orange and manganese
violet. This violet, in particular, is a much richer violet than you get by

mixing alizarin and ultramarine, consequently, the tertiaries that result will

be more luminous. I strongly urge you, however, to restrain the temptation

to use of any of these colors on the advanced palette until you have ex-
plored all the advantages of the basic palette.
The colors you see here were prepared from student-grade paints such as
you are expected to have as part of your basic equipment. Consequently,
some of the mixtures, such as the violet, do not have the richness or in-

tensity that would result from the use of more expensive pigments. How-
ever, it is plain that a decent brand of student-grade paints is adequate to
produce as brilliant and varied an assortment of colors as is necessary at
your present stage of development. My advice is not to undertake the ex-
pense of costlier paints until you become satisfied that you are capable of
mixing your colors properly from these student-grade pigments. In other
words, you should not blame it on your equipment if you get unsatisfactory
results. If you follow the instructions here, there is no reason why you
should have poor results.
 Cadmium Red Pale Cadmium Yellow Light

Cadmium Red Pale Cadmium Yellow Light

i
 COLOR W^HEEL
THE 5C0L0R METHOD: SHOWING HOW TO PREPARE YOUR COLOR LIBRARY BY FILING
ALL COLOR-MIXING RECORDS ON INDEX CARDS FOR INSERTION INTO AN ALBUM

1 Added

White
 10. how to keep a color library

Painting is an experience that is full of little accidentals. It is not

an exact science where everything is planned down to the last

detail. Once the composition is set, an improvisational element
enters into the work. In this regard it differs from architecture,

where the total project must be completely visualized before

actual work can begin.
In the course of painting you come across many interesting
nuances of color that had previously been unfamiliar to you. The
experienced painter knows merely by looking at a color what
combinations go into its mixture. He has no difficulty mixing that
same color again any time he wants
to. But the novice, or even

one whohas been painting a few years, frequently fumbles in

his attempts to repeat a desired color. He usually winds up with
piles of paint all over his palette, none of which are close to the
color he is seeking.
way of working, besides causing needless
This hit-or-miss
waste of good paint, can be very discouraging to the amateur. I
have, therefore, worked out a system whereby the student is able
to keep a record of every color he mixes. This system makes it
possible to very conveniently keep actual smears of every color
with notes on how to mix them. All that is needed are a photo-
graph album and a few packs of index cards. These go to make
up a handy reference book to which you can turn whenever you
have any doubt about how to mix a particular color or shade.
TSIote: Index cards usually have a hard, semiglossv surface that

is resistant to absorption of the oil in paints; hence, tiic smears of

colors you put on them may tend to dry slowly. You can, if you
like, cut up a sheet or two of charcoal paper into index-card
sizes,
and you will find that your color smears not only drv more
rapidly but aLso have a less oily appearance, thus making for
clearer notes of color.
It's advisable to start this album witli the colors you learned to
mix in the previous exercise. These colors form a niiclcus to
 )

which you can continually add inserts of new-found colors and

becomes not only a means of keeping a record of un-
hues. It
familiar colors, but also functions as a storehouse of information
about all the colors, shades, and hues you ever had occasion to
mix. You will be surprised at how grateful you can be to have
this information handy at a time when you need a certain shade

and have forgotten how to get it.

Let me illustrate the ease this system can be put

with which
to use: Suppose you have forgotten how to mix brown. You
simply flip your indexed album open to the letter "B," and find
your browns. There they are, lined up in rows, each card tucked
neatly into corner-holders, like any snapshot in its album. Each
card is divided in half; one half for a smear of the color and the
other half for notes telling you how the color was mixed. (It's
best to print these notes for legibility. Additional notes that are
necessary can be kept on the reverse side of the card.
There is no precise formula for keeping these "color albums."
If you want to do a really good job of it, get a large album with
as many places as possible for fixing cards on each sheet. You
can keep a record this way, not only of a particular color, but
also the gradations you get by the addition of white. Not only
original colors, but their subsidiary hues are also kept on file.

If you want to know quickly how to mix flesh tones, terra cotta,
open your album and
different shades of violet, or whatever, flip
you have the information. You have spared yourself a lot of
fruitless work, and avoided cluttering your palette with wasted
paint.

Many more familiar colors will become second nature to

of the
you you have been painting awhile. You will have less and
after
less need to refer to the album as you go along, and it will only

be necessary to resort to the album for the less obvious and in-
frequently used colors. But the confidence you gain from the
knowledge that the information is there any time you need it,
is immeasurable. You never know, unless you are thoroughly ex-

perienced, when you may be stumped for the combinations of a

certain color. And you can only assign to memory a very limited
fund of knowledge.
Every new color you come across will, of course, be more diffi-
cult to mix. As you become more experienced you learn to judge
at a glance what family of colors it belongs too, whether it is
cold or warm, its value, etc. This eliminates a lot of fumbling,
and you arrive at the desired color much more quickly. But once
you have got it you have your notes on its mixture for your
permanent record. You will never have trouble finding that
color again.
'Note: When mixing keep adding paint to one big
color, don't

pile. By want you can have mixed

the time you get the color you
yourself quite a mess of paint. There is no point in wasting good
pigment, and the likelihood is that you won't succeed in finding
the exact shade you want. Instead of adding to the same heap,
pull a little of it to the side and add what you think is still needed
to that. If one or two attempts in this direction fail to give you

50
the color you want, discard the whole batch and start afresh. If
you find yourself on a deadend, which sometimes happens, it's
futile to try to go on. There's nothing to do but retrace your steps
and start all over again.
There are some colors you may want to mix that are beyond
the scope of your present equipment. In the chapter on expand-
ing the palette I will introduce you to several additional tubes
of paint. But for the present I suggest that you content yourself
with learning all you can about the potentialities afforded in
these fi\'e tubes of color.

51
11 . painting tlie still life

I have prepared development showing the use of

this four-stage

color in a section of the sample still life in order that you may

have a clear idea of how to proceed in the painting of your still

life. The following analysis of the step-by-step
procedure will,
I am sure, provide you with the guidance to
help overcome the
initial hesitation in applying color to the canvas that many be-
ginners experience. The object is not for you to try to emulate
what I have done, but rather to see what you can learn from
this simple, clear-cut approach. (Fig. 15)

step one
Here you see four colors, only one of which ( the background ) is
a mixture of two of the other colors— viridian and cadmium yellow
light; the rest are right out of the tube. My first concern was to
get in some bright colors; in this instance cadmium red pale and
yellow, and then the semibright of the warm background green.
Not wanting to use white in the underpainting (remember that
white makes your color tacky ) , I then thinned out viridian with
turps for the teapot. (Viridian, having a gelatinous consistency,
does not apply smoothly, as you can see here.) Following that,
a wash of ultramarine for the table. Notice that I was careful to
use enough turpentine so as to enable the canvas to gleam through.
The object is to maintain as much as possible the luminescence
deriving from the whiteness of the canvas.
If you have been wondering about the underpainting of the
^reen bottle with red, and the red teapot with green, the explana-
tion is simply that the underpainting of the final (or local) color
with its complementary tends to produce a richer effect (see
Chapter 14). Furthermore, it is desirable, wherever possible, to
paint with coats of warm over cool, and cool over warm. If you
observe this rule, you are certain to have much better results than
if you painted warm over warm, or cool over cool. You will also

52
observe that I underpainted the music sheet with yellow to
eliminate the possibility of the final white being chalky.

step ttco
Here my priman' concern was to establish the "source of light,"
and to block out my forms accordingly. As you can see here, I
was not concerned with modeling or with putting in highlights.
I simply chose flat patterns (or planes) to indicate roughly where

the light falls shxingest on mv objects. Since it was no longer in

the underpainting stage, I permitted mvself to use a little white;
in this case, a mixture of virkyan juid_\yhite_lQr the light plane
of the bottle. For the dark side of the bottle I chose a mixture
of viridian, ultramarine and a touch of orange to gi\e it body.
As yoiTcan see, 1 didn t HHin mv p]anes~with thu^colorij of llie~
overpainting, but let a little of the red gleam through. The pur-
pose of this was to avoid letting the painting get hea\v. *I also
left a small section of the red for the label on the back of the
bottle.
You will notice that in the teapot I didn't, in this stage, apply
the red paint. Instead, with a cloth slightly damp with turps I

swabbed off a section of the viridian to indicate the passage

of light across the teapot. Since viridian, due to its gelatinous
consistency, more difficult to control, I wanted to make sure
is

of having enough light striking through from the can\as before

overpainting with the bright red.

step three
Notice here how, with the exception of the background, the paint-
ing is still flat. The teapot now has two distinct shades of red:
cadmium red pale right out of the tube in the light section, and
a mixture of cadmium red pale with alizarin for the dark side.
Notice that here, too, I allowed the viridian of the underpainting
to show through a bit. For the label on the bottle I loosely
blocked out the brand name with cadmium red pale, letting the
yellow underneath form the letters. For the lower part of the
label I mixed cadmium red pale and white, brushing it on loosely
enough to permit some of the vellow to show. Behind the teapot^.^
I painted a plane of ultramarine with a little alizarin for the cast

shadow. Observe how simple and geometrical the patterns of all

these planes are, and what a sense of rhythmic unitv their inter-
action gives to the painting. On the neck of the bottle I stroked
a plane of intermediate green between the light and dark sec-
tions. Beyond this, I still made no attempt to get mv bottle to

look realistic. This was left for the final stage of the painting.
In the background I verv loosely and freely brushed some cool
blue and violet grays, permitting a good bit of the warm imder-
painting to show through. Since wanted mv final painting toI

communicate a sense of "air space" around my objects, I knew

that to apply the background overpainting too densely would
defeatmy purpose. Consequently, I chose, for the time being, to
permit an interplay of the warm and cool of the underpainting
and overpainting.

53
 step four
Here, in the final stage, you can see the advantages of leaving
realistictouches for last. The light planes on the bottle and tea-
pot are no longer two dimensional, but you will notice that I still
had not modeled or blended my color. Every stroke of paint was
applied jkit. Thus, I was able to avoid having the different coats
of paint fuse vwth one another and become muddy. On the bottle
some of the red underpainting shows through, and this serves
still

to give it the glass-glinty effect of a real bottle, preserving to

a certain extent the interplay of warm and cool tones. Apart
from
the rich intermediate green, notice the different subtle shades of
gray, blue, and yellow green that I softly stroked into the neck
and shoulder of the bottle. In the dark section I deepened the
green by thea^ditian--©£--alizarinjWith here and there a stroke
of ultramarine mixed with it/OirtRe far side of the bottle's
shoulder rstroTced~a littl e yBlfow g regn, to produce the "after-
glow" that one often sees in rounded objects. On the lower part
of the bottle I used some of the intermediate green to offset the
dark hues. On the label I scumbled a little olive-green and yellow'T'
to produce the characteristics of this particular label.

strove not to vary the color quite as much in the final painting
I

of the teapot, in order to preserve the bright red character of this

object. Actually, all I used was varying shades of red produced by
mixtures of cadmium red pale and alizarin. For the higMights
Imixed a little viridian and white. For the painting of the handle,
knob, and spout rusedlEadSs-^fTSl ue and bla ck, xeinforced here
and there by the addition of alizarin. NoTice how richly the
viridian underpainting functions as highlight for the spout. I
deepened the cast shadow of the teapot with a rich mixture of
/"alizarin, ultramarine,and a little white.
/ For the tablecloth I simply mixed ultramarine, viridian, and
/^hite. On the music sheet I used my palette knife, spreading un-
/ evenly (as you would butter on toast) the desired white sug-
( geStive of the paper. Into the white I loosely stroked various
tones of viridian and orange and alizarin, etc. to keep the
paper from looking too "matt." Then I freely painted the lines
and G Clef to give the music sheet its character. Into the back-
ground I loosely stroked various tones of gray, gray-brown, blue,
violet, etc. to give it the soft, atmospheric look that I desired.
Observe that I did not try to make the painting look photo-
graphically real. There's no point in competing with the camera.
My main concern was to keep my picture colorful and "painterly"
in feehng. For, if you strive too hard for photographic effects,
you are apt to paint the life out of your picture, with the result
that it looks stiff and unconvincing.
And now let us see how a master painter does a still hfe. Bear
in mind that the painting we are about to study is an advanced
work, climaxing roughly twoscore years of consistent artistic de-
velopment. It is, therefore, not in any way intended as a model
for any beginner to pattern his work on. Nevertheless, there are
instances where Cezanne employs specific principles stressed in
the various chapters here, dealing with the use of color. For this

54
step three
 1

r)

step four
reason, it is well to pause a while to see how we may benefit
from our analysis of such a work before going on to the prac-
tical application of what we have learned.

"Still Life with Apples'^ by Paul Cezanne

This is, in mv opinion, one of the most beautiful still-life paint-

ings ever done. an example of Cezanne's unique style of

It is

painting at its finest, comprising the best features of organic com-

position which are the hallmark of this great artist's work. It was
painted during the last decade of his career, during which period
he began to apply with the spareness of water color.
his oil paints
The relative thinness of the pigment in this painting accounts in
great part for the lustrous color of the fruit, where bright reds,
greens, and yellows were painted directly over the clear white
canvas. Moreover, there are large sections of the canvas that the
artist left entirely bare of color to represent the white drapery
facing the full light. The same is true of the pitcher, in which the
patches of clear white you see are nothing more than the bare
ground of the canvas. It is probably the first time in the history
of oil painting that this daring innovation was employed as a
deliberate technique, though it was later adopted by painters
like Matisse, and others as a standard practice of contemporary
oil painting.
Tiie kev to the structural analysis of his paintings will be found
in Chapter 30 (see Fig. 79). Here we will concentrate exclu-
sively on Cezanne's functional use of color. First of all, there is
the handsome balance of warm and cool colors, as well as of light,
dark, and intermediate values, so clearly evident in this picture.
But for some of the less obvious features, I call your attention to
the luminous quality of the shaded areas— such as the space be-
hind and a little to the right of the drape— where if you look
close you can see touches of red-orange stroked into the shadows
to give them their interior glow. Then, turning to the underside
of the drape, we see a host of grays— blue-grays, yellow-grays,
red-grays— all combining to produce the effect of dusky white
cloth. How different from the heavy, dank approach to the paint-
ing of shadows we usually find in the work of less imaginative
and less perceptive painters!
Now let us take a look at the blue tablecloth over on the right-
hand side of the picture. Obviously Cezanne was not content
merely to paint it a solid blue, and let it go at that. Yet, despite
the fact that we see planes of several different hues (with even
an occasional note of warm color completely alien to the blue-
complex), somehow adds up to an unmistakably blue cloth.
it all

And, of course, where the cloth hangs over the edge of the table
away from the light, we find a multiplicity of hues of practically
every variety— and how convincingly it manages to look like the
shaded part of the same blue cloth. This seems to contradict the
principle stressed earlier, to the effect that shaded areas of an
object must be painted a deeper \alue of the same basic color.
It however, proof again of how
is, a master can successfully
depart from the rules.

55
 Finally, I want to point out the nervous bits of calligraphy
Cezanne employed here for both textural and decorative effect
(see Chapter 28). I believe it can safely be said that calligraphy
is to painting what spice is to food, adding just enough zest to the

picture to keep it from being bland. I bring this up to impress

upon you, if you can visualize it, how lacking in pictorial "spice"
this painting would be were it not for the inclusion of this
calligraphy.

56
 12. how to paint flowers

If you are going to paint just a vase of flowers, and don't intend
to include other objects in your picture, it's best to avoid the
horizontal or sideways compositions. You have to allow for the
combined height and stems of the flowers, which the
of the vase
vertical composition can more easily accommodate. Furthermore,
you won't have the problem of large vacant areas of canvas on
either side of the vase to make interesting.
As in the case of the still-life painting, draw your composition
with an economy of descriptive statement. Keep your line as
simple and geometric as possible. Your primary concern should
be for spatial composition. There is no point in painting flowers,
however beautifully, if they are going to look flat as wallpaper
decoration simply because you made no provision in your com-
position for the space surrounding them.
Since the emphasis in this picture is going to be on the flowers,

it would be best to keep the space more enclosed and intimate.

For this reason it would be desirable to use a small table on
which to rest the vase. The vertical composition would not ac-
commodate the spread of a large table, unless, of course, you only
wanted to show part of the table. It doesn't matter very much
whether the table is round or square, just so long as it doesn't
draw too much attention to itself. In this case the table can be
viewed either frontully or at a slight angle (see Fig. 16 for sug-
gested variations in workable flower compositions) depending
on which appeals to you most.
But whatever you do, don't conceive of your bouquet as a
bunch of flowery heads all facing out from the surface of the
picture. Beginners have a tendency to do this. Flowers in a
bouquet face in various directions, and to realize this you must
conceive of them as a large roundish mass. Each flower (or cluster
of flowers ) is determined by its position
faces in a direction that
in the you look at a global map of the
bouquet. For example, if

world you see that China faces in one direction, Australia in

57
another, and Canada in still another direction, and so on. The
same holds true, more or less, for flowers in a bouquet.
The question how
go about achieving this effect in
arises of to
the composition. In order to explain this, we will have to reduce

our flowers to one of our visual "common denominators," and in

this case I think the cone would be most suited. Flowers assume
all sorts of shapes and sizes, but for the greater part they all grow

outward from the bud in a rather "conical" fashion. So we wdll

visualize our bouquet as being studded momentarily by a dis-
tribution of cones jutting out from the foliage in various
directions.
Now, as I've already made clear in the case of the circle, if we
look at the flat surface of a cone, we see nothing but the full
round of its circumference. But if we turn it a little away from
us we notice that the circumference gradually narrows into an
ellipse; and the farther away from us it turns, the narrower the
ellipse becomes (see Fig. 8). We observe that the cones (in our
bouquet) have the appearance of "looking" in whichever direc-
tion they face (you can almost imagine them sending a beam
in the direction they are facing, as a searchlight does), and in
each case the ellipse acquires a difi^erent tilt (see Figs. 17, 18).
Some of the cones naturally will be facing into the picture, or
away from you, in which case the flat surface of the cone will not
be visible at all, the stem attaching itself to the apex, or point,
of the cone. In some cases only parts of the cones will be seen,
as our view of them will be obstructed by foliage ( assuming you
will want to include greens— which is a good idea) or by other
intervening cones. Some of the cones will not be seen at all, as
they will be around the other side of the bouquet and completely
lostfrom view. But the feeling must be created that there are
cones on the other side, even though they are not visible. Once
this feeling is created, you willhave a successful composition.
As for the foliage, this can be conceived as a series of fronds,
or layers of leaves, interspersed among the flowers— draping,
jutting, or hanging, as the case may be. You will, of course, have
to study your leaves for distinguishing characteristics, which you
should represent with a few simple, rhythmic lines (see Fig. 16).
Ferns are tricky, and I'd suggest that for the time being you
avoid them.

cones into flowers

Now that you have your composition of a vase containing a
bouquet of cone shapes, the object is to transform these cones
into flowers. This you do with paint. For the cones, as you have
seen, are only proxies for the flowers you have in mind, until you
are ready to start using color. The shallowness or depth of the
cones is determined by the particular character of the flower
you intend to paint. The difi^erence between a tulip and a daisy
in this regard is only too obvious to require further elaboration.
But for all practical purposes the depth of the cone hasn't very
much compositional importance. What is important, however, is
the face of the cone-whether it is full-round or an ellipse, and the
particular spatial tilt or angle of each.

58
 By no means should you start by painting petals. Once you
have drawn a secure-looking composition your next step should
be to think only in terms of color. And, here, bear in mind the
previously mentioned rule of achieving greater interest by means
of diversity. You may want very much to paint just a bunch of
vellow flowers, but in inexpert hands there is a danger of this

resulting in monotony. A bouquet of various colored flowers has

a much and it is also more exciting
better chance of success,
towork with several different colors than with only one (dis-
counting the colors you will be using in the rest of the painting).
How you apply color to your bouquet will have to be deter-
mined bv the amount of flowers it contains: whether grouped or
isolated one from the other. And if they are grouped: whether of
one color, or multicolored groupings.
The idea is to distribute your color throughout your composi-
tion, bright and strong, remembering the rules learned from the
exercises. The whole surface of the canvas must he cov-
still-life

ered with color before you attack the problem of turning your
cones into flowers. If your bouquet is grouped into scattered
bunches of flowers of one kind and color, then each group would
receive one wash of their common color. You will say, "But if I

do this I will lose the outline of each separate cone, and how will
I know where to put each shape back again?"
There need be no problem about this; simply paint between
each of the lines (which you have sprayed with fixatif to keep
the black of the charcoal from dirtying your color). Remember
to keep your brush from becoming saturated with turpentine, or
else the paint will run. The advantage of having one-color group-
ings is that it enables you to distribute paint in larger areas in-
stead of having isolated bits of color, which have a tendency to
"jump."
When you have your colors "orchestrated" (a helpful term
designating the harmonious distribution of color throughout the
canvas) the task remains to give the flowers their characteristic
shape, thus departing from the rigid outline of the cones. At this
point it is necessary for you to establish your source of light. And

here you encounter again the problem of painting in the "values"

which, as you will remember, are determined by the position of
each flower, cluster, or grouping of flowers— relative to the
source of the light. There will also be variations in values within
each cluster or flower grouping, depending upon the position of
each member in relation to the others, or to the surrounding
foliage. Whenever you are in doubt about the value relationships,
remember to squint. For the naked eye will be deceived about
many things which the squint, when properly used, is certain to
correct.
Stick to the three values wherever possible. This will help to
give form to your flowers, regardless of how soft and flufty they
may be. Beginners often wonder why they get such sticky-looking
messes in their attempts to capture with paint the fleecy softness
of certain flowers. Others, because of too much timidity and re-
straint, achieve a stiffs, strawlike effect. Both types of failure to
paint flowers with a convincing appearance of naturalness are

59
due to a lack of understanding that everything in nature has form,
no matter how feathery-soft it may appear on the surface.
Remember also what you have learned about shadows; the
difference between functional shadows and cast shadows. Ob-
serve how these occur in your bouquet, also in the surrounding
areas— on the wall, on the table, behind, and on the sides of the
table, etc.
By all means avoid using white as much as possible until the
Howers are near completion. There is no surer way of getting
sticky-looking surfaces than by pasting bits of white on your
painting, simply because you see silvery tips of petals gleaming
here and there in your bouquet. And if you should perchance
have included white flowers in the bouquet, then surely you
will have remembered to underpaint them with some bright
color, otherwise you are in for trouble. In any case, leave the
painting of the white part of these flowers for very near the end,
observing (as you should by now have learned to do) that they
are white only where the light strikes them, and that they take
on various hues of gray in their shadowy interiors.
Observe most of the rules you have learned in painting the
foliage— warm greens, cool greens, values, etc. The leaves must,
of course, be conceived in the mass, with here and there a leaf
or sprig of leaves taking on clear-cut identity or silhouette.
Your choice of vase shouldbe simple but interesting in shape,
with as little decoration on it as possible so as not to conflict with
or rival the flowers. It might be wise to avoid using a vase made
of clear glass, for clear glass presents additional technical prob-
lems, such as transparency, highlights, iridescence, and so on.As
I have already pointed out, if you must have glass make sure it is
colored glass— the deeper the color, the better. And be wary of
highlights; these should come at the very end, and should be ap-
plied as sparingly as possible.
If you like, you can drape your table with a bit of cloth. But

here again, avoid white— unless, of course, you feel like taking on
the challenge of trying to make it work. Your best bet is a col-
ored cloth, and don't be too fussy in your painting of it as you
should not attract more attention to it than is necessary. The
shadows that fall on the cloth will naturally be a deeper value
of the same color than those parts that are in the light.
When you have gained more experience and confidence you
won't find it necessary to go through the business of drawing

cones for your flowers, and so forth. When you feel more confi-
dent there naturally won't be the necessity of employing safe-
guards of this kind.
Your work will be increasingly freer as you go along, and even-
tually, you will be able to dispense with much of the preparatory
drawing with charcoal and leave a great deal of this to be done
with the brush. But you can only gain this kind of freedom when
you have trained yourself to understand and appreciate the
structural factors that go into the creation of a successful painting.
Too much freedom too soon, or too little freedom later on are
both obstructive to good painting.

60
 Note: Some people try to mix colors right on the canvas. This
is not a good practice and can only lead to careless work and
muddy Make sure that you have mixed your color satis-
color.
factorily on your palette, and do not let impatience get the best
of you. If you try to rely on miracles happening on your canvas
because of impatience to get the desired hue on the palette, then
the chances are you will not succeed in having a picture that has
good color or pleasing surfaces. Moreover, your work will not
improve with each succeeding painting, as it has every possi-
doing if you follow the rules.
bility of

a few pointers on correcting mistakes in your painting

Even the most experienced and accomplished painters will some-
times make mistakes and want to repaint an area that does not
please them. may have
Beginners frequently fear that they
spoiled a painting thatwas going well simply because of some
mistake they made. Such fears are entirely without foundation,
because what is so wonderful about painting in oils is the fact
that mistakes are so easy to eradicate.
If you have painted you at first thought would be
a color that
suitable, but found, after you had brushed it on your canvas,
that it was the wrong color, then the thing to do is not to wring
your hands in despair. All is not lost. You simply take your palette
knife and lay the blade down flat on the canvas above the paint
you want to remove. Gently scrape off as much of the paint as
you can with one downward stroke; then wipe the paint off the
knife and repeat the motion. Do this a few times until most of the
paint has been removed, do not use the point of the knife.
The next step is to take a clean cloth and, holding it ball-like
in your hand, scuff remainder of the paint that the knife
off the
couldn't remove. But you must keep turning the cloth in your
hand so that each stroke of your hand brings a clean part of the
cloth in contact with the canvas. The object is not to press so
hard as to force the paint into the pores of the canvas. Once you
have completed this operation and there appears to be some of
the offending color left, then, with a clean cloth lightly dipped
in turpentine, gently wash out the last vestiges of the color; in
a few minutes it will be dry enough for you to be able to re-
paint it.

If you're not satisfied with a color, don't try to change it by

painting right on top of it while it is wet, or
apt to get
it's

muddy gray. Just wash it out entirely and repaint the area.

"Sunflowers" by Claude Monet

Here we have a perfect illustration of how a master colorist
puts to use many of the principles of flower painting we have
just been studying. (Fig. 19)
Notice how snugly this rather agitated bouquet of sunflowers
manages to fit into the limited space enveloping it. This is prin-
cipally due to the "global" turning of the mass which I so care-
fully explained a few pages back. For it is very plain to see here
that each flower seems to be facing in a different direction from

61
 facing up,
any of the others. Thus, we find some of the flowers
as well
and others down; some facing to one side or to the other,
as to the rear; and so forth. This spatial
envelopment of the
back-
bouquet is further augmented by the absence from the
ground of any solidly painted, or heavy tones. The
atmospheric
of yielding
quality of this background that gives the appearance
the result
before the thrusts of the various flower heads is simply
(mostly of a
of freely applied overlays of warm and cool grays
of soft blue.
violet or retiring hue ) interspersed with patches
Although the sunflowers are fundamentally yellow, here we
will probe the
see evidence of how an artist of Monet's caliber
heart of color so as to extract from it every possible
nuance or
shade. Consequently, we find the petals tinged here and
there

with orange or crimson, with a patina of green-gold for

where
(again
they turn from the light. And as for the seed clusters
depending on the position of each in relation to the hght), we
see that no two are painted alike-one a soft gray-green, another
purple; still another a reddish black, and so on.
the
In keeping with the energetic treatment of the flowers,
foliage has equally been dealt with in spirited fashion. The
artist did not stick to just one shade of green, but made sure to
vary in a number of ways. He used a yellow-green (heightened
it

with white) for the places where the foliage catches the warm
light, a blue-green where the cold light hits it, with deep
violet-

greens for the shadows. The vase, too, has received its share of
color variation. Though obviously a white object, nowhere is

there any dead-white in evidence. By superimposing whitish

grays over an underpainting of luminous colors, the artist very

produced the impression of an unobtrusive white vase.
effectively
Notice the pearly blue-gray hues in the shoulders of the vase
where the shade of the foliage falls over it. Following that, I call

your attention to the extremely subtle handling of the oudines of

the vase where it is faintly tinted with reflections of the surround-
ing colors, thus preventing the edges from appearing hard or
flat. This is counteracted by the vigorously stroked
crimson and
purple hues down along the shaded side of the vase.
Turning now to the table itself, I am sure you were not slow to
recognize something famihar about the foreshortening of the
center panel of the tablecloth. I refer, of course, to the wide angle
representing the nearest corner of this panel, with the acute angles
occurring at either side of it. This secret of foreshortened rec-
tangles has, as you can see (and which your exercises in still-
life composition were meant to prepare you for), many applica-

tions in the art of painting. As for the actual painting of the cloth,
we have further evidence of the artist's characteristic freedom
in the use of the brushstroke— seeming to "sweep" into a mound
of soft reds where the cloth is exposed to the light, with a host of
deep rich hues for the shadows.

62
19 SUNFLOWERS by Claude Monet. Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Bequest of Mrs. H. 0. Havemeyer, 1929.
The H. 0. Havemeyer Collection
 13. space I

What do we mean by the word "space" in painting? Everyone

knows that there can be no actual space in pictures. The surface
they are painted on is flat, of course. But so, for that matter, is

the motion-picture screen, yet we are transported in the belief

that we are looking through it into a spacious world of activity.
Mirrors are also flat, yet so accurately do they reflect everything
they face that, if we didn't know better from experience, we
might feel inclined to walk right through the glass surface into
space.
But both the camera and the mirror atitomaticalli/ record what
is before them. Canvases can do no such thing, and it is up to
the painter to transmit what he sees onto the flat surface of his
canvas. Long before the camera was invented, painters developed
a technique by means of which it was possible to create an illu-
sion of depth on the canvas (or wall, in the case of murals). This
science was called perspective. It was a remarkable development
and revolutionized the whole world of painting. Before that, all
painting, for the greater part, seemed flat, or two dimensional.
Although there was great beauty of design and nobility of feel-
ing in much of this early work, attempts on the part of painters
to suggest depth in their paintings were not very successful.
Linear perspective was based on the principle of the "vanishing
point" (see Chapter 24), worked out in precise mathematical
detail. As a consequence, painters were able to achieve an illu-
sion oftremendous depth in their canvases; and you can imagine
what a miraculous discovery it must have seemed in those davs.
With the exception of architects and draftsmen, however, few
painters today emphasize perspective in their compositions.'
They do not strive for great vistas in their
work, but seek a more
circumscribed space. They are not only concerned with what is

' This i,s not meant to nilc out entirely the .study of perspective (sec
Chapter 24).

63
 .

ahead, but also up and down, and all around. In brief, they are
interested in space that has three dimensions.
Just as painting cannot show actual space, so it cannot show
actual motion. The painting that attempts to do so is bound to

end in disaster. Some book covers and magazine illustrations try

to convey a sense of arrested motion as if the scene depicted

were caught in mid-action. But one way in which fine art differs
from illustration is in the fact that it does not concern itself with
motion as such.
When motion occurs in good painting, it generally does so as
an element of design. We call this "movement." The artist is not
fundamentally interested in describing the action as he is in
guiding the eye of the viewer. By subtly leading the eye in cer-
tain directions, from one point to another, he makes the viewer
feel that he is seeing a scene in space, as though he were looking
out through an open window.
How is this done? Considering the flat surface on which pic-

tures are painted, seems quite a feat. How then does the
it

painter succeed in breaking through that flat barrier to create

the illusion of spatial depth?
Some try to accomplish this by what is now the stalest of de-
vices: They push sharply converging lines in from the lower cor-
ners of the canvas. Paintings that are composed this way are
generally very and don't hold one's interest. It is an obvious
trite

kind of contrivance and is shunned by creative painters. The

lines give the appearance of running ofi^ into distance, the way
railroad tracks do ( see Chapter 24 )
Objects along the route of the converging lines appear increas-
ingly distant in proportion to their reduction in size (see Fig. 20).
It's a tricky way of working, and almost convinces. Combined
with clever brushwork it can produce superficially efi^ective pic-
tures. But like all hackneyed techniques, it eliminates the possi-

64
bility of a creative approach. The painter who resorts to such
devices has little respect for his audience and no love of art.

hot€ to get space in composing a landscape

Instead of trying to ram the eye into the picture, we are going
to see if we can guide it gently in— almost without it knowing
that this is being done. In connection with going to this I am
remind you of the principle I introduced in the still-life exer-
cise; THE EYE WILL AUTOMATICALLY FOLLOW AN OBJECT IN THE
DIRECTION OF ITS LONGEST SURFACE. I had you look at 3 pencil or
a ruler to see for vourself whether vour eve did not follow it in
the length, rather than in the width.
Since it is the length of objects that gives spatial impulse to
the eye, it's possible to get a spatial feeling on a two-dimensional
surface with just a few lines, as the eye will pursue their length in
whichever direction they are drawn, as long as they are not
parallel to the sides of the canvas. To illustrate: The two-dimen-
sional surface of the canvas remains fixed, and whatever is com-
posed on it is intended to create the feeling of space leading in

from that flat surface, like theopen window through which one
can view a scene that I mentioned earlier. Well, if you were to

draw just the few lines on a canvas, you're going to get some kind
of a feeling of spatial recession. You almost can't miss.
Take the letter "Z," for instance. If you draw a rectangle, and
inside it draw a quick "Z," and then a cone at each end of the
"Z," how much space there seems to be between both cones! (see
Fig. 21). The reason I chose the letter "Z" is because of the
jagged, lightning-like movement that its shape suggests. (It may
be no accident that drawings of a bolt of lighting are somewhat
in the shape of a "Z". ) For this letter is nothing more than a
series of joined lines of sufficient length to carry the eye from
one line to the other, so that when vou reach the farthest end.

65
22 a

traveled a certain
your eye experiences the sensation of having
Clist3.IlC6
compose
Butyou were to carry this idea a Httle further and
if
going in various directions-one line
a landscape by the use of lines
farther and farther
leading to the other so that the eye is carried
sense of a completed
into the distance and brought back again-a
in com-
circuit of will result. Let's see how this works out
space
position.

what to include in landscape composition

following
Suppose we take a landscape setting containing the
of water,
elements: a lawn, a white fence, a tall tree, a body
These may
three surrounding mountains, and some shrubbery.
the
seem a lot for a beginner to put into a painting. But actually,
is, the more difficult is the
execution. For
simpler the subject
is to engage the
the fewer the objects there are, the less there
eye. Remember that the picture gains interest
through diversity,

trees
like trees,
We are not going to start out by drawing trees to look
or mountains to look like mountains. We
know that the picture
is going to contain these elements, but
our primary concern is
to get space with as few lines as possible. The
realistic parts will

come later-once we've satisfied ourselves that our composition

is spatial. (Fig. 22 A-E)

lawn
Most people who attempt to compose such a setting for the first

time are impatient to get to the meaty part of the scene.

They
rush right to the mountains and forget all about the foreground.
And before long they are in trouble. It's like trying to build a

house from the roof down. First things come first. The
lawn
spreads out in front and is divided from the water by a
fence.

Here we put one line, representing that division, running up-

66
ward on a slight diagonal from the lower left-hand side. Since
trees tend to lean a little, we now put a somewhat tilted line
down for that. We don't stop to make it look treelike, but simply
indicate the division of foliage from sky by a long flowing line.

mountains
At about two-thirds of the height of the tree, the ridge of one
of the mountains breaks into view-just to the right of the foliage.
This undulates downward, also in a flowing line (perhaps a little
more jagged) and terminates in a peninsula. But the mountain
is pushing off into the distance. We indicate this by directing a
series of indented lines away from us, until the last one joins the
tip of the peninsula. In the distance a low mountain range is seen
to move kittv-corner behind the peninsula, so that together the
hvo mountains form an obtuse angle. Mountain number three now
juts into \ie\v from the right-hand side of the canvas.

lake
This is our largest mountain, being closest to where we are situ-

ated, so it becomes the tallest one in the picture. The

naturally
shoreline, or base, of this mountain pushes in on a diagonal until
it reaches the farthest point of the slope. Thus we have our body

of water nicely hemmed-in. It's easy to see how much space we've
created on the two-dimensional surface— and with so few lines!
(see Fig. 22 C).

table and chairs

This is not the whole picture, of course. It is only the barest skele-
ton of the scene; but we have conquered space. Now that we've
succeeded in doing that, we are free to furnish it as we like. No
lawn should be without some colorful chairs and tables. There
is plenty of room to put them in at random. But first we must

provide our scene with some realistic accoutermcnts.

67
 .

clouds
We complete our fence, losing it in a mass of shrubbery on the
right-hand side of the picture. The trunk and some of the
branches of the tree should now be drawn. A few clouds
should hang over the scene. These are drawn so as not to repeat
the angles of any of the other forms. We will make them "cumu-
lus" clouds,which billow up from a kind of floor. This "floor" is
established by a short straight line, with the billowing part rising
above it.

boat
The reader who is romantically inclined may want to include a

boat in the scene. There space enough to put in a whole

is

flotilla. A simple diagram (see Fig. 23) shows how to go about

designing several different types of water craft. These should be

drawn neither so large as to be disproportionate to the rest of
the scene, nor so small as to be difficult to paint convincingly.
The table and lawn chairs can now follow, and the scene is com-
pleteand ready for painting.
Note: In composing your picture you must be careful not to
allow the contours (outlines) of any of the forms to touch. For
when this happens, the illusion of space is destroyed. Both forms
unite at the point where they touch, and each one refuses to
keep the spatial position in the picture assigned to it. Forms
must overlap if the viewer is to know which one is in front, and
which is behind.
For the same reason it obviously won't do for the top of a
sailboat to touch just at the outline of the farther shore, or it will

look as if the mountain is balanced on the tip of the sail. Simi-

larly, it would destroy the feeling of space in the picture if the

bottom of the fence and the top rung of a chair touched. The
same would hold true in the case of clouds and mountains touch-
ing at their extremities ( see Fig. 24 )

WRONG
24
 14. painting the landscape:

selecting the elements

This landscape is just a sample of any number of typical views

one may encounter during rambles in the country. It was selected
because it contains a balancing proportion of elements necessary
for good composition. It is not necessarily intended for you to
copy exactly as presented here and then try to make a finished
painting of it. There can be no real harm in your doing that, of
course, provided you don't lose sight of the fact that it was in-
tended primarily as an exercise. It would be much more fun,
though, if you were to substitute elements with which you are
familiar, and try to create a picture of your own more or less
along the same compositional lines.
For example, you might want to paint a more rustic scene con-
taining a barn and silo, some haystacks or sheaves of corn, or
whatever. In place of one of the mountains you could have a
bam with a silo alongside it. The body of water could be sup-
planted by a field of x^'heat. Some of the shrubberv could easily
become haystacks. The fence could either remain as it is, or you
could make a bit of road or path of it— whichever is best suited
to the landscape you have in mind. In place of the sailboat you
could have a hay-rick, and the lawn chairs and table could give
way to one or two grazing horses or cattle.
In short, once you have gotten a spatial composition there is
almost no limit to the creative possibilities that it affords. If you
have any doubt about your abilitv to draw such things as a bam
or a silo, all you have to do is think of the visual "denominator"
for each, and I think you will agree that the barn could be built
around a cube and the silo around a cylinder (see Fig. 25). As
for horses or cows, any attempt to show them close up might
present a problem for the untrained person. But in this in-
stance, they would not require verv much more than the barest
of silhouetted forms— small enough in their relationship to their
surroundings to require no anatomical explanation. And as for the
hay-rick, that, too, would require very little detail in this context,
and could get by with just a few lines done with your brush.
'

' See Calligraphy, under "Art Terms and Phrases."

69
 can exploit
There are any number of other possibilities you
approach to landscape composition. It is always
with this basic
best, of course, that you paint a scene
with which you have some
familiarity-or at least that contains elements
with which you are
intimate. But for the present, it will be helpful to
more or less
of
you in whatever you are going to paint to follow the analysis
the problem of paint-
the sample landscape, and the approach to
one's attitude toward
ing it. But first a few additional pointers on
landscape painting.

what to look for in a landscape setting

beginners tend to see nature in terms of verticals
and hori-
Many
of
zontals. They think of all trees as vertical-and any fence, side
house, road, stream, as horizontal; that is to say,
they see them
a
cliche in
as running sideways across the picture. This is another
painting that has somehow taken hold and become popularly
accepted as fact. Regardless of how trees may slant,
people will

visualize them as straight up and down, and

proceed to draw
that way. And nine times out of ten they will want to draw
them
a house, fence, or stream straight across the canvas.
But this is not true to nature. Trees seldom grow straight up
assume
from the ground. Because trees need sunhght, their trunks
posi-
varying angles to bring their foliage in the most favorable
that sunlight. Consequently, you almost
never
tion for getting
see a tree trunk growing straight up like a flagpole.

As for things that move laterally (sideways) across our vision,

the painter has to be situated directly in between

both ends (as
to be able to see
in the case of the table in the still-life exercise)
them perfectly horizontal. But if he places himself somewhat
to

house, fence, or
the right (or left, as the case may be) of the
whatever, it stands to reason that one end will be closer to
where
he is standing and the other end
farther away. That being the

70
 )

case, sidewise movement has to be at an angle (the degree will

have to depend on how much closer you are to either end) and

not straight across the picture.

Hence, everything that is closer to the bottom of the picture
is naturally nearer to the viewer. It follows, then, that the end
that is more distant leads the eye deeper into space.

color in the landscape

Beginners often resist the suggestion that they paint mountains
in the distance, orange; shrubbery, bright red; or a white fence,
yellow. Since they have little experience, they cannot see ahead
to realize that these are not the final colors. But experience
teaches that green that has been painted over a red ( that has first

be a very much richer green (see Fig. 15),

dried, of course) will
that white painted over yellow is much sturdier and less chalky,
and that sof t _graYsaniiviolets_aie. much more lovely when^^
painted over brillixm orange.
I've already discusseTi~'some of the cliches in art that people
unwittingly adopt as truths. Another of these is that of painting
tree trunks brown. Time after time, students in a landscape
painting class will ask "How do you mix brown?" When asked
what they want brown for, the answer is invariably: "Why, for the
tree trunks, of course!" The students are asked to look around
and find one brown tree trunk, which they fail to do. There just
aren't any brown tree trunks ( except possibly in very rare cases
yet people with trees right in front of them will automatically
want to paint their trunks brown.
Where these cliches originate, it is difficult to say. But people
who never paint go through life accepting as fact certain things
that have been passed on
to them, without using their own eyes
to find out What is so nice about painting as a hobby
if it is so.

is that, apart from the many rewards in terms of relaxation and

achievement that it affords, it teaches you how to observe nature.

It's as if you were seeing trees, grass, mountains, sky, animals,

birds, and human beings with new eves. A freshness of vision

results that is truly enriching. We learn that tree trunks are
gray^ \vithjones_nf_goft bliip vi^lp^ Viiirnt--ntnngP^gn7rr'K??;r7^
other subtle hues woven through. So it won't be amiss to paint
your tree trunks orange at first. The hues that are painted over
that orange will be very much more pleasing, as a result.
It won't be necessary to be arbitrary in your choice of color

everywhere in the pictuje^^^owever. In certain areas such as

water, sky, and lawn, "local coToKcan be used. This
is the term

for color that is specificv^o a given bbject or place-such as blue

for sky, green for lawn, red for roses, etc. But if you want to ex-
periment in the "underpainting" by completely disregarding local
color, go ahead and try it. Experimentation is always healthy.
Should you decide to paint the lawn first in reds and violets, and
to stroke bright greens and yellows over these colors, you may
produce some very effective results.
There is the danger, of course, of getting the underpainting
"hot" by the introduction of too many reds, oranges, and yellows.
The object is to maintain, as much as possible, a sensitivity for

71
color, harmony, and balance, even though you know these colors
won't be final.

The water, too, need not be painted in one monotonous value.

That part of the surface where the light falls strongest will tend
to glitter, but where the light is obstructed the surface will ap-
pear more subdued. It is best to avoid having the light appear to
be coming fronToverhead, but— as you will recall from your paint-
ing of the still life— you should try to estabhsh your source of
light to one side, or roughly one-third the width, of the canvas
(see Fig. 26). Since I have established the source of light in my
study as being behind the mountains (somewhat to the right of
the scene) I have the light streaming in through the aperture
between the two forward mountains. Here the three values mani-
fest themselves as follows: the mountain to the right, being clos-
est, casts its shadow heaviest on the water; the mountain to the

left receives the intermediate value for its shadow, leaving the

path of light running diagonally across the center.

would be a mistake to think of ripples or waves on the water
It
just yet. Such details as leaves in the trees, spokes in the fence,
and so on, must wait till the later stages of the painting. They
are like the dressing on the salad, icing on the cake— or any other
analogy you like.

how to paint your sky

Now we come to an interesting point: We don't want the sky to

hang behind the picture. We want to see if we can

like a curtain
make it function like an astral ceiling over the scene. If you study
the sky you will notice that it is bluest directly overhead, and that
itgrows progressively paler as it approaches the horizon. So we
use a deeper shade of blue close to the top of our canvas, and
26

72
 grade it with increasing additions of white (with faint touches
of yellow or green in the mixture ) until it is palest at the horizon.
The question "Why, if white is most opaque, will
will arise:
increasing amounts of mixed with blue not make it come for-
it

ward, instead of receding?" The answer is that this is one of the

contradictions we are apt to encounter in painting. When mixed
with white; blue tends to become milky, hence more transparent
looking. But this is an exception to the general rule. For in
practically every other case pigments become opaque in propor-
tion to the amount of white added.

a few additional pointers about trees

It is a good thing for the beginner to observe differences in the

nature of trees and shrubbery— not from a horticultural point of

view, to be sure, but with regard to developing an understanding
of what makes for variety in nature. The green in some trees is
yellower and warmer than in others. Some, such as in the ever-
green family, are decidedly more blue-green, hence, colder. And
there is a wide range of variation bet^veen these extremes. The
beech and maple, among others, ha\'e components of red in their
leafage; and so on.

atmospheric conditions
Trees should also be studied under varying atmospheric condi-
tions. You
will notice that the underparts of leaves are frequently
lighter inshade than they are on their surfaces. \\'hen there is a
breeze stirring, the underparts of leaves will show. In such cir-
cumstances the light striking the trees will be somewhat colder
than it would be in calm, for the warm green \\'ill be missing. If
blowing from the north, then other factors of light or dark,
it is

or warm
or cold will prevail. The painter must study these things
through constant observation. He must learn to judge when, and
imder what circumstances, to add warmer or colder tones to his
pigment.
In late afternoon, when the sun's rays are slanting from the
west, the quality of the trees is again different. The foliage be-
comes warmly translucent as the sunlight pours green gold
through it. The leaves facing east now become cold with the
reflection of the cold blue sky.

autumn colors
When painting autumn scenes, observe the same rules with re-
gard to warm and cool tones. Colors will range from warm to
hot in the red-orange-yellow bracket, and warm to cold in the
red, red-violet, \iolet bracket. Study the colors for the variations
in these different brackets. Beginnerswho attempt autumn scenes
frequently get their paintings too hot because of the failure to
maintain this important balance.
The absence or presence of sunlight will, of course, be a factor,
as well as the position of the sun.
But in everv case, this rule re-
mains unchanged: wherever the light is warm, the shadows must
he cold. Conversely, where the light is cold the shadows will be
warm.

73
15. painting the landscape:

color and value relationships

When you have completed the underpainting in bright colors,

you must keep something very essential in mind: xag^ heaviest,
OR DENSEST COLORS SHOULD BE CONFINED TO THE LOVSTER THIRD OF
THE~CANVAsrTKeTigHtest,~and least saturated tones should be for
theTop-third. And the middle part of the canvas should be in-
termediate in the suggestiveness of weight in the pigment.
It isn't necessary to divide the canvas precisely into
three

equal parts; approximate thirds are good enough. A glance at

the scene will show that whatever is nearest looms darkest. Many
students fail to even when told. Because
recognize this at first,

they see more color in the trees in the foreground than in the
mountains beyond, they immediately conclude that the moun-
tains must be darker. This brings us to another cliche that has
somehow taken hold: that the less color you see, the darker things
must be.

where to paint the heavier or darker colors

Most inexperienced painters confuse color with values. Values,
as we have seen, are concerned with degrees of light and dark,
but do not take into account differences of color.
It is a fallacy to allow preconceived notions to influence your

attitude in painting. Some students persist in the belief that they

see the mountains as darker than the trees, regardless of how
hard they squint. What happens is that they allow previous ideas
to interefere with what is plainly before them. It is only when,
as sometimes proves necessary, they are shown photographs of
the scene, that they realize that darker values are in the fore-
ground.
A
snapshot shows value contrasts exactly as they occur. I don't
mean to suggest that students go around taking photographs in
order to check on the values in scenes they are about to paint. All
that is necessary is the squint. It is an invaluable tool that the
painter can rely on with certainty, if he will only learn to trust it.

74
 But some people require more conclusive proof and are wary
of the finality of any such thing as a squint. Besides, many readers

of this book' will notbe toting cameras with them when they go
out to paint. So let us look at it from a purely practical point of
view. The mountain is across the lake, and there is atmosphere
between it and the trees in the foreground. It isn't that the moun-
tain grows any lighter, but just that the atmosphere hangs like a
filmy veil in front of it. This makes sense, I think; and the be-
ginner who finds himself resistant to the squint will recognize the
logic of it.

So when we have properly squinted we can judge all the value

relationships in the scene before us. The trees are darker than
the mountain seen beyond it, and that mountain is correspond-
ingly darker than the mountain range in the distance. The moun-
tain on the right, however, is darker than either of the other two,
as it is the nearest to our position. Nevertheless it will be seen

(via the squint) to be much lighter in value than the shrubbery

draping the right-hand side of the fence.
It should be clear, then, why heavier pigments are to be con-

fined to the lower third of the picture (roughly comprising the

area of the foreground). The middle distance takes in the lake
and the two nearer mountains. The top third encompasses the
distant mountain range and the sky.

a balance between warm and cool colors in the landscape

Many people looking at a scene that they find comforting and
restful don't know what it is that makes it so. Too much sun or
too much shade can make one feel uncomfortable. But when
there is a happy combination of both, a good feeling results.
Although the average person may not be able to explain why it
is, the painter must know. He has to recognize what it is that

brings about the agreeable balance, and how to infuse it in his

picture.
The painter looking at a scene does not see just green in the
trees and shrubbery. sees both warm and cool greens. And he
He
sees a variety of each. Almost everyone knows that yellow and
blue combine to make green. But the person who paints learns
more than just that; he knows that green varies in several differ-
ent regards. It ranges from very dark to quite light— and from cool
to warm. Since blue at one end is cold, and yellow at the other
end is hot, then it must be clear that green will be warmer or
cooler, depending on how much more of each we mix into our
green. Similarly, the more of the blue we add, the deeper the
green will be; the more yellow we add, the lighter the green
will be.
In the exercise on charcoal drawing I explained how we go
about getting the feeling of form, or solidness, in things through
the use of values. The same principle applies to painting, except
that colors, unless we understand their function, can be con-
fusing. We
must always try to bear in mind the things we have
learned there; namely, which colors will ha\'c a tendency to come
forward and which will stav back, and why. There are three

75
 .

important factors, as seen, that determine these func-

we have
tions in color. hght and dark, density or Ughtness in
They are:

the weight of the pigment, and warmth or coolness

of color.

how to employ values in landscape painting

Let's see how we apply all this to the painting

of our landscape

now that we have completed the underpainting. We stick to the

three values for the time being and forget all about duplicating
again,
the physical appearances of things. These three values,
are light, intermediate, and dark. To begin with, we
break up the
entire picture with these values.
We start with theattempt will be made yet to have
tree. No
the foliage look full or round.The painting is still in the "flat"
stage and all attempts to "model" the forms, or suggest
leafiness,

will wait. We establish the source of light, and we paint the

lightest value at the part where the light falls strongest. This will
value
be roughly about one-third of the mass. The intermediate
is painted next, and the darkest value will
be for the part that is
farthest from the light ( see Fig. 26 )
Note: You will notice that I speak here of values and not spe-
cifically of color, as such. How then should you
deal with the

problem of using color in painting the landscape? The answer is

that you should approach the use of color in landscape
painting

fundamentally the same as you did in painting the still life ( see
Fig. 15). In other words, you should try wherever
possible to

underpaint the "local" color of a particular object with its com-

plementary to get the best results. Thus, as in the green bottle
of the
in the sample still life, you will find that underpainting
foliage of a tree with a vivid red will produce a much
richer-

looking foliage than if you had started out by painting it in its

natural color. The same is true of lawns, shrubbery, etc. You
don't, of course, want to be too methodical or mechanical about
this, or you may end up with a stilted-looking picture. Nature
herself, as you can observe from any study you make of her
out-of-doors, avoids uniformity in the palette of colors she uses.
As I have said elsewhere, there are warm greens and cool greens
in nature, light as well as dark. For the solution to any problem
you may have as towhich colors to choose for the underpainting
of different types of fohage, shrubbery, etc., you have only to
refer to your Color Wheel (see Fig. 14) to find the approximate
hue of red that complements the green you plan to use. Nor is

the matter of underpainting with complementaries necessarily

confined to reds and greens. Sometimes it is a good idea, when

walking out-of-doors, to carry book along with you. When

this

you come across a section of terrain that strikes you as paintable,

open your book to the Color Wheel and try to estimate the hues
best suited for the underpainting of specific areas within your
immediate range of vision. There is probably no visual exercise
that can better prepare you for painting the landscape you may
be working on indoors.
We follow the same procedure with the mountains, bearing
in mind that the deeper values there cannot be as dark as those

76
in the foreground. It must be remembered that all values are
relative to their spatial position. Consequently, the mountains in
the middleground of the scene will be broken up in three values
of less weight than those used in the lower third of the painting.
Those used for the mountains in the distance will be correspond-
ingly lightest of all.

painting the flat areas

So much for those areas that have volume, or bulk (the shrub-
bery will, of course, receive the same treatment as the trees).
Now for the areas that lie flat; lawn, water, etc. Some of the
shadows that occur there are different than those ivithin a form.
You will recall that these are "cast shadows." The painter has to
learn how between shadows that are cast by an
to distinguish
object and those that are part of the form itself. To illustrate: part
of the lawn may be terraced or depressed in certain places. The
part of the depression in the ground that is away from the light
will naturallv be shadowy. But this shadow is diS'erent from shad-
ows cast on the lawn by trees or other objects.

lawn
We will employ three values as usual in breaking up the lawn.
But we won't divide it into equal thirds, as there is no need to be
mechanically repetitious about it. Moreover, we want most of the
lawn to be sunlit. So we'll shape our shadowy areas in interesting
patterns of dark and semidark, but not large enough to dominate
the lawn.
Note: Try to shape your shadow patterns in such a way as to
repeat some of the "motifs " that occur elsewhere in the picture-
contours of mountains, clouds, etc. The purpose of this is to intro-

duce an element of rhythmic unity with the rest of the scene.

This is one aspect of what we call "rhythm in painting, a subject
"

that will be more thoroughly investigated later on.

77
16. painting the landscape:

some final pointers

what about shadows?

we proceed any it will be helpful
further with our picture,
Before
for the beginner to learn a few things about shadows. There are
all kinds of shadows, and they occur everywhere-at
any time of
day or night. We've learned something about the difference be-
tween cast shadows and functional shadows (those which occur
on a form as it turns away from the hght). We know that shadows
indicate stages in the absence of light.
Now, Ught is either warm or cool, depending on atmospheric
conditions. Sunlight is always warm, so the hght parts of our
landscape should be painted in warm hues. If the light is warm,
the shadows have to be cool. The sun swings from east to west,
touching everything it faces with its warmth. But everything
away from (or on the opposite side of things facing the sun),
reflects the cold northern sky.
In painting these shadows, cold hues have to be employed.
But when painting still life or any posed picture indoors under
a north light (coming from a skylght or windows facing north),
then the reverse is true. Since that light is cold, the shadows are
warm-unless the "local color" happens to be cool.
There can be shadows within shadows, especially indoors
where there may be conflicting sources of light. These should be
very carefully observed, as they can be a source of beautiful
nuances in the painting, and also supply a greater feeling of
depth to the shadows.
Shadows are always deepest in hue at the point of closest con-
tact with objects that cast them. When painting shadows it
is

sometimes desirable to stroke a httle orange into them. This pro-

duces an effect of interior glow to shadows. This also gives
shadows the appearance of having depth, helping to create a
greater feeling of volume to the objects they surround.

do's and don'ts in the painting of details

Once we have the basic values down in our landscape, we turn

to the painting of things in terms of their natural characteristics.

78
Trees have different shapes from mountains or clouds ( they also
differ from one another, depending on the type of tree). Trees
turn in a palisading sort of way (see Fig. 27), with layers of
leaves receding in a progression away from the light. It is only
those fronds that catch the gleam of light that are distinguishable
from the mass of the foliage. To try to paint all the leaves you
see is only a waste of effort. Don't try to attract too much atten-

tion to details in the tree at the expense of the picture as a whole.

Some beginners start out by painting the mass of foliage sitting
on the trunk like a lollipop on a stick. Trees, for all their bulk
and mass, have great shadowy interiors beneath the foliage. The
trunks can be seen to extend upward into the depths of these
leafy interiors. Parts of occasional boughs and branches are also
visible. Don't lop off tree trunks at the point where the leaves
begin. Study the the limbs twine through the recesses of the
way
leaves. They will be the darkest parts seen in the tree; not only
because of their own deeper hues, but also because of the over-
whelming shadows of the massed leaves.
A mistake some beginners will make is to try to paint little

patches of sky seen through the leaves. In practically every case

these turn out to look like so many patches of blue stuck onto the
foliage. Unless the leafy masses are first painted to suggest full-

ness and roundness, this patchiness is For it is

bound to result.

the volume of the foliage that will serve to keep the sky behind
the tree, and prevent the little dabs of blue from jumping forward
to attach themselves to the leaves. Furthermore, the sky seen
through the trees always deeper than that which is seen out in
is

the open. This is due to the concentration of blue in smaller areas,

with the dark interior of the leaves hollowing out in front of
them.
For example; if you close your fist, leaving a slight opening so
that you can look at the sky through it, as though you were hold-
ing a telescope to your eye, the blue of the sky will appear sharper
and more intense. Consequently, it will look slightly deeper than
when seen with the naked eye. This is what happens when the
same blue of the sky is seen through "fists" of leaves.

some final hints about color in landscape painting

It is difficult tocompletely assess the quality of your painting
while you are still busy working on it. When the painting is about
completed, it's sometimes a good idea to put it aside and look at 27

it afresh about aweek or two later. But since anyone who really
likes to paint doesn't want to remain idle for so long a time, it is
advisable to work concurrently on two or three different paint-
ings. It helps to siphon off much of the concentrated interest in
the outcome of one project, and rela.xes the fear of spoiling the
picture that so many beginners experience.
Remember no such thing as an absolute color; that
that there is

color is its surroundings. Your fence is

always conditioned by
white only where the light strikes it, and becomes gray in the
shadows. The same holds true for a white house— or any color
house, for that matter. The most brilliant colored objects take

79
on different characteristics when turned away from the light. And
they are always affected by the color of whatever it is that

they face.

protecting yourself from the elements out-of-doors

When working out-of-doors it is naturally desirable to protect
oneself from the heat and glare of the sun. Some seek the shade
of a tree; others use an umbrella or wide-brimmed hat. But for
some unaccountable reason, many beginners have a tendency to
put their work in the shade as well. They turn their easels so
that their canvases face far away from the light which makes it
hard to see what they are doing. This appears to be an uncon-
scious maneuver on the part of students, and I have never been
able to discover why it is done.
While it is true that to turn the canvas into the full glare of
the sun may prove difficult on the eyes, as well as cause the paint
to soften and run, there is nothing to be gained by working in the
dark. Adjust your easel in such a way as to permit the light to
fall on your canvas, sort of midway between sun and shade.

what about sun glasses?

Ifyou can do without sun glasses, by all means leave them off.
They distort color. Some students protest that they must wear
them as they are prescription glasses. What many people fail to
realize is that near-sightedness is an advantage in painting— not

that I advocate faulty vision as a prerequisite for painting, of

course. But if you wear glasses, you don't need them for painting,
unless you have really bad vision. For to see too many details in
the landscape, as I have said, interferes with the general view
that is more desirable.

kibitzers
If you will be painting anywhere within the view of passers-by,
you are going to be in for some kibitzing which you must steel
yourself against. People will be offering you all sorts of criticism
and advice. Ignore it. Most people admire anyone who has the
courage to paint, and secretly they envy you. However liberal
they may be with their opinions, they don't understand very
much about the construction of pictures and can only visualize
the finished product.

finishing the picture

An old saying has it that "A work of art is never completed, but
merely abandoned by the artist." You are only capable of accom-
plishing what your present and knowledge
store of experience
enable you to do. When you feel at a loss about how
to give your

picture the finishing touches you think it needs, put it aside and
begin another painting. Once you have said all you can about
your subject, trying to refine the picture will not improve it. In
other words, don't try to rush your development as an artist. That
will come of its own accord, and in its own sweet time.
 17. rhythm

Now for another aspect of composition which adds an important

contribution to the creation of the spatial picture. This quality
is called "rhythm." Turning to the sample still life (see Fig. 10)
there is a feature of that composition which I haven't called atten-
tion to as yet. It is which occurs in the knob
the small elliptical motif
of the table drawer, the bowl of the pipe, and the mouth of the
bottle. The eye unconsciously picks up this rhythm which pro-
vides a subsidiary impulse into the picture. The feeling of space
in the composition is reinforced through the use of this subtle
tactic.

One additonal feature of rhythm which you will observe in the

sample still life is the distribution of what is called a 'te.xtural"
motif and is found in the printing on the magazine, on the label
of the wine bottle, and the clef and bars of the music sheet ( see
Chapter 28).
The greatest masters of composition have employed rhythm to
considerable advantage in their work (see Chapter .30). Rhythm
occurs in good composition not only in the reiteration of certain
motifs, but also in the rhythmic distribution of darks in the
picture. have already pointed out the functions that values
I

(dark, intermediate, and light) have in the creation of three-

dimensional form in objects. We will now study their usefulness
in the picture independent of objects. In Fig. 28 we see three
diagrams, each containing patches of dark. Diagram A shows its
darks in perfect symmetrical order which are all identical in shape
and size. Diagram B, on the other hand, has darks of different
shape and size in irregular distribution. There should be little
difficult)' detecting which diagram suggests movement and which

is static. For all the darks in Diagram A cancel each other out;

whichever way the eye tries to penetrate the picture surface, it is

constantly brought up short. It is, in effect, as if a cordon of
policemen had been posted at every point of entry.
This example dramatically illustrates how symmetry operates

81
 to obstruct penetration by the eye of the flat-picture surface.
Symmetry can be beautiful in itself and is ideal for flat decorative

work. But in trying to create the feeling of space in the two-

dimensional surface, symmetry can be injurious. It tends to
remind the viewer of the flat surface and interferes with the illu-
sion of created space. There are some great painters who
use
symmetry in their composition deliberately to produce certain
effects. However, a master knows when to break a
rule, whereas,

an amateur has yet to learn.

Diagram B, on the other hand, makes it clear how the eye can
be coaxed into the picture by means of rhythmic impulse. The
eye, in effect, leaps from dark to dark due to their
dissimilarity

in position, size, and shape. The impulse is naturally

from the
larger to the smaller, to the still smaller dark.
Note: The distances between the darks are not equal. The gap
between dark one and dark two is greater than that between
darks two and three. Now, what if we were to scramble them
around so that the largest dark is third instead of first? Let's try
the experiment (see Fig. 28C). You can see that though
there

is a feeling of rhythm, something seems

wrong. The trouble is
that the third-placed dark is so bulky it seems to be too
in-

sistent for its spatial position. Its demand for attention over-

whelms the claims of the lesser darks. The eye is previatiirely drawn
to it and feels uncomfortably that things are somehow
not in

their right order.

This is founded on no arbitrary assumption. We
learn it from

nature (as in the case of the earlier landscape study where the
tree looms larger and towers over the mountain, even though
that

mountain may contain thousands of trees just as large as this

one). Everyone knows that if you hold a penny close enough to
your eye, you can block out the moon. By the same token, the
viewer has the expectation of finding the larger dark in the fore-
28 b ground, and is unconsciously troubled to find it in an area that
logically should be farther back in the picture.

building a picture through the rhythmic use of darks

Up to now, all the composition I have discussed and illustrated
has been "linear," that is to say, it has all been done with lines.
Even though values have been used, they were employed mainly
to fill out the form of objects in a linear concept. We now move
on to the study of the rhythmic use of darks and see what we
learn about their function in the picture, independent of objects.
If we return to Diagram B for a moment, we see that the shapes

of its darks, though interesting in themselves, do not necessarily

suggest anything identifiable with nature. But perhaps with the

addition of a few lines they can be made to suggest recognizable
forms (see Fig. 29). The entire form of each object does not ap-
pear completely distinguishable from the shadow pattern, and
part of each seems to be immersed in shade.
You can see that no attempt has been made here to model or
achieve precise lifelike appearance. The forms are stated in the
most rudimentary way in order to retain, as much as possible, the
28 c

82
abstract shapes of the darks. To alter the size, shape, or position

of the darks at this stage of the picture would be to interfere with

the function for which they were intended.

abstracting forms in nature

Most people at one time or another fancy they see shapes of
animals or birds in some accidental formations of clouds or in
patches on a wall or ceiling. To all intents and purposes, these
become no longer clouds or patches but are animated by the
imagination to the point where they assume forms entirely foreign
to their true nature. Such people unconsciously "abstract" quali-
ties of things they see in order to provide entertainment for their
imagination. A more conscious application of this same tendency
provides the painter with an opportimity to enrich his work
tlirough the use of abstract elements of design.
These occur everywhere in nature. After a certain amount of
experience in looking at nature with the artist's eye you begin to
perceive things that may not have occurred to you before. You
begin to notice the conformations of interesting patterns of dark
that stand apart from their surroundings and, in a manner of
speaking, assume a life of their own. They are somewhat akin in
character to the patterns of the "negative spaces" in the sample
still life (see Fig. 10). But there is a difference. They do not
occur merely as spaces between objects, but run across and in-
clude sections of the objects themselves. Thus they acquire a
separate identity, and hence become abstract.
They occur when shadows envelop part of a form in such a
way as to incorporate with it to assume a shape that attains
interest in its own right. When, for instance, the dark foliage of
a tree combines with the shadow it casts on an adjacent struc-

ture, together they create one pattern of abstract design. The

&3
values of bothmay be, and in most instances will be different,
but the unity of their combined darks will not be altered by
that fact.
The creative painter capitalizes on every opportunity to in-
clude these elements of design whenever he encounters them in
nature. He has trained himself to detect and ferret them out from
the abundant mass of detail he sees. They become easier to recog-
nize after a certain amount of experience in looking for them, and
pretty soon you pick them out almost by second nature. Don't
start worrying about using abstract shapes in the construction of
your picture. They are only the bricks and mortar, so to speak,
for making your composition secure. I am not trying to make an
"abstract painter" of you.

a good way to check the design in your picture

All good painting is basically abstract; that is to say, if you were

to turn a masterpiece upside-down, or on its side, you would see

the beauty of its design and the integration of its forms, inde-
pendent of its subject. In fact, many painters do turn their can-

vases every so often while working on them so as to check their

design more accurately. For, when looking at a picture in its
normal position one can be convinced by means of clever brush-
work or effective rendition of objects that the painting is good.
However, when the canvas is turned upside-down, any flaws in
the design become immediately apparent. Deftly applied high-
lights, or any of the flashy techniques with knife or brush, become
ineffectual; if the design aU seems meaningless.
is weak, it

But if you were by Vermeer or by Cezanne,

to take a painting
(Figs. 12, 80) for example, and turn it upside-dovra, the beauty
of design would be just as striking as when seen normally. For it
is precisely the abstract elements of design in these masterworks

that distinguish them from mediocre or trashy painting.

Ofcourse, people don't go around looking at paintings upside-
down, so the question arises: "Why bother looking at the paint-
ing that way, if nobody else is going to?" The answer is, that,

once the painting has ceased to be impressive because of the

dexterity of its brushwork, if it has nothing else to offer it will
cease to be noticed altogether. But if it has beauty in its design,
then it never exhausts the interest of the viewer. You will realize
how true this is when you ask yourself how many homes you
have gone into and, after the first or second time, took no further
notice of paintings on the wall.
The painter who turns his canvas upside-down once in a while
safeguards against being carried away by things that look effec-
tive only when the painting is right-side-up.
introduction
It has been my experience that a substantial proportion of people
who are interested in learning how to paint are generally not
very interested in esthetics or the history of art. Their primary
concern appears to be in learning how to paint a bottle which
looks like a bottle, fruit which looks like fruit, flowers which look
like flowers, etc. Many of these people will be mclined to bypass
these ne.Kt few chapters and go on to the chapters dealing with
techniques of drawing and painting.
I am entirely sympathetic to the eagerness for instruction in
painting,otherwse this book could never have been written. Still,
it is duty to point out how important it is for the student of
my
painting to understand something about the background of art;
the how and why of the development of painting techniques from
their primitive forms of centuries ago, to their present-day stage
of perfection. Certainly it will do no one any harm to read these

few short essays, and the likelihood is that it will do a great deal
of good.
For no phase of art is, or can successfully be, an isolated e.xperi-
ence. In order for one to learn how to paint a bottle or an apple,
or whatever, he should be curious to know how other painters
went about painting the same things, and where they got their
ideas, and so on. And he should draw inspiration from the amount
of heart's-blood that so many of the great painters of the past
poured into their efforts to further the knowledge to which we are
now heir.
Whether or not you think that reading the ideas contained in
these chapters will have any direct bearing on your immediate
painting problems, one thing it will add dimension to
is certain:
your work. The benefits may
become immediately apparent to
not
you, but eventually your work is bound to profit by it. You are
not asked to swallow whole all or even part of the things said
here. But if it has made you think a little about some of the ideas
advanced in these chapters then it has been all to the good.
 18. what is art?

The question "What is art?", has confronted the world for cen-

turies, and although some great writers and critics have under-
taken to answer it, so far it has never been done satisfactorily.
Art is seemingly too vast and complex an affair for any individual
to be able to estimate its total depth and range, and all the values
that go into its makeup. The element of personal preferences in-
evitably enters into any such appraisal, and complete objectivity
is not given any man to e.xercise.

When you consider that two great artists like van Gogh and
Cezanne were said to be mistrustful and unappreciative of each
other's work, who is to say which of them judged correctly? It is
easy to look back from the convenient vantage of fifty years and
say that neither was right, that the work of both was great, regard-
less of what each thought of the other's work. But new Cezannes
and van Goghs are bound to crop up from time to time, or else
art would die out. No one can look fiftv years ahead to be able
to tell accurately which one will receive credit in the eyes of
the world.
It is impossible for anyone to say exactly what art is, but it is

possible to say what art is not. Art is not merely the making of
pretty pictures, accurate reproduction of things we see, or clever
illustration of a sentimental theme or story. The craft of paint-
ing has long ago bypassed the technical problems entailed in
doing any of these things and, artistically speaking, they're pretty
"old hat." Butit is remarkable how tliese feats continue to impress

the layman. It is interesting to observe the crowds that gather

around portrait sketchers at open-air exhibits and at fairs watch
with enthrallment at seeing a few deft turns of the pencil pro-
duce a lifelike resemblance. And you can see plainly written in
the faces of these audiences the expression: "Ah, if I could only
do that!"
What most people fail to realize, of course, is that many of
these sidewalk artists have long ago ceased to be impressed by

87
their own skills in pencil portraiture and are only doing it to make
a living. A number of them are serious students of art and know
only too well how insignificant clever pencil drawing can be.
But the layman will say, "It's easy enough for you to talk, but if
I could only draw like that then I'd be happy." Would he,
though?
The person who earns five thousand dollars a year, or under,
can afford to say, "If I could only make ten thousand a year,
then I would be content." But what about the one who makes ten
thousand— is he happy to stay that way? Obviously not. The
point I am getting at is, patently, that no one is satisfied with
his attainments, that there is the ever-present need to surge
ahead, regardless of our station; and the same holds true in art.
The fact remains that the average person's taste in art is influ-
enced by his admiration of skills with pencil or brush that he
wished he himself possessed. It is precisely for this reason that
"potboilers" (
pictures painted mostly mechanically for the picture-
buying public) continue to be popular and so widely bought. The
stunts with the brush that so reahstically produce the effect of
moonlight gleaming on the water or of waves crashing against the
rocks, are the things most untrained people wish they could do.
And that is the kind of picture they will buy at first.

An ironic feature is that once people have invested money in

a painting, they're understandably reluctant to acknowledge that
they may have grown quickly tired of it. They develop an attach-
ment to the picture and cling to it in the hope that it is art. The
result is a kind of vicious circle, the effect of which is to retard
the understanding and appreciation of art that these people
might otherwise attain.
Long before the invention of photography, when there was no
other means of reproduction, making lifelike pictures was a chal-
lenge to the skill and technical ability of the artist. By the sixteenth
century this challenge was met and mastered with remarkable
facility by most of the leading painters of the day.
There is a story that the owner of a palace in Venice engaged
the services of Paul Veronese, by way of a practical joke on his
guests, to paint a lifelike figure. So successful was this painting
that visitors to the palace were completely startled by what
seemed to be the figure of a man peering at them from around the
corner of one of the corridors.
Some of these feats of verisimilitude were really exceptional
and there are few painters today who can improve on the accom-
plishments of some of the great technicians of the Italian Renais-
sance. Yet, if you were to list the greatest artists of the Renais-
sance, it is doubtful whether Veronese would be compared to
such painters as Giotto, Giorgione, Titian, Michelangelo, or
Raphael, to name a few.
These latter artists, though certainly equal to Veronese in skill
and technical proficiency, nevertheless so infused poetry, nobility,
and grandeur of conception into their work, that it raised them
to the topmost heights of creative art. It is not my intention to
demean the accomplishments of artists like Veronese. Many of
them were fine painters and there was nothing cheap or insincere
about their work. There was at least some excuse for the concen-
tration on \erisimiHtude in their painting, as there was no such
thing then as photography.
But today's "prettj'-picture" t\'pe paintings have no warrant to
evoke the admiration for the skills that go into their making. The
person who wants to learn how to paint cannot profit, except in
the most superficial way, from being influenced by them. Art
isn't mere skill today, any more than it was four hundred years

ago, and it has far less reason for being so, considering that we
have had photography for over a century.
To repeat: no one can say exactly what art is, but it is very
important for the student of painting to understand what art is
not. It is not a cheap or facile imitation of nature, no matter how
skillful. The amateur's painting need not necessarily be perfectly

skillful rendition of what he sees. But it can be colorful, exciting,

pure, and honest. The amateur cannot hope for a better start in
his painting career. It does not follow that the amateur will not
develop painting skills. He may very well do so in time. But he
should not try to acquire them at the expense of creative integrity.
When photography was invented in 1839, the earliest photo-
graphs were composed in a manner to imitate painting. Ironically
enough, many people today expect painting to imitate photog-
raphy. The photograph, and the photographic painting are popu-
larly regarded as absolutes in the reproduction of lifelike appear-
ances of things. But it is a fact that there are savage tribes who
fail to recognize either themselves, their families, or fellow
tribesmen when shown photographs of them. They see nothing
but splotches of black, gray, and white in these photographs.
This would seem to indicate a fallacy in the assumption that
photographs are absolutes of realism in graphic reproduction,
otherwise everyone should be able to recognize things they por-
tray. And it must not be assumed that these tribes are deficient
in the powers of recognition with which we are endowed, for
they certainly are able to recognize reflections of themselves in
a mirror.
The point is that we have, over the course of many centuries,
developed a system of optic associations whereby we translate
certain graphic impressions as symbols of recognizable things.
Our sa\age friends have not had this particular kind of orienta-
tion and, as a consequence, see nothing at all in the pictures
which are for us marvels of realism.
So it is safe to conclude that art is not mere imitation of nature
in any form, but rather the creation of beauty in whatever form
it takes. And
conditioned by no absolutes, except that of
art is

the devotion that one brings to one's work. For it is that quality
that can kindle the representation of the most ordinary thing into
something of genuine beauty.

89
19. the meaning and beauty of art

What do we mean when we say that a painting is beautiful?

Are there uniform standards of beauty in art? Obviously not—
at least as far as individual taste and experience are concerned;
for in the final analysis taste in art is conditioned by experience.
The person who has had little experience in looking at pictures
may have the right to say that a painting is beautiful or ugly, but
that doesn't necessarily make it so. How many times have people
been heard to say: "I don't know anything about art, but I know
what I like." Many people think that the reproduction of a pretty
scene is the end of art. Others like paintings of horses, dogs, or
sailboats simply because they happen to like horses, dogs, or sail-
boats, and it is difficult to convince them that such paintings are
not necessarily beautiful. The fact that they don't look much dif-

ferent from colored photographs seems to have no effect on the

admiration these people bestow on pictures of this sort. For they
are "handpainted," and that seems to mean something.
There is an old saying that "beauty is in the eye of the be-
holder." This cannot be disputed when it concerns areas of judg-
ment where the beholder has the experience on which to found
his preference. However, it stands to reason that an art that has
taken so many centuries to develop cannot be readily judged by
anyone who knows nothing but what pleases his eye. For the eye
is in reality nothing but the window to one's understanding. And
understanding is simply the product of experience and imagina-
tion in acquiring a system of values.
One most ironic features of the growth of art historically
of the
is which at one time was popularly considered so
that painting,
hideous as to arouse riots of protest, is today the tamest and
most widely accepted art. For when Impressionist painting was
first exhibited in 1874 such violent protests actually did occur,

yet some of the most conventional painting today is founded on

principles of Impressionism. What caused the world to take to
its bosom an art that fifty years before had so outraged it?

90
 Tlie answer is quite simple: Years of exposure, following the
shock of the unfamiliar, enabled people to recognize what
initial

was beautiful in an art form that they once were hasty to reject
as ugly.
Frequently, when people say that a picture is beautiful what
they mean is: "Gosh, I'd gi\e anything to be able to paint like

that." But if these same people were to take up painting and,

after a few years, develop some understanding of art, they might
be less inclined to be impressed by that picture. Did the paint-
ing become less beautiful? Evidently it is not the picture that
changes, but the viewer. For the person who has painted sees
bevond the subject and is able, on the basis of his own painting
experiences, to perceive elements of the picture that escape the
average person's eve. The painting of a pretty scene or of a cute
or sentimental subject does not by itself any longer impress him.
He learns to distinguish between sham and genuine artistic
achievement.
But it very often happens that amateur painters become
molders of taste in art. They usually take relatives or friends
along with them on trips to museums, galleries, and art lectures.
They pass on knowledge about composition and painting tech-
niques and, to a certain extent, cause their companions to become
participants in their artistic experiences. They inculcate in others
the desire to read books about art and biographies of great
painters, so that people are becoming more aware than ever
before that art is more than mere cleverness of painting pictures
to look like colored photographs. But, unfortunately, there are
vast sections of the population who still cling to the most con-
ventional notions about what constitutes beauts' in art.

beautiful subjects
Let's take a look at some of the examples of paintings that are
popularly thought beautiful. We'll start with the painting of a
pretty girl with a lovely figure and perfect measurements— a Miss
America, in fact. Many people will look at such a picture and
say: "What What they mean, of course, is that
a lo\ely painting!"
the girl is and since the painting is of her, then, to them,
lovely,
the painting is beautiful. But the portrait of a beautiful woman
and a beautiful painting are not necessarily the same thing. For
a portrait can be beautiful e\en \\'hen it has a homely subject;
whereas, the painting of a beautiful girl can, artistically speak-
ing,be ugly.
There is much more that goes into a work of art than factual
representation, however beautiful the subject may be. It is not
the subject that makes the painting beautiful, but the artistic
conception of beauty that the painter brings to his work that
makes it so. For if the painter has nothing more than the skill to
reproduce what he sees, he fails in having the most important
ingredients of art.

The beauty that Rembrandt imparted to his paintings of old

ghetto subjects is It was a product of his skill
a case in point.
to be sure, but it went beyond mere skill. For he infused his paint-

91
30 STILL LIFE by Jean-Baptlste Chardin. Courtesy of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, Massachusetts

ings of these subjects with tenderness, and shrouded them with

the poetry of his vision. He understood that beauty takes many
different forms, and to him those old creased faces were beautiful.
As a consequence, these paintings glow with an incandescence
that has seldom been matched in the history of art.

phenomena of nature
There are some things in nature that are intrinsically beautiful
but paintings of them somehow manage to cheapen their beauty.
Sunsets are a good example. How many people look at a glorious
sunset and say to themselves, "Oh, if I could only paint!" But it
is unfortunately true that while sunsets can be breathtakingly

beautful, paintings of them give them a synthetic appearance.

Rainbows are another phenomenon that never fail to excite a
feeling of awe and wonder; nevertheless, as a subject for paint-
ing, they are strictly to be avoided. At best they acquire a cloying,
striped-candy look that is totally unconvincing.
Waterfalls are something that one can look at for hours on
end. The gush and splash, and foam and spray are things that are
infinitely soothing to watch. The same holds true for fire: who
has not sat before a campfire or on a hearth and gazed long
and has not felt supremely comforted?
into the flickering flames,
Yet how remarkably ineffective as subjects for painting these
themes can be!

92
31 THE POTATO EATERS by Vincent van Gogh. Courtesy of the Museum of the City of Amsterdam

humble beauty
But a painter like Chardin can take a coarse, earthenware object
and by the means of his art, transform it into a thing of beauty.
The love with which he rolled little pellets of pigment and
tenderly piled them onto the canvas to produce a ceramic te.xture;
the serenity that comes from the interplay of horizontals, verti-
cals and diagonals in his composition (see Fig. 30), all bespeak
the poetry of his art. Instead of being merely a factual representa-
tion of the thing he sees, his painting becomes a celebration of
his love of the simple things in life.
Van Gogh's "Potato Eaters" cannot be considered attractive by
any standards of physical beauty. Hunger and malnutrition, bad
air and oppressive living quarters are not conducive to the forma-

tion of healthy bodies and blooming features. Yet, his abounding

sympathy for these unfortunate people breathes beauty into his
painting of them (see Fig. 31). And his painting of a pair of
old broken-down work shoes, which in real life no one would
bother to look at twice, underwent a metamorphosis under his
brush that give them instantaneous appeal.

vogue
Nor does art concern itself with fashions or styles as criteria of
esthetic beauty. Some of Renoir's nudes would be C(jnsidered fat
by today's standards of the ideal in feminine dimensions, yet his

93
32 THE DOCTOR by Sir Luke Fildes. © New York Graphic Society

paintings of them remain imperishable in their beauty. And as

for dress— if any of his subjects, attired in Victorian costumes and

headgear, were to walk out of his canvases onto the street, they
would undoubtedly excite ridicule. But within the confines of the
painting they continue to be as beautiful as ever.

sentiment
The picture of a country doctor keeping vigil beside the bed of

a young patient in a coma, with the distraught parents standing

helplessly by (see Fig. 32), has a direct appeal to sentiment.
The drama that this picture portrays is a very poignant one that
is very
is experienced by many families at one time or another. It

easy to identify oneself with the circumstances, and a feeling of

sympathy is readily induced. One can furthermore admire the
skill and craftsmanship with which this lifelike scene was
painted. But is it art?
This picture is obviously trying to tell a story, and, as such,
falls into the category of what we call "illustration." This kind of
painting pre-empts the function of the writer, but starts out with
one serious disadvantage. It cannot have a plot, such as the
writer's story does. We are kept in the dark as to the outcome of

the painter's story, and are destined never to know whether the
child survives the crisis. Our interest in such a picture cannot be
sustained for very long. Once we have finished admiring the

94
painter's skill and exhausted our fund of sentimental curiosity,

our attention wanders; and we may never notice the picture

again, except in the idlest way.

description versus expression

There is an important difference in art between describing an
emotion and expressing an emotion. Illustration can only hope to
do the former, and we have seen what limited interest it can
have. But painting that expresses emotion derives from the pas-
sionate absorption of the painter in his subject. The force of his
emotion is so strong as to communicate itself directly to the
viewer and touch him in the very deepest recesses of his being.
The effect is almost hypnotic in its insistence, and one's attention
is not easily diverted from such painting.
So it appears that neither physical beauty of face or figure, nor
things in which we have a sentimental interest, nor phenomena
of nature, nor touching scenes— no matter how cleverly dupli-
cated—are what make a painting beautiful. The function of the
artist is not to duplicate what is obviously beautiful, for nature
has done more wonderfully than man, with all his techniques,
it

can ever hope to do. The object of art is to create beauty that
doesn't already exist, although it may be— and very often is—
inspired by things beautiful in themselves.
But it is the artist's vision of beaut)' that moves him to create
works of art. It is like a spirit that keeps him perpetually seeking,
like the prospector of gold, for the "nugget" that will most per-
fectly correspond to his vision. He may never succeed in finding
that "nugget," and more often than not fails to do so; but in the
process of seeking, he may find many smaller nuggets of genuine
beauty, and these become the heritage of the world.
It is this vision of the artist, that elevates humble things into
the realm of beauty. It causes him to create art that does not
imitate or seek to rival nature, but is the artist's way of singing
his praises of nature's beauty. He uses his gifts as a vehicle for
the expression of that vision, and not to make himself a slave of
his talent.
This vision is not instinctive in man. It is the distillate of his
experiences in art— his experience in looking at paintings; the
inspiration he derives from the lives of the great painters; love
of his materials— the smell of paint— the texture of pigment— the
feel of the brush imder his hand. All this is communicated in his
art and is the emulsifying agent, as it were, between what he
sees and what he feels.
There aren't any real short cuts to the understanding of these
things. The person who paints has the better chance, because in
the process of learning he becomes familiar with the "language"
of art,and the message of the artist is more readilv communicated
to him. He recognizes what is beautiful in art in terms of art, and
not through any preconceived notions of what it ought to be.
His own work is consequently fed and nourished by this acquired
understanding. And his enjoyment of the whole artistic experi-
ence results in a stronger and deeper appreciation of what is
beautiful in his chosen medium of expression.

95
20. imagination in art

A woman once said to me: "I like a painter who sits down and
paints sees." One cannot dispute her right to Hke what-
what he
ever kind of painting pleases her most, but it is a very flimsy
esthetic as applied to the art of painting in general. There isn't
just one kind of good painting, any more than there is one
kind
of good writing or good musical composition. As there are writers
who tell merely a good yarn, there are those whose appeal is mostly
to the imagination. They evoke in us a response to the atmosphere
of fantasy or mystery with which they infuse their writing.
Dostoevski, Coleridge, Melville, and Poe are fine examples of this
type of vvriter.

So with painters who are not content merely to record

it is

what they see, but want to capture a dreamlike quality in their

work. Their painting is not based on what they see in reality, but
only in their imagination. Such a painter, for example, was our
own Albert Pinkham Ryder (see Fig. 33) whose hauntingly
poetic moonlight scenes are full of mystic overtones; his paintings
have a quality of enchantment about them. And one of his lonely
sailing craft, silhouetted against the spectral night, might very
well have borne the ancient mariner.
Vincent van Gogh painted night scenes in quite a different
way. (Imaginative painting is not necessarily confined to night
scenes, although the gloom of night does invite mysterious sensa-
tions. ) Whereas Ryder worked for years on one canvas, van Gogh
painted as if in a frenzy, turning out paintings at the rate of

about one each day. His stars are not just specks of light, which
is about all the naked eye is capable of seeing, but celestial balls

of fire in the act of cosmic explosion (see Fig. 34). The ecstasy
he brought to his work transformed everything he saw into paint-
ings of the most infectious excitement the world of art has ever
known.
The paintings of Paul Gauguin evoke a definite mood that is a
blending of nostalgia and mysticism. His work reveals a tor-

96
33 TOILERS OF THE SEA by Albert P. Ryder.

Courtesy of the Addison Gallery of American Art, Phillips Academy, Andover

34 THE STARRY NIGHT by Vincent van Gogh.

Collection, Museum of Modern Art, New York. Acquired through the Lillie P. Bliss Bequest
 Museum of Art.
35 lA ORANA MAR I A by Paul Gauguin. Courtesy of The Metropolitan

Bequest of Samuel A. Lewisohn, 1951

merited fatalism and a peculiar brand of pantheism

which he
Tahiti.
adopted in consequence of living among the natives in
Maori mythology apparently had a profound effect on his think-
ing, judging from his autobiographical book Noa
Noa and the
His
Tahitian titles he gave most of his paintings of this period.
such
painting of halos around the heads of natives (see Fig. 35)
as in the beautiful "la Orana Maria" ("We Greet
You, Mary")
are symbolic of this pantheistic mysticism.
Gauguin's painting was done largely in a low key; that is, there
colors. The
is a relative absence of white in the mixture of the
strongly
colors are kept fairly close in value, while the harmonies,
affected b\- the tropical coloration of his surroundings, have a
strangely haunting effect that contributes to the mood of these
can\ases.
The art of Marc Chagall dwells in a land of fairy tales and
folklore, poignant and full The work of Paul Klee is
of nostalgia.
characterized bv a certain whimsy. And the primitive painter
Rousseau's (juaint, stilted, frequently grotesque conceptions, cap-
ture a mood that is very arresting. And so it goes.
The student to whom the idea of painting imaginatively ap-
peals most will have to draw upon greater resources of experi-
ence and observation. It does not matter how much he will

distort things due to the lack of training in drawing, for a cer-

tain amount of distortion can lend charm to the painting. What
is more important is how well the elements are organized so that
the picture will hold together.
have had beginners come to me who had read Lust for Life
I

or had seen the movie,and who were eager to start painting with
the fervor and seeming abandon of van Gogh. While sympathiz-
ing with their attitude, I had patiently to point out to them that
van Gogh did not start to paint that way, that, in fact, he drew
for fi\e years before he ever lifted a brush. For the turbulent
quality of many of his canvases has behind it an understanding
of the principles of composition that has been rarely surpassed.
If a person is spirited, fanciful, or emotional, then certainly he
must paint as his enthusiasm dictates. But it is the teacher's re-
sponsibility to explain the hazards of frustrationand disappoint-
ment involved. By all means we should have imagination in art—
the more the better. But the student who prepares himself with
a better understanding of the principles of composition has more
of a chance of succeeding in this direction.
But there are some beginners who say: "I am not the imagina-
tive type; I just want to learn how to paint what I see." I say to
them: "Fine, I am not going to try to get you to paint any other
way than you yourself want. But there are a few things that you
must know."
To begin with, it just isn't possible to paint things exactly as
you see them, regardless of how much technique you have. The
human eye is not a camera lens which automatically records what
it sees. The artist has to make some compromises with reality,

even though his picture may give the impression that he painted
his subject exactly as he saw it.
You may go to museums and galleries and admire paintings for
their lifelike, almost photographic appearance, yet you have no
assurance that the artists painted them precisely as they ap-
peared. The likelihood is that they edited, embellished or im-
proved upon what they saw to correspond to various artistic
refjuirements. If you were to have a dozen "realistic" painters of
the highest developed skills doing the same scene, vou would
still have twelve different impressions.
A certain amount of imagination, therefore, has to go into all
painting, be it ever so little. For in reality, the artist is called
upon to Iran.sJdte what he sees into pictorial terms. And as every

.9.9
competent translator knows, it isn't possible to be entirely literal
will flag.
or else the interest in his interpretations
like the seasoning in food-some like more,
Imagination is

others like But it imparts flavor to what you are creating,

less.

otherwise it will be tasteless. Be as reaHstic as

you like in your
painting, but don't be a slave to what you see.
For then you are
almost certain to fail or, at best, become a dull painter.

100
 21. originality in art

Whatever the reason, it seems that people expect painters to be

more factual in their work than practitioners of other art forms
—such as writers or musical composers. It does not, somehow,
seem to tax their credulity when poets take liberties with words
so that on the surface what they say doesn't make sense. They
call it "poetic license" and give the poet a blank check to be as
imaginative as he likes. But, for the greater part, people, for some
reason, are reluctant to grant any of this kind of license to
painters.
When the poet William Blake says: "Tiger, tiger burning
bright, / In the forests of the night," does not appear to upset
it

people that, literally speaking, these lines should turn out the
fire brigade. They quickly understand that Blake is not describ-

ing a tiger whose fur is on fire, but that the poet has conjured up

an image of the tiger rendered so graphic and powerful, that no

amount of literal description could otherwise successfully convey.
But when a painter whose imagination is equal to Blake's takes
such liberties in his pictures, he is regarded with suspicion, and
his work is called "surrealistic"' (see "Art Terms and Phrases").
And, it is surprising to note that most of the people who de-
mand that the painter be literal in his art are the ones who are
least apt to do so in their everyday speech. The idioms we use in
every other sentence are enough to drive poor foreigners to dis-
traction as they try to make the words we speak tally with their
dictionar)' meanings. Of course each language has its idioms,
and it isn't until the alien has learned to match ours with corre-
sponding ones in his native tongue that he is able to get the drift
of manv of the things we say.
But we much for granted that we seldom
take our idioms so
pause to consider how odd they would sound if interpreted
literally. For instance, when we use the term "bottleneck" we

obviously are not thinking of anything which is made of glass or

'
A popular niisiioiniT for :ill painting that is the sliglitfst hit niodern.

101
which is in the shape of a bottle. And when we say to someone:
"Do you see what I mean?" we don't expect him to examine our
person for visible evidence of our meaning. There isn't any point
in running the gamut of our idioms, for the point should certainly
be very clear by now.
Painting is a visual language and it has idioms peculiar to that
language. The person who has not familiarized himself with
those idioms indeed a foreigner to that language, and it isn't
is

until he has been exposed to its forms of communication that he

can expect to grasp the meaning and intentions of the painter.
It's true that the painter's idioms are not as standardized as those

of our everyday speech. Nevertheless, people who are accus-

tomed to looking at art works are less apt to find the "language"
of painting incomprehensible than those who lack this experience.

personality
As everyone knows, there are people one encounters from time to
time who communicate a very strong impression of individuality.
We are impressed by what we call the "personality" of such an
individual. He may dress in the usual manner, vote the regular
ticket, and lead an existence not particularly distinguishable
from the average. Nevertheless, the impact of his personality is
felt by all who come in contact with him. There is something

decidedly original in his bearing— a quality that can never effec-

tively be simulated.

style

It is much the same in art, for there is a very marked "per-

pretty
sonality" which comes through in the work of some painters, an
originality whose effect is instantaneous. This originality takes
many forms, but in the main what the artist establishes is a style
of painting that stands apart from the work of his contemporaries.
In some regards this "style" is the hallmark of the unique creative
quality generally identified with genius. Every important artist
the world has ever known has had a style of painting so distinctly
his own that, with rare exception, it can instantly be recognized
as his— even without a signature.
There are many beginners whose work, right from the start,

gives evidence of a marked originality. It stands to reason that

all people will, to a lesser or greater degree, paint difi^erently
from the way others do. But there is an exceptional quality in the
work of some that really .stands out from the rest. However, it

also happens that such people tend to be mistrustful of the

uniqueness of their work, and they are usually prone to seeing
more merit in the work of less original students.
The intelligent student, of course, learns soon enough that more
is needed for creative growth than originality alone.

However, development in art cannot be forced, and if the

beginner shows rare freshness in his painting he should feel en-
couraged by it rather than the reverse. As he progresses in his
work and becomes acquainted with some of the principles of
composition and design, he is in a better position to modify the

102
originality of his approach. But to impose restraints on oneself
prematurely can serve no purpose that will be of any benefit to
the beginning student.
if the student
It is no indication of any inherent lack of ability

does not start right away to paint in a more disciplined way.

Discipline will come in time, but it is a mistake to smother pre-
cious originalit\- in the interest of conformity.

inventiveness
One of the aspects of originality in painting is inventiveness. The
in\entive painter sees that the object has a certain shape or color
but feels impelled to alter the shape or color in his painting to
correspond to some image he has of it that is more satisfying to
him than the actual appearance of the object. In other words, he
has the desire to interpret that object rather than to imitate it.
But often beginners who do the same thing jump to the conclu-
it is because they don't know how to state things
sion that the

way thev appear.

It does not follow, however, that they would paint the same
object exactlv as they see it, even if they knew how. Witness the

manv great painters who take liberty with the natural appearance
of things in the interest of creati\e originality.

innovation
Originality in painting also takes the form of innovation. Not a
few great painters were distinguished by the innovations they
made in techniques and concepts of painting. This form of in-
venti\eness is partly of the scientific spirit which spurred artists

to seek means of making painting increasingly effective as a

medium of recording nature. It was this spirit that led to the
oil painting (which proved so much more effective
invention of
than tempera painting, the only pre\'iously known means of
painting), of linear perspective, and of chiaroscuro.'
A further manifestation of originalit)' in art is the introduction
of new concepts of painting. Those painters who possessed this
kind of inventi\eness were the true pioneers of art. Their per-
sistent unwillingness to accept as final the standards of painting
pre\ ailing in their time helped to push forward the frontiers of
art.

Always against the greatest odds, with critics and public alike
lined up against them, with only a few isolated champions for
support, they kept art from e\er settling into a stagnant, in-
grown affair, and constantly pumped new blood into it. For the
greater part, these painters recei\ed little thanks in their own
lifetimes and got manv hard knocks for their unyieldingness to
was not the easy way,
the currents of prevailing opinion. Theirs
and the rewards they got were often minimal. In too many cases,
in fact, recognition came posthumously.
The beginner cannot, of course, be expected to be governed bv
either of these two latter categories. Nevertheless, his creative
spirit can be nourished bv the experiences of the great artists to
'
See "Art Tcrm.s ami Plir.ise.s."

103
whom they apply. The most important thing he can learn about
art is that, in a sense, it is a great adventure in which many things
are unforeseen and that conformity is the very opposite of what is
creative in art.

To abandon open the valves of

oneself to this adventure is to
the imagination to many be disappoint-
rich rewards. There will
ments, to be sure. Everyone experiences them at one time or
another, and that holds true for the masters as well. But one can-
not anticipate these disappointments; they will come in their own
sweet time. And it doesn't help matters to interpose reservations
about one's achievements. To be original is a definite asset in
painting, for it is the stuff that lends dash and excitement to one's
work and rescues it from being merely a prosaic account of the
things he sees.

primitive painting
Originahty also manifests itself in a type of painting that has
gained prominence in the last fifty years and is generally known
as "Primitive." This type of painting is characterized by an
untutored quality, and it has been said that Henri Rousseau,

its and foremost exponent, resisted getting instruction so

earliest
as not to lose the freshness and uniqueness of his view of nature.
The vogue that this kind of work has gained in recent years has
been accelerated by the increased participation in art by people
who started painting late in life. Our ov^m Grandma Moses,
whose work ha? given courage to many older people to take up
painting, is one of the best examples of Primitive painters in
America.
These bright, charming, cheerful, bucolic paintings that have
made Grandma Moses' name a byword in contemporary painting
have, possibly more than anything else, inspired scores of people
to paint who might ordinarily have been afraid to try. Primitive
painters, as a rule, work within their limitations and accomplish
much of the loveliness they get in spite of these limitations. It is

a mistake to call such paintings great art, because great art of

necessity implies mastery. Nevertheless, the freshness and, you
might say, sweetness of these original viewpoints are not to be
disparaged.
Whereas it isn't possible for many Primitive painters to im-
prove their drawing, it is a misconception to assume that under-
standing of the principles of composition would cause their work
to suffer.
There is a school of thought which believes that Primitive
painting must be kept childlike and innocent, and that any
amount of instruction would injure it. To this, a very strong ob-
jection must be voiced. There is absolutely no harm in learning
how to organize one's material so that the picture can hold to-
gether better, no matter how uniquely and imaginatively the
separate elements in the picture are stated.
(America had its Primitives in painting long before their ap-
pearance on the contemporary scene. These were the itinerant
journeyman painters of a century or more ago, examples of whose

104
 )

work are currently to be seen in many antique sliops. These

painters were also untaught, self-taught, or half-taught largely
because the means of acquiring a training in art in America in
those days were practically nonexistent. But much of this work is
not especially distinguished by any real originality, and its quaint-
ness is due mostly to the inability of these painters to draw.
Like eyerything else that is to have validity, Primitivism in art
should never be forced; it should be the most natural expression
of the untrained personality. There have been isolated examples
of painters affecting a Primiti\e quality in their work in the be-
lief, consciously or unconsciously, that this lent charm to their

painting. The error of this approach is only too pathetically re-

vealed by the comparison of such work to that of the true Primi-
tives, for there is an underlying sophistication that betrays its
falsity.

But these are only rare instances, and for the most part Primi-
tive paintershave a true originality in their way of stating things.
Much of their work is awkward and is frequently gauche; the
space in their composition is usually "at sixes and sevens," and
the relative proportions of things are impossible. But because
so many due to age
of these people have no access to training, or
factors, are beyond training of any appreciable kind, they very
often bring to their work an originality that is denied better
trained painters. This is no argument, of course, against training
in art. Those who are capable of benefiting from such training
should certainly do so. By the same token, those who cannot have
such training should not deprive themselves of the kind of
achievement they are so uniquely qualified for. Good Primitive
painting is, after all, preferable to sophisticated painting which
has no distinction whatsoever.

705
22. expanding the palette

tubes
Once you have seen what can be accomplished with just five

of color (plus white) only natural that you should be curious

it is

about the potentialities afforded by the addition of new tubes of

paint. You have doubtless already discovered that there
are cer-

tain hues you simply cannot get with your beginner's palette of
colors and if, in your impatience, you took a sneak preview of
this chapter you can't be entirely blamed for it.
However, it is
to be hoped that you were able to restrain your
impulse until
you have satisfied yourself that you are sufficiently familiar with
the properties of the initial five colors.

the additional colors you will need

The colors I am going to recommend to be added to your pres-
ent palette fall into two categories; some will be called basic and
The reason is that some
for this differentiation
others auxiliarii.
colors are intended for general use (those which you put out on
your palette every time you paint), whereas others are intended
for special occasions (like portrait painting). There is no hard
and fast rule about this, though. The object is to restrict as much
tendency to put too many colors out on the palette at
as possible the
any one time. You have to be the final arbiter in the matter of
the colors you use. If after experimentation you find you prefer
some of the auxiliary colors for regular use to those in the basic
group, then you are your own boss. But you must be sure you
are sufficiently acquainted with the properties of each before you
make such a decision. There is only one safe way, and that is by
doing the color exercises.

nonprismatic colors
The you have been using up to now are generally known
colors
term comes from the refraction of light,
as prismatic colors. This
very much like those seen in a prism ^ which these hues are
capable of producing. Ranging from alizarin to ultramarine blue
you have a potential rainbow of colors in these tubes of paint.
'
See "Art Terms and Phrases."

106
But there are instances when less brilhant hues are desirable.
There are, for example, certain reds and greens that are less in-
sistent than those with which you are now familiar. Such colors
often ha\e a modifying effect that prevents your painting from
becoming too harsh.
We already know how to counteract the intensity of prismatic

colors through the use of grays, but since grays require the addi-
tion of white to their mixture, the inevitable result is that of
heiglitening the kev of the painting. Since some paintings-par-
ticularlv those done indoors— require a lower key, it is well to
have certain synthetic earth colors (synthetic because they are
not derived from clays, but are made from chemical waste ma-
terials) which supplv deep burnt-red and green hues that are
less intense than the cadmiums. You will, on the other hand, also
be introduced to colors that have even greater intensity' than the
prismatic pigments, such as thalo (phthalocyanine). Some of
these are fairly new to the chemistry of oil painting, and it is by
means of these that vou will be able to mix the colors that have
the "kick" of the aniline dves found in modern fabrics and the
like. Though intense, these colors are at the same time lower in

kev than the prismatic hues. With this in mind we may now
proceed to the study of both our basic and auxiliary palettes of
colors.

basic colors
BURNT SIENNA (
A fiery orange-brown color that
Tcrru di Siena
)

requires tremendous amount of oil in its manufacture

a
(about 180 per cent). This color must be used with great
discretion, as it tends to make a painting exceedingly "hot."

It is also not recommended to be used by itself. When mixed

with white it can be very useful in producing certain flesh

tones. This is an earth color, and therefore it's not advisable

for it to be mixed with alizarin.' It is also a quick-drying
color.

RAW UMBER A grayish brown with a greenish cast, this color pro-
duces silvery grays when mixed with white. It has a fairly
high degree of oil absorption (about 80 per cent) and is

quick drving. It, too, is an eartli color; hence, it is not to be

mixed with alizarin. Like all other deep colors it should never
be used bv itself, but is a valuable addition to the palette for
mixture with other colors.
MANGANESE VIOLET This is a powerful violet to supplement the

violet you get by mixing alizarin and blue. It is fairly quick

drying and has moderate covering power. This color varies
considerablv in hue with different manufacturers, and it is,
therefore, wise not to be guided in its purchase by the color
on the label ( it's always best to unscrew the cap of the tube
and judge the contents).
'
Alizarin has uikUt certain conditions been proved to be chemicallv in-
compatible with earth colors. There is a possibility of the color eventually
tnrninj; black wherever these combinations occur; hence, mixture of alizarin
with earth colors is yeiierally nol advisable.

107
 )

PHTHALOCYANiNE BLUE (
Tholo) This is a very powerful, cold blue
(as distinguished from ultramarine which leans toward red
and is, consequently, a somewhat "warmer" blue). This color
is very efFective in combinations with green and white to
produce the appearance of water (or glass, porcelain, or any
surface where there is a great amount of sheen). Being a
cold blue, it is also useful, in parts of the painting that you
want to recede. Since it is a deep color it is not to be used
by itself.
CADMroM ORANGE This is another color that varies considerably

with different manufacturers. Some tubes labeled cadmium

orange contain a briUiant color, and others are comparatively
devoid of luster. ( Here, again, you must unscrew the caps of
the tubes in order to be able to select that which corresponds
most to what you have come to expect from your previous
experience in mixing orange.) This color usually has great
covering power. It is very useful for producing the effect of
interior luminosity in shadows.
YELLOW OCHRE Light (
) A heavy, opaque earth color of great cov-
ering power. Not very attractive when used by itself, but
very useful in combination with other colors. Can be mixed
with black to make olive-green and with blue to make bottle-
green. Helpful in softening grays of black and white. Should
not be mixed with alizarin, since it is an earth color. Only
a small quantity needed on palette.
IVORY BLACK Combines with white to make gray, with yellow to
make a warm green, and with red to make brown. ( Used by
some painters by itself for dramatic, emotional effects, but
seldom— if ever— to be used this way by beginners.

auxiliary colors
INDIAN RED {Venetian Red) This is a deep earthy-looking red
that has a slightly violet cast. It is moderate in its degree of
oil absorption (about 40 per cent) and has good covering
power. It is fairly quick drying. When combined with white
it yields cool shades of flesh color to offset the hotter variety
obtained from burnt sienna.
GREEN EARTH (Terre Verte) This is an exceedingly thin, dark
green pigment that has practically no covering power. It is
very gelatinous in the tube, and has a high degree of oil
absorption (about 100 per cent). It is very useful in the
painting of shadows in portraiture. It yields pearly green-
grays in combination with white. Being a deep color, it must
also never be used by itself. Because of its very thin texture
it must be handled with great delicacy in order to get the

best results.
CERULEAN BLUE This is a beautiful light blue with a faintly green-
ish cast. It is very valuable for achieving atmospheric tones
in landscape painting. It has very little covering power, and
is easily overpowered when mixed with other colors. It, too,
has to be treated delicately for best results.

108
ULTRAMARINE RED OF ROSE MADDER These are exceedingly thin
reds with a slightly bluish cast. Both of them are of question-
able permanence, although ultramarine red is considered the
stabler of the two.' Both superficially resemble alizarin, but
are very much subtler colors. Both these colors can be very
useful in portrait painting.

COBALT BLUE A beautiful medium-cool blue of moderate covering

power. It requires a high degree of oil absorption (about
100 per cent). It is fairly quick drying.- This color is also
useful for the painting of skies or any translucent area of a
picture. It has a tendency to yellow shghtly in contact with
oil.

CADMIUM GREEN This is a color you could probably mix yourself.

However, it often helps to have a good light green handy on
your palette— particularly when painting out-of-doors. The
plentiful amount of cadmium yellow in its mixture tends to
make this a warm green to offset the cooler greens you can
get from mixtures containing viridian.

ZINC YELLOW This is a relatively cool yellow with a greenish cast,

and is, therefore, sometimes valuable as a substitute for the
warmer cadmium yellow. It is especially valuable in por-
trait painting, where the lower key is desirable. It has a
tendency to turn markedly green in contact with oil, hence,
should seldom be used pure. This pigment requires a mod-
erate degree of absorption of oil (about 40 per cent). It is

fairly quick drying.

ihe nonessential colors

So much for the expanded palette. If you have found it difficult
to paint satisfactory pictures with any of the colors recommended
thus far, then no additional tubes of paint will be of any help to
you. You will simply have to reexamine your whole approach to
painting and see where you neglected to follow the instructions.
For whatever you do, don't blame it on your materials. Nor should
you take it as proof of lack of talent, either. In all probability
any difficulty you have had is attributable to carelessness or im-
patience, or both. However, you must bear in mind that no paint-
ing experience is ever wasted, and if your disappointments have
led to a healthy change in your approach, then it has all been to
the good.
And now we will proceed to the examination of colors which
you may have already bought or that you see attractively dis-
played on counters of art supply stores, which for certain reasons
I advise you not to use.

'
Recent synthetic manufactures have produced more permanent varia-
tions of the.se colors, such as alizarin rose-madder.
The question of quickness or slowness of drying in colors is of great
importance to the painter in oils for the simple reason that paint tends to
contract as it dries. When a quick-drying color is applied over a slow-drying
color its contracting action affects the paint underneath (which is still wet)
causing cracks to Unm on the surface of the painting.

109
BURNT UMBER This is a dark brown color which has a tendency
to "bleed." ^ It is a heavy, dense color that is inclined to
turn black in time. It is capable of producing warm grays
combination with white. However, its disadvantages out-
in
weigh its advantages, hence, should be avoided.
PRUSSIAN BLUE This is a very deep blue that has a coppery sheen.
It has a tendency to "bleed." It has very great tinting power

and is capable of overwhelming practically every color with

which it comes into contact. It is also known to bleach out
under certain atmospheric conditions. For these reasons it is
not as desirable as thalo blue which has somewhat similar
characteristics but is a much more stable color.
PERMANENT GREEN A sometimcs uscful color, it is slightly deeper
and cooler than cadmium green. So that you will avoid clut-
tering up your palette with too many unessential colors, it
is not recommended. Otherwise there's nothing wrong with
(

it.) The addition of a small amount of viridian to cadmium

green should produce a green of similar hue.

CHROMIUM OXIDE This is a very opaque medium green of great
covering power. It is generally undesirable because of its

excessive heaviness for which its few advantages fail to com-

pensate.
NAPLES YELLOW In its Original state this is a lead color, hence,
poisonous (all lead colors being poisonous). It has in recent
times been developed synthetically, however, making it safe
to use. This color is a pale opaque yellow, with great cover-
ing power. Although it has its uses, it is not essential, as its

hue can be approximated by combinations of cadmium yel-

low light, yellow ochre, and white.
CHROME YELLOW (
Chrovie Orange, Green, etc. ) Chrome colors
darken considerably with the passage of time, consequently,
are unreliable. (Van Gogh's famous painting, "Sunflowers,"
for example, was known to have been much more brilliant
when he painted it than it is in its present state. He used
chrome colors because he couldn't afford the more expen-
sivecadmiums.) Some fancy sounding names on labels dis-
guise the fact that such tubes of paint contain the cheaper
chrome pigments. It is safest to buy cadmiums.
RAW SIENNA This is a very luminous yellow-brown paint. But it

is exceedingly thin in body, requiring a degree of oil ab-

sorption of over 200 per cent, hence, impractical for general
use. Besides, the excessive amount of oil in its makeup tends
darken the pigment, thus cancelling some of the ad-
to
vantages of its luminosity. It has practically no covering
power.
VERMILLION This is a beautiful but not very permanent red,
hence, generally not as desirable as the cadmium. It requires
a low degree of oil absorption, about 20 per cent), but dries
very poorly. It was poisonous in its original state, but mod-
ern production methods have provided a safe synthetic sub-
stitute. This is a slightly colder red than the cadmium. The
'
See "Art Terms and Phrases."

no
 addition of a touch of alizarin to cadmium red pale (or light)
willproduce a workable approximation of vermillion.
COBALT VIOLET Very poisonous in its original state, it has recently
been manufactured synthetically and is now safe to use.
However, it is subject to darkening in contact with oil. A
good cobalt violet is very expensive but without practical
advantages.
LAMP BLACK This black paint is made from carbon soot. It is a

good black but generally not as desirable as ivory black.

PHTHALOCYANiNE GREEN (Thalo) This is a rather harsh deep
green with a capacity to overpower colors with which it is
mixed. When combined with yellow it produces acidy greens
that, in inexperienced hands, can impair a picture's effec-
tiveness. It superficially resembles viridian but is \ery much

more intense. It is a good color, but definitely not essential.

CHBEMNiTZ v^HiTE, FLAKE WHITE, WHITE LEAD Thesc are all lead
whites, hence, poisonous and very definitely to be avoided.
ZINC WHITE This is a good useful white and somewhat thinner
than other whites. But it has considerably less covering power
than titanium. Titanium white is slightly more expensive but
more desirable. (There are now some "non-yellowing" ti-
tanium whites on the market. If the manufacturers' claims are
true, then these \\-ould be the best types of white to use.)

As for all the rest of the tubes of paint you see displayed in art

supply stores (it is not possible to catalogue them all here), my

suggestion is vou stay away from them. Manufacturers put
that
out all sorts of enticing-looking and fancy-sounding colors, few
of which have any practical advantage. Avoid any such things as
ready-made "flesh colors," or prepared grays of any kind. They
will onlv clutter up your palette and create confusion for you
rather than the reverse. The color exercises that you do should
enable you to arrive at almost any of these ready-made hues, with
the notes on how to mix them ever available in your "color
librarv."

Ill
23. sketching out-of-doors

Once you have begun to paint you will be using your eyes in a
manner that you couldn't previously have anticipated. Almost
without your realizing it, your eyes will be gathering impressions

of things you may have seen hundreds of times— things you

never really looked at before simply because they didn't have
any special meaning for you. Suddenly you'll be interested in
countless things, and your eyes will hardly know where to look
first.

Click— click—click— almost like the snapping shutter of a camera

lens— as though on reels and reels of microfilm lodged some-
where in your brain, you go storing up vast quantities of impres-
sions for some future use in painting. At first these observations
seem crowded that you wonder if you will ever be able to
so
remember a tiny fraction of all that seems so suddenly thrust
upon you.
It is a very exciting business, really, this seemingly new-found
use of your vision. "Eyes they have, but they see not . .
." has
a very special application when you realize that people who
don't paint actually see so little of Nature's beauty. There is so
much subtlety that escapes perception by people who have never
painted for the simple reason that the necessary incentives are
lacking. Usually it is only the startling, the new, or the different
that will excite the interest of the average person. A dazzling sun-
set, a rainbow, a brilliant moonlit night, or the riotous colors of
autumn— these are the things that get noticed. But the host of
things the painter sees are usually undiscovered by most other
people.
I do not say this with the intention of casting aspersions on all

nonpainters. It is simply that people who take up painting gain

added dividends of perception that are denied almost all others;
it is a kind of occupational phenomenon. Call it, if you will,
a sharpening of the faculties that exist in all people which only
the painter has occasion to develop fully. But whatever you de-

112
cide to call it, you, as a prospective painter, have a great deal of
adventure of "seeing" ahead of you.

how you learn what to look for in nature

Elsewhere in this book I speak of the lady whose definition of
an artist is, to use her own words: "One who sits down and
paints what he sees." The lady is entitled to her definition, but
on the face of it the responsibility she imposes on the artist is a
physical impossibilib,'. Granting him all the talent in the world,
it is just not possible for anyone to paint all he sees. He can't
paint every blade of grass, every leaf, every wisp of cloud, or
allthe myriad of things his eyes encounter.
Not only does the painter have to leave out certain things,
but he also has to decide whether to paint what lies before him,
to his right or to his left. Clearly, the painter is confronted with
the task of "editing" what he sees, retaining just those elements
that are likely to assemble into an interesting picture. Being thus
obliged by the very limits of human faculty to depart from the
lady's injunction, who is to say at which point the artist is to stop?
However, it may be quibbling to take the lady's comment so
literally, for I think that you and I know what she is trying to
express— and that is that the picture the artist paints should
look more or less like a recognizable scene that one is apt to see
out-of-doors. No one can quarrel with that. Some very fine paint-
ings, as well as cheap imitations of nature, can each qualify by
this definition depending on the approach and attitude of the
painter.
Accepting the lady's premise, however, how does one go about
selecting a view that composes well? For the untrained person
this poses a difficulty, for there is so much that one sees that it
can be very confusing at first. The amateur, therefore, often finds
it necessary to have recourse to a little mechanical assistance in

selecting a suitable view for painting.

how to make a view-finder

This is a homemade device that you can prepare in a few
minutes with a piece of cardboard and the aid of a sharp,
stiff

single-edge razor blade. Itsomething you can easily carry

is

around with you in your pocket or in your sketch-bo,x. If you

come across a scene that interests you, fish out your little card-
board and, by holding up
you can look through the
it so that
aperture, shift it slowly around until you have "framed" the
most likely looking view (see Fig. 36).
Once you have done this, don't immediately rush to unpack
your sketcli-bo.x and start painting. Examine your selected scene
carefully through your "view-finder." Look to see whether it
contains those elements which you have by now come to recog-
nize as being vital to good composition. At first glance the view
may strike you as being ideally suited for painting, but on care-
ful examination it may appear to lack the necessary compositional
elements. Haste makes waste, and it is true of nothing more than
it is of painting.

113
 Once you have satisfied yourself, however, that you have a
perfectly good scene, then it is time to get out your things and
get set up for painting. But wait a minute! The title of this chap-
ter is "Sketching Out-of-Doors." How does this differ from land-
scape painting?

the difference between the "outdoor sketch"

and the landscape painting
Painting directly from nature presents many hazards in terms of
changing weather, shifting light, etc. that make it impossible for
the artist to spend more than a couple of hours, at most, in work-
ing from a particular scene. Granting the most ideal circum-
stances of weather, in just a couple of hours the hght can have
shifted enough to change the position of the shadows. For any
carefully worked-out study of a scene, this means a daily (or at
least a frequent) return to the same spot always at the same
time. Those who have suitable means of conveyance and the
same scene can find this a very satis-
leisure to return daily to the
fying way of working. But for the average person who wants to
paint, it just isn't feasible.
The alternative to this, then, is the "outdoor sketch." This calls
for painting with oils in a much freer and less carefully studied
way. In short, not to try to make a finished looking painting on
the spot, but something that more "sketchy" in appearance.
is

This does not mean you have learned thus far

that everything
has to be thrown overboard. The idea, of course, is for you to
work more quickly-but not so quickly as to run the risk of mak-
ing a messy picture. Your color must at all times remain fresh
and harmonious.

placing the composition with charcoal

It will be necessary for you to "place" your
composition on
your canvas with charcoal, that is, with much less fuss than for
your work indoors. Put your lines down quickly, but firmly, just
enough to indicate the large spatial movements. Don't waste any
time with careful delineation. Remember, it is for a sketch, not
for a finished painting. When the lines are drawn, either "dust"
them or spray them with fixatif and proceed to put in your
washes of color thin but strong. For the "sketch" it is advisable
that you make your first washes of color thinner than usual. This
is called a "stain."
The object of this "stain"
is to make it possible for you to have

a dryer, less sticky surface on which to paint. Additional quanti-

ties of turpentine in your brush tend to dilute the
slower drying
oil in the paint, thus causing it to dry faster.
In the stain it doesn't
matter if the added turpentine in the brush causes the paint to
run over the lines of your charcoal composition-or even if some
of it runs over into another color area. If it bothers you, a quick
wipe of your cloth will remedy things. But you mustn't fuss too
much about fittle things like that at this stage of the sketch. Once
the stain is completed, though, it is preferable to work with a
dryer brush.

114
 Don't attempt to fill up all the tiny spots of white canvas that
show after you ha\e distributed all your washes of color. Avoid
fussiness of any kind. This t>pe of painting is supposed to be
fresh and impro\isational looking, and if there are little spots of
canvas showing the\- tend to enhance rather than detract from

its effecti\eness.
Everything in this sketch must be painted boldly and freely,
with absolutelv no concern for exactness of detail. A tree trunk,
for example, can be stated by a heavy dark sinuous line, and
foliage can be expressed by two or three contrasting masses of
green, with here and there a few calligraphic
' lines loosely and

rhvthmically suggesting the bunching of leaves. Stay clear of

definition of anv kind. And above all, paint spontaneously and
enthusiastically.

U)hat is the purpose of the '"'outdoor sketch?"

This is a good question. If your object is to make nice landscape

paintings, what is the point of bothering with this kind of oil sketch
which can never look like a finished picture? Well, the object is

twofold: First of all, to give you the incentive to work freely and
spontaneously enough to be able to capture a fresh outdoor-like
quality in the painting. Otherwise it is usually more difficult for
the average amateur to work directly from nature. Secondly, such
sketches become the foundation for more carefully worked-out

paintings to be done indoors.

There are certain very specific differences between painting
indoors and outdoors, as you will presently see. M'hen painting
indoors, your work doesn't ever have to be hurried. The sketches
bring the scene thev represent freshly and vividly to mind, which
you are free to reconstruct into landscape paintings that look more
like finished pictures. Or (to use an analogy that may bring
things closer to home) the outdoor sketch may represent short-
hand notes, on which to base the ultimate final draft or finished

painting.

ichat should you do about canvas, easel, etc.

There are no hard and fast rules about this. A canvas panel,
or any white board that is semiabsorbent will do for your sketch.
(Not boards, however, that have shiny or slick surfaces.) As for
the size, I would advise nothing that is too small. Panels size
12 -x 16 would be best. They fit snugly into the slots of the
standard sketch-box, eliminating the awkward problem of trans-
porting wet paintings by hand.
Another advantage is the opportunity to use the lid of your
sketch-box as an easel, due to the convenient way in which the
panel can be held upright in the notched into the lid of the
slots

box (see Fig. 37). Thus it is possible to avoid having to lug an

easel with you when you go out to paint. When your sketch is
done, all you have to do is to slide the panel out of its slot, turn
it around, and slide it back in. It faces away from the contents of

the box and there is no danger of the "sketch" getting smeared

in transportation.
'
Sec callinravhii uiulir "Art Tcniis ^iiul I'lirases."
^ '
115
 Using the lid of the sketch-box for an easel, however, poses
another problem— that of elevation. Evidently it won't be possible
for you to stand while painting, for how then should you prop
up the box Even if you sit (for which
to the necessary height?
a folding camp handy you will have the
chair can always prove )

same problem of how to prop up your box— unless you find a

tree stump or high rock on which to rest it. The easiest solution
would, of course, be to sit on the ground with the box in front of
you. In this case composition presents a difficulty (for the rea-
sons that have frequently made clear), unless you choose a
I

position on a rise overlooking the scene you are about to paint.

There are fancy sketch-boxes on the market that come with
folding, built-in legs. But these are pretty expensive. There are
other sets of collapsible aluminum equipment, somewhat less
expensive, but none of these are essential. Those who can afford
them will find that they make things more convenient. But mere
ownership of fancy equipment will not make anyone paint better.

the differences of "key" between indoor painting

and outdoor painting
When you work outdoors the "key" of your painting must neces-
sarily be higher; that is to say, most of your values will be lighter.
When you paint indoors, your work is bound to be influenced by
the presence of deeper shadows and sharper contrasts— espe-
cially under artificial light. Hence the key is relatively lower
than is the case when you paint out in the open.
When you are working out-of-doors your colors generally re-
quire the addition of greater quantities of white in their mixture
if they are to remain at all consistent with the brightness of out-

door light. As you are already aware, however, the addition of

too much white to your pigment invites the risk of getting your
painting surface pasty. This can be offset by leaning more to-
ward the use of the brighter colors on your palette. As you will
undoubtedly recall from earlier color exercises, certain colors can
be light without being bright; but those colors which are bright
(as they come in the tube) are at the same time light. Conse-
quently, in order to keep the key of your painting fairly high,
you can supplement additions of white to your pigment by the
use, wherever possible, of bright colors.

how your "outdoor sketch" may look when

you take it indoors
This is a factor which you will have to take into account. For

if you allow the key of your painting to get too low, when you
take your sketch indoors you may discover, to your dismay, that
what didn't look too bad under the flattering light of day sud-
denly looks dull and rather dismal in color. Unless you con-
stantly check the values of your painting against those in the
scene before you, these unhappy consequences may be the result.
Apropos of this, it may be fitting to relate the anecdote of the
Impressionist painter whose choice of a vivid green for the grass
in his painting was challenged by certain critics. He thereupon

116
imited his critics to his studio, placed some of the offending
color on a piece of paper and asked his guests to step outside with
him. He put the paper with the seemingly brilliant green on the
grass and, lo and behold, the brightness of the grass exceeded that
of the paint!
The moral of this story should be fairly obvious. The art of

painting for so many centuries had been practiced exclusively

indoors to the point where landscape painting became influ-
enced by the key necessitated by indoor lighting. When the Im-
pressionists broke away from the conventional manner of paint-
ing nature in dark and gloomy colors, tlie world of art was horri-
fied. So accustomed had everyone become to accepting the color

in con\entional landscapes as real, that for a while they couldn't

take to the more natural hues of Impressionist painting.
It should be clear, therefore, that after you have been used to
painting indoors for a period of time you will have to make an
adjustment to conditions of lighting different from those out in
the open. You must consistently see to it that the key of your
painting corresponds to that of the colors you see in nature. Lay
your canvas down on the grass occasionally, if need be, or hold
it upside-down against the scene so as to be able to see it more
objectively. Don't become enamored of happy little flourishes
so
in your work to the point where you lose sight of this important
principle of maintaining the right key in your painting.

is your "sketch" worth framing?

It does not follow because the outdoor sketch was done freely
and in a relatively short space of time, that it cannot be an inter-
esting picture, or even one worth framing. It sometimes happens
that one of these sketches, because of the freshness and sponta-
neity ofits execution, is artistically superior to many a more care-

fullyworked out study. Which does not mean, of course, that

one must turn exclusively to doing sketches and throw out all
attempts to paint the more finished-looking picture. The best
kind of landscape is one that combines qualities of both. The
finished picture that can retain the spontaneousness of the out-
door sketch has a much better chance of succeeding than the
painting (no matter how finely wrought) that has a tired, over-
worked appearance.
It is quite conceivable that one, two, or even several attempts
at doing the outdoor "sketch" will not prove very successful.
You have to remember that you
be working under altered
will
conditions and circumstances and at a different tempo from that
to which you have been accustomed, and this kind of change of
pace takes a little while to become used to. Don't become dis-
couraged if, in your eagerness to work quickly, your color gets
muddied and all the wrong things happen that I told you to
watch out for. It is to be expected that the first few tries will not
be very successful. But, in the spirit of the old saying, if at first
you don't succeed, just keep trying. Analyze the sketches you
bring home, and instead of bewailing your lack of success, see
what you can learn from the mistakes von made. Remember,

117
above all, that every time you paint you gain in experience. And
ifyou learn from your mistakes, then it is so much to the good.

a few helpful hints about the painting of the "outdoor sketch"

In the matter of the key of your sketch, you may say that if you
are to keep the color lighter and the value contrasts generally less
pronounced than you would indoors, what about the difFerences
of value between light and shade? Unquestionably, you will find
here and there masses of real dark out-of-doors, but for the
greater part the contrasts you see will be more in terms of warm
and cool.
Try to keep very heavy darks out of your sketch or, at most,
confine those that you do put in to the lower third of the canvas.
In other words, maintain a greater buoyancy in the overall
weight of your pigment. Here we may borrow a leaf from the
Impressionist panters who, in their revolt against the conven-
tional palette of their day, ruled out black and brown as colors
to be used in their scheme of painting. My intention is not to
get you to try to do Impressionist painting, which is an involved
technique that is generally unsuited to the rapid oil sketch.
But the elimination of the heavier pigments from the palette
will contribute greatly towards keeping the painting of the
outdoor sketch higher in key.
For the darkish color of the tree trunks I spoke about earlier,
you'll find a mixture of alizarin and blue with a touch of viridian
a satisfactory replacement for black. The grays you use should
be those you get by mixing complementary colors (see Color
Wheel, Fig. 14), again ehminating the need for black on the
palette.
An alternative to the mixing of complementaries, is that of
mixing "near complementaries," such as violet and orange or
violet and green. The grays these combinations produce are apt
to be softer, thus contributing to the more buoyant and atmos-
pheric quality desirable in outdoor painting. Remember to make
your complementaries or "near complementaries" equal in value
through the addition of white to the deeper hue before mixing
them to get gray.
The color exercises should have taught you a great deal about
the infinite possibilities that exist in color combinations. And
you can always turn to your "color library" (You see how valu-
able it is to keep one?) when in doubt about what combinations
to use for a specific hue.

panoramic scenes
Avoid great panoramas as subjects for your outdoor sketch— or
any landscape painting for that matter.' They can be very breath-
takingly beautiful, to be sure, but they are far too vast for ordi-
nary compositional purposes. Not only is the eye led too far in the
distance to be able to be brought comfortably back, but the
feeling of intimate contact between the viewer and the scene de-
picted (which is a prerequisite to good painting), is somehow
'
See Chapter 24.

118
lost. Furthermore, it takes a greater amount of skill to paint a

panoramic scene efFecti\ely.

the painting of clouds in the sketch

You are apt to see different kinds of cloud formations in all type
of weather. Sometimes they appearhang almost motionless,
to

and at other times they race across the scene and out of sight in
a short period of time. Some have form, and others are fleecy.
You won't ha\e much time to study the clouds in the scene you
are "sketching"-nor is it necessary. Decide at the outset what
kind of clouds vou are going to paint, and with a few quick
strokes of the charcoal indicate their position in the sketch.
Also, remember pre\ious injunctions about the pasty use of
white. It is and amber tones (be
possible to use pink, \iolet,
them too "sweet") in the painting of clouds.
careful not to get
Clouds must communicate a feeling of floating over the scene,
not cotton\'-l()oking masses stuck on the surface of the canvas. A
few rhythmic "calligraphic" lines (see Figs. 38, 39) can give a free
"shorthand" suggestion of clouds (which is all that is necessary
for the sketch ) around an occasional plane of light isolated from
the deeper hue of the sky.

119
painting the sky in your sketch
Though the sky is generally blue, it may be fun to experiment
with different kinds of "sky painting." Under certain atmospheric
conditions the sky can have a definite yellowish cast. Painting
the sky a yellow stain and brushing over it quickly with a pale
blue can sometimes produce a handsome effect. One has to be
rather venturesome in painting at times; as a consequence many
interesting things can happen. Although you may not achieve an
exact replica of what you see, you can give the painting a flavor
that is more desirable than fidelity to the actual scene could
produce. Sometimes the sky can have a pinkish cast. Experiment
with these various possibilities and see what you can discover.

different seasons for the sketch

There are only three seasons when you will be able to "sketch"
you live in more tropical climates.
out-of-doors, unless, of course,
Ordinarily, though, it is possible to work comfortably out-of-doors
in the late spring, during the summer, and in early fall. In the
chapter on landscape painting (Chapter 14), some of the factors
of seasonal differences in foliage are discussed. For the rest, try
to see what you can observe out-of-doors during these different
times of year. There is every reason to believe that once you
have begun to take notice of the various ways that Nature decks
herself out for each season, you will appreciate the necessity of
different approaches to painting her: the difference, for exam-
ple, of the "sketch" done in the spring when the foliage is sparse
to that of mid-summer when the leaves are so abundant.

barns and old buildings

If your "sketch" is going to include barns or other old weather-
beaten structures, it may be well for you to take a good look at
their color before you begin to paint. Unless the barns are
spanking new (or freshly painted) they will reveal beautiful
hues of muted color, such as only years of exposure to weather
can give them. Chances are that you will not find any such color
in a tube. You may see a red barn basking in the sun and want
very much to paint it. Don't be too disappointed if the color
you have tried to use falls short of expressing the particular glow
that these old structures have.
It is almost impossible to arrive at the precise color with the first

attempt. Overlays of contrasting hues are usually needed to cap-

ture the special weatherbeaten look of such barns. If you paint
them first a fairly deep green and brush a medium red on top,
you might find that you have an approximation of a barn-red
hue.' There isn't of course, any standard color for a barn, but I'm
trying to provide you with a clue as to how to go about painting
one. It may be that you won't succeed in getting the color you
want in the sketch, but that does not mean that you will not be
able to figure out a way of painting it in your landscape study
indoors.
'
Remembering, of course, to paint "fat over lean" so that the undercoat
has a chance to dry quickly.

120
 Whatever you do, though, don't become so enamored of the

barn that you your sketch into a portrait of the barn,

trj' to turn

with everything else in the scene subordinate to it. Better state

the barn in the most rudimentary way, with a few simple planes
and lines to give it form and identity. Three planes of red, red-

brown, brown ( with a little violet stroked into the deeper brown
for coolness in the shade), plus a few crisp lines of alizarin
mixed with viridian or with blue is all you need for the barn in

the sketch.

the importnnce of cleanness of color in your sketch

I bring tliis up again only because of the special
importance that
cleanness of color has in the outdoor sketch. The grayness that
resultsfrom haphazard mixing of color with dirty brushes or
muddv turpentine can be destructive to the desired atmospheric
effect in the outdoor sketch. After you have gotten down the
initial stain you must be careful to avoid saturating your brush
with turpentine, or it will make for a drippy kind of painting. In
order to keep your brush fairly dry, it is a good practice to tap it
a little on your cloth before picking up a color with it. This rela-
tively dr)' method of working is better suited for sketching with
oils.

patterns
Wherever be conscious of patterns without being
possible, try to
too deliberate about it. Remember
that these can be the con-
nective tissue that will hold together the more loosely wrought
parts of your sketch. To employ these patterns mechanically
throughout to the point where they begin to obtrude, would not
be a good idea. That would only serve to defeat the lightness and
airiness, the feeling of the outdoors that is desirable in your
sketch. But here and there a pleasing pattern, in the shadows or
in the clouds, can do a lot to give the sketch character.

the outdoor pencil sketch

The oil sketch is a good way to collect color data for the land-
scape painting you plan to do indoors. But another, and some-
times even more important source of information for your land-
scape is supplement the data supplied
a series of pencil sketches to
by the oil sketch. For this purpose a pocket size sketchbook and a
medium, soft pencil, plus an eraser, is all you need. Make such
sketches quickly and by the dozens. It is always desirable that
you make a margin of at least % of an inch before you start to
draw. This will help you to organize your sketch and make you
more aware of the interrelation of all the forms in the com-
position.
When you have assembled what you consider quite enough
of these pencil sketches, then proceed to organize a composite
of all their best features with charcoal on your newsprint pad.
Try to remember all the rules you learned about composition
in earlier exercises. As for the painting of the indoor landscape
study itself, 1 refer you back to Chapters 13 and 14.

121
 But your greatest asset is going to be the new-found use of
your eyes— the countless impressions you will be storing up to
draw upon when it comes to painting your landscape. Though
your canvas may be home on its easel, or tucked away in a closet,
in your mind's eye you will be painting it in every bush or tree
or fieldyou see as you go sauntering leisurely out-of-doors. Thus,
your enjoyment of Nature becomes twofold: How much more
you begin to perceive of her beauty, and how much (once you
understand her secrets ) she teaches you about the way to paint
your picture.

122
 24. space II: perspective

There comes a time when certain flaws crop up in your

work
that should
that may have escaped your notice before. Things
lie flat look somehow as though they were
floating in air, while

others that should stand upright appear to be tottering. Particu-

larly you have been painting scenes including structures such
if

you have undoubtedly found some difficult)'

as houses, barns, etc.,
in getting them to sit securely on their foundations.
The answer
to your problems lies in the study that we are now going
to

undertake. Although I have discussed the question of foreshorten-

ing before, we are now going to analyze it along scientific lines.

The knowledge has on your painting can make all

effect that this
the difference between the work of a competent amateur and
painting that merely looks amateurish. And that difference we
call perspective.
What is perspective? It is visual reality-or, to put it more
simply, it is the way our eyes see things (
per-specf-ive ) -larger

up close, and smaller at a distance. Perspecti\e is the means by

which we are able to perceive objects in three dimensions. When
artists of the early Renaissance were faced with the problem of

creating visual reality on a flat surface they de\ised a method

(borrowed from architecture) which enabled them to duplicate
this phenomenon of nature in their pictures. They called this
method linear perspective the principle being that all parallel
lines seen in perspecti\e exentually must meet at a given point.
To assume that you and I are looking down
illustrate this, let us

a railroad track. We do not remain parallel,

notice that the rails
but appear to draw gradually together until they meet at a
point somewhere off in the distance. The point at which they
appear to have merged we call the i;«»i/.s7i/ng point (see Fig. 40.\).

the vanishing point

The whole idea of linear perspective hinges on this principle of
the vanishing point. But while it is easy to recognize in the case

72.3
40 b

40 d
of the railroad track, it is not quite so obvious in cases where the
parallel lines are of shorter length, such as in buildings. This is

what seems stump most beginners, and it is precisely why they

to

have so much difficult)' in drawing houses. For unless you under-

stand the principles involved, it can be very confusing. You
cannot rely on your eves alone to tell you exactly in which di-
rection the lines in a certan house are going. More often than

not students think they see lines going in one direction when
they are actually going in the opposite direction. They usually
have no difficulty when it comes to something like a railroad
track, but it is the short parallels that confuse them.
The fundamental difference between a railroad track and the
house we wish to draw is all too apparent, for the track lies flat
while our house must be solid, or three dimensional. In other
words, the track has only horizontal dimensions, whereas for the
house we have to add a vertical dimension. Now, if we were to
take that same railroad track and terminate it at a given point,

we would be well on our way toward having drawn a house in

perspective, for we would have in effect already laid its founda-

tion. All that would remain for us would be to add the vertical

dimension to that shortened section of the track to make it serve

as the "ground plane," or foundation, of our structure. We al-

ready have our vanishing point, but for obvious reasons we don't
want to erect our house on the ground plane where it is now situ-
ated, for it would only result in having our view of the sides of
the house obstructed. Looking right down the middle of the
ground plane, as we do, all we could show would be the side of
the house facing us and the top (or roof)— a very unsatisfactory
view, I'm sure you will agree (see Fig. 40B). But if we shift that
ground plane to the side a bit, we have the advantage of being
able to keep our railroad track running off into the distance,
while at the same time having our house standing beside the track,
USING THE SAME VANISHING POINT FOR BOTH THE HOUSE AND THE
TRACK (see Figs. 40C, 40D).
You've no doubt noticed that I've been using the word "house"
rather loosely, for you see nothing in these illustrations really re-
sembling anv dwelling. In fact, all I've done was to draw some-
thing in the shape of an ordinary builder's brick. Evidently I
wanted to establish the house in terms of its "visual denomina-
tor," the cube, before concerning myself with any of its char-

acteristics as a dwelling. But it is a very easy matter to convert

this bricklike form into a house once you have it functioning in

perspective. Provided you make sure to keep its receding lines

converging to their vanishing point, you can't miss making a
convincing-looking house of it.

But now that we've succeeded in drawing a house beside a rail-

road track, why not go on to add a few other details and create
a regular scene. We might, for example, transplant another short-
ened section of the track to act as the foundation for a little
house farther off. And since we seldom see a railroad track with-
out telegraph poles beside it, we'll stick in a few of those. For
the sake of realism we might throw in some mountains in the

125
40 e

background, with one or two clouds floating over them. There

can be no question that what we have succeeded in doing is to
create a scene in which there is a real sense of distance (see
Fig. 40E).
You may recall that earlier in this book I spoke rather dispar-
agingly about this device of sharply converging lines pushing
rapidly off into the distance, as being too contrived a method to
have esthetic merit. This is still true, of course. I have used this
example of the railroad track simply to demonstrate the function
of linear perspective in its most elementary form. But you've
undoubtedly noticed that, although the eye is carried way off

into the distance, there remains something very static about the
houses in our scene. This is due to the fact that the eye has been
permitted to move
only in one direction. In other words, there
is nothing in our drawing to help the eye to move around the
houses, but only in between them. But there is a very effective
remedy for this. For now, instead of using only one vanishing
point, let's see what happens when we use two. Since it has al-
ready served its purpose, we can now afford to dispense with the
railroad track. Our object is to see what we can learn about linear
perspective without the help of this contrivance. Our first step
should be to establish the two vanishing points; but since we
no longer have the railroad track to help us, you may be won-
dering how we are to know precisely where to put these points.
The answer is that vanishing points always occur on the horizon.

the horizon
It is only logical that your ne.xt question should be how we know
where to locate the horizon, since it is seldom that we are in a
position actually to see it. Here we come upon another of the
fundamentals of linear perspective, and that is that the horizon

126
 ^

IS ALWAYS AT EYE LEVEL. This is truc whether you stand,

YOLTR
sit, mountain or down a valley. In short,
or are on top of a high
it makes absolutelv no difference whether you are
in a position

to be able to see the horizon or not, you can be sure that it

is

alwavs e.xactlv at vour eve level.

But apart from letting you know where to place your vanish-
ing points, there another important reason for knowing how
is

to locate the horizon. And that is to enable you to distinguish

beUveen objects seen either below or above the level of your
eyes. For example, if we were to draw two bricks, one below
the horizon and the other above the horizon, then it obviously
must mean that we are looking down on the first brick, and up
at the second.Thus the first brick is below the level of our eyes,
while the second brick would have to rise above our eye level.
This seems so perfectly obvious, that you may be wondering
why I take the trouble to explain it. But I have seen it too often
happen draw a house above eye level as
that beginners will
though were below, or the other way around. Since there is no
it

better way to understand the important difference between

these two cases, let us proceed to draw two bricks— one below
eye level and the other above.
The first thing we do is draw a line across the page to repre-

sent the horizon. Since we are not concerned with showing any
great vistas, we will avoid having both vanishing points occur
within the confines of the drawing proper, as such a compressed
view would tend to distort the perspective of our bricks. Conse-
quentlv, our ne.xt step is to draw a rectangle, considerably smaller
than the page, to serve as a reduced section of a scene in space.
(This functions not unlike the rectangle of space that we see
when looking through our view-finder.) We then place one of
our vanishing points (a) on the horizon within this rectangle,
while (b) will go at a spot somewhere outside the rectangle (see
Fig. 41).-
Now we must establish the nearest corners of each of these
two bricks. This we do by putting down two short verticals-
one (c) at a position clearly below the horizon line, and the
other (d) parthj above and partly below that line. From the
ends of each of these verticals we now draw (ruled) lines to-
'
In order for any .structure to be seen completely above eye level, it would
have to be up on a hill. Since this is too rare an occurrence, we can avoid the
more complicated problems in perspective that this involves.
" You may be inclined to wonder how far apart these vanishing points

must be placed. From a strictly scientific point of view— that is, if one were
planning to compose an entire scene with accurate regard for the laws of
linear perspective— this is capable of being worked out with mathematical
precision. However, our object is merely to ac(juire some rudimentary knowl-
edge of perspective for aiuilytical purposes only. This being the case, we can
dispen.se with any rigid approach to the problem and, within reasonable
limits, make arbitrary decisions about the spacing of our vanishing points.
The best guide, therefore, is still the one used in the foreshortening ot the
table surface in the still life exercise— that is, making certain that the nearest
corner is an obtuse angle. Thus you can determine how far apart to place
vour vani.shing points with a fair amount of accuracy, which is all that is
necessary for your purposes. For it should be obvious to you by now tiiat tlic
closer together the vanishing points, the more acute will be the angle formed
by the two joining lines. (See term Picture Plane in "Art Terms and Phrases.")

127
 .

of each
ward both our v anishing points. For the two side corners
on either side ( but not equidis-
brick we put down two verticals

tant) of the Erst vertical, so that they fit in

between the lines
of each of
running toward the \anishing points. From the top
opposite van-
these new verHcals we rule fresh lines toward the
ishing points ( obviously this can only be
done in the case of the
already com-
lower brick, for as you can see, the upper brick is
brick has formed
plete). And, lo and behold, the top surface of the
itself! I think vou will ha\e little difficulty
in appreciating the

difference bet^veen these bricks and the ones

alongside the rail-
relationship to
road track; for whereas the others were in static
obviously more
the picture surface, these new bricks are quite
the
dynamic. The eye now has an opportunit)' to experience
sense of space around them. All we have to do now
is to trans-

fonn our bricks into houses.

This is an easy operation. We place an upside down '"V," so
that it sits over the nearest ends of each of our bricks,
like a tent

and from the peak of each 'V

we rule another line toward its
opposite \anishing point. When we have done this, we
simply

add a short line representing the farther end of the pitched roof,
and we have the framework for two solid-looking houses. The
addition of a few features such as gables, chimneys,
dormers,

etc. is all that is needed to make them look as

typical of any of

the dwellings you may see along the street of any town
or vil-

lage ( see Fig. 42 )

seeing nonrectangular forms in perspective

You may say, "But what about things that have no parallel lines,

such as people, trees,etc.-how do we apply the rules of linear

perspective in drawing them?" Well, if two people of equal
height were to stand side-by-side directly in front of you, the
imaginary lines joining their heads and feet would then be paral-
lel to you asked one of them to step back a
each other. But if

few paces, the one would immediately appear taller.

in front
Thus, the imaginary lines joining them could no longer be paral-
lel but would converge in a direction away from you
and meet
at a vanishing point somewhere on the horizon. The same is true
of trees. Ifwe were to substitute trees for the telegraph poles
which lined our railroad track, it should not be too difficult to
see how readily this scene could be converted into a regular tree-
lined street.

the panoramic scene

There are times when ^•ou find yourself confronted with a pano-
ramic scene of such breathtakng beauty that you cannot resist the
temptation to get it down on paper. The problem is, how to
compose an\thing so vast while still maintaining some degree of
spatial order in your drawing. Earlier in this book, for obvious
reasons, I discouraged your undertaking so ambitious a project.

However, with the knowledge of perspective that you have now

gained you are at least better equipped to tackle the drawing of
such a scene. At least it can do no harm to try.
To try to draw a panoramic scene in true perspectixe is a fan-

129
tastically complicated business with the crisscrossing of hnes to
their vanishing points making a regular jigsaw puzzle of your
paper. For all practical purposes— unless, of course, one were
planning an architectural drawing down to the last detail— it is
a thankless project. All that one needs is to achieve some sort of
organization of the welter of detail into a comprehensive scene.
Do not allow yourself to get bogged down with detail before the
total scene is organized. The very first thing you must do is to
institute a plan for geometric order in your drawing before even
giving a thought to subject matter.
Here is a clue. Let us try to visualize our panoramic scene as
a vast checkerboard (which it not infrequently resembles) with
the outlines of each square converging toward their respective
vanishing points. However, we don't want to be too rigid in this
employment of the checkerboard idea; consequently, we will lose
a square here and and even round out a few of the corners
there,
so as to suggest the contour of a lake, the winding of a road, etc.
(see Fig. 43).
Now, if you were to take an ordinary checkerboard and dis-
tribute miniature objects on one or another of the squares, you
would have, to all intents and purposes, a panoramic scene in
perspective. I think you can begin to see the advantage of this

concept in the panoramic scene, for no matter what you put into
your picture, it will remain firmly rooted to the square to which
ithas been assigned. Once you have plotted your scene in this
manner, you are free to decide which of the elements in the
scene to include in your picture. (You realize, of course, that it
is impossible to put everything you see in it.) Your main re-

130
 is to pro\ide your drav-ing with
sponsibilit)' just enough detail to

give landscape character-no more. If you bear this in mind,

it its

you ha\e a much better chance of succeeding. However, I must

at

this point repeat my earlier injunction

against any attempt to
that
paint such a scene. But if you insist on doing it, I suggest
you take a leaf from the painter I've often had occasion to refer
to-Paul Cezanne (see his "Landscape with Viaduct." Fig. 44).
As is \ery plain from this illustration, this
accomplished artist
did not hesitate to dispense with photographic realism
where it
ser\ed his creative need.

is linear perspective alirays necessary?

The answer a very emphatic "no." I have stated else-
to this is

where few contemporary artists rely on the use of

that relatively
linear perspecti\e for their creative work.' Whereas many of the
fundamentals of present day spatial composition derive from
linear perspective, the art of painting has come a long way in the

hundred some odd years since it was first devised. There is no

si.\

longer any necessity to go through the whole rigmarole of the

ruling of lines toward vanishing points, etc. But I think there can
be little question that some acquaintance with the principles of
linear perspective can be of considerable help— particularly to
the beginning painter, who is often baffled by problems of fore-
shortening.
But it is not enough to ha\e learned all the rules of linear per-
spective and then to proceed throwing them o\erboard, as in the

Tlie famous nineteenth-century painter, Eugene

' Delacroi.\, commented
disparagingly on the "inflexible perspective which [in reality] falsifies the
appearance of objects by virtue of precision." ( Camus, Albert, The Rebel )

44 LANDSCAPE WITH VIADUCT by Paul Cezanne.

Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Bequest
of Mrs. H. 0. Havemeyer, 1929. The H. 0. Havemeyer
Collection

131
 )

case of a talentedyoung lady who walked into my class one day.

It was clear from the outset that she could draw, but everything
she drew had the appearance of floating in air. Nothing seemed
solid or rooted to the ground. In a drawing of a room interior
(including a section of staircase, various oddments of furniture,
and some bric-a-brac), the rendition of each individual item was
superbly accomplished, but the room as a whole seemed to be
suffering from delirium tremens. None of the furniture gave the
appearance of belonging to the same floor, and the staircase
seemed in the act of doing a snake dance.
I asked this girl to draw a couple of bricks in perspective— one

above and the other below eye level. In a few minutes she had
a drawing showing both bricks in perfect perspective. It was
obvious that she had learned her lessons well. But when it came
to applying these rules to her creative work, she completely ig-
nored them. When I pointed this out to her, she said, "Oh, you
mean to draw the whole room in perspective?" and proceeded
to demonstrate that she knew how to do that, too. Every step
of the stairway and every stick of furniture was drawn in perfect
perspective. But it all had the stiffness of rigor mortis. Apparently
she still didn't get my point, for she could conceive of no happy
medium between the extremes of precise technical knowledge
and creative expression. Like so many other art students of her
generation, she was apparently influenced by erroneous ideas as
to the meaning of the word "creative" as applied to painting and
drawing. Art students who try to begin where van Gogh left off
frequently mistake the turbulence in his work for chaos. But
underlying van Gogh's turbulence there is solid structural order
such as can only come from a profound respect for the laws of
linear perspective.
And now for a brief review of the few things we have learned
about linear perspective:

1 AU parallel horizontal lines see7i in perspective tend to meet

at a pointon the horizon which we call the vanishing point.
The only time this does not happen is when you stand at a
point equidistant from both ends of any form having parallel
But since human eyes are not Hke those of a chicken,
lines.

which can see out of both sides of its head, the minute you
move your eyes to follow any lines that are parallel then you
must be guided by the laws of linear perspective.
2 Nature has given us the ability to see objects in three di-
mensions; consequently, we have to use at least two vanish-
ing points in order to achieve the sense of the third dimen-
sion. ( It is possible to have recourse to any number of van-
ishing points, as only objects in parallel rows have common
vanishing points. But again, for our purposes this is a need-
lessly involved study.

3 The laws of perspective dictate that all things of equal size

will increase or diminish in the appearance of their measure-
ments in proportion to their nearness or distance from the
viewer. Thus, the nearest corner of any parallel structure

132
 (such as a house) must be longer from bottom to top than
either of the farther corners. But since the sides of the canvas
(or paper) on wliich we work remain parallel, hence per-
spectivehj stationary, the movement of receding lines toward
their vanishing points will induce a sense of interior space in
pictures.

4 The vanishing points for horizontal lines alwaija occur on

the horizon, and the horizon is invariably at eye level, re-

gardless of one's position. Those things which require you to

look up in order to see them are above eye level, hence, ris-

ing abo\e the horizon. The reverse is which

true of things
require vour looking down upon you have
them. When
thoroughly learned to distinguish between these two you will
ha\e graduated from that class of beginners which draws
things that are above eye level as though they were looking
doicn upon them, or the other way around.

5 While it is possible in some cases to do so, it is usually best

not to have both vanishing points occur within the drawing
proper so as to avoid the compression of space in the compo-
sition that can result in perspectival distortion. Therefore,
whenever you have occasion to use linear perspective make
sure to keep one vanishing point on the drawing proper,
with the other somewhere outside the margin.

6 The panoramic scene is ordinarily too vast and complicated

for any practical use of linear perspective in its composition.
It may, however, be visualized in terms of the huge checker-

board that I have outlined. Any successful painting of a

panoramic scene must depend on the total unity of its con-
ception with regard to color, form, and rhythm. Here it is
well to remember the ma.xim: "Anything that doesn't help
your picture, hurts your picture." Consequently, you should
be careful to include only that which will make for a well
integrated composition.

7 It is not necessary to employ linear perspective in all your

composition. But wherever you are faced with the problem
of getting things in your painting or drawing to lie flat or
stand upright; or whether it is a question of things seen
either above or below eye level, you can work these things
out in separate practice drawings. For the rest, do not (as

in the case of the talented young art student) confuse free-

dom of expression with the abandonment of knowledge. For
knowledge something to keep in your back pocket for
is

every emergency. And you may be sure that there will be

many an occasion when you will be grateful to have this
knowledge.

133
25. marine painting

What is a seascape? To the average person it seems to mean a

view of choppy seas, with waves crashing against the rocks. It

is remarkable how this tired theme continues year after year to

impress the pubhc, and it is httle wonder that framing shops do

such a thriving business in the sale of this type of picture. The
people who part with their money for such pictures apparently
do so in the belief that they are purchasing works of art, but little
do they know that painters are hired to turn out these seascapes
by rote, to be sold everv spring and every fall at outdoor shows
and fairs all over the country. Truthfully, there is no more art to
this t\'pe of painting than there is to writing the "Lord's Prayer"

on the head of a pin, but it seems hard to convince most people

that this is so.

But what has all this to do with you? Very simply it has to do
with your attitude toward the painting of marine scenes. For, if
you are, or ever have been, inclined to admire this popular con-
ception of a seascape you may find yourself tempted to emulate
the shck brushwork that goes into the painting of such pictures.
Since few amateurs can put in the time to acquire the skill that
is necessary to bring this off successfully, any attempt in this di-

rection can at best turn out to look like a poor imitation of a trite
theme. But does this mean that you are to be denied the pleasure
of painting seaside scenes? Far from it! Provided you don't at-
tempt to imitate the seascape pro, you should be capable of
painting some very satisfactory pictures of this popular subject.
I have students who do it all the time. A good solid composition,

fresh and creative in the use of color, will more than compensate
for the absence of crashing waves and the like.

how should one approach the composition of a seaside scene?

A common mistake is to start the composition with the horizon.
It is, as I've said before, like trying to build your house from the
roof down, The thing to remember at all times is that one of

134
THE PRIMARY OBJECTIVES IN PICTUBE MAKING IS TO CREATE SPACE.
To achie\'e tliis, as you already know, it is necessary to begin your
composition at the bottom of the canvas. But one of the things
that puzzles many beginners is to know just how much of the
water thev should include in the composition. If this has ever
been your problem, here is a hint. Regardless of how viade an
expanse of sea (or river or lake) you may see before you, it is
best to include no more of it than is absolutely necessary to give
the picture seaside character. For the less water you show,
its

the less you are apt to miss the bag of tricks of the commercial
seascape painter.
Look around vou and see what you can find to provide your
composition with its initial spatial thrust. Wharves, docks, piers,
jetties, boats-there isno end of things capable of performing
this vital function, if vou remember the rule about the eye follow-
ing a form in the direction of its longest surface. And make sure
you don't stint on the number of objects you include in your pic-
ture, as these will serve to distract the viewer from any expecta-
tion of seeing evidence of watery turbulence. Your "view-finder"
( see Chapter 23 ) will help you to isolate a section of waterfront
containing most of the articles you need to gi\e your composi-
tion spatial mo\ement. But if you should happen to see these ob-
jects scattered over a wide area, don't feel under any compulsion
to duplicate the scene exactly as you find it. Greater artists than
you or I haven't hesitated to take liberty with reality wherever
necessarv. It is the success of the picture that counts most, not

the faithful reproduction of the actual scene.

But there is one thing I want to put you on your guard about.
Although you may have succeeded in getting a fine spatial thrust
in from one side of the canvas, there is always the danger, par-
ticularly when dealing with anything as volatile as a body of
water, of having the picture "spill out" from the other side. You
therefore have to contrive some means of containing the water.
In other words, avoid beginning your composition as though
there were no land or any other solid footing between you and
the sea. A strip of shore, seawall, or dock running at a slight

diagonal in from the bottom of the canvas will ser\e to keep the
water contained, and thus safeguard against your painting com-
ing to grief on this score alone.

the acliutl composition

We are now going to try an interesting experiment. Purely as an
exercise, we'll take the sample still life used in Chapter 6, and
see if we can't convert it into a seascape. You will recall that we
tried a somewhat similar experiment in Chapter 14, and the
object here again is to demonstrate how the fundamentals of
spatial composition are applicable to all t\'pes of painting, re-
gardless of the subject. Thus the first "L" that was originally
used for the forward edge of the table is here transformed into
a seawall and the magazine has been made into a wharf, with
the pipe becoming a dory tied alongside. The drape could repre-
.sent the wall of a boathouse jutting in from the right hand side,

J35
while the fruit bowl (minus its pedestal) easily assumes the
shape of a boat anchored a short distance offshore. The music
sheet, due to its slant, could represent the slope of some hills
enclosing the right hand side of a cove. And it doesn't require
too much imagination to recognize the possibilities of turning
the bottle into a lighthouse. As for the teapot, what with its
curved spout conveniently serving as a quaint stovepipe, can you
not visualize it as some sort of tumbledown fisherman's shack?
(See Fig. 45.)
These are of course all figments of my imagination, but the
range of possibifities along this line is unlmited. You can substi-
tute any number of objects that appeal to you as being suitable
for a scene of this kind. The important thing to bear in mind is,
that the scene must first of all be spatml before it can succeed as
a seascape, or landscape, or whatever. I chose the sample still-life

composition for this exercise, because we have seen how perfectly

spatial it is— but any other carefully thought out composition
would do as well. If you have other ideas on how to pursue this
experiment, then go to it. I think you should have a pretty good

idea by now as to the essential requirements in your approach.

I am satisfied that you should have seen how unnecessary it is to
try to copy the stunts of the professional seascape painter to
have an effective picture of this nature.

136
painting the seascape
painting of a sea-
Is there anv essential difference between the
I'm fre-
scape and any other type of picture? This is a question
so many
quently asked, largely due to the misconception that
painting.
people have about this particular subject as a theme for
in terms of color, as
It seems as if people conceive of a seascape,

gray; and when students are instiucted to start the painHng of

subject,
such a scene with bright colors, as they would any other
surprised-as the seascape were for some
they look a little if

reason exempt from the usual approach. The rules are

funda-
all painting, regardless of the subject.
Con-
mentally the same in
your
sequently, you don't start out by daubing gray paint on
just because your scene may happen to be
overcast, or
canvas
there preponderance of gray objects such as rocks, or weather-
is a
beaten one kind or another. Use as many grays as you
articles of

like, so long as you respect the rules. You begin

your painting
with your most vivid colors, rememberng to underpaint those
areas with warm colors which you intend eventually to
be cool,
"fat over
or the other way around. Also remember the rule about
lean." And bear in mind at all times that your first responsibility

is to paint an attractive picture. Muddy colors are expressive of

nothing but mud.

some important don'ts in painting seascapes

don't forget about keeping the heaviest colors and deepest
values in the lower third of the picture.
don't paste gobs of white over the surface of the canvas, in the
belief that this will produce the effect of crashing waves or
choppy seas.
don't forget to squint in order to check for values.
don't be misled by reflections you may see in the water. Unless
very adroitly handled, they tend to be too insistent for the good
of the picture as a whole. Remember, it isn't possible to paint
everything you see. Anything that doesn't help your picture,
hurts your picture.
don't attempt to reproduce the colors of weather-beaten ob-
jectsby mixing them on your palette, because the odds are very
great against your succeeding. If you underpaint with the com-
plementary of the color in question and then "scumble" over it,
you have a reasonable chance of approximating the desired hue.
In the case of white objects, try to remember the things you
learned about the painting of the white fence in Chapter 14, or
the white flowers in Chapter 12. This goes for houses, boats,
piers, etc. Don't take it for granted that because it is a white
object, it has to be painted white. Always check for values. Bear
in mind that a black object canbe lighter in the sunlight than a
white object in the shade.
don't use obvious colors such as ochre for sand, blue for sky,
green for water, etc. Be creative as well as observant about the
colors that actually exist in nature. Don't resort to cliches such
as brown for tree trunks, etc. In other words, don't have precon-
ceived notions about the colors in nature.

137
 don't give undue prominence to any one part of the scene at
the expense of the picture as a whole.
don't forget to turn your canvas upside down every once in a
while, so as to avoid the risk of having an unevenly developed
picture.
don't "drown" your vertical objects, as so many beginners tend
to do, by pushing your horizon too high up on the canvas. Such
things as trees, masts, etc. have to be given a chance to rise above
the level of the water. Here you can take a leaf from your exer-
cises in still-hfe composition, where you had to check the point
of intersection between the faredge of the table and the vertical
objects on it.

don't have your boats appear as though they were walking on

the water, as so often happens in the painting of beginners. Take
real notice of the height of the water line on the sides of boats.
Boats must have the appearance of being partly submerged, or
they will give your picture a comic look.
don't have all the boats in your scene face in the same direc-
tion—a sure way your picture to look monotonous. Make
to get
sure that the axis of each boat varies from that of its neighbor.
Thus, you will not only safeguard against monotony, but also
provide your picture with a more rhythmic use of space.
don't forget to check for the source of light and to maintain a
consistency in the angle of your light. You have to bear in mind
when working out-of-doors that the light shifts radically in the
space of a few hours (see Chapter 23). Also, wherever possible
avoid having your scene He between you and the source of light
—particularly when the sun is strong— for it will tend to "wash
out" the colors in your scene (this is not apt to be as much of a
factor in the late afternoon ) . And —
don't don't don't overpaint your picture in the attempt to make
itlook "realistic." You are not a camera, neither should you try to
imitate one. Paint your interpretation of the scene and keep it
fresh and colorful. That's enough of an assignment for any painter,
regardless of his experience.

138
 26. portrait painting

analysis of the construction of the head and

features
be the
Doing a portrait for the average beginner appears to
in art. To get a good likeness many
of them
supreme challenge
This is not inten-
are prepared to sacrifice the whole painting.
people believe
tional on their part, of course. Most inexperienced
that the abilitA- to capture resemblance in drawing,
and making
a good picture go hand-in-hand, that the ability to
do one presup-
poses the other.
years of
What they don't seem to realize is that it can take
perfect the skills necessary for clever
training and experience to

portraiture. So harnessed to this kind of duplication

can one's

talents in fact become, that it frequently precludes

the possibility

of general artistic growth.

When I was a young student I was brought by an enthusiastic
friend to the studio of a fashionable portrait painter.
The studio
was an artist's dream-it had everything. There I was, the poor
struggling art student, wondering, "How does one ever get to
live

like this?"
The portrait painter looked at samples of my somewhat crude but
por-
earnest early work, and then glanced over to a large polished
trait on his elaborate easel. He turned to me and
said, "Son, I'd
for me
give anything to be able to change places with you. But
there's no turning back. You can li\e well as a
portrait painter,

but you soon have to forget about art. You begin to make money,
and then you want to live in proportion to your earnings. You
keep on earning a lot to meet your increased living ex-
have to
penses. And you have to take on as many portrait commissions

as you can get.

"You concentrate on improving your skill in portraiture to
meet the requirements of more fashionable clientele. It becomes
a vicious circle in which you feel trapped because you don't
want
to go back to living in a cold loft.
"My ad\ice to you," he continued, "is to avoid any temptation to
become a portrait painter, or it uill be the end of you as an artist.

139
 Look at that," he said, pointing to his easel. "I can do a pretty
good portrait, but ask me to paint something creative and I'd be
a terrible flop."
I've never forgotten that visit. Needless to sav, I never became
a fashionable portrait artist.
There is a moral to this story, and it is not being related here
out of pure anecdotal interest. The moral is, simply, that the
majority of amateurs take up painting as a hobby because of the
love they feel for this kind of occupation. And yet, ironically
enough, so many of them will employ as a criterion of painting
ability the one quality that proved so destructive to the creative
life of the successful portrait painter.

how should the amateur approach the problem

of doing portraits?
However, the amateur does occasionally like to try his or her
hand at doing a portrait, and it is certainly not my intention to
imply that portraiture is ruled out for the amateur painter. After
having had a little experience in doing still-life and landscape
painting, it might be fun to try a portrait, even without the
assurance of immediate success. But the chances of success are
greater if this most important principle is borne in mind: the
PORTRAIT MUST FUNDAMENTALLY SUCCEED IN BEING A GOOD PICTURE,
before it can do so as a likeness to the subject.
For the amateur this is of paramount importance. The profes-
sional portrait painter gets by with many tricks of the brush that
are not within the scope of the amateur's experience and training.
Composition becomes of secondary concern to the professional
who generally relies on a few stock poses and arrange-
portraitist,
ments to give the illusion of space in his painting. But the ama-
teur has not this bag full of tricks to fall back on, and his picture
must stand on its own merits.
In order for the amateur's portrait to succeed, it must first com-
pose well. Likeness to the subject has to be subordinate to pic-
torial considerations, which is not to say that resemblance must
be ignored. Nothing of the kind! A portrait should be like the
person who posed for it— unless, of course, you are doing a purely
imaginative portrait.

how much photographic likeness is necessary

to a good portrait?
Now a likeness does not have to be entirely photographic to re-
semble the subject. For obvious reasons, if the average amateur
attempts to get photographic resemblance, this could produce
disheartening results. It doesn't really matter if the measure-
ments of limb or feature in the portrait and subject are not en-
tirely identical. It
is quite possible to produce a feeling that it is
a picture of the person who posed for it even if the portrait is dis-
torted a little here and there. In fact, some very great
have artists
deliberately distorted portraits they have done for the sake of an
artistic effect that photographic resemblance would not allow.

The best bet for the amateur is not to try to do a closeup por-

J40
 .

For the concentration on the many httle details seen at close

trait.

range is bound to be confusing and obstructi\e

to good results.

It would be better to get a more generalized \ iew

of the subject,

near enough to be able to study just those factors of resemblance

that will help make the picture look like a portrait of him.

understanding the structure of the head, neck, and shoulders

To do just the head of the subject would necessitate more of a
closeup view and, as I have said, makes the chances of the por-
trait succeeding more difficult. The very least the amateur should

undertake in a portrait is a study including part of the torso. For

thisreason we will proceed here to examine the makeup of the
head, neck and shoulders, and the interrelation of these separate
anatomical entities.

We begin first with the head and ask ourselves what would be
its visual "common denominator." Here we encounter a new
form, which is an expansion of the sphere— and that is
in effect

the "ovoid," or egg-shape. This is the essential shape of the

human head. It may be argued that human heads vary a great
deal, and to call them all eggshaped could be incorrect. For that
matter, so do eggs vary— some are narrower, and others broader.
The point is that the most generalized shape of the human head
most closely resembles that of the egg. ( Fig. 46A )
Now, you will notice that I don't say anything yet about fea-
tures. To return to my favorite analogy of house building: to
think of resemblance to the subject in terms of features at this
point of your portrait study is like thinking of your drapes before
you have put down the foundation. Many beginners get disap-
pointing resultsin portraiture because they get busy right away

in trying to draw the eyes, mouth, and nose the way they see
them, not realizing how impossible it is for them to succeed with
this approach.

seeing the head first as a volume

The most important thing for the painter to realize is that funda-
mentally the head a volume, and that the features can only suc-
is

ceed in seeming real if they are made to appear as part of that

volume. So many beginners draw the eyes of a person as if they
were seen in flat alignment to each other— without any sense of
them rounding with the head. If you put your hand flat against
your face, with the middle of the palm touching your nose, and
then slide your hand around to one ear and then back toward the
other ear, you will realize how sharply the face falls away from
the forward position of the nose. And the eyes turn away from
the nose in precisely the same angle.
To carry the examination of your own face a step further: If
you were to put your hand flat against your ear and slide it around
to the back of your head you would see that, with the exception
of tlie protuberance of your nose, the head rounds pretty much
the same way from the front of your face to the ear, as from the
ear to the back of your head. And this is more or less the way,
46 e
moving laterally around it. the egg turns.

141
 )

47a YOUNG GIRL WITH DAISIES by Pierre

Augusta Renoir. Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum
of Art. Purchase, Mr. and Mrs. Henry Ittleson, Jr.,
Fund, 1959

47 b

Once you realize this you will know how to go about placing
the eyes and ears, as well as the other features, in their proper
position in the ovoid structure of the head. And you will not run
the risk of painting them in a flat and unreal-looking way.
Now, just as the head turns laterally ( or sideways ) in an egg-
likeway, so does it turn longitudinally (or lengthwise) like the
egg, from crown to chin. That being the case, the mouth and
chin will not be in flat longitudinal alignment with the forehead,
eyes and nose, but will turn downward toward the chin, in a
gradual recession from the forward position of the nose. Simi-
larly, the head will turn, running backward from the crown, till

it reaches down to the nape of the neck. ( Fig. 46B

how the head is balanced on the neck

Here we come to an interesting thing that so many people fail

to realize— the head is not balanced vertically on the neck, but

diagonally ( see Fig. 47 ) . You only have to put one hand on your
chin and the other hand on the crown of your head to realize this.

For then you will see that the column of the neck runs at an angle
to it. ( You will notice that I called the neck a column, for that is

precisely what it is— a cylindrical column. ) If you pull your chin

142
in to try to get the head and neck in vertical alignment, you will
see what it is to keep it that way, and yet that is
a physical strain
how the uneniightcned amateur tends to \isualize the position of
the neck in relation to the head.
One of the reasons tlic beginner has tills difficulty is because
he looks at his subject frontally, so that the "axis" of both the head
and neck appear to be running straight up and down, or verti-
cally. Even for the professional painter, the completely frontal
view is more difficult. It calls upon tlic greatest fund of experi-
ence and skill to create the suggestion, from the frontal view, of
the full roundness of the head, so that, in his mind's eye, the
viewer can reach around and feel the back of the portrait head.
To the amateur, there is no advantage in painting a portrait
from the frontal view— it is only asking for trouble to try doing it
that wav. More or less the same difficult^' uoukl be encountered
in trying todo a portrait in profile, for it takes the greatest amount
of skill tokeep it from being flat. The best bet is to approach the
portrait from a three-quarter view; tliis way it has the greatest
likelihood of succeeding, and also of being esthetically satisfying
(see Fig. 48).
But before vou rush to paint a portrait, it is advisable that you
do a few exercises so that you will understand some of the things
it is vital for you to know. For, regardless at whicli angle you

are going to view your subject, you wouldn't want him to sit rig-
idly in his seat— e\ en assuming that he could hold such a position
verv long. Such a situation would only be rough on your subject
and make the portrait look very stiff. No, you would want him to
be relaxed; and, in order for him to be so his head would be in-
clined to lean a little to one side or the other.

some of the things you should understand

in posing your subject
Here you must establish something \er\' clearly in your mind.
As soon as the head leans to one side, its vertical axis shifts. You
must always see the imaginary line, or axis, running from the
crown to the chin, and any restless shifting of your subject is
bound to alter the angle of that axis. If you don't watch out for
this you're going to run into trouble. To safeguard against this
you must do two things:
FIRST, in posing your subject, line up his head with the handle
of your brush so that the angle of the brush is exactly the same
tilt as vou perceive the vertical axis of his head to be. Call your

subject's attention to this alignment and explain to him why you

are doing it— that if the angle of his head shifts from the position
you have established for him, this will throw the whole portrait
off. By making him conscious of that angle, you will make it

easier for him to keep it although it may be necessary to 'line him

up" several times during the course of the sitting.
SECONDLY, you must give your subject frequent rest periods so
as to a\'oid overtaxing him. If you are neglectful about this, there
is the danger of his falling asleep or becoming so uncomfortable

as to lose interest in the whole project,

143
 .

how to help your subject relax

I know how easy it is to get so absorbed in your work as to for-

get about the comfort of your subject. For this reason it is a good
idea to place a clock within his view so that he can time himself.
For the nonprofessional model, I would advise ten- to fifteen-
minute periods of posing, with five- to ten-minute breaks in

between.
After you have posed your subject the like, you must way you
consider the position of his eyes— whether you want him to look
straight at you or away from you. If away, then ask him to pick
some point or object in the direction you want him to look. When-
ever you will be working on painting the eyes, ask him to fix his
eyes on the chosen spot. For the rest, let his gaze rove at will,

just so long as he doesn't shift the established angle of his head.

All of these things make it possible for your subject to relax, which
will be in the better interest of your painting.
Also,you are not too self-conscious about it, you might place
if

a large mirror behind you so that he can watch you as you paint.
This will certainly keep him interested, and there is little danger
of him going to sleep on you. You might also try to keep him
engaged in conversation, if it is not too distracting to you. And if
you employ the mirror behind you, let him freely comment on
the progress of the portrait. You will be surprised how helpful it
can be to avail yourself of an objective view of work while it is
in progress.

at what height should you pose your subject?

You will have to take into account the factor of elevation,
whether you will be viewing the head of your subject from above,
below, or straight on. It is very important that you understand
the difference to your portrait of these respective positions.
Whereas earlier we we must
investigated longitudinal factors,
now examine the portrait from the point of view of latitude.
From your schoolday geography lessons you may remember
that the earth is divided into lines of longitude and latitude, as
an aid, among Somewhat as an aid
other things, to navigation.
to the "navigation" of the human head we divide it also up into
lines of longitude and latitude, if we don't want some of the
features to be drifting off course, so to speak. Otherwise you may
find that an ear is floating out of its anatomical position in your
portrait.
Now, in the matter of elevation— whether you will be looking
at your subject at eye level, from above, or from below, the lati-
tudinal lines will be affected in three different ways. First let us
identify these lines. There willbe three of them, dividing the
head into four equal sections. One will be the hairline, separating
the forehead from the area of the skull receding to the crovwi.
Another is and the section com-
the browline, dividing forehead
prising eyes, cheekbones and nose. And the third will be the
noseline, defining the boundary of the area between the tip of the
nose and the chin ( see Fig. 46C )

Using your forefinger and thumb as a gauge, if you measure

144
 .

the other latitudinal

the length of your nose and compare it to
or less equal
subdivisions you will notice that they are all more
size. You must bear in mind, however,
that there are excep-
in
tions to every rule-as some people have longer foreheads, noses,
first approach the problem from
the
chins, or ears. But you must
of view, and attend to matters of specific
more general point
difference as each case demands.
the subject's eyes le\el with yours the por-
Seen at eye level ( )

trait, as in the case of the frontal view,

will be most difficult to

do. And unless you are doing a portrait of your

subject in a

standing position, there is very little point in posing him

so that

you will ha\c to be looking up at him. The easiest and most satis-
ifying position is for the subject to be seen slightly
from above;
a high
the subject is seated, with the painter standing or sitting on
stool.
But let us examine the head as viewed from all three positions
and see what we can learn about the difference in each position.
At eye level the eves would be just about at the "equator" (as
long as we are being so geographical about our study) with the
hairline and noseline each cur\ing slightly away from that equa-

tor. But when seen from above, all the lines will curve more or less

uniformly in a slightly downward dip. When seen from below the

lines are reversed, and in this case they bend upward (see Fig.

46D).

hotv to determine the position of features in the face

The parallel curve of these lines makes it possible for us to fix
the position of the ears, so that they appear in their logical place
in the head. For if you use the gauge of thumb and forefinger
and glide sideways around your head, you will see that your
it

it. If you bend your head down your ears

ears fit right into will

be higher than your nose, in which case your "gauge" will curve
upward to meet the ears. But if you face upward then the ears
will be lower than the nose and your gauge will curve downward
(see Fig. 46E). It may be a good idea for you to practice these
things in front of a mirror so that you can see exactly how they
occur.

why certain features come foruard and others recede, and

how to go about showing it
Once you have grasped the "geographic" factors determining
the arrangement of the features, it is important that you learn
something about the "sculptural" factors-that is to say, why
some features protrude and others arc recessed, and the whys and
wherefores of each. The nose is obviously the most protuberant
of facial features. Ears also protrude, as does the mouth ( which
you may be surprised to discover) in a somewhat less obvious
way. The most recessed part of the face are the eye sockets ( and
notice that I do not refer to the eyes here, but to their sockets )

Unless \()u appreciate the significance of this distinction in the

pictorial construction of the head you will never be able to paint
the eyes con\incinglv. Your portrait has to communicate the feel-

145
 Sidney Bernstein

ing of the depth of the cavities in which the eyes are set, other-
wise they will appear in unnatural relationship to the face as a
whole. Again, some persons' eye sockets are more recessed than
others. Each particular case will require its own kind of adjust-
ment. But regardless of the degree, the eyes must appear to be
peering out, as it were, from the overhanging ledge of the
forehead.
To a lesser or greater degree, there will occur facial depres-
sions at the temples, under the cheekbones, and directly under
the mouth. The value to you of acquainting yourself with the
principles involved in the "sculptural" evaluation of the features
of your subject will become apparent once you start running into
snags in the portrait.
You must remember at all times that you are painting on a flat
surface,and to communicate the impression that certain features
come forward, and others stay back, is governed by very definite
laws of facial construction. In order that you may better famil-
iarize yourself with the way these laws operate it is advisable
that you get out your charcoal and apply what you have learned
in the use of the three values in constructing the human head and
49 a its facial features.
Now not be easy at first, and the hkelihood is
this exercise will
that it be some time before you are able to get things exactly
will
right. But you must remember that it is only an exercise, not a
test of any kind, and its value lies in what it enables you to learn
about the human head.
Don't fuss or strain over this exercise, and do as many different
charcoal studies as you are able to do without getting bored
with it. Use your kneaded eraser liberally, but if your paper gets
messy from too much erasure then start all over again. You will
learn more with each try. For this exercise you can again use
your newsprint pad. Since these are fairly cheap, you can feel
quite free about the amount of paper you waste in the process
49 b
of doing this exercise.
Bear in mind that no subtle shading or tonal nuances are of
any value in this exercise. You will learn nothing at all if you try
to shade, but only achieve the most superficial appearance of a
face. The sole object of the exercise is that you may learn the
things that are vital for you to know as preparation for doing a
portrait, and not to make finished looking drawings. For this exer-
cise you must use flat planes of the three values, indicating by the
darkness or lightness of each value, which forms emerge toward
the light, and which will recede.
The plaster-cast studio head photographed here (see Fig. 49)
has features completely devoid of all personality. It shows the
essential "planar" construction of human features in a way that
is ideally suited for study purposes. You are able to study
the
makeup of this head and its features without any concern about
capturing likeness. Nor does it matter how much the subject of
your intended portrait differs from the overall shape and char-
acter of this plaster head. But what you learn in the course of
doing it will make it easier foryou to paint the portrait you
have in mind.

146
head, neck and shoulders of the portrait
pre\i-
Forgetting ffutiires for tlie moment, let us return to tlie
whole.
ously mentioned 'o\()id," or egg shape, of the head as a
in this form by
It is easier for you to get the feeling of roundness

means of \alues, than in the sphere. Its longer shape calls for
treating it some\\hat as a cross between the sphere and
the

(see Fig. 46). Since this form is wider toward the top
than
cone
at the bottom, the \alues should correspond in width so
as to be
proportional to the widening or narrowing of its contour.
But since it is balanced diagonally on the cylindrical column
of the neck, the values of both these forms will be running
in

contrasting directions. For the diagonal tilt of the head will cause
its \alues to follow the direction of its a.xis, whereas the \alues
of the neck follow the vertical axis of that form.
Now wemust consider how to represent the shoulders and
upper or chest. There is considerable variance in the
torso,
shoulder and chest formation in all people, as well as between
the sexes. The masculine frame is generally broader across the
shoulders and narrower at the hips, and with women it is usually
the reverse. But the nature of the rib cage is such as to give that 49 c

part of the body a sort of barrel-like appearance. Being wider

across the shoulders and tapering toward the hips it operates,
for the purposes of somewhat as a flattened cone.
this study,

Now you may say to yourself: "Why do I have to bother to

learn all this business about shoulders and chest, when all I
want to do is to paint a portrait?" You may think that the vaguest
suggestion of a collar and tie, and a bit of suiting, would be ade-
quate to represent the section of the portrait below the head, so
why fuss about it. But if you are not careful about this, what-
e\er clothing vou try to paint will not have the feeling of any life
underneath and vour portrait, however well painted, will look
it;

like that of adisembodied head. Mind you, I don't talk about

49 d
anatomy here, and am not trying to clutter your head with the
names of muscles and bones. I only try to make you conscious of
simple geometric forms that will help you construct a believable
human portrait.
So to return to our studv, we still ha\e to account for the
shoulders. These are rather knobby, as you can tell by grasping
one of your own shoulders in the palm of your hand. Keeping
your grip on that shoulder, stretch your arm up toward the ceil-
ing and then drop it down again. You will see how independently
it operates from the rest of the torso. The simplest representation

of the shoulder, then, would be the sphere.

The arms, as vou have guessed, are cylindrical. How important
the arms will be in vour portrait will be determined by how much
of them you want to show— whether folded, or hanging straight
down, or whatever. You will have to be the judge of that, just
so long as n'ou don't make them look like sticks of wood.

relative proportions of head and shoulders

.\propos of this, it might be well to remind vou of an earlier
injunction to check the rclati\c proportions of vour forms. Don't

147
paint a gargantuan head on pigmy shoulders, or vice-versa. Nor,
as I have should you strive for exact proportions. Relative
said,
proportions are all that will be necessary. And if you are going
to distort, always try to do so in the interest of the overall design
of your painting. Absolute fidelity to your subject will not matter
half so much as faithfulness to the idea that a painting, regard-
less of the subject, is fundamentally judged in terms of design
and color.
Observe how in most of the portrait illustrations here the
shoulder line does not cut straight across the bottom of the pic-
ture (a sure way of getting stiffness in the portrait) but by push-
ing in diagonally past the column of the neck it helps to create
a feeling of space around that form.
Notice also that it does not occur across the center, another
way of making the picture static, but moves into the picture from
the lower right-hand side. As you can see, the problem is not

only how to construct the head, neck and shoulders so as to make

them seem real, but also how to place them in the picture so that
the portrait composes well.
I must remind you of what you learned in some of the
also
earlier exercises— thatis, about drawing your portrait so small so

as to leave vast areas of negative space on the canvas. Nor, on

the other hand, should you draw it so large as to make it appear
crowded in the canvas. Don't become so absorbed with the paint-
ing of your subject as to lose sight of the importance of the rest
of the picture. Perhaps you will want to include either part of a
drape, the corner of a table, or part of the chair on which your
subject is sitting. Try to be conscious at all times of the value
of good design in everything that goes into your picture. It will
draw away some of the emphasis on the subject and compensate
for some of the flaws in the painting that are likely to occur, and
make the picture as a whole more attractive.
We now return to the head itself and the "plastic," or sculptural
formation of its features. It is necessary again, as in our previous
charcoal exercises, to establish the source of light. Obviously the
darkest values will represent the most recessed areas, and those
farthestaway from the light.
Observe how much more of "cubic" construction there is in the
face than you might have guessed (see Fig. 48). The nose is
not unlike one corner of a cube jutting out from the front of the
face; and how essentially boxlike are the forehead and temples.
Even the mouth is first built up with planes somewhat in the

nature of a cube, before the separation of the lips is considered.

Softness and fleshiness of the lips must be left for the painting.
The eye sockets, too, must be "excavated" by the use of planes
of the three values, to make room for the eyeballs to set com-
fortably (like an egg in its nest) inside them. It won't be neces-
sary for you to go through all these stages in the construction of
the features in the painting of the portrait itself. But if you study
them with charcoal first, you will understand why certain things
happen in the face of your portrait subject and will be able to
eliminate so much of the confusion that you are likely to encounter
in the course of the painting.

148
the actual painting of the portrait
After you have done several of the cliarcoal exercises you may
feel encouraged to undertake tlie actual painting of your por-
trait. Now that you've learned some of the essentials in the con-
struction of the human head, neck and shoulders, the problem is

how to relate tliis know ledge to the creation of a likeness of your

subject.
It for you first to do a few rough
might not be a bad idea
practice sketches of him in charcoal on the newsprint pad. This
will loosen you up. Never mind how inaccurate they may seem at
first. Make a number of them, and do them quickly. Use the flat

of the charcoal for rapid massing of \'our values.

Don't draw the whole ovoid shape of the head, or cylinder for
the neck, etc. See how freely you can do these quick sketches,
using a long flowing line here, and a massing of dark or half dark
there. Any attempt at freedom in your drawing may seem more
like anarchv at first. The paper and charcoal are cheap, and if
your subject is willing to sit, just let loose. The object is to get
you away from too much preoccupation with rigid adherence
to severe geometric form.
Wlien you feel that you have done enough of these you can
proceed to the composition of your portrait with charcoal on
the canvas. It won't be necessary to make an elaborate drawing;
just a simple outline of as much you are going
of your subject as
to include, and whatever other objects go into the picture.
will
Either use a fixatif spra\', or dust vour drawing; and the next step
is to paint.

the use of color in the portrait

Begin your portrait with washes of clean, bright color.
to paint
Don't start with dark, murky colors just because you see
to paint
dark shadows in the face or hair of your subject. His hair may be
black, but that doesn't mean that you have to smear black paint
over that area of his head. Not at all. If you look closely at black
hair you will see that it is not uniformly black all over, that it can
take on deep hues of purple in the shadows and many different
kinds of bluish glints in the light. A wash of bright blue might,
therefore, do for the hair.
A
burnt orange would do for the face and neck— an orange of
cadmium red and yellow might be too hot— and whatever colors
you choose for other parts of the picture will have to be de-
termined by what you see before you. Try to keep your colors
harmonious and strong. And don't anticipate the later stages of
the painting. When you have gotten all of the surfaces of the
canvas covered with color it will be time for you to concern your-
self with problems of flesh tones, local color, etc.

Remember that highlights come last, but that you can at this
point of the painting begin to brush in planes of color, represent-
ing the darker or recessed passages, isolating the light areas of
the portrait, as it were. It will be helpful for you to recall a
valuable principle at this stage of your painting experience, and
that is generally to paint with cool color over warm, and with

149
warm color over cool. Consequently shadow passages painted
over warm orange can be grayish-violet in hue, etc.
Another thing you should know about the painting of your
portrait is that the overall key of the painting should be lower
than would be the case in landscape painting. The bright outdoor
light requires a higher color key— which means a greater amount
of white mixed with your But indoors, and especially in
color.
the case of portrait painting, the lower key is advisable.
Don't let yourself get confused by the bright lights that you see
bouncing off the face of your subject. Before long you will be
tempted to add more and more white to your pigment and the
key of your color will become entirely too high for the good
of the painting, and is apt to get chalky looking as a result.
If you are in doubt about this and feel impelled to load your
pigment with white to correspond to the light you think you see
in the face of your subject, then here is what you can do. Mix the
color you think would be right, then pick some of it up on your
brush. Walk over your subject and hold it against his face
to
and you can which is lighter. Chances are that you will
easily see
find the color you have mixed several shades lighter than the
skin tones of your subject.

Try as much mix as little white into

as possible, therefore, to
your flesh tones asyou can. Combinations of yellow and red,
with touches of white in their mixture, will give you flesh colors.
It might do to mix several little batches of different flesh hues
beforehand; some cooler, where alizarin is part of the mixture,
and others warmer, in cases where red is added.
Your palette will require the addition of a few new tubes of
color (see Chapter 22). These will be zinc yellow, cobalt blue,
and Indian red. The zinc yellow is less hot than cadmium and
will be required for the lower intensity of portrait coloring.
Whitened cobalt ( cobalt being a softer and less intense blue than
ultramarine) lightly brushed over yellowish white in a few of
the lighter areas will take care of all of the bounce of light you
see in your subject's face. Remember not to paint thickly, other-
wise your painting will get pasty. Keep your color thin, but of
sufficient consistency to give it body.
The third new color will be Indian red. This will help you
get some of the softer nuances of violet-red, or red-gray that
are so useful in painting the parts of the face that are apt to be
tinged by the healthy glow of the natural complexion, and even
a touch here and there for the painting of the hair.
As for the clothing your subject is wearing, you will have to

judge how approach the painting of it, based on what you have
to
learned about the painting of cloth in your still life and flower
studies. Don't rush into getting what you perceive to be the final
color. Notice the way it drapes itself around the shoulders or neck;
what part of it comes to light, and what part recedes, and paint
it accordingly, laying it in with flat planes at first.

A few lines may be necessary for accent here and there in

the portrait. Don't hesitate to put them in wherever you feel they
will help the picture; and take them out, if after reflection, they

150
seem excessive to you. Such accents might seem in pUice under
the nose or chin, on the ears or eyebrows, or on the head by
the delineation of a lock of hair, etc.
Whatever you do, don't start putting in black lines all over your
portrait. Bluish or violet, or even green or deep red lines will
not obtrude and yet provide the desired accent.
As for the rest, you are on your own. You must expect to make
many mistakes and get better as you go along. Think always of
painting as a pleasurable experience, and never as a chore of
any kind. The results will certainly reflect the attitude you adopt.

addenda
A Modem Painter's Approach to Portraiture. I am including ex-
amples of portrait work by four modem artists so that you can
see how, though conceived and executed in the modern manner,
each of them can be analyzed along the classical lines of portrait
construction. Again these are not shown here as examples for the
beginner to emulate, as each painting clearly differs from the
other in terms of style and form of expression. Nevertheless, it is
interesting, as well as instructive, to see how even modern painters
like Dufy and Rouault do not depart very radically from the
classical mold in their portraiture (see Figs. 50, 51, 52, 53).

50a LOISETTE by Roland Oudot Collection, Museum of Modern Art, New York.

Gift of A. Conger Goodyear

50 b
51a SELF-PORTRAIT by Oskar Kokoschka.
Collection of the Museum of Modern Art, New York

52a THE POET FRANCOIS BERTHAULT by Raoul Dufy. Collection,

Museum of Modern Art, New York. Q\H of Mr. and Mrs. Peter A. Rubel
 53 b

53a SELF-PORTRAIT (1929) by Georges Rouault.

Collection, Museum of Modern Art, New York

52 b
 27. drawing the human figure

One seldom hears of the study of anatomy in art schools these

days, andwas rather surprised recently to hear a student ask
I

why I didn't give her instruction in that subject. It seems she had
been reading some letters of van Gogh in which he stressed the
importance of anatomy, but she apparently didn't realize that he
was referring to the career artist and not the amateur painter. For
the study of anything as complex as human anatomy is obviously
a full time job. But this doesn't mean that amateurs cannot learn
to draw the human figure effectively. While it may be true that
the knowledge of anatomy is useful to the professional artist al- (

though there are some who dispute it) it is by no means essential.

It may not be a far fetched analogy to point out that one need
not know how to take a car apart in order to be able to drive it.
More important than anatomy is the ability to render in plastic
terms the essential function of the figure. In other words, an
anatomical drawing can be as rigid as a cadaver, while a drawing
in which there is no concern for anatomical detail may suggest
a figure in space. This is what meant by the use of the word
is

"plastic." And this is precisely what we are going to concentrate

on in this lesson, for it has been my observation that, almost

without exception, the first thing beginners look for is the contour
(or outline) of the form. This concentration on contour is the
thing which presents the greatest obstacle to any kind of drawing,
particularly thedrawing of the human figure. When the untrained
person concentrates on outline, he ends up with something as
flat as a gingerbread and tries to compensate for this by use of

"shading," in the mistaken belief that this is what it needs to

give it form. But unless the drawing is spatially conceived no
amount of shading will ever give it convincing form.

what should be the first thing to look for in the drawing

of the human figure
The very first thing that one has to train himself to look for is
the "action" of the figure. This action has no bearing whatever
54 on outline. The trained artist knows this and that is why he

154
 lines, to describe
immediatelv proceeds, bv means of one or Uvo
before even giving a thought to the
this "action" of the figure
his drawing its stiong
shape of his subject. It is this that gixes
popularly
lifelikeappearance, not the tricky shading that is
thought to be proof of artistic ability. When he finally does intro-

the effect can be so

duce values (shading) into his drawing,
real. For shading
sculptural as to make it appear photographically
the basic in-
is merely the dressing-if you will-that covers
the drawing. If he wanted to, the competent artist
gredients of
shading whatsover
could render lifelike figures without using any
(see Fig. 54). The question arises, how does
one arrive at this
"action" of the figure?

learning to draw from the manikin

spatial
As have said, one must first conceive of the figure in
I
actual figure and
terms. For this we temporarily take leave of the
for the study
turn to one of the most valuable props ever devised
of what we observe
of the human form-the manikin. On the basis
arrive at an under-
in the manikin, we have an opportunity to
standing of its spatial function, such as we never get
from the
figure itself. The manikin is so constructed as to
hinder any
li\e
attempt to follow its outline, for it is broken up into separate
sections which rotate on swivel-like joints. Thus, it can be twisted
into almost every conceivable position or pose of the human
model (see Fig. 55). This permits us to see exactly what happens
when the body is twisted this way or that-a far more difficult
flesh. Once
thing where there is concealment of the movement by
we have learned to distinguish between the respective functions
of these anatomical aggregates, we are in a position to approach
the drawing of the human figure with some hope of success.

the visual denominators as applied to the human figure

We begin by translating each of the anatomical units (head, chest,

etc.) interms of our four visual denominators. Now you may say,
looking at the manikin, that (strictly speaking), there are no
cones, cylinders, spheres, or cubes visible. Superficially this is
true, but only because the manikin has been designed to give
it

some semblance of human appearance. But it doesn't take too

much imagination to identify these units by one or another of the
visual denominators. Thus-legs, thighs, and arms can be seen as
being more or less cijlinclrical. The pelvic girdle, for all its
rounded corners, is fundamentally cubic. The torso (or chest
region) is a .somewhat flattened, truncated cone (see Fig. 56).
And the head (see Chapter 26) is clearly ovoid (eggshaped),
or an elongated sphere. You will notice that the neck is repre-
sented by one of the swivel-like joints, and the same is true of
the waist. But as these are the main points of rotation for the
body, there is no need to have either of these connective features
represented in the structure of the manikin. And as for the ex-
tremities, there was plainly no thought given to such things as
fingers or toes. In short, both hands and feet have to be visualized
56
as being essentially cubic.

155
 .

how we determine the spatial function of each of these units

The human figure is, more than any other vertebrate, a compli-
cated system of balancing and counterbalancing forms. There-
fore, before we proceed to the representation of the figure
itself, we are first going to see what we can accomplish in the way
of a balanced stance by means of a few straight lines, each repre-
senting the axis of one of the anatomical units in the manikin. You
will recall that in our exercises in landscape composition we were
able to achieve space on a flat surface merely by juxtaposing a
series of straight lines of certain length. Using somewhat the
same approach we find it of a coordinated
possible, by means
system of these "axes," to create a skeletal pose suggestive of a
figure in space ( see Fig. 57 ) It is really very easy, once you get
.

the hang of But this is only possible when you understand a

it.

few vital facts about your own body.

When the body is relaxed it automatically assumes positions
that necessitate the shifting of weights for balance. Consequently,
wherever there is any stress on one side there is a corresponding
slackening in its opposite member. For example,
the weight when
is on one foot the other is relaxed. But should the weight shift
to that foot, then the whole pelvic unit shifts so that its axis
runs diametrically opposite to its original position (see Fig. 58).
You can easily see this for yourself simply by standing in front of
a mirror. Tie a string across your hips, and you can't help noticing
the way the string slants in a different direction each time you
shift your weight from one foot to the other.
But this shifting of the axes is not confined to the lower part
of the body, for the axis of the torso automatically shifts its
direction so that it slants at an angle opposite to that of the pelvis.
The correct approach to the drawing of the human figure is, in
reality,nothing more than the perception of the interrelation of
these axes, for it is entirely on the basis of this perception that
we determine the action of the figure. However, I think this will
become even clearer to you if, instead of using just these axes,
we resort to the use of planes to demonstrate how space is made
to circulate around the For the time being, we will dis-
figure.
pense with the representation of legs and thighs as separate
entities, and temporarily connect them at their joints so that each
pair of limbs is seen as one unit. Thus, the lines joining both
ankles and both knees become the top and bottom ends of a "leg
plane." Similarly, the lines joining the knees and the thigh joints
automatically become the opposite ends of the "thigh plane." We
then abstract the frontal plane of the pelvic cube and do the same
with the torso and the head ( see Fig. 59 )
Observe how the figure, when represented in this fashion, seems
to twistupward from the ground like a spirafing staircase. Start-
ing with the line which joins the ankles, the eye has swung half-
way around the figure all the way up to the head plane. What
really accounts for this is that unwittingly the eye has been
made to skip from plane to plane until it has completed this semi-
circuit of the figure. What is remarkable is the fact that all this
was accomplished without the help of a single anatomical feature.

156
When you consider what can be done with just a few planes, you
can imagine what the possibihties are for creating hfehke form
merely by the addition of a few physical characteristics. But we're
not ready for that yet. We have still to attain our primary object
of learning how to state the "action" of the figure, of which I
spoke As you have probably guessed, the problem is to
earlier.

try to delineate by means of "plastic" lines the spiraling twist of

the figure as it mounts into space. Contrary to our general prac-
tice, we are going to start the movement of our lines, not from

the bottom (or feet), but from the head.' We're going to try to
give our lines a sweeping movement from crown to toe. These
lines will have nothing whatever to do with contour but, as you
will see, go right through the figure (see Fig. 60, 61).
Now for our exercise. It is going to take a lot of practice for you

to be able to get it right. But this practice can also prove to be fun if
60 a
vou approach it with the right spirit. In other words, again
tliink of it as a challenge and not a chore. For this exercise you
ha\e the option of either using your newsprint pad, or, if you
want to be really economical, you can save your Sunday papers
and draw right on them. This may strike you as a very novel idea,
but there is certainly nothing new about it. It has a number of ad-
vantages; one being the greater amount of freedom that it can
induce, for you can tear up as many of your false starts without
any concern for expense, until you feel that you are beginning
tomake headway. The print of the newspaper tends to eliminate
some of the "shock" of the blank white drawing paper that so
often has an inhibiting effect on beginners. It can also provide
"Begin the anatomy at the head, and
'
finish it at the soles of the feet."

Leonardo da Vinci)

60 b

61b 61c
61 a
 —

your drawing with a rather handsome textured background ( see

Fig. 62). You tack a wad of these old newspapers on a board
which you stand on an easel. The medium you use is black oil
paint thinned with turpentine. And, with brush in hand, you are
ready to begin.

the importance of freedom in draiving

This cannot be stressed enough. It is tlic object of these exercises
to help vou gain a sweeping grasp of the action of the figure,
consequently vou are to ignore all things having no bearing on
our present project —contour, or shading, or physical character-
istics ofany kind. In short, we want the action of the figure, and
nothing else. If you can get someone to pose for you, fine. Or if
vou can get a manikin, so much tlie better. But none of these are
really essential, for all vou really need is a good sized mirror.
You can use yourself as a model, as many artists have done. Either
by standing, sitting or lying in front of the mirror in \'arious posi-
tions you have an opportunity, free of all self-consciousness to
record what vou determine to be the "action" of your pose.
Now, vou will obser\'e that the action of the figure gets its
firstimpulse at a point somewhere below the head. It begins by
swinging around the head, somewhat as a point of departure
not unlike the way a pitcher starts his wind-up before letting go
of the ball. Sometimes this "wind-up" starts at a point under the
chin, swinging up over the skull and then coming around and
throu<ih the figure, twisting in such a way as to capture the spiral-
ing effect of tlie figure (if it is it mounts into space.
standing) as
At other times— depending on one's vantage— this wind-up com-
mences at the back of the head, just under the skull, and swings
around in the opposite direction. In a reclining pose it may start
just under the ear, either on one side or the other— again depend-
ing on the particular position. But if the figure happens to be
lying either on its stomach or its back, then the wind-up reverts
to that which we use for the upright figure.
All this mav seem a little complicated to \'ou at first, and vour
first attempts are almost certain to be awkward. But if you've

ever played golf or tennis you will undoubtedlv remember how

difficult at first it was for you to get used to the proper grip and
swing of the racquet or club, but how after a while it seemed the
most natural thing in the world for you to do it correctly. If you
apply this same psychology to your art studies the results are
sure to come.

proportions in the human figure

This is something else that seemsto plague man\- beginners. As
I have said before, exact proportions are not essential to art.
Many of the world's greatest painters ha\e deliberately distorted
their figures for creative effect. You have only to look at the
masterpieces of El Greco to see what I mean. Even Ingres, one
of the most classical painters of all time, deliberately added extra
vertebrae to the figure of his famous "Odalisque" (see Fig. 63).
Thus, there is no reason for beginners to be concerned about

7.5.9
63a ODALISQUE EN GRISAILLE by Jean Augusts Dominique Ingres. Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Wolf
Fund, 1938

questions of accurate proportions. But it is a fact that many be-

ginners are concerned about and this stems mainly from the
it,

general misunderstanding that most people have about correct

proportions in the human figure.

To begin few generahzations relating to pro-

with, there are a
portions in the human which every student of painting
figure
should of these is that the adult figure can be
know. The first
divided roughly into eight heads (inclusive). This is a broad
generalization, to be sure, as there are innumerable cases which
appear to contradict it. The heads of some persons seem overly
large in proportion to their bodies, while others' seem too small.
But these are the exceptions rather than the rule. Regardless of
how much the figure you are drawing departs from the rule, it is
well to remember that the average grownup measures about eight
times the size of his head, from crown to heel.

proportions in children
You may have noticed that twice I referred to the adult in
discussing the ratio of head to figure. The reason for this is that
in children the scale is vastly different than in grownups. Chil-
dren's heads are usually much larger in proportion to their bodies,
and in infants the disproportion is even more exaggerated. How-
ever, I strongly advise beginners not to attempt to draw infants

160
or small children. No matter how cute and desirable a subject a
child, grandchild, niece, or nephew may seem, it takes special skill

and considerable experience to draw them effectively.

proportions in men and tcomen

main
As a rule men are generally taller than women. But the
fecundit)', are
difference between them is that women, built for
shoulders
usually broader across the hips and narrower across the
than men. The flesh around the hips of women is therefore
much
more molded than men's, and their abdomens tend to be more
rounded. Women's shoulders also tend to slope more than men's,
which is partly due to the sag of their breasts ( even firm breasts
to some degree have this same effect on the back
muscles ) Their .

shoulders are also less knobby looking than men's. Another im-
portant difference is that women's legs are usually shorter in

proportion to their bodies than are men's.

the differences in various types of persons

Some individuals are short and squat, and others, fat or skinny.
You find some who are tall and lean, and broad where you
would expect them to be narrow, or the reverse. You will find

women with wide shoulders and men with broad hips, and you
are apt to see so many contradictions to the general rule that you
may at times wonder which is the exception and which the rule.
You mustn't letyourself become confused by such things. Those
who differ from the rule are the ones who stand out; hence, they
are the ones you are most likely to notice. Be guided at all times

by the ratio of one to eight of head to figure, and then make the
63 b
necessary allowances wherever the subject of your contemplated
drawng departs from this rule. You must also learn to distin-

guish between other differences in type-such as where people

are either short- or long-waisted; and you will find that there are
varying degrees in both of these categories. Still another factor
to be taken into consideration is the question of high-chestedness
or the reverse, as well as long necks or short, and so on.

the actual drawing

Now we are readv to think about the actual drawing of tlic

figure itself. Having satisfied ourselves that we know how to go

about achieving the necessary spatial envelope for our figure, as

well as learning some significant facts about proportions, etc., we
can now address ourselves to the problem of putting the flesh
over the bones of our drawing, so to speak. If, as I have said
before, you are fortunate enough to get someone to pose for you
(either in the nude or in a bathing suit), try to have your subject
assume one or another of the poses of the manikin you see photo-
graphed here (see Fig. 55). After you have made several satis-
factory "action" sketches of your subject on sheets of newspaper,
you can turn again to your charcoal and newsprint pad. Con-
stantly check to see whether you have evaded the temptation
prematurely to put in such details as bones, muscles, ripples of
flesh, hair, fingers and toes, etc. Chances are that however vigilant

161
 .

you may be, you by one or another

will find yourself sidetracked
of these details— ifyou haven't tripped up on contour. But it is
to be expected, as it usually takes some time before the beginner
becomes adjusted to the necessity for concentrating on essentials.

values
We come once again to the problem of the use of values in draw-
ing. Until now we have stuck to one uniform scheme in value
relationships— intermediate, light, intermediate, deep— with the
light occurring at a point about three-quarters the width of the
subject. For our present purposes we are going to employ a new,
somewhat more flexible treatment of value relationships. Rigidity
of any kind is, for obvious reasons, unsuited to the treatment of
anything as soft as human flesh. Consequently, we are now going
to make a switch and shift the deepest value from the extreme
end somewhere nearer the middle of the form. The light— in
to
white of the paper— will now occur at the farthest
this case the
edge. Hence our value relationships now read as follows: light,
intermediate, deep, intermediate ( see Fig. 64 )

background
Beginners have a tendency to "suffocate" their figure drawings
as soon as they start to introduce values into the background.
This usually comes about from the attempt to make the drawing
imturalistic by jamming the background values hard up against
the outlines of the figure. As a consequence of this the drawing
isn't given an opportunity to "breathe." A drawing isn't meant to

be a photograph, nor should there be any attempt to make it

resemble one. In short, drawings (like paintings) have a life of
their own, which is not dependent on photographic effects. We
are therefore going to try to avoid having our background values
obliterate some of the lines defining the figure. For apart from
their definitive function, such lines add a dash of excitement to
the drawing by providing it with textural variation ( see Chapter
28). It also helps maintain a quality of lightness and buoyancy,
which is almost certain to be destroyed wherever the lineaments
of the figure are completely absorbed into the background.
Accordingly, we put down a value not quite as deep as the
deepest value in the figure, alongside the farthest edge of the
form, making sure, however, to leave a little space between the
value and the outline. On the other side the contour is permitted
to fuse somewhat with the background values that bound it. Thus
the lightest part of the drawing is offset by a crisp flowing line,
rendered all the more effective by the gleam of the paper in the
space we left vacant, whereas the other side of the figure merges
here and there with the background values for atmospheric effect.
I would like pay particular attention to the way I have
you to
applied the values in the sample drawing so that you can see how
freely these values have been stroked. The object is to keep the
values from becoming so dense as to make them opaque— a sure
way of destroying the illusion of "air-space" in a drawing.
As you can see, I have made no attempt to emphasize ana-
tomical or facial features. My object was to create some semblance
162
 .^m^-

.-^iy
 of lifelike —but not photographic—solidity on a flat surface. Con-
trast thiswith drawings you see in medical books, full of ana-
tomical detail down to the last muscle, and I think you will agree
that the latter look lifeless by comparison. This should prove how
needless it is to concentrate on superficialities.

wash drawings
Reproduced here you see some wash drawings, done by one of
the most consummate masters of all time, Rembrandt van Ryn
( see Fig. 65 ) Notice how bold and free his strokes are, and with
.

what sheer economy he states his forms. I also call your attention
to the simple geometricality of his constructions, so perfectly
balanced in the interplay of curvilinear and rectilinear rhythms.
Few people can hope to execute such drawings with the assur-
ance of a Rembrandt, but we can all try to benefit from his ex-
ample. What he so eloquently demonstrates is the complete
unimportance of factual detail in the drawing of the human fig-
ure. The powerful suggestivity of human fife is everywhere pres-
ent in these drawings, yet none of them are photographic replicas
of people. He is obviously more concerned with contrasting line
and mass with the gleaming white of the paper, and the excite-
ment produced by the textural quality of his hnes. I do not sug-
gest that you copy any of these drawings; on the contrary, I
would discourage it, as you would gain nothing from it. However,
I do suggest that you study them, and then put them aside and

see what you can accomplish on your own on the basis of the
things you have learned.
For your wash drawings I suggest that for a while you stick to

65a JACOB AND RACHEL by Rembrandt van Ryn. Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Rogers Fund, 1906

H4i>- iin:^._^
65b NUDE WOMAN SEATED ON A STOOL by Rembrandt van Ryn. 65c BEGGAR WOMAN LEANING ON A STICK by Rembrandt van Ryn.
Courtesy of The Art Institute of Cfiicago. Clarence Buckingham Collection National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C. Rosenwald Collection

65 d STUDY OF A NUDE by Rembrandt van Ryn. Courtesy of The Art 65 e PORTRAIT OF A MAN by Rembrandt van Ryn. Courtesy of The

Institute of Chicago. Gift of Tiffany and Margaret Blake Fogg Art Museum, Harvard University
using black oil paint thinned with turps (see Fig. 66) (wash draw-
ings are usually done with diluted India ink). Experiment with
drawing both on old newspapers and on your newsprint pad,
and compare the effects you achieve on both. Work freely. Never
mind how clumsy your efforts seem at first. Make your mistakes
and get them out of your system. You are bound to gain assur-
ance with increased practice.

painting and sketching figures seen at a distance

Thus far we have concerned ourselves with the drawing of fig-

ures seen more or less up close. But from time to time the prob-
lem arises of how to treat figures seen at a distance. You may for
example be working on a painting in which you wish to include
some strolling figures, or figures grouped around tables, or
sprawled on a lawn or beach. I'm sure you realize by now that
any attempt to render such groupings with emphasis on detail
would tend to focus too much attention on the figures, at the
expense of the painting as a whole. Outdoor scenes must at all
costs retain a sense of atmospheric hghtness. Consequently, any
figures included in these scenes— particularly those seen at a
—
distance must not be permitted to outweigh their surroundings,
else the overall balance of the picture stands to be destroyed. A
few plastic lines suggestive of the "action" of each of the various
figures, plus a splash here and there for their clothing, is all you
need to produce the desired effect. ( Notice how effectively Rem-
brandt (see Fig. 65A) employs this kind of shorthand statement
for figures seen at a distance.) Chairs, tables, shade-umbrellas,
and the like, are accorded similar treatment.

a few final hints about the figure

Beginners have a tendency to draw arms so that they reach far
too short. In spite of the fact that they may be looking right at
the model, nine times out of ten they draw the arms reaching to
about the level of the hips. This is another example of the way
preconceived notions interfere with actual perception; for if they
trusted their eyes, these students would observe that with rare
exception hands of adults reach down to about the middle of the
thigh. Most exceptions to this rule are due to stunted growth or
other physical deformity.

foreshortening
Again I raise the question of foreshortening which, unless you
are forewarned, can plague most of your attempts at drawing
the human figure. My advice is to resist, at all costs, the tempta-
tion to foreshorten until you are confident that you have learned
to draw the figure satisfactorily in its normal aspects. Fore-
shortening will often trip up even the professional artist. The
difference being that the professional is usually capable of de-
tecting flaws resulting from incorrect foreshortening, whereas
the untrained person normally doesn't possess the ability to
make these adjustments. As I have pointed out several times

before, you are under no obligation to reproduce things exactly

166
 67a WOMAN WITH A PARROT by Gustave Courbet. Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Bequest of Mrs. H. 0.
Havemeyer, 1929. The H. 0. Havemeyer Collection

as you see them. Consequently, if a form appears considerably

foreshortened from your angle of vision, shift your position until
you are able to see the forms in their fullest length.
As you gain experience, it is to be expected that you should
want to know something about foreshortening. There are times
when it is helpful to know how to render a forward-stretched
arm or a bent leg to make it appear effectively foreshortened.
But it stands to reason that until you have mastered the prob-
lems of drawing the figure in its full length, you are asking for
trouble by taking on problems involving foreshortening. First
things come first, and for the present you should concentrate en-
tirely on the problems at hand. Your primary object, therefore,
is to learn how to draw the figure so that it is spatial, agreeably

proportioned, solidly constructed, and the drawing as a whole

well organized in terms of value relationships, line and mass, etc.

addenda
And now let us turn to the work of a few other masters for a
diagram analysis of the way they employed some of the principles
of figure drawing we have just been studying. Notice the varied
analytical methods in every case. Some, as in the case of the
Velasquez, are represented merely by the action line; others are
represented by a drawing of a manikin, and so on. The object,
of course, is to show you the many different avenues of approach
there can be to the study of the human figure in terms of render-
67 b
ing it as a spatial drawing (see Figs. 67, 68, 69, 70, 71).

168
68a FEMME NUE by Pierre Bonnard. Courtesy of Sotheby & Co.
69a VENUS AND THE LUTE PLAYER by Titian. Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art. I^unsey Fund, 1936

71b
 70a JEUNE ITALIENNE ACCOUDEE by Paul Cezanne.
70 b Courtesy of Dr. and Mrs. Bakwin

National Gallery of London

71a THE TOILET OF VENUS by Velasquez. Courtesy of the
28. texture: techniques of the oil painter

Generally speaking, when we use the word "texture" we have in

mind something associated with the sense of touch, such as fab-
rics whose different weaves will produce varieties of roughness
or softness, etc. But in painting we use a kind of texture which is

capable of being "felt" only by the eye, as it is usually perfectly

smooth to the touch. This we call "calligraphic" texture, because
of its vague resemblance to handwriting.^ The .advantages of
this kind of texture to the painter in oils are twofold because it
can be used both for functional as well as decorative purposes.
However, it is with its functional aspects that we are primarily
concerned. And this comes from the peculiar effect that calligra-
phy, can have on the human eye, so that often without reahzing
it the viewer's attention will be drawn to it.

For example, if you take a blank sheet of paper and scribble a

bunch of "X's" on one part of the sheet, and then do the same else-
where on the page, you can't escape noticing the way these mark-
ings tend to "echo" one another. The eye is virtually magnetized
by the pull of one to the other and, thus, is induced to experi-
ence a sense of movement. But this optical "echo" is not neces-
sarily confined to just one type of marking, for when you vary
these "motifs" the effect is still substantially the same. The eye
is willy-nilly drawn from one textured area to another, and it is

owing to this technique that many fine painters succeed in aug-

menting the sense of spatial movement in their pictures.
Probably the first European painter to employ texture as a de-
liberate spatial device was Henri Matisse (see Chapter 29).
You can turn to almost any one of his paintings for examples in
the use of this type of finesse, but let us direct our attention to
the one reproduced here (see Fig. 72). To begin with, notice
how freely each of the various motifs is stated, with the unerring
instinct for decorative balance that is characteristic of Matisse's
work, for he literally writes the texture with his brush. And now
'
See calligraphy, "Art Terms and Phrases."

172
 motifs
let us proceed to our inventory of the numerous textural
in this striking picture.
into picture
Starting with the floor (remember, the impulse
space is always from the bottom), we see
some sort of diamond-
shaped weave in the rug. On the right-hand side of the composi-
tion we encounter a series of \erticals representing the folds of
what appears to be a draped dressing table topped by an agitated
line that wriggles diagonal])' past the \'ase of flowers
and other
bric-a-brac scattered around the table. Each of these objects
has

received a different textural treatment, but all are vigorously

calligraphic. Then we see the very freely decorated wallpaper
and the diagonal strokes for the foldsand gathering of the win-
dow drape ( notice the different treatment given the drape on the
other side of the window). From there we move to the panelling
underneath the windows, as well as that seen on the folded shut-
ter. While we are here we cannot fail to take in the more delicate

treatment accorded the window curtains as well as the brisk sug-

gestion of foliage in a plant partly visible through the window.
Then we come to the texture in the upholstery of the model's easy
chair. But what about the model herself? Matisse misses no
opportunity to apply this calligraphic dash to all parts of his 72 b

picture, regardless of whether the subject is inanimate or human.

Museum Modern New York. Collec-

72a THE ARTIST AND HIS MODEL by Henri Matisse. Courtesy of the of Art,

tion of Dr. and Mrs. Harry Bakwin

Consequently, the eyes, nose, mouth, nipples, navel, toes, etc.
become part of the
all calligraphic scheme.
Moving to the left side of the composition, we come across a
denser concentration of textural activity to offset the more open
treatment of that occurring along the middle and right-hand side
of the picture. Thus, the heavier treatment of the drape behind
the model fits in nicely with the mirror on its immediate left, the
richly contrasted vase of flowers, the striped tablecloth, the
artist at his easel, and the cane-chair on which he is seated. No-
tice the different weight of the brushstrokes in the following
rather closely concentrated group of verticals: The stripes (pre-
sumably wallpaper) on the wall immediately behind the artist's
canvas, the downward-hanging stripes of the tablecloth, those
in the artist's smock (probably the folds), and the ones repre-
senting the cane backing of the chair. It is this exceptional sense
of balance in textural weights that keeps a picture like this from
ever becoming dull or mannered. In fact, it is almost impossible
to escape the rhythmic interplay of the darks, intermediates, and
lights in all of their respective textural excitement.
What are the lessons to be drawn from this example in the use
of calligraphic texture? Briefly, it is evident that the artist is con-
tent to state histheme by means of a kind of "shorthand" descrip-
tion, feeling no obligation to bother with details for the sake of
naturalistic effect. Further, he sees no reason to relegate any
part of his picture to a role of secondary importance. To him
there is no such thing as any part of a scene being merely "back-
ground." He thus seeks to activate the entire surface of his com-
position by assigning to opposing areas equal but difi^erent tex-
tural functions. Beyond that it augments, as I have already pointed
out, the sense of spatial movement in the picture. What the stu-
dent of painting stands to gain from the study of the use of calli-
graphic texture is, more than anything, the advantage of learn-
ing to keep his brushstroke free. This is particularly true of the
beginner, since he usually has a tendency to start out with a tight
approach to painting. No one can, of course, hope to start to paint
with the dexterity of a Matisse. Nevertheless, the best remedy
for any tightness that you may find creeping into your work
would be to experiment with various approaches to the use of
calligraphic texture in your painting. Study this painting by
Matisse and observe how effortless he makes it appear. It doesn't
follow that you will be able to execute it with the same authority,
but consistent effort in this direction is certain to produce results.

the scratched line

We come to a form of calligraphic texture which isn't dependent
for performance on the brushstroke. This is the "scratched
its

line" (also considered to be an innovation of Matisse). It is ac-

complished mostly with the sharp edge of the palette knife, (al-
though the brush handle is sometimes used for certain effects,
such as grassblades ) The object of this technique is to produce
.

a gleaming line by scratching through the fresh paint so that the

white ground of the canvas is permitted to shine through. No

174
brush, liowexer fine, is capable of producing the unique effect of
the scratched line.

You may think that you see no earthly use to which you can
put this technique, particularly if your main object in painting is

to produce realistic-looking pictures. But it probably never oc-

curred to vou that the gleam of a branch, as it twists through
masses of dark foliage, can at times be more effectively stated by
means of a scratched line than by the neatest brushstroke. If
you've ever been out in a rowboat and glanced at the trees along
the shore in the full glare of the sun, you may have noticed how
whitcly their branches gleam. More often than not, it is the
scratched line that will turn the trick where the brushstroke
pro\es inadequate. Or take such things as a brick wall (or field-
stone, as the case may be). A glance at any brick wall is all you
need to see that not all the bricks are equally prominent, and
that the mortar between them gleams more whitely in certain

places than others. The attempt to define every single brick is a

needlessly laborious task. The scratched line would come in very
handy here. For if vou were to scratch the lines in some places (such
as in the shaded areas), alternating this with a painted line (the
principle being: a light line in a dark field, and a dark line in a
Ii<iht field), the effect would prove not only more esthetically
pleasing, but would also make your painting of the wall look
more convincingly real.
This alternation of techniques also comes in handy in the
painting of such things as bouquets, shrubbery, grillwork or lace-
work, basketry, etc. Flowers in particular often benefit from an
occasional use of the scratched line. The delicacy and fragility
of certain petals or stems to life on the canvas
sometimes snap
under the blade of the knife where they seem resistant to effec-
tive treatment by means of the brush alone. So much for the
practical application of the scratch technique. But what about its
advantages in the more decorative features of your painting? I'm
sure that by now you won't have failed to recognize the possi-
bilities of using the scratch technique in alternation with the
painted line for calligraphic texture. Can you not see how effec-

tive this would be, for example, in the painting of a print on a

dress or drape? You could use a scratched line for the shaded
areas in the folds, with a painted line where the cloth comes into
the light.

tactile texture

We now move on to the investigation of the uses of another kind

of texture in painting— one that is associated with the sense of
touch. To be sure, no one goes around feeling the surfaces of

paintings with their fingers; nevertheless, there is a tactile sensa-

tion that is capable of being induced in the viewer by the build-
ing up of pigment in certain areas of the canvas. The use of

heavy pigmentation is, of course, not new to oil painting and has
been in practice for hundreds of years. The term for this is "im-
pasto," deriving from the same root as the word for "paste." Both
the palette knife and the brush (either in combination or sepa-

175
rately) are used for this technique. But it requires considerable
experience to make it work. It is generally pretty hazardous for
the beginner to experiment with achieving thickness in his pig-
mentation for the simple reason that, more often than not, he
will forget about or disregard the rules about painting fat over
lean, or will not be sufficiently familiar with the respective densi-
ties of different pigments to know whether they are slow-
drying or fast-dxymg, etc.

The which one will be inclined to use more paint or

extent to
less paint, as I have already indicated, is largely a question of
temperament. The more emotional or impulsive the person is,
the more apt he will be to express his feelings by means of the
physical aspects of the paint. Such a person usually has a tend-
ency to pile his paint on pretty thick. The unfortunate part of
this is that the temptation to do this often precedes the know-
how that will make it work, with the result that the color turns
out muddy and the surface of the canvas pasty.
Let me digress a moment by pointing out that the most spirited
horse must be reined before he can be ridden, and the most
powerful machine must have brakes and other controls before it
can be driven. Similarly, the most tempestuous spirit needs a
certain amount of discipline if satisfactory results in painting are
to be achieved. Consequently, if your impulse is toward the use
of heavy pigmentation, by all means, let loose— provided you
don't ignore the rules. Don't use white paint indiscriminately.
Make sure you have underpainted with a wash of strong, bright
color (the turpentine stain). Mix all your color on the palette,
not on the canvas itself. Remember to stroke your brushwork
opposite to the movement of the plane— that is to say, the longest
surface of the form. Don't cover up bad color by piling other
paint over it, but make sure to remove the offensive color first
(see Chapter 12, p. 61). And don't paint with quick-drying over
slow-drying colors if you want to avoid having cracks forming
in your picture. Abide by these rules and you have a chance to
use your pigment as expressively as you like.

under painting white

Modern chemistry has come up with several new developments in
recent years to help the oil painter in the building up of pigment
on his canvas. One of these is called "underpainting white," al-
though different manufacturers have other names for it. This
paint dries rapidly, making it possible to paint over it almost im-
mediately. It can be applied as thickly as desired—heavier in
certain places and thinner in others. For example, if a painter
wants produce a tactile effect of flowers, he might load the
to
part of his canvas he has reserved for the flowers with under-
painting white and then rapidly brush his colors over it. Having
done this he can then proceed to the development of the details
necessary to bring out the character of the particular flowers.

wax emulsion
Another modern method of building up the paint on a canvas is
the use of "wax emulsion." This is a thick, whitish fluid which

176
when mixed with a color will cause it to coagulate. Thus, it is
possible to build your paint up without having it slide
around
on your can\as, which oil paints might otherwise have a tend-
uni-
ency do. But this agent does not appear to affect all colors
to
formly, as I have found that it will cause
some colors to thicken
more perceptibly than others (cadmium orange, for example,
seems to respond more readily to its coagulative effect than any
other color). The relative thickening of various colors in contact
with wax emulsion depends upon different chemical factors in
their makeup. The best thing is to perform separate
experiments
with each color on your palette, adding similar quantities of wax
emulsion to each, so that you will be able to anticipate the re-
sults you get for future use. You could even keep a record of this
in your "color library."

alia prima painting

There are painters who like to work alia prima or what is more

commonly known as "wet-in-wet." Those who have a preference

for this method generally use oil as a medium. In this kind of
painting the \erv brush marks are practically the artist's signa-

ture. The wet paint is applied fairly thickly and is deftly shovelled

up with the brush to produce tantalizing effects. However, this

procedure has largelv come to be the stock-in-trade of painters

of 'buck-eve" (or potboiler) pictures, and is a technique defi-
nitely not to be recommended for the beginner.

the painting knife

This instrument superficially resembles a palette knife, but dif-
fers from it in one or two important respects. For one thing, its
blade is far more flexible than the palette knife. Secondly, it is
somewhat different in its construction, as its blade is not directly
attached to the handle, but is connected to it by a bent shank
(see Fig. 73). It is an invaluable tool for the painter in oils, for

it performs not only manv of the functions of the palette knife,

but can be used for applying the paint directly to the canvas—
hence its name. Although such a knife is valuable because it will
produce certain effects which no brush can accomplish, the real
advantage lies in its use as a supplement to the brush rather
than as a replacement for the brush. Paintings in which only the
knife is used (there are painters who use it exclusively) often

have a hard, slick appearance. This technique demands the most

consummate facility in the use of the knife to make it effective;
therefore, it is best for the beginner to use a mixed technique in
which both the brush and the painting knife are used.

how to use the painting knife

The painting knife is an instrument, and must always be used as
such— not as a blunderbuss. Since its blade is normally thinner

than the palette knife, it tends to become sharper with continued

use; consequently, special care must be exercised in the amount
of pressure that is applied to it. There is always the danger of the
blade cutting through the can\as. The painting knife should be
held prctt)' much as vou would hold a brusli, keeping vour grip

177
just firm enough to enable you to control it properly. The blade
must always be tilted so that it never lies flat against the canvas
with only one edge or the other brought in contact with the can-
vas. The paint is smeared on just about the way you would butter
your toast. This keeps the paint from being forced into the pores
of the canvas (as is certain to happen if the blade is held flat)
and insures the possibility of having pleasing surfaces in your
picture.
There are many kinds of painting knives on the market. The
best kind for you to buy has a blade about two inches long and
not more than about half-an-inch wide. The best knives are
those which are forged from shank to blade. Avoid those that
have a welded look, as their blades have a tendency to snap off
at the shank. This will, of course, happento any knife, depend-
ing upon length of use— and I should add, kind of use; but it is
lessapt to occur with the forged knife. After a length of time the
blade may begin to lose some of its tempered quality at the tip.
When happens you can trim off the tip with a pair of sharp
this
shears, making sure, however, to have your cut follow the curve
of the original tip. A few quick strokes with an emery board will
smooth away the roughness of the cut edge.

some additional uses of the painting knife

No brush is capable of producing as fine a line as you can get
with the painting knife. Take, for example, the painting of strings
on a musical instrument. For this you have to achieve a sharply
etched line if it is to be truly expressive of musical strings. There
is nothing that will do the trick as well as the painting knife.
You simply slide the blade lightly under the paint and then
draw it firmly across the surface of the canvas (see Fig. 74).
Make sure that you use the paint sparingly for this operation so
as to avoid smudging your line. I must caution you that it takes
a bit of practice before you get the knack of it; therefore, you
should experiment with it on an old canvas or board before try-

ing on your picture.

it

A hint about the painting of musical strings: Don't try to paint

all the strings one hue. The silvery glints on strings are best ex-

pressed by a variety of hues. Most beginners will reach for

black paint when it comes to painting strings on instruments, but
seem pleasantly surprised to discover how much more effectively
itcan be done with tints of violet, green, blue, or gray.

scumbling
So much for the painting knife. We turn again to the brush for
another textural device, which we call scumbling. The object of
this technique is to get an uneven distribution of relatively dry
paint over a given area of the canvas (over which deeper colors
have already been painted). This permits the underlayers of
color to show through here and there and can at times produce
some very handsome effects. The brush must be quite dry, how-
ever, or else the turps will cause the paint to liquify and there-
fore spread too evenly. A fairly large brush is best, and it must be

178
gripped ever so lightly, letting the "tooth" of the canvas do the
work, as it were, by picking the paint off the bristles as they are
being dragged over it. There will be more than one occasion
when you will find this particular technique very useful, such as
for the treatment of tlie bark of a tree, sandy beaches, dirt roads,
and so forth.

highlighls
Painting highlights is a very tricky business and unless handled
with great delicacy and taste can prove the ruination of the finest
picture. A highlight, as I've pointed out before, is precisely what
the term implics-^/ie highest point at which the light strikes any
object. Now, I have spoken more than once about the harmful
practice of pasting gobs of white paint on the canvas for such
things as clouds, choppy seas, etc. This is no less applicable to the
painting of highlights. The first thing you must do is to make cer-

tain you correctly judge the degree of shininess of the object in

question, and the amount of refraction of light that you see.
Don't guess. And remember to squint. Don't be influenced by
preconceived notions that you may have about highlights. Nor
should you try to emulate the slick painting of highlights that
you may see in framing-shop windows. A simple, clear, colorful
statement of your impression of the impact of light on the sub-
ject will be more effective and infinitely more truthful than the
slickest painting of highlights.

the liner brush

This is a brush made of very long sable hairs. It is capable of
producing e.xceedingly delicate lines (as distinguished from the
crisp scratched hne, or the sharply etched fine you get with the
painting knife). The liner brush comes in very handy in the
painting of highlights. Its handle is much shorter than the usual
bristle this makes it seem more difficult to control. But
brush and
here's a hint: Ifyou place your pinky fingernail on the canvas
(it doesn't matter if the paint is still wet) you can balance the

weight of your hand on it and this support will keep it from

shaking. You will be surprised to discover how much freedom of
movement this little trick will give you. In fact, you can use it
with any kind of brush (see Fig. 7.5). This, too, may take a little
practice, but once you get the knack of it you will find it a very
handy thing to know.

painting media
far, the only painting medium I have recommended
(with
So
the exception of the few drops of oil to be mixed with your
white
paint) has been turpentine. For already-stated reasons, linseed
oil used by itself is undesirable as a painting medium. However,
there are painters who like to use mixed mediums, for which
there are a number of different formulas. Some of these include

damar and probably the best of these is a mixture of

varnish,
three parts turps to one each of oil and varnish. Some painters

eliminate the varnish and just use oil and turps, in a ratio of one

179
part oil to three parts turps. The object of including the varnish
in mixed mediums is to retain the luster of colors that have a
tendency to "sink in."

retouch varnish
The best way to counteract the tendency of colors to "sink in" is
to use a retouch varnish. This is a synthetic product that is now
available in spray cans. It not only restores the luster of sunken-in

color,but also acts as a sort of "glaze" into which it is possible to

paint while still wet. Thus, if you give your painting a light spray
before you start to work, you can paint immediately with little
fear of having a lusterless canvas. This is not intended to en-

courage the kind of carelessness that usually results in dull,

sunken-in color. But since it is customary for beginners to try
to stretch the paint, this kind of "shot in the arm" is sometimes
necessary. In using retouch varnish, you have to make sure not
to atomize the whole room with it, sometimes in-
as students are
clined to do. This is sheer waste. Aim your spray can so that the
vapor hits the canvas. By the same token you must also avoid
saturating your canvas with the spray, as it can cause the wet
paint to "run."

finishing varnish
There are some paintings that benefit from the application of a
finishing varnish, while other look best when allowed to remain
"matt." This, of course, depends largely on the type of painting,
and you have to be the judge of whether you want your picture
to have a glossy finish or not. If you use retouch varnish a lot
you will find that when the painting is finished it has all the luster
it needs. However, if you are convinced that your painting will

look better with a coat of varnish, then here are some of the
things you should know:
1 Finishing varnishes must never be applied before six months
or so after the picture's completion. This depends, of course,
on the thickness of the paint, for if it is heavily pigmented
then you should wait at least a year.
2 There are several different finishing varnishes available, most
of them containing either mastic, damar, coach, co-pal, or
ethereal varnish. But in recent years manufacturers have put
out some synthetic varnishes that have proved satisfactory.
You must make sure, however, that the label states that it is
a finishing varnish for oil paintings.
3 Varnish should be applied with a very soft brush. Art supply
stores carry an inexpensive camels hair brush that is specially
made for varnishing paintings.
4 When varnishing a picture you must make sure to stroke only
in one direction, not back and forth.
5 Do not saturate the painting with the varnish, or it will take
on a hard enamel-like sheen that can detract from the paint-
ing's beauty-not enhance it. Pour a little varnish into the
screw-cap of the bottle and dip your brush into it. You will
way of doing it.
find this the easiest

180
6 Hold the painting against the hght so that you can check
forbare spots. Let the painting lie flat for an hour or so after
you've finished varnishing it to prevent the varnish from
streaking.
7 Clean the varnishing brush witli a little turps, and wash it
out with soap and water as you would your other brushes.
Make sure to throw out the turps you have used, though, for
if you put it back in your dirty-turps jar it will turn gummy.

181
29. space III: shallow space

We in the twentieth century have witnessed some radical develop-

ments in the art of painting, some of which may strike us as too
extreme. But whatever our personal tastes, painting cannot be
studied in a vacuum; hence, one cannot continue to paint as if
these new developments didn't exist. We have to remember
that the most conservative form of painting today was con-
sidered outrageously radical less than a century ago.
Up to now we have dealt with space entirely as a means of
enabling you, the beginner, to achieve the illusion of three di-
mensionality on a flat surface. Thus, you were shown how to
handle the various problems you would normally encounter in
still life, landscape, seascape, flower, and portrait painting. Now
(for the time being, at any rate) we are going to turn our back
on three-dimensional composition and see what we can discover
about some of these newer forms of painting. This doesn't mean
that you are to chuck overboard everything you have learned
and start painting like an abstract artist. It simply means that
you are about to gain some insight into the fundamentals of com-
position in the modern idiom and possibly pick up a few ideas
on how improve your own work in the process.
to
The between modern art and traditional
principal difl^erence
painting lies in the approach of each to the use of space. The or-
thodox approach is, as you already know, to create the illusion
of depth in pictures— as of nature viewed through an open win-
dow. We call this deep space. The modern procedure, on the
contrary, is to emphasize the flatness of the picture surface. The
term for this is shallow space. There is nothing particularly new
about this, though, as all painting prior to the thirteenth century
was essentially flat— meaning, of course, that there was not the
same sense of picture penetration with which we are familiar.
Pictures were conceived in a manner that kept the subject "hug-
ging the surface" so to speak. But what these ancient paintings
may have lacked in the illusion of depth they made up for in

182
surface design. For wherever the
space is "shallow the pictxire

gains in strength of surface design. The reverse is tiue where

to a lesser or greater degree
the space is deep, where design must
be sacrificed to the demands of realism.
point of this? Why so much emphasis on
But what is tlie all

design at the expense of realism?

What bearing can it have on
answers will be found
vour present problems in painting? The
course of the investigation we are about to undertake.
in the
represents a different
Each of the four painters discussed here
"abstract" in the accepted
school of modern a"rt. None of them is
sense of the word, meaning that they all
used clearly identifiable
forms-whate\'er liberties thev may have taken with natural ap-
are pronounced differences in the
pearances. Although there
have one thing
work of each of these four painters, thev all
less in common-shaUoic space.
Their subjects all have
more or
the picture.
the appearance of "hugging the surface" of
to him: "You will
Matisse's teacher, Gustave Moreau, once said
proved to be pro-
one dav simplifv art." And this observation
traditional mold,
phetic' Although his early work was in the
impelled by a restless search for new forms. He
Matisse was
nature and constantly
wasn't content to go on endlessly copying
creative expression.
sought fresher and more exciting avenues of
not made over-
The leap to two-dimensional composition was
of the diligent pursuit of the
night, however, but came as a result

goal he had set for himself, and eventually

he arrived at a for-
art of
mula for spatial condensation that revolutionized the
who was responsible for the dis-
painting. For it was Matisse
covery of the principles of equivocal space.
work is
Probably the most significant thing about Matisse's
the fact that while keeping his space "shallow"
he succeeded in
the illusion of phvsical reality in his subject. As we
maintaining
the curious
look at this painting (see Fig. 72), we are left with
impression of seeing the room from above and from
a frontal

the same time. This seeming paradox has

the effect of
view at
while keep-
permitting us to view the scene as though in space,
ing our eyes riveted to the picture surface. What
Matisse has

done was to telescope the space in his picture so that the "axes"
and wall-plane are fused into one, thus
of both the floor-plane
combining the interior space of the scene with the exterior di-
space.
mensions of the picture surface. Hence the term equivocal
All the
Notice that there is no perspective in this composition.
inward-thrusting diagonals are counteracted by the strong
verti-

cals which bind the forms to the vertical plane

of the picture.

for example, you look at the diamond-shaped

patterns in
If,

the rug you will notice that they appear to be standing

on end
instead of being foreshortened (as the case would be
from any
normal view of such a floor). And yet how comfortably relaxed
the model appears to be in her chair and does not, as you might
of the
expect, gi\c the impression of being ready to slide out
picture. For what is so remarkable about the picture is that
your
down the surface, as contained
eve can run straight up and if it

absolutely no space, and yet is left with a powerful sense of the

183
 interiority of the room.^ What is the explanation for this phe-
nomenon? The secret hes in the design (see Fig. 72B).
For what Matisse has achieved is total integration of all the
elements in the picture in terms of pattern. Nothing is an entity
in itself. All the elements are locked securely together in the over-
all integration of these patterns, so that it is impossible to shake
them apart. This makes it model
possible for the to appear to be
resting comfortably in a chair that stands on a floor that is, in
effect, as vertical as the walls of the room. The result is that the
painting gains more surface excitement, while in no way detract-
ing from the interest in the subject itself. On the contrary, it only
serves to enhance the subject in a way that no photographic rep-
resentation could accomplish.

"Still Life: Le Jour" by Georges Braque

Here we come to an entirely different approach to shallow
space painting. Braque was a member of the Cubist school of
painters who developed their principles of geometric composi-
tion on the basis of a remark made by Cezanne (in a letter pub-
lished in 1907 ) : "You must see in nature the cylinder, the sphere,
'
For a detailed analysis of "texture" in this painting, turn to Chapter 28.

76 STILL LIFE: LE JOUR by Georges Braque, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C. Chester Dale Collection
and the cone." Thus his work differs from Matisse in several
important respects. To begin with, he is far less concerned with

retaining the appearance of physical reality in his subject. With

the possible exception of the two pieces of fruit and the partly
open drawer, our immediate impression is one of a totally flat,
up-and-down arrangement of abstract patterns of drsign,
straight
with only token indications of verisimilitude in his objects. In

some instances, such as the pitcher and the guitar, Braque was
evidently willing to sacrifice all semblance of tactility in the inter-
est of design, using these objects merely as veliicles for the pas-

sage of space through them.

Braque even exceeds Matisse in the use of equivocal space. For
absence of any
in spite of the illusion of depth in this picture

(see Fig. 76), we are treated to a view of three distinct surfaces

of the table, as though there were space to accommodate it. The
effect of this one of "equivocal" tactility, for we are at one and
is

the same time left with the impression of being able to feel that
there is space around the table (and by inference, the objects
on it), while being constantly reminded of the impenetrability
of the picture surface. For, as you can plainly see, all the legs of
the table seem to exist on the same frontal plane. There is an-
other curious device in operation here, which you may have no-
ticed. I refer to the reverse perspective of the table surface. The
con\ergence of parallel lines in perspective is normally away
from one's point of vision (see Chapter 24). However, here we
see the table wider at the rear and becoming narrower toward
the front. Had Braque painted the table in correct perspective—
that is to say, with the wider edge in front— he would have had
to create the space in the picture to accommodate it, else he
couldn't have shown the third side. Here we have evidence of
departure from the rules for deliberate creative effect. But being
a master composer, Braque was able to bring it off successfully.
There is an additional aspect of equivocal space that Braque
makes use of, and that is in the interplay of line and mass inde-
pendent of the boundaries of his objects. Thus, we find intercon-
necting masses of light, intermediate, and dark passing through
certain objects in apparent violation of their structural form.
This interferes with their being apprehended as volumes, the
shapes being indicated by (not very precise) linear definition
alone. Braque thereby makes it very clear that his primary in-
tention is to impart to these elements of composition (line and
mass) a life of their own— not merely to function as auxiliaries of
representation. Note, also, the textural interest created by the
alternation of light and dark lines. In some places we find him
using a light line against a dark field, changing into a dark line
when it passes through a light field. But Braque refuses to be
consistent about this, for in other places he turns around and
shows a light line against a light field, becoming dark as it passes
through a dark field. As for other textural interest, I'm sure that
by now you will have little difficulty in recognizing the handsome
effect produced by the distribution of various motifs— such as
the vertical and horizontal rhythms of the grain in the table, the

185
 printing in the section of the newspaper, the wallpaper decora-
tion, etc.
As you can Cubism is an advanced form of painting, and
see.
really shouldn'tbe undertaken by anyone not thoroughly familiar
with the principles of traditional composition. However, it is a
phase of painting that had a vital effect on the growth of modern
art. For this reason, you, as a student of painting (regardless of
the direction you wish your own work to go), cannot afford to
ignore this or any other form of contemporary art. Therefore, the
foregoing analysis of a typical work by Braque will provide you
with some understanding of other paintings in the same idiom.
Such understanding cannot fail in the long run to help you be-
come a better painter.

"Self-Portrait with Saxophone" by Max Beckmann

We come now to a third example of shallow space painting
(see Fig. 77), this time by one of the leading Expressionist
painters of our century. Max Beckmann. His forceful use of
black lines is indicative of the artist's emotional urgency to hew
out his forms with harsh, slashing strokes of the brush. Hence
the term "expressionism." Despite the apparent frugal economy
of detail that he used, Beckmann demonstrated an uncanny abil-
ity to capture resemblance. No photograph could more accu-
rately capture such graphic likeness, as anyone who knew the
artist would testify. But this is far from being a portrait in the
ordinary sense of the word. It is a powerful representation of a
man who, having suffered himself, and witnessed much suffering,
looks out at the world with a stern but deeply meditative glance.
The saxophone that he grips seems symbolically like a writhing
serpent that only powerful and understanding hands can keep
under control.
is not in the same tradition of
Strictly speaking, this painting
shallow space composition as those of Matisse or Braque. The
strong diagonal thrusts in from the top and bottom of the canvas
induce a pronounced degree of spatial penetration. The vertical
beam in the upper left-hand corner of the picture is unmistak-
ably situated farther back in space than the hem of the artist's
bathrobe. Nevertheless, the eye is constantly brought forward
by the vigorous binding of the forms to the surface of the canvas.
In short, the black lines not only dehneate the forms but also act
as a means of knitting the entire surface of the picture into mass-
ive abstract patterns of design. In fact, the Hd of the crate, or
chest, in front of which the artist is standing has the appearance
of both lying flat and being propped up at the same time. To have
foreshortened this lid, as a less assured artist might have felt the
need to do, would only have interfered with the powerful, monu-
mental rise of the figure from the foreground that gives this
painting its remarkable character. Though there is evident mod-
ehng in some of the forms, obviously not done for photo-
it is

graphic effect; and in no case has the artist compromised with

77 SELF-PORTRAIT WITH SAXOPHONE by Max the essential flatness of his design for the sake of atmospheric
Beckmann. Courtesy of Kunsthalle Bremen illusion.

186
 some of the proportions adds to the sense
The exaggeration of

of monumentality of the subject that is so characteristic of much

of Beckmann's painting, and has become one of the hallmarks of
quality of the
his creative personality. The nervous, impatient
brushstroke gives the forms great elasticity and prevents
them
from taking a hard, cut-out look. The crisp, shorthand state-
ment of soine of the details, such as for the quilting in the robe,
add to the surface excitement of the picture.
The liberties that Beckmann takes with reality are not born
of license; they come as a result of a lifetime of striving for
synthesis in his forms. Few painters of our time have used their
brush with as much authority, and those who try to emulate this

master usually end up witli something that at best looks like

a shabby imitation. Beckmann is a painter whom it is profit-

able to studv for pracHcally every aspect of spatial composition-

whether shallow or deep. His style of painting is as much his

own as is his handwriting; but the forms are universal.

'^Breakfast Room^' by Pierre Bonnard

What one most about this painting is that with the ex-
strikes
ception of the breakfast table and its contents, it seems to hang
like a vi\idly hued backdrop rather than as a scene in space.
For though we are shown some kind of view through a window,
it actually takes a little while before we can distinguish
most of
the details. We are able to make out the shape of a balustrade
and some tree forms, but-until we become adjusted to the intense
color contrasts— not much else. However, once our eyes have be-
come accustomed to the dazzling color, we begin to perceive a
number of things that at first escaped our attention. For example,
as our glance moves over to the left-hand side of the picture, we
are a little startled to discover the figure of a lady with her break-
fast coffee, unobtrusively poised against the brilliant background.
Then, as take in the scene outside the window, we notice
we
some small figures beyond a gate, and we almost begin to ex-
perience a sense of spatial penetration. In spite of the emergence
from momentary camouflage of these descriptive details, there is
something here that tends to obstruct the impression of three-
dimensional existence in the figures just mentioned. The whole
thing somehow retains the essential flatness of a strikingly col-
ored curtain or tapestry. For when color in a painting tends to
overwhelm its subject, it normally is resistant to spatial penetra-
tion and reaffirms its identity w ith tiie picture surface. And this is
preciselv what places this picture in tlie category of shallow-
space painting.' (Fig. 78)
Bonnard was primarily a colorist— altliough when he wanted
'
Here we arrive at the understanding of shalloiv -space painting from still
anotlier aspeet— this time from Whereas other
the point of view of color.
painters who what they did in
are discii.ssed in this chapter, accomplished
(me form or another by architectonic means, Bonnard's approach was largely
through the use of color. Whether or not he deliberately set out to achieve
shallow space in his painting is immaterial. The point is that here is a

creative painter of the modern age who, at a given stage in his development,
could not fail to have been influenced bv contemporary idioms.

187
 .

to he was capable of painting very lifelike figures ( see Fig. 68 )

And, being the creative person he was, he refused to compromise
with conventional notions about realism in art. He was not, in
other words, interested in trying to present a factual report of
what he saw, but was mainly concerned with his poetic response
to the sunlit splendor of the scene. For him there was apparently
no other means of expressing this than by the ravishing color
harmonies with which he infused his picture.
What advantages can the study of painting like this have for
the beginner? Well, the most valuable thing it can accomphsh is
his emancipation from stereotyped ideas about reahsm in art
which seem to clog the imaginations of so many beginners. We
find very plainly contradicted the supposition that the art of
painting must be dedicated to the creation of pictures to resemble
colored photographs.
We have seen how some of the foremost painters of our time
have employed the principles of shallow-space painting in their
work. While it is true, as I have said earlier, that these ideas of
flat space seem to contradict many of the principles of dynamic
space laid down in Chapter 17, they are not to be taken as an
invitation for you to abandon allyou have learned thus far.
Quite the contrary. The truth is that neither Matisse, Braque,
Beckmann, nor Bonnard began by painting this way, but arrived
at their advanced concepts after much experience in painting
along more traditional lines. No beginner can be expected to
make this rapid ascent of the ladder of experience with much
hope of success. But there are certain vital lessons that can be
learned from the creative exploits of these giants of contemporary
art that every student of painting can benefit from. These
briefly
are as follows:

1 The illusion of great depth or distance is not essential to

good picture making.
2 There is no need to strive for photographic effects in paint-
ing. The camera can do it much better.

3 The representation of physical reality or tactility (or round-

ness of forms) is not always essential to good painting. This
can at times be circumvented by the use of (flat) planes of
color, leaving the three dimensionality of particular objects
to be inferred by the viewer. We who live in the modern age
no longer do things in the long, roundabout way that people
of the past used to. Everything today is more direct, in art
as well as in all other aspects of human experience.
4 The painter is no time under any obligation to be slavish
at
in his attempts to copy nature. It is possible (and often
esthetically desirable) to use the more abbreviated state-
ment rather than to strain for accurate reproduction, devoid
of freshness or originality.

188
 -m.

*.
i

'•^

78 BREAKFAST ROOM by Pierre Bonnard. Collection of the Museum of Modern Art, New York
 30. an analysis of some great paintings

How often do people who go to museums and galleries know

what Judging from the com-
to look for in the paintings they see?
ments you hear, the majority seem to be influenced by senti-
mental interest in the subject or are impressed by the technical
wizardry of the painter but appear to have little or no awareness
of what it is that makes a painting a work of art. But as I have
said before, the person who paints is usually much better equipped
to judge a painting, as it were, from the inside. His own practical

experience in working with the medium tends to increase his

understanding of the 'language" of painting. He acquires an
analytical approach which often helps him to distinguish be-
tween genuine creativeness and mere trickery.
But this analytical approach is conditioned by the standards
by which the student of painting defines the role of the artist.
The one who considers the naturalistic reproduction of a wine
bottle full of dazzling highlights to be the end of art will of
course be satisfied with nothing short of skillful imitation. Such
a person consciously or unconsciously deprives himself of any
full appreciation of the esthetic function of art. There is, to be

sure, nothing wrong in the realistic representation of a wine

bottle (else some of the world's greatest artists would have to be
judged as hacks) provided one doesn't make a fetish of such
realism for its own sake. Consequently, if you happen to be
one of those who are impressed with pliotographic realism in art,
don't let it end there. Try to discover what it is that makes a
perfectly icalistic painting by Chardin or Vermeer (see Figs.
30, SO) distinguishable from the kind of hackwork you see clut-
tering the windows of framing shops.
We'\e gone quite thoroughlv into tlic subject of composition
in other chapters, but I think you will find it instructive to try
to apply some of the knowledge you have gained about this sub-
ject in the following analysis of some masterworks that I have
chosen. Apart from itnproNing your own compositional efforts,

189
 .

it will broaden your horizon of art appreciation in general. Thus,

when you go to museums or galleries you will be in a better
position to judge the paintings you see on the basis of true merit
and less apt to be impressed by slick brushwork.

"The Card Players" by Paul Cezanne

This picture, painted between 1890 and 1892, is one of the su-
preme examples of compositional mastery. At a glance it looks
disarmingly simple, for the complexity of its design is not readily
apparent. We see two rustic figures, a wine bottle between them,
seated at opposite ends of a table playing cards. That's all— that
is, if one looks for is subject matter. Well, let's see. Since the
all

interest in most pictures centers on the subject, backgrounds

usually play a subordinate role. But nothing could be less true of
Cezanne's paintings. For what makes the work of this painter so
great is the total integration of subject and background that he
achieved. But how he accomplished this is something that the
average person, unless he has great experience in looking at
paintings, usually doesn't recognize. It has been truly said that
"great art conceals art," and nothing exemplifies it as much as
the painting we are about to study.
Once you know what to look for, however, you begin to per-
ceive things that you probably wouldn't have noticed before. It

is as if some had suddenly sprung open, exposing a

secret door
trove of experiences hidden from the casual view. For one thing,
you notice that the figures do not stand out in sharp relief against
the background but, rather, here and there merge with it. Then
you begin to see all sorts of subtle movements weaving and inter-
weaving throughout the composition, completely independent
of any of the outlines of the forms. For example, take the big
curving movement— the "S" curve with which you are by now
familiar: Starting down at the knees of the card player on the
right and swinging in a wide arc across the cuffs of the opposite
player and on by him all the way to the top of the picture. And
while we're on the subject of "S" curves I might point out one or
two others. For example, the one you see on the jacket of the man
with the pipe, terminating just above his shoulder sleeve; also see
if you can detect the "S" curve in the combined lateral bulges of

the chest and head of this same man ( see Fig. 79 )

Observe how the artist was not content merely to describe the
attire of his subjects, but utilized every opportunity to assign some
spatial function to different items of their clothing. Thus, the
open jackets of both card players function as twin movements to
help propel the eye into the interior space of the picture. (I'm
not going to try to catalogue the specific spatial function of each
detail of clothing, but it might be profitable for you to see how
many you can detect. ) Now let us direct our attention to certain
rectihnear impulses, such as those provided by the table and its
legs and the back of the chair. How perfectly these angular forms
balance the curvilinear movements in the rest of the composition.
And you remember what you learned about the difference be-
if

tween positive and negative space ( see Chapter 6 ) you will have ,

little difficulty in making out the patterns of negative space so

190
79a THE CARD PLAYERS by Paul Cezanne. Courtesy of Archives Photographiques, Paris

effectively employed in this picture. What I am trying to impress

on you, of course, is the fact that no single part of this painting

is without its spatial function.

But what about the actual painting of this picture? It is inter-

esting that here Cezanne shifts from the severe geometricalit)' of
his design and, by contrast, applies his color with a free brush-
stroke. Notice how he breaks across the outlines of his forms at
various points to penetrate into adjoining areas; for example: in
the tablecloth where it drops over the edge of the table, in the
shoulder of the card player on the right, in the derby of the other,
and so on. These brushstrokes, as you can see, are applied flat:
which is to say, there has been no attempt to model or blend the
colors (which so often proves the downfall of beginners who
labor under the mistaken belief that this is the way to achieve
form in painting). Cezanne was the first painter to have hit upon
the idea of applying color with short flat strokes-painting with
planes of color as opposed to any fusion of pigments for naturalis-
tic effect. Thus, he was able to demonstrate that nature is not
79 b
made up of soft globular masses, but is in rcalitj' composed of
volumes having distinctly articulated surfaces. The clarit)' of this
approach as well as the beauty of architectural design that re-

191
 ) :

suitedwere among the most revolutionary contributions to the

growth of art the world has ever known.

"Young Woman with a Water Jug" by Johannes Vermeer

This is generally acknowledged to be one of the most beautiful
pictures ever painted. In his entire lifetime Vermeer painted
some forty-odd canvases— almost every one a gem. But what dis-
tinguishes his work from the ordinary representational kind of
picture does not rest in the tender sentiment that he may have
had for his subject or his extraordinary technical mastery. Vermeer
was first and foremost an architect of pictorial design. His paint-
ings are usually quite small, yet they rank with some of the

noblest edifices for their similarity in purity of design.

Despite the comparatively large stretches of bare wall we see
what a remarkable sense of fullness it communi-
in this picture,
cates! The scheme of this composition, as with most of Ver-
meer's work, is on the whole rectangular. Notice the rhythmic
interplay of the three prominent rectangular forms ^
: the table,
the map, and the window. From table to map to window a per-
fect circuit of space around the central figure of the girl has
been created. Counterbalancing this, we see a movement, begin-
ning with the girl's right arm and terminating in the basin under-
neath the water jug. Then we begin to notice a number of sub-
sidiary movements, such as the diagonal ridge of light on the
tablecloth, upward-swinging arc of the girl's dress, the
the
shadow from the window (effecting a spatial
falling diagonally
juncture with the base of the tablecloth), and the blue cloth
draped over the back of the chair. (Notice the abstract pattern
resulting from the combined "form" and "cast" shadows of the
cloak.
And as for texture (see Chapter 28), notice the variety of
motifs that Vermeer has used in this picture. Most pronounced
are the motifs occuring in the three prominent rectangular forms
(a) the decorative weave in the tablecloth, (b) the caUigraphic
texture in the map, and (c) the leaded intersections of the
stained-glass window. The less pronounced examples are the
stripeson the girl's sleeves, the starched folds of her mantle, the
gleaming nailheads on the chair, the vertical struts of the lock
on the open jewelbox, and the folds of the skirt. (See if you
cannot also get a textural "feel" from the juxtaposed stripes of
color representing planes on the water pitcher.) Each of these
has, apart from its purely decorative appeal, its decided place
in the functional scheme of the composition.
By now you should have httle difficulty recognizing the har-
monious balance between warm and cool colors in this painting.
Moreover, if you look closely you may be able to detect the
underpainting of warm hues— as in the case of the part of the wall
that is bathed in light— subtly striking through the overlay of
cool tones. I want, however, to call your attention to an example
'
Do not be confused by any reference to certain forms a.s "rectangular"
when there are actually no right angles visible. The corners of foreshortened
rectangles, as you should know by now, do not remain right angles. Never-
theless, whether foreshortened or not, these forms are known as rectangular.

192
80a YOUNG WOMAN WITH A WATER JUG by Johannes Vermeer. Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Gift of Henry
G. Marquant, 1889
 how a master can violate a rule for a specific
reason and make
of
it work. I refer to the red tablecloth
where, contrary to tlie prece-
light and
dent established for the picture as a whole (i.e. cool
warm shadows), you see the red warm in the light and cool in

the shadows. The reasons for this are twofold: firstly because a
brilliant
cooler red would necessarily be a deeper, hence, a less
dress
red, thus inpoor contrast with the bordering deep blue of the
as well as to the underside of the basin, .\nother less obvious
instance of this departure from the rule may be found
in the girl's

mantle wliere the light is warm and the shadows cool. The
moti-
bal-
vating factor, here again, was that of maintaining effective
picture.
ance and contrast between neighboring areas of the
One can go on almost indefinitely pointing out seemingly un-
limited treasures of subtle beauty-the diaphanous quality of
the mantle, the glass in the window, the lovely sculptured
girl's

quahty of the girl's head, etc. However, the brief analysis of this
painting that I have provided you with should serve as an open-
ing wedge for all your future understanding and appreciation of
the work of this incomparable master. The accompanying dia-

gramatic breakdown of the composition should, I am confident,

give you a good idea of the care with which Vermeer approached
the organization of his pictures.

"T/ie Holy Family'" by El Greco

Domenico Theotocopoulos, better known as El Greco (The
Greek) is considered one of the towering geniuses of art. Al-
of
though there may be some justifiable doubt as to the merit
all of his work the painter and critic, Palomino, writing as early
(

as 1724, said: "What El Greco did well has

never been done
there
better; what he did badly has never been done worse"),
can be little (juestion about the superlative quality of the painting
to consider. El Greco is held to be the
fore-
we are now about
runner of expressionism in art, having been a pioneer in the use
of the paint itself as a means of expressing emotion; most painters
before him relied on the attitudes of their subjects to communi-
cate feelings of passion (mainly religious). The swirhng masses
of pigment we see in this picture, sweeping flamelike through
the composition, beginning with the robes of the Madonna and
carrying all the way through to the agitated cloud forms in the
rearground, give every evidence of tlie artist's emotional absorp-
tion with his medium as well as his subject. The effect of this

gyration of the forms one of spiral-like distortion that has come

is

to be the liallmark of this unique Post-Henaissance painter

from
the island of Crete, who later settled in Spain. Some critics have
ascribed this peculiar quality in his work to an astigmatism of
the eyes from whicli El Greco is supposed to have suffered.
VVhetiier this is true or not, there is no denying the powerful, al-
most convulsive excitement in the forms to be found in most of
El Greco's paintings.
But apart from the liighly individual stamp of this artist's work,
let us consider tliis painting from tlie point of view of composi-
tion. Despite tlie apparent voluptuosity of its forms, it actu-

193
81a THE HOLY FAMILY by El Greco. Courtesy of the National Gallery of Art,

Washington, D.C. Samuel H. Kress Collection

ally consists of massive interlocking geometric patterns. For EI

Greco almost invariably employed a tightly knit scheme of or-
ganizing his compositions into carefully worked-out geometric
order, as you can see from the accompanying diagram (see Fig.
81B). No matter hovi? expressive he was in the use of paint, it
was never the result of a hit-or-miss approach. With his compo-
sition thus thoroughly planned, he himself enough leeway
left

to exercise his delight in the use of pigment and color. Another

factor is the sense of rhythm that results from the variation in
the tilt of the heads of the five principals, so that each faces
in an entirely different direction from that of the others. But this
is no mere trick of staging, for El Greco justly conceived of each

of these heads as volumes in space, capable of rotating on their

respective "axes." The effect produced by this remarkable inter-
play of countenances is that the viewer identifies himself with
the various actors in this drama, casting his glance in the direc-
tion in which each is looking. This naturally gives the viewer an
extraordinary sense of being part of the scene. It is needless to

194
 What is there about this portrait that makes it so exceptional?

Well, us consider the design; it is hard to conceive of a more

let

handsome utilization of abstract patterns in any single composi-

tion. Wherever you look you see masses of dark,
intermediate,

and light in beautifully patterned arrangment. But it is not only

the graceful use of shapes that distinguishes this from the run-of-
the-mill portrait in oils, for apart from their decorative value all
these forms have a decidedly functional part in the spatial
scheme. Observe the v^^ay your eye swings into interior space
along a huge "S" curve leading up to and around the subject's
neck, and from there is propelled by the beard right up into the
tilted hat. What is so remarkable about this is that, by the
time
any notice is taken of the hands (very beautifully rendered),
the eye has moved so rapidly into the picture that a spatial gulf
has formed between the face and the hands. Were this the por-
trait of a less elegant personage, you could almost shove a sack of

potatoes into that spatial enclosure.

Now let us proceed to the business of analyzing the composi-
tion of this painting. First of all, there are quite a number of

spatial "thrusts" endeavor to track down, (a) To

which we will
the right of the "S" curve already mentioned we see a sharp ver-
tical in the form of a shoulder strap of some sort, which is met

by (b) the downward plunging "L" of the fur collar's edge.

(c) A bit higher up on the right-hand side the eye is gracefully^
led by a flowing movement (the farther edge of the collar) to a
point somewhere behind the subject's neck. Pushing in from the
upper right-hand side we see (d) a twin movement somewhat in
the shape of a "V," intersected by a short diagonal, this being an
edge of the drape partly drawn aside to permit us to see out into
the distance, (e) From the upper left-hand side we see a firm
vertical (again in the drape) pushing down to meet the (f) in-

ward thrusting movement of the collar from the left-hand side.

But these are only the major movements; there are many more of
a subtler variety which I shall not attempt to catalogue.
So much for spatial movement. Now I would like to call your
attention to the beautiful use of textural design in this picture.
You should by now be able to detect most of these by yourself;
however, I want to point out the ingenious interplay of light and
dark in the decorative weave of the Doge's cloak— light where
the field is dark, and dark where the field is light. As for any of
the other attributes, I think that with the help of the accompany-
ing diagram (see Fig. 82B) you will come to reahze how much
more there is to artistic mastery than meets the eye. In short, it
is not enough to say that a portrait resembles the sitter— any

cheap camera can accomplish that. And though it is nearly 500

years since Raphael painted this picture, there has never been a
painter since who could improve on him in technical skill alone.
Yet his reputation does not rest on that; for before everything
else, he was an artist— a painter who used his medium poetically.

And on top of that he was, in every sense of the word, an archi-

tect of spatial composition.

196
 conclusion

And so we come to the end of our little journey in art. This

does not mean, of course, that you have learned all there is to

know about the subject of painting. No one who is the least bit
creative ever stops learning, and this has been attested to by some
of our greatest artists at the very height of their careers. However,
it is safe to say that if you have conscientiously followed the in-
structions found in this book you have at least obtained a foot-
hold in the theory and practice of oil painting. The rest is simply
a question of application.
Obviouslv, anyone who has gone to the trouble and expense of
buying and reading this book all the way through, must genu-
inely love painting. But some people will do so in the hope or
belief that it will prove to be a panacea of some kind— that there
is some hocus-pocus involved in the art of painting, the secret of

which is to be revealed in one quick reading. Such people soon

disco\er that they have wasted both their money and their time.
Notliing good comes easy, and I have never found this to be
more true of anything than painting. If, however, having gotten
this far, you are ready to roll up your sleeves and start right

from the beginning again, then you are on the right track to
becoming a fairly competent painter.
But if you ever find yourself becoming despondent because
successive paintings have resulted in failure, the following story
should be of some comfort to you. An eminent journalist once
complained to Ernest Hemingwav that writing novels always
ended up in failure for him. The following day he received in the
mail some thirty-four separate drafts in manuscript of one of
Hemingway's best known novels. The moral here is pretty clear.
There has never been an artist— be lie painter, writer, or composer
—who has found creative work smootli sailing and who has not at
one time or another experienced disappointment or frustration
comparable to yours. One simply learns to swallow these little dis-
appointments and keep plugging away. "Practice," as the old say-

197
ing goes, "makes perfect." But practice by itself isn't enough, for
theory and practice that are the true foundations of progress.
it is

What exactly do I mean by "theory and practice"? Let me illus-

by another httle story:
trate this
once asked an engineer friend who had a very good income
I

why, since he didn't need the extra money, he devoted so many

of his evening hours to teaching. "It keeps me sharp," he said.
He went on to say that he didn't want to let himself grow stale,
and was through teaching others that he was able to refresh
it

his own understanding of his subject. Thus, he found an oppor-

tunity to buttress his theoretic knowledge in a way that practice
alone would never accomplish for him. Having students con-
stantly firing questions at him created a challenge that had to be
met with mental alertness, which in turn tended to make his
practical work more inspiring. The question is, how does this
apply to you? For it seems out of the question that anyone with
so little experience should undertake to teach others. However,
it is possible for you to organize little groups of friends or neigh-

bors to meet once or twice a week so that you can paint together
and criticize each other's work on the basis of the theoretic
knowledge you have gained. Without presuming to actually
teach the others, you nevertheless could act as a sort of leader in
such discussions. To use my friend's expression, it will keep you
"sharp."

should the amateur exhibit his work?

There is no hard and fast rule about this. Common sense should
be the final arbiter. Participation in amateur shows is fine, but it
is wise for amateurs to think twice about trying to compete on a

professional level. There are unscrupulous galleries which offer

an opportunity for anyone to exhibit at a fee, regardless of merit.
The temptation is very strong, I realize, and people who fall for
the bait can't entirely be blamed. But I have seen the heads of
some students turned (it is a fact that critics are generally
lenient with people who exhibit for the first time) to the point
where they ceased growing— and this is the worst fate that can
befall any painter. I would say that the amateur has much more
to gain by the enjoyment of painting for its oivn sake. The haz-
ards and pitfalls, too numerous to mention, that one encounters
once he enters the professional domain are, if anything, inhibi-
tive of creative growth— unless, of course, he's ready to make a
full time job of grappling with its many complexities.

subject matter
A few last words about subject matter. There are some— but not
many— subjects which are intrinsically unsuited for creative
painting. For the rest mainly a question of one's attitude
it is

toward his subject which determines its suitability. A good rule

to remember is that it is the painting that makes the subject,
NOT the other way AROUND. In other words, it has to succeed
as painting before it can have any other claim to merit. This

book is jam-packed with lucid suggestions as to the things a paint-

198
ing needs to gi\e it life. Heed tliis ad\ice, and yi)u will never be
sidetracked by inducements to start a picture for any other
reason except its fundamental appeal to painting. There's hardly
an amateur painter I know who isn't besieged by relatives and
friends with requests for paintings. While such admiration is
comforting, one must be wary of being led into ready acqui-
escence with these demands. Let's face it, most people have
rather prosaic notions as to what art is, and you may find your-
self being urged to do a Paris street scene or some other subject
that has gained popular appeal. By all means give away as many
paintings as you like, but you should make it clear that you will
not comply with any dictates as to subject matter. Any insistence
on this score can easily be offset by encouraging such people to
take up painting themselves, offering to give them the benefit of
the knowledge you have gained.

This book was written to serve as a guide through the numerous

difficulties in painting and composition usually experienced by
the beginner. But whether you are a complete novice or have
been painting for years, you are sure to find the answers to many
of your problems in these pages. Keep this book near you when-
ever you paint and refer to it again and again. If you get it
smudged with paint then it means that you have been putting it
to good use. And that's precisely what it is for.

199
 a dictionary of art terms and phrases

Every field of specialized thought has its own jargon, and the art of

painting no exception. People who take up painting are naturally

is

eager to get as much knowledge as they can on the subject, but often
find themselves baffled by the obscurity of the language they en-
counter in art books, articles, and reviews. Even the household
dictionary seems to be of little help in unraveling the meaning of
many of these expressions. With the rapid expansion of popular interest

in painting in recent years, however, there is growing an ever greater

need for clarification of such unfamiliar terms as are apt to be found
in the average book or periodical dealing with the subject of art. I
have, therefore, undertaken to compile here, not only those expres-
sions relating to the practical experience of painting itself, but many
that are in the domain of general art criticism as well. Thus, you should
find it convenient to refer to this in all of your reading on the subject
of art.

art terms and phrases

ABSTRACT ART: A relative rather than an absolute term to describe
the process of abstracting or reducing the object viewed to a
series of nonphotographic shapes, Although gen-
lines or color.

erally used to applv to manv of the modemmovements, it may

also be used to describe older art forms which de\iate from the
representation of objects and forms as they ordinarily appear.
Two of the chief types of contemporary abstract art are geo-
metric (e.g. Mondrian) or biomorphic abstraction (e.g. Kandin-
sky).
ABSTRACT EXPRESSIONISM: Also Called "actiou painting." This phase of

contemporary art does not exclude subject matter, but it is

generally ab.sent from the work of its leading exponents. The

emphasis is on the artist's subjective reaction to the excitement
of form and color. Frequently identified as the "New York
School" of painting.
ABSTRACT IMPRESSIONISM: A form of abstract or nonobjective painting
in which the technique employed more closely resembles the
smaller strokes of Impressionist painting as opposed to Abstract

201
 Expressionism (q.v.) which is characterized by a freer and more
expressionistic approach to the use of the brushstroke.
ACADEMIC ART: A term used to denote the conservative, traditional
branch of painting in any given era. It imphes the utilization of
styles and techniques of the past. However, many techniques
considered heretical yesterday are today considered academic.
The best example of this is that present day academic art is

strongly influencedby "Impressionism" (q.v.) which a few gen-

erations ago was ruthlessly opposed. The term derives from the
French Academy which dominated the world of art for over two
centuries prior to the Impressionist revolt of 1874.
ACCIDENTALS: Usually lighting effects not coming from the main
source of illumination. The term is also used to indicate un-
planned occurrences during the course of working on a painting.
An improvisational factor in art.

ACHROMATIC COLOR: A term that is generally used to designate the

absence of true color, as in black and white. It is, in reality, a
contradiction of terms since any object that is "achromatic"
technically cannot have color.
ACTION PAINTING: Another name for "Abstract Expressionism" (q.v.).
AERIAL PERSPECTIVE: The representation of atmospheric distance in
painting based on the use of tonal gradations.
AESTHETICS (also ESTHETICS): A branch of philosophy which deals
with the creation and appreciation of art.
AFRICAN NEGRO ART (AFRICAN PRIMITIVE SCULPTURE): Primarily the
art of equatorial Africa, characterized bv ritualistic stylizations
that are markedly animistic. Mainly wood cars'ings, often includ-
ing masks and fetishes of various sorts. First introduced in Europe
in 1905, they had a profound influence on western painting and
sculpture of that period.
AIR-SPACE: A term that is sometimes used to describe the suggestion
of real space around objects in a painting.
AL FRESCO: Painting that is done on wet plaster. Used mainly before
the development of oil painting on canvas.
ALLA PRIMA: Painting that is usually done with a single application,
as opposed to the use of successive layers of color. Sometimes
called "wet-in-wet" painting.
ALTAR PIECE: A Series of fixed or movable panels, either painted or
sculptured in "relief." Used for placement at the back of an altar.
ANATOMY: The study of the human figure in terms of its interior
structure (muscles, bones, etc.) as an aid to drawing.
ANILINE: A dye derived from coal tar, from which modern chemistry
has produced very brilliant but frequently impermanent colors
for use in oil painting.
APPLIED ART: Art that is concerned with the production of often deco-
rative but useful objects— as distinguished from the fine arts.
AQUATINT: A method of engraving which, like etching, involves the
use of acid on plates (usually copper or zinc), but differs from
etching in that it is used for tonal effects instead of lines. These
tones vary from deep to light transparent tints. It is similar
in appearance to water color, hence the name aqua (or water)
tint.

ARABESQUE: A Surface decoration of flowing lines and patterns sug-

gestive of flowers, leaves, branches, and scrollwork fancifully
intertwined.
ARCHITECTONIC: The Structural or architectural element in design or
composition, architectonics: generally the principle of pictorial

202
 integration (e.g. color, pattern, line, etc.) into a single, har-

monious work of art.

ARNL-^TURE: A usiuilK' pliable skeletal framework around which

sculptors mold their clay.
ARTISTS SQUINT: A method of detecting true value relationships by
means of squinting at the object or objects in question.
ART OF FREE FANCY: A phrase descriptive of highly imaginati\e, un-
inhibited and often whimsical art, of which Paul Klee is the
original exponent. This form of painting has been referred to as
going for a walk ivith a line, which means that the line can go
in any direction according to the artist's fancy at the moment.
ARTS AND CRAFTS: The term generally used to describe handicraft
work such as leather tooling and the fashioning of metal and ce-
ramic objects.
ASHCAN SCHOOL: A tcnii derisixclv applied to a Philadelphia (later

New York) group of painters led by John Sloan. This sobriquet

derives from the fact that these painters attempted to document
the more prosaic aspects of their local surroundings.
.\SPHALTUM: One of the oldest known pigments. It is a neutral brown,
tarrv compound that is seldom used in oil painting any more be-
cause of its failure to drv thoroughly. It is mainly used as a
medium for "etching" (q.v.).
ASYMMETRY: The Opposite of "svmmetry" (q.v.). The absence of sym-
metrical correspondence between two lateral sides of a form or
design.
ATELIER: The French word for an artist's or sculptor's workshop or
studio.
AUTOMATISM: The principle of artistic creation without the interfer-
ence of thought: the unfettered stroke of the painter's brush, free
of all control b\' the conscious mind. A method of creative paint-
ing first associated with "Surrealism" (q.v.).
AV.\NT-GARDE: A term used most advanced form
to describe either the
of creative expression in who produce or
anv given era, or those
create original or experimental ideas or techniques. See van-
guard.
AXIS: The real or imaginary line running through the center of a form.
BARBizoN SCHOOL: A group of landscape painters (among them—
Daubigny, Diaz, Theodore Rousseau, and Millet) who worked
near the forest of Fontainebleau in the village of Barbizon in
France, from about 1830-1870.
BARIUM SULPHATE: A chcmical "filler" (q.v.) that is used to supple-

ment more costlv pigments in the manufacture of ine.xpensive or

student grade colors.
baroque: Elaboratelv decorative art that was characteristic of Euro-
pean painting and sculpture from the middle of the si.xteenth to
the end of the eighteenth century.
bauhaus: a German educational institution and research center for
the training of architects, artists, and industrial designers. Its
principal theory is that there should be no division between the
fine and applied arts.
BiOMORPHic (or BiMORPHic) ART: A in which or-
type of abstraction
ganic forms prevail. The term was by archaeolo-
originally used
gists to describe a type of design done on small stones by Paleo-
man.
lithic

bisymmetrical: The term used in reference to any form which, if di-

vided in half, each of its halves would be identical in size and
shape. See symmetry.

203
bitumen: a slow-drying, fugitive pigment obtained from mineral pitch.
It was used to a large extent by painters of the early nineteenth

century. It has been held responsible for much deterioration in

the work of painters of that period.
BLEACHING: The fading out of certain impermanent (or fugitive)
colors under unfavorable atmospheric conditions.
BLEEDING: The tendency of certain unstable colors (such as Pmssian
blue or burnt umber) to work themselves through other layers
of paint.
BLENDER (or BADGER BLENDER ) : A large brush, usually of badger
hairs, that is and smooth surfaces of oil paint.
used to soften
BLENDING: The method used for fusing pigments so that the colors
intermingle, principallv for photographic effects.
BLISTERING: The formation of bubbles on the surface of a painting
usually caused by moisture forming on the top layer of paint or
the surface film.
BLUE PERIOD: An early period in the work of Picasso, (1901-04) so
called because of the overall "blue" tone of these paintings
as distinguished from his subsequent "pink" (or rose) period
(q.v.).
BLUE-RIDER GROUP (or BLAUE reiter) A German art movement of :

the early twentieth century, of which the leading members were

Kandinsky and Franz Marc. The originators of pure abstract
painting devoid of all content.
BODY COLOR: Any pigment possessing a high degree of "covering
power" (q.v.).
BRIGHT: The term for short-haired flat bristle brushes.
BRIGHT COLOR: Vivid Or radiant color that is capable of reflecting

light— usually the "prismatic colors" (q.v.).

BROKEN COLOR: The application of paint in small strokes of vaiying
tints so that they seem to merge at a distance. The technique
first employed by the Enghsh painter, John Constable (1776-
1837).
BUCKEYE: The slang term used to describe any painting of a trite or
sentimental subject produced for commercial purposes.
BURNT SIENNA (or TERRA Di SIENA ) A fiery, orauge-browu, earth
:

color.
BURNT UMBER; A dark-browu earth color.
CADMIUM: A metallic source of cadmium pigments.
CALLIGRAPHY (CALLIGRAPHIC te.xture): The art of fine handwriting.
A decorative feature in painting, freely executed with the brush
to produce a "handwritten" effect. It is also used as a textural

device in composition.
CAMERA OBSCURA ( CAMERA lucida) : Apparatus for reflecting any
object onto a surface by means of a mirror and lens in double
convex form, which permits it to be traced exactly as reflected.
The camera lucida is a much later invention which differs from
the camera obscura in that it employs a prism to eliminate all
distortion.
canvas panel: A panel of prepared canvas (q.v.) with cardboard
backing.
CANVAS TOOTH: The raised point of the canvas where the threads
cross each other, giving the canvas its surface texture.
CARTOON: A full-scale drawing on paper, used as a model for easel or
mural paintings, "mosaics," stained-glass work, or "tapestry"
(qq.v.).
CARTOUCHE: An architectural ornament in the form of a scroll.

204
 .

CARVING: Sculptural work done with chisels on blocks of stone or

wood.
caryatid; draped female figure sen.'ing as an architectural column
a
named dancing women of Caryae, in Greece.
for the
casein: Water soluble paints manufactured from a deri\ati\c of milk
products.
casting: The method of duplicating clay sculpture in metal or plas-
ter by means of moulds or impressions taken from the original
work.
ceramics: Generally, the term u.sed to describe the art of pottery-
making, as well as the techniques for baking or "firing" clay
articles, employing the use of a "kiln" (q.v.)

chahcoal: Calcined woods, particularly of the vine, used for draw-

ing on coarse surfaces.
chef-d'oei'vre: The French term for masterpiece.
chiaroscuro: The interplay of light and dark in drawing or painting,
by means of which the artist creates the illusion that his subject
is standing free, thereby augmenting the sense of space in pic-

tures. The term derives from the Italian, chiaro (clear) and
oscuro (obscure).
chroma: The term applied to the degree of concentrated color satu-
ration where it is untainted by white, or gray; the degree of de-
parture of color from either black or white. Bright colors, for
example, have a high chroma.
chromatic: Of or pertaining to color or colors. Also used as an index
of tonal sequence, as from deep to light hues.
CHROME pigments; Synthetically prepared colors which as compared
to the"cadmiums" (q.v.) are inexpensive but are also imper-
manent and subject to darkening.
ciNQUECENTO: Italian for the "fifteen hundreds" (abbreviation of
mil cinque cento, or 1500), designating the century beginning
with 1500 A.D.— actually the sixteenth century. This was the
period known as the "Late," or "High Renaissance" (q.v.).

CLASSICAL ART: Art that is primarily concerned with formal principles,

as distinguished from Romantic art, which is characterized by
subjective expression. Art that is predominantly intellectual in
its appeal.
CLAY COLORS; Pigments derived from clav, such as the "earth colors"
(q.v.).
CLOisoNNisM: A theory of painting formulated by Paul Gauguin and
Emile Bernard, "Post-Impressionist" painters (q.v.) who em-
phasized the flatness of their forms by means of hca\y outlines
or cloisons, as in enamel work.
COAT: A layer of paint.
COLD COLORS ( COOL coLORs): Colors in the blue-violet range of hues,
or any mixture in which those colors predominate. Hues which
are capable of producing the sensation of coldness or remote-
ness as opposed to the sensation produced b\- "hot" colors

(q.v.).
COLLAGE; (See PAPIERS COLLtlS.)
COLOR oncHESTR.\TiON: Ths term used to describe the functional dis-

tribution of color in painting. Color balance.

COLOR WHEEL: A circular color diagram showing the relationships of
colors in terms of "primaries," "complementarics," "secondaries,"
and "tertiaries" (qq.v.).
COMPLEMENTARY COLORS; The primary colors being red, yellow, and
blue, the combination of any two of the three represents the

20.5
 complementary of the third. Thus the complementary of red is

green, etc.
COMPOSITION: The functional arrangement of form and color in a work
of art or the means bv which elements of design are employed to
create the illusion of space in pictures. The interrelation of all the
forms drawing or painting as a cohesive unit.
in a
CONCEPT: The mental image or creative idea that motivates the exe-
cution of an artistic work.
CONCRETE ART: The alternate term for abstract art, preferred by
Kandinsky. ("The very act of painting gives substance to the
idea, hence, it is more accurately to be described as concrete":
Kandinsky)
CONICAL; Cone-shaped.
CONSTANTS: "Organic constant universal forms." Those found in nature
(such as eggs, sea shells, etc.) as distinguished from "mechanic
constant universal fonns," which are man and machine-made
things (such as wheels, bowls, jugs, etc.), both of which are used
as compositional motifs.
CONSTRUCTIVISTS : Members of a Russian movement in abstract art who
rejected the painted canvas entirely and resorted to the use of
materials of the architect and engineer, building abstract figures
from bits of pasteboard and complex arrangements of wood and
metal.
CONTE; A type of black or sepia crayon named after the original mak-
ers— Conte of Paris.
CONTENT: The subject matter in a work of art, as distinguished from
the form by which it is given expression.
CONTOUR (or outline): The outer boundaries of a form.
CONTROLLED SPACE: See SPATIAL VOLUME.
CONVERSATION PIECE: A form of "genre" (q.v.) painting representing
a group of figures linked by a thread of common interest, best
exemplified by the work of the English painters of the eighteenth
century.
CORUSCATING COLOR: Very brilliant, harsh color.
COVERING power: The capacity of certain colors, by virtue of weight
and concentration of pigment in their chemistry and manufacture
to effectively cover those colors over which they are applied.
CRAZING: The accidental fracturing of glazes in pottery. Also the mi-
nute interlacing cracks on the surface of a painting that are
caused by the unequal degree of contraction in canvases where
quick-drying colors have been painted over slow-drying colors.
CROSS-HATCHING: The crisscrossing of parallel oblique lines often used
as a method of "shading" (q.v.) in pen and ink drawing and
etching.
CUBISM: Basically, a simultaneous presentation of different views of
the same object, arbitrarily selected and arranged by the painter
into an organized pattern within a flattened, controlled space. This
concept was developed by Picasso and Braque around 1907
Cezanne published that year:
largely as a result of a letter that
"You must see in nature the cylinder, the sphere, and the cone."
The first phase. Analytical Cubism, was followed by the phase
known as "Simultaneity" which, in turn, was succeeded by "Syn-
thetic Cubism" (qq.v.).
CURVILINEAR: Lincs that are characterized by curves, as opposed to
"rectilinear" (q.v.).
DADAiSM: An experimental movement in art and literature that began
during the First World War, relying heavily on shock tactics for

206
 )

effect. It was characterized bv the use of weird fantasy, a sort of

cultural counterpart of political anarchy, motivated by the mock-
inglv bitter impulses of the moment.
D.\MAH v.^rnish: A vamish made from the resins of evergreen trees.
DEEP SPACE: As opposed to "shallow" space (q.v.). space in pictures
suggestive of recessional depth, wherein the eye is made to feel
that it is viewing a scene as though through an open window.
(See HECESsiON.)
"de stijl" group: (Dutch for "The Style"). A Dutcli geometric-abstract
mo\emcnt in painting and architecture founded in 1917, whose
most prominent member was Piet Mondrian.
DET.iUL: An
enlarged reproduced section of a painting.
"die brucke": (German for "The Bridge"). A German Expressionist
movement founded in 190.5 exemplified by the works of Kirchner,
Nolde, Meckel, etc.

DIPTYCH: An two hinged panels.

altar piece consisting of
DISPOSABLE PALETTE: Pads of Specially treated palette paper that can
be peeled off and discarded after use.
DISTEMPER: A medium, usuallv used for stage-set painting, wall paint-
ing, and poster colors in which "pigment" is bound by glue or
and diluted with water.
"size" (cfq.v.)
Dl.STOBTioN: deviation from correct .shape, proportion, or
Artistic
outer appearance of objects.
DOUANiER, LE: French for customs officer, the sobriquet used for
the Primitive painter, Henri Rousseau, whose occupation this was.
DOUBLE-ACTION' DRAWING: A dcvice u.sed by "Neo-Surrealists,"
"Cubists," and "Futurists." In Surrealism the upper part of a torso
mav be shown in one attitude and the lower part in another.
In Futurism it represented an idea of motion; in Cubism it took
on formal significance whereby figures were acttially disintegrated
and then recombined in new foim.
DOUBLE IMAGE: A dc\ice in "Surrealist" (q.v.) painting simultaneou.sly
showing two irreconcilable interpretations of realitw such as a
cloud appearing in a human face, a human eye in the side of an
animal, etc.
DRAGGING: The technique of pulling a brush heavily loaded with pig-
ment ((uickly across the surface of a canvas. Used mostly in
abstract painting for deliberate textural effect. (See scumbling.)
DR.wviNG: The artistic representation of nature by means of line and
shade.
DRY BRUSH: ( See SCUMBLING. )

DRYERS: Chemicals that are added to oil paints to hasten dr\ing. (See
SICCATI\'ES.
DRY POINT: A method of engraving in which the needle is used directly
on the plate, without the use of acid (as opposed to "etching"
q.v.}.
DUCENTO: Italian for the thirteenth century.
DYE: A coloring matter, as distinct from "pigment" (tj.v.) in that it

can be used in a solution as a stain, whereas pigment ordinarily

has a granular composition.
DYNAMIC: .\s opposed to "static" (q.v.), that which in art energizes
the eve. As applied to composition it is a means of inducing the
sense of space on a two-dimensional surface.
DYNAMIC SYMMETRY: A svstcm of proportions attributed to ancient
works of art (especiallv Greek art of the fifth century B.C.), as
well as to some material objects such as spiral shells. Works of

art designed to embody dynamic symmetry' (.seldom practiced in

207
 )

contemporary painting) have dimensions that are worked out in

precise geometric formulae based upon the measurements
of a

rectangle.
EARTH colors: Colored mineral pigments usually produced from clays;
"ochre,"
the so-called iron pigments such as "umber," "sienna,"
"green earth," etc.

easel: a construction of metal or wood that is fashioned for purposes

of holding a canvas upright during the course of
painting.

EASEL painting: Painting that is done on canvases or wood panels, as

distinguished from "mural" painting (q.v.).
eclecticism: The method or practice of selecting what seems best
from various systems; the borrowing of stylistic or conceptual
aspects of other artists' work and incorporating them in one's
own
work.
ecole des beaux arts: The art school of the French Academy of Fine
Art, founded in 1648.
egg tempera: a process of painting in which egg is used as a medium,
instead of oil or water (See tempera.)
ELLIPSE: A foreshortened (or flattened) circle.
encaustic: An ancient technique whereby colors are combined with
wax and afterward fused with hot irons. It has recently come
back into vogue among certain modern painters.
engraving: Any print. An impression made from a plate that has been
etched or scratched with a needle, as in "dry point" (q.v.).
equivocal space: a feature of modem composition introduced by
Matisse in which objects in painting or drawing are not confined
to a specific area of color or value but may
include part of, or

extend over into neighboring areas of color not normally associated

with the "local color" (q.v.) of said object. Also space seen from a
double vantage, as though the viewer were looking at a scene
simultaneously from two different positions.
esthetic ( See aesthetic
: .

ETCHING: Drawing and designing on metal plates by means of a cor-

rosive agent (or mordant acid) which eats into sections of
the

plate left unprotected by "asphaltum" (q.v.). Also the term

used
to describe any print made from such plates.
exhibition: Any display of art works in a gallery or museum.
expressionism: Art which is principally concerned with giving form
and subjective emotions, as opposed to "Naturalism"
to intimate
iq-v.) which aims at an objective view of life.
eye-level: In linear perspective (q.v.) the level at which the posi-

tion of the horizon is to be detennined.

fat color: Color that is rich in oil content or color whose oil content
has not been made lean by dilution with turpentine.
fauves (fauvism): a group of radical painters whose exhibition in
1905-06 was dubbed by the critic, Louis Vauxcelles, as the work
of a "cage of wild beasts" (line cage de fauves), by
which name
they were thereafter known. Influenced by Gauguin and
van
Gogh, the Fauve painters (e.g. Matisse, Marquet, Dufy, Derain,
became interested in the dynamic potential of color, its pos-
etc.)
the canvas into motion within the compositional
sibility of setting

limits of post-Impressionist art. Thus the average Fauve

composi-
colors
tion represents a visually exciting intensification of the basic
whereby an object which was predominately
in a given situation
green would be rendered in the greenest way the artist could
manage. He could thereby convey a more vivid and exciting ver-
sion of the original reality.

208
"felt" line: Any line in drawing that is not glib or tossed ofF, but in
the execution of which the artist has invested feeling or sensi-
tivity. Anv linear description of a form that betrays great per-

ception and concentration.

FERRULE: The metal band on a brush tliat keeps the hairs or bristles

attached to the brush handle.

FILLER; An extraneous substance, usually "barium sulphate" (^.t'.),

that is used in the manufacture of inexpensive paints to supple-

ment the more costly pigments.
FINE ART: Art that is primarily concerned with the production of works
that have esthetic significance, as distinguished from "applied"
iq.v.) or commercial art.
FINGER PAINTING: A method of using a paste of coloring matter into
which the fingers arc dipped and then smeared on flat white sur-
faces to produce accidental, but frequently decorative effects.

It is often used for therapeutic purposes.

FIRING: The term used to describe the method of baking pottery or
ceramics in a "kiln" (q.v.).
FKATIF: A thin varnish in an alcohol solution that is used as a sprav
to protect charcoal and pastel work.
FL.\T PAINTING: Painting that is applied flat and in which there is no
attempt modeling. Largely a development of modem art.
at
FORESHORTENING: The representation in perspective of the diminished
length of objects in proportion to their degree of turning away or
receding from the position of the viewer.
FORM: The stmctural element in a work of art by which the artist's

vision is given shape, as distinguished from "content" {q.v.).

FOUND FORM (or object) The term usuallv applied to forms in nature
:

employed in Surrealist painting, such as stones, twigs, roots, drift-

wood, etc. that are singled out for the fantastic associations which
they conjure for the artist.

FRAME: Usuallv any wooden rectangular border which serves to en-

close a picture, somewhat like a window through which one can
look into space.
FRESCO; (See AL FRESCO.)
FRIEZE: Any ornamental band or strip on a wall. The decorated upper
part of a wall above the paneling and below the cornice.
FUGITIVE COLORS: Pigments which are easily affected bv the action of
atmosphere, sunlight, or moisture, causing the picture to fade,
darken, or in other ways alter from the artist's original intention.
FUNCTIONAL: That which in composition performs a specific function-
such as the "spatial" function of anv given object, or ahstractcd
part of an object, or color passage, etc.
FUNDAMENTAL COLORS; The name given to the seven colors making up
the "spectrum" {q.v.): violet, indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange,
and red.
GALLERY TONE: The result of age in oil paintings, causing them to turn
brown due to the oxidation of the oils and saturation of varnishes.
Modern painting, which relies much less on the use of fatty sub-
stances in its techniques, does not generally suffer as much from
gallenj tone.
GAMBOGE: A bright yellow substance obtained from solidified gum
resins that is used in the color enhancement of fine paints.
GENRE: The term used to describe paintings of familiar, exerydav life.
It is also used to classify paintings according to subject, such as
landscape, portrait, still life, etc.

GEOMETRIC ART; Art in which objects are often distorted to conform

209
 to the demands of geometric pattern and design; art in which
functional and decorative factors supersede factual representation.
GESSO: A thin paste of plaster of paris, or gypsum, used to cover raw
canvas as preparation for painting.
GESTALT: A theory originating in psychology in which the perception
of any object (as applied to its representation in art) is deemed
incapable of expression in terms of any of its parts but must be
considered as a whole.
GLAZING: The method of applying semitransparent color, such as raw
or burnt sienna thinned in oil, over opaque or brilliant under-
painting so as to permit the underlying colors to shine through.
GOLDEN SECTION ( Or GOLDEN mean): An esthctically pleasing division
of any geometrical figure (such as the rectangle of a canvas);
that part of a line or figure in which the size of the smaller part
is to the size of the greater part, as the greater part is to the

whole. A compositional ideal in the sectioning of a canvas, often

employed by the Old Masters.
GOTHIC: Medieval architecture originating in France during the twelfth
century, characterized by pointed vaulting and arches. The term
is sometimes used to describe other art forms in which an effect

has been produced that is evocative of Gothic forms.

GOUACHE: Opaque water-color painting in which colors are largely
mixed with white.
GRAY: Achromatic color; there are said to be 600 to 700 different grays
capable of being seen by the normal human vision.
GRAPHIC ARTS: Painting, drawing, engraving, or any other art that is
executed on a flat surface.
GREEK canon: a division of the human body into mathematical pro-
portions in which the total body is ideally equal to that of eight
heads.
GRINDING: The method used to crush pigment substances so as to
render them pliable for mixing with oils or other binding agents
for use in painting.
GRISAILLE: Underpainting in grav colors.
GROUNDS: Covering agents, such as "gesso" (q.v.) that are used on raw
canvas as preparation for painting.
GROTESQUE: A form of decorative painting or sculpture in which human
or animal forms are interwoven with flowers or foliage.
GUM: Resin. Any of the various preparations used in oil painting have
a base of "resin" (q.v.) or other tenacious, stable substance.
GUM TURPENTINE: (See TURPENTINE.)
GYPSUM: A chalky substance used in the preparation of "grounds"
(q-v.).
HALF-TONE: Intermediate values in painting, engraving, or photog-
raphy. The term is most commonly used in reference to black and
white reproduction.
HIGH KEY: (See key'.)
HIGHLIGHTS: The point of any object that is highest in relation to the
source of light— which point will correspondingly reflect the light
most strongly.
HIGH RENAISSANCE: A term referring to the later development of the
Renaissance and generally applied to the first thirty years of the
sixteenth century. This period is notable for the work of such
great masters as Leonardo da Vinci (1452-1519), Michelangelo
Buonarotti (1475-1564), Giorgione (1477-1510), Titian (1477-
1576), and Raphael (1483-1520).
HOT COLORS: Colors in the red-orange-yellow bracket that are sug-

210
 gestive of the hi-at of fire, as contrasted with the "cold colors"

iq-v.).
HUDSON RIVER SCHOOL: A iiativc American school of painting founded
by Thomas Cole in 1825, principally concerned with landscape
painting of the Hudson \'alley.
HUE: Literally refers to the actual name of a color (i.e. yellow, red,
blue-green, etc.) -in other words, the color Hues or colors
itself.

are conditioned by either their value-that is, the amount of light

and dark they contain-or their intensity, the amount of gra\' with

which they are saturated.

ICON (or ikon): a representation of a sacred personage, either in
paint, low relief, or "mosaic" encased in metal (q.v.).
illuminated manuscript; Book illustration of the Middle Ages in
which the text was written by hand and illustrated by drawings
or small paintings. Although extensively used for a time, it went
into disu.se with the introduction of easel painting.
illusthation: Painting or drawing that is mainly descriptive of a stor)'

or idea.
IMPASTO: Painting that is done in a particularh' thick or hea\y fashion.
Literally, the pasting on of the paint.
IMPRESSIONISM: A movement in art that made its formal appearance
in an historic exhibition in Paris in 1874. A variety of "Naturalism"
in painting based on the use of broken color and the "prismatic"
palette (qq.v.). Impressionist painting represented a revolt against
the dark "tonal" painting (q.v.) of the academicians.
iMPniMATURA: Grounds toned with a thin transparent color, such as
p,rct'n earth, to reduce the absorbency of the grounds. This method
was used mostly by the Old Masters.
INDUCED COLOR; The tendency of a color to appear more complement-
ary to its surroundings. Thus, a red smrounded by greens appears
redder than when surrounded by yellow or orange, which would
induce it to take on a slightly more violet or crimson hue; the color
blue would in the same way make red appear more orange.
INDIA INK; A black ink that has been treated with an addition of sus-
pended carbon so as to render it indelible to erasure or
to moisture. It is used in pen-and-ink and "wash drawings"
(q.v.).
INTENSITY-; This term often used in place of chroma, differentiates pure
or intense colors from those that ha\e been neutralized, to what-
ever degree, by gray. Thus, poppy red may be spoken of as
having a strong intensity, or chroma, while brick red is rela-
tively less intense, or pure, to the degree that it is a more neutral
or grayish red.
JAPANF-SE PRINTS; A traditional form of Japanese popular art produced
in multiple color from woodblocks (see woodcut), a process in
which their skill has seldom been rivaled. The.se colorprints had
considerable influence on "avant-garde" painting (q.v.) of the
middle and late nineteenth ccntiny, helping to determine the
course of modem art.

KEY: The factor in painting determining the amount of light colors

used; the higher the key the lighter the values, and the lower the
key the deeper the values. Hipli key painting is generally asso-
ciated with outdoor work, as it is influenced by the brilliance of
the light out-of-doors, while low keij painting is usually reser\ed
for indoor work, where the light is more subdued.
key; This term is also used to describe a that is made
triangular wedge
to be inserted in each corner of the stretched canvas which, when

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tapped with a mallet or hammer, causes the canvas to be pulled

remove any bulge,
tighter over the stretchers, the object being to
wrinkle or sag that may develop in a picture.
KILN: A special oven for baking or "firing" (q.v.) pottery and ceramics.
KINETIC: Pertaining to, or having characteristics of motion.
LAPIS lazuli: a stone of rich blue color from which the Old Masters
used to make blue pigment, a method long discarded.
LAY FIGURE: A Small mechanical figure, somewhat like a manikin
(q.v.) but in which the joints and mechanism are concealed so as
to give it greater phvsical resemblance to the human form.
LEAD COLORS: Thcse are frequently useful but poisonous colors, hence,
best avoided. Modern chemistry has developed safe substitutes
for all pigments made with lead.
LEAN COLORS: Color that is relatively low in oil content or thinned by
the addition of turpentine, as opposed to "fat" color (q.v.).
LIFE DRAWING: Drawing that is done from the nude model.

LIMITED SPACE: (See SPATIAL VOLUME.)

LINEAR PERSPECTIVE: (See PERSPECTIVE.)
LINER: A term sometimes used to describe the insert (usually white
or gray) that sets a painting off from its frame.
LINER BRUSH: Usually a very thin brush made of very long hairs for
the painting of fine lines.
LINSEED OIL: A ycllowish oil extracted from flaxseed, it is the most
widely used oil in the manufacture of oil paints. It has also long
been used as a medium in oil painting (in a refined state), but
due to its yellowish efiFect on certain pigments it is not as much
in current use.
LITHOGRAPH: A print made from stone engraving, using a dark, greasy
ink as a medium. Modern lithography has discarded the use of
stone and employs metal plates instead.
LOCAL COLOR: Generally the natural color of any object, such as the
red of a rose, green of grass, blue of sky, etc. Also color that is

modified by "reflected." or "induced" color (qq.v.).

MAGIC REALISM: A form of "Surrcalism" (q.v.)
MAHL STICK: A light stick with a leather padded tip that is made to be
used as a support for the hand in the painting of very fine detail,
as in portraiture.
MANIKIN: An adjustable model of the human figure with knucklelike
joints on which its parts rotate making it possible to adjust to
most positions taken by the live model. Its use in art studios
dates from the sixteenth century.
MANNERISM: A term describing the anticlassical art of the mid-sixteenth
century, in which the idealized forms and serene mood of Renais-
sance Art was altered to what has been described as a perversion
of classical ideals. It is characterized by attenuated nervous forms
and intense melancholia, e.g. Bronzino.
MASTERPIECE: A work of art by an acknowledged master. The term is
also used to denote the highest degree of accomplishment in a
work of art.
MARINE PAINTING: Seascapc painting.
MASS: The positive element in a work of art, as contrasted with that
of "negative space" (q.v.). The concentration in a specific area of
a picture or drawing of "color," "hue," or "value" (qq.v.).
MASTIC VARNISH: Vamish made from the resins of the mastic tree. It is
widely used as a finishing vamish for oil paintings.
MAT: A border, usually of white or colored pasteboard, that is used to
frame drawings, engravings, or water color paintings.

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 )

\fATT (or matte): a dull finish or surface in paintings. Also color

that sunk in has a matt appearance.
is

MECHANICAL DRAWING: Prccision drawing in\ol\ing the use of instm-

ments.
media; Plural for "medium" (f/.t".).

MEDIUM: A fluid agent such as oil or turpentine (or combinations of

both to which varnish is sometimes added) that is used as a
solvent in the application of color in oil painting. The term is also
used to designate one or another of the different techniques in

painting, such as oil painting, gouache, water color, etc.

METAL SCULPTURE: A techni(jue in modern sculpture in which weld-
ing is often emploved as an outgrowth of "Constructivism"
(q-V.).
MEZZOTINT: An engraving process that bears some resemblance to
"dr)' point" (q.v. ) . A very laborious process involving the roughen-
ing of the entire surface of the plate by means of a many-toothed
instrument called a rocker; the artist then achieves his design by
scraping away the roughened surface (or burr). When printed,
produces deep, velvety tones.
it

MIXED TECHNIQUE: The usc of two separate techniques in one paint-

ing, such as the underpainting of a picture with water soluble
paints (usually tempera or casein), which are isolated with
thinned coats of shellac and then painted over with oils.
MIXED WHITE: Usuallv a white paint made from a combination of
zinc and lead whites.
MOBILE: A development bvthe American sculptor, Alexander Calder,
of "kinetic" moving) sculpture which set out to express the
(or
relationships of volumes in motion. Mobiles generallv are con-
structions of metal fragments or other light weight materials on
bent wires to show plastic forms in motion.
MODELING: Either in painting or drawing, the building up of form
through the use of gradations, as from dark to light.
MONOCHROME: Any painting that is executed in various tones of one
color.
MONTAGE: A technique in which sections of photographs are super-
imposed one over the other to permit them to be seen simultane-
ously.
MORTISE: The cut-out groove of a wooden object that enables it to be
fitted together bv insertion of the tongue of a corresponding
member. (See stretcher.)
MOSAIC: A surface decoration consisting of an inlay of small bits of
glass, stone, or other material. Most characteristic of Bvzantine
art, it has been revived in later periods.

MOTIF: Generallv anv theme, pattern, or featme of design in a work

of art.
MOTION: (See movement.)
MOVEMENT: Spccificallv, the direction of lines or forms in the composi-
tion of a picture (as distinguished from action or motion, which
usuallv refers to the attitudes or positions of objects in a painting.)
Thus, the outstretched arms of a figure mav indicate some emo-
tion or other, this being the "motion" of the figure; but it is

the linear direction of the anns, linked with other elements in the
composition, which provide the spatial movement.
MURAL; A painted wall decoration (sometimes extended to the ceil-
ing) usuallv having religious or social significance. (See al
FRESCO.
NATURALISM; Art in which the princijial object is resemblance to the

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 . . . .

subject, as opposed to "Realism" (q.v.) which is concerned with

reveahng, or expressing, the underlying structure of the subject.
NATURE morte: French for "still life" (q-v.)
NEGATIVE space; The space in pictures not occupied by the objects or
forms represented.
NEGRO art: ( See AFRICAN negro art. )
NEO-PRIMITIVE: (See UNSCHOOLED PAINTERS.)
neo-impressionism: a movement of "Post-Impressionist" painting
(q.v.) founded by the French painters Seurat and Signac in the
1880s. (See POiNTiLLisM.)
NEUTRAL COLOR: Usually grays. Color that is without definite identifi-

cation as to hue.
NOCTURNE: A term in music adopted by Whistler to describe his paint-
ings of evening and night scenes.
NONOBJECTIVE PAINTING (or NONREPRESENTATIONAL PAINTING ) : Alter-
native terms for "abstract painting" (q.v.)
ODALISQUE: A female slave or concubine in an Eastern harem, a subject
most often found work of such famous painters as Dela-
in the
and Matisse.
croix, Ingres, Renoir,
OIL PAINTING; Painting in which pigments ground in oils are used. It
has been the most widely practiced "medium" (q.v.) since it dis-
placed "tempera" painting (q.v.) in the fifteenth century.
OLD MASTER: The term applied to painters usually dating from the
early (or low) "Renaissance" (q.v.) through the eighteenth cen-
tury. Itis also used to describe any work by such a painter.

OPAQUE; Nontransparent, or nontranslucent. Generally any surface

through which light cannot pass.
OPAQUE PAINTING: Painting in which the colors used require the addi-
tion of white, such as "casein" or "gouache" (qq.v.).
OUTLINE: (See CONTOUR.)
OVERPAINTING: Painting that is done over previously applied color.
( See UNDERPAINTING. )

OVOID: An egg-shaped form.

PAINT BOX: Sometimes called a sketch-box or painting kit. A box made
of wood or metal, usually 12 x 16, having various compartments
for brushes, paints, oil, turps, etc. and also slotted and grooved
for carrying canvas "panels."
PAINTERLY: The term is used to describe the rendering of masses in
terms of color, tone, light and shade, in contrast to linear, which
concerns itself with "contour" (q.v.). It also implies the artist's
emotional response to color and pigment, such as when a picture
is described as having a painterly feeling.

PAINTING knife: A spatular knife with a pliable blade, which usually

differs from the "palette knife" (q.v.) in that the blade is sepa-
rated from the handle by a bent shank. This permits greater
maneuverability in its use as an instrument of painting.
PALETTE; Usually a board with a thumbhole, on the surface of which
the artist mixes his colors. The term is also used to describe spe-
ciahzed selections of colors such as "Impressionist," "spectrum,"
or "prismatic" palette (qq.v.)
PALETTE KNIFE: A generally blunt-edged knife that is used for scraping
the palette and mixing colors. It is sometimes mistakenly confused
with the "painting knife" (q.v.)
PAPIERS COLLES: Popularly known as collage. The technique employed
in certain branches of modern art in which sections of newspaper,
wallpaper, or other textured or figured material are pasted directly
onto the painting as part of the compositional or decorative

214
 scheme. This feature was first introduced during the Synthetic
phase of Cubism. E.xamples: Picasso, Braque, and Gris.
PASSE partout: a kind of framing in which the "mat" (q.v.) of a
picture, as well as the protective glass and backing are all held
together by strips of tape pasted o\er the combined edges.
PASTEL: \ soft, colored crayon of ground pigment that is capable of
producing delicate, atmospheric effects. The term is also used to
describe anv work that is done in this medium, such as a "pastel
painting."
PASTICHE: An imitation or caricature of other artists' styles.
PATiN.\: An effect produced bv surface corrosion on antique sculpture.
It is often simulated in modern statuary and sculpture for en-
hanced esthetic effect.
PATTERN: A harmonious arrangement of certain elements of design:
in composition, the balanced disposition of lines, shapes and
color.
PAYSAGE: French for landscape painting.
PERMANENT COLORS: Colors which are proof against the action of time
and the effects of dampness, light, and atmospheric impurities.
Colors which are not ordinarily subject to chemical change and
discoloration, or susceptible to "bleeding" (q.v.).
PERSPECTIVE; Linear perspective is the means bv which the third
dimension is first represented on a flat surface, on the principle
that all parallel lines converge toward vanishing points on the
horizon. The effect of \isual recession produced b\' the gradual
diminishing of objects in proportion to their distance from the
viewer.
Aerial perspective is a technique designed to convev the feeling
that an object is far away and rather hazy. By virtue of the
softened outline and lessened color intensity, we receive the
somewhat out of focus.
impression that a distant object is

PHOTOGRAPHIC REPHESENT,\TiON: Painting which, bv means of tonal

gradations, attempts to reproduce the naturalistic effect of photog-
raphv. ( See tonal painting. )
PICTURESQUE: The representation of nature in painting in an exag-
geratedly sentimental or romantic style.
PICTURE PLANE: A term in the studv of perspective alluding to the
theoretical transparent surface of a picture. It is based on the
theorv that anv scene in perspective can be made either larger
or smaller in relation to its frame, proportionate to the distance
of the \iewer from the frame. Thus, if a frame is held close to the
viewer, the elements in the scene viewed through the frame
become smaller, while the farther away the frame the larger
these elements appear in proportion to the frame.
PIGMENT: A ground coloring substance that is combined with a
medium such as oil to form paint. Pigments may be of mineral,
animal, or vegetal origin.
PINK PERIOD: (See rose period.)
plane: Usually anv surface of an object distinguishable from other
surfaces by \irtue of the position of the object in relation to the
source of illumination. The term is also used to describe a flat

color passage, such as is most often found in the work of Cezanne

and the Cubists.
PL.ASTic ARTS: Thosc arts which are concerned with the manipulation
of materials so as to give them form and .shape, such as sculpture,
ceramics, oil painting, etc.
PLASTICITY'; Having the suggestion of form and space in painting.

215
PLEiN AIR: From the French en plein air (in the open air). It is the
expression used to describe the practice of painting out-of-doors
so as to capture the effect of light and atmosphere unobtainable
in the studio. Although pioneered by the painters of the "Barbi-
zon School" (q.v.), it is usually associated with the work of the

"Impressionists" (q-v.).
poiNTiLLiSM: The method of painting invented by Seurat and used by
the "Neo-Impressionists"; a development of the "spectrum
palette" (qq-v.) in which minute dots (or points) of color were
substituted for the freer, more atmospheric "broken color" (q.v.)
of the Impressionists.
POST-IMPRESSIONISM: A movement of late nineteenth century paint-
ing which was in revolt against "Impressionist Naturalism" {q.v.),
and which concerned itself with the more formal, emotional or
symbolic aspects of painting, as expressed in the work of Cezanne,
van Gogh, Gauguin, Seurat, et al.
POT BOILER: The slang term for art work done purely for mercenary
See buckeye. )
reasons. (

PREPARED canvas: Canvas that has been primed with "gesso" or other
semiabsorbent "grounds" (qq.v.). (See priming.)
PRIMARY COLORS: Red, bluc, and yellow. Any combination of two of
these three colors is "complementary" (q.v.) to the third. These
combinations are also called "secondary" colors. Two secondary
colors combine to make a "tertiary color." (qq.v.).
PRIMING: The preliminary ground of gesso and/or glue that is applied
to raw canvas as preparation for painting.
PRIMITIVE PAINTING: The term that is loosely applied to painting that
is either provincial, "unschooled" (q.v.),
unsophisticated, naively
grotesque, savage, or dating from the time before the science of
"perspective" (q.v.) was known.
primitivism: The term that is used to describe a manner of painting
by accomplished artists who, inspired by savage, peasant, or
child art, seek to incorporate similar qualities in their own work.
Picasso and Gauguin are the best examples of this type of painter.

prism: triangular optical instrument of transparent glass, two of

A
whose faces are inclined at an angle of less than ninety degrees.
The rays of sunlight that pass through this prism cause the white
rays to be separated so as to reproduce the colors in the solar
"spectrum" (q.v.).
prismatic COLORS: Generally, bright colors. Colors that are capable
of producing the sensation of light, hence, resembling the colors
in a prism.
PROFILE: The foi-wardmost extension of the human face as seen from
the side. Any side \'iew of an object or form.
PROPORTION: The relation of one portion of an object or form to an-
other or to the whole. The relation of things to each other in
respect to size, degree, or magnitude.
PURISM: A movement in modern painting, associated with the names
of Ozenfant, Le Corbusier and Brancusi, aimed at ridding Cubism
of its decorative elements. Purist painting is geometrically severe
in design and the colors are used generally straight out of the
tube without mixing.
QUALITIES: A term in art criticism generally used in reference to the
intrinsic properties of the picture surface, the texture of the pig-
ments, and their relationship to the canvas as a whole.
quattrocento: Italian for "four hundred" but used in reference to the

fifteenth century of the Italian Renaissance (q.v.).

216
 .

RABBETT (or RABBIT): The reccssed groove of a frame in whicli the

picture is held.
RABBIT CLUE: A glue made from the clippings of rabbit skins. It is

crystaline in form, but when heated it turns liquid and is used as

a "size" for priming (q.v.).

RAINBOW PALETTE: (See SPECTRUM PALETTE.)
realism: Art which is concerned with the interpretation of a subject
in terms of its essential nature without minute details, e.g.
Daumier or Courbet. This method contrasts with Naturalism
which aims at a detailed and photographic rendition.
RECESSION: The representation of depth and the illusion of the third
dimension on a flat surface by means of "linear perspective"
(q.v.). In "abstract" or "semiabstract painting" (qq.v.) recession
may be produced by the relative behavior of the colors used
also
tendency of "cold colors" to retire, and the "hot" or
(e.g.), the
"opaque" colors to come forsvard) as well as through use of
"rhythm" (qq.v.).
RECTILINEAR: That which is formed or bounded by straight lines.
REDUCING GLASS: A grouud glass through which a painting can be seen
sharply reduced in size. It was originally devised as a means of
permitting the painter to see the picture in its totality but has
fallen into disuse because, instead of pointing up its faults, it

tends to show a painting in a more flattering ligbt.

REFLECTED COLOR: "Local color" (q.v.) that is modified by reflections
of color from neighboring objects.
RENAISSANCE: The term signifying the reawakening of the arts in the
spirit of the humanistic and classical past of ancient Greece and

Rome. The revival of artistic activity in Europe, particularly in

Italy, during the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries a.d.
REPRESENTATIONAL PAINTING: Painting in which the artist is concerned
with recording the visible world in recognizable form but not
necessarily with photographic intent, as is the case with "Natu-
ralism" (q.v.).
RESINS: Various organic substances, generally hardened secretions of
trees, that are used in the manufacture of oil paints, painting
media, and varnishes.
RETOUCH VARNISH: A mi.xture of varnish and synthetic ingredients that
is used to bring back the freshness of color that has "sunk in"
(q.v.).
RHYTHM: Derived from the Greek word meaning to flow. Rhythm
as applied to painting refers to the unification of different parts
of a work by means of repeated motifs and patterns of similar
"color," "texture," or "value" (qq.v.).
ROCOCO: Highly decorative court art of eighteenth century Europe in
which light-hearted love, charming, colorful costumes and gra-
cious movements predominate. It is popularly referred to as

"wedding cake art."

ROMANTIC ART: A highly emotional art that emphasized an extremely
personal viewpoint. Thus it mav have a protest element as in
Gericault, an exotic quality as in Delacroix, or a passionate
absorption in nature as a vehicle for the artist's emotions, e.g.
Turner. Heightened colors, broken contours, diagonal composi-
tions, and dynamic movement are often found in this art.
ROSE PERIOD: (Also known as Pink Period) the phase of Picasso's
painting in which the overall tone was characterized by a rose
or pinkish hue, as distinguished from his later "blue period" (q.v.)
SABLE BRUSH: A brush made from fine sable hair that is used for very

217
 exacting work. But because of its extreme softness it is not as
suitable for most oil painting techniques as is the firmer bristle
brush.
salon; Although originally referring to all public art exhibitions in
France, it has come to be associated with exhibitions sponsored
by official groups such as the Academic de Beaux-Arts.
SALON DES REFUSES: A Special gallery assigned bv Napoleon III in
1863 for the exhibition of many paintings rejected bv the
official salon. It was here that the Impressionist rebellion against

the strictures of "Academic painting" first made its mark (q.v.).

sanguine: a crayon made from red ochre, it is one of the earliest of
drawing materials. It can be used with beautiful effect when
combined with dark crayons, such as "conte" (q.v.).
SATURATION: The degree of "chroma" (q.v.) of a particular color.
Generally the greatest possible purity or intensity of a given color.
SCALE: The relative proportions of things in painting or drawing.
SCALE DRAWING: A copv of a drawing in which all the distances are
in the same
ratio with corresponding distances in the original.
This accomplished by the division of the paper into squares
is

resembling an enlarged graph. Each square represents a fraction

of the corresponding area of the picture to be copied.
SCRATCHBOARD: A
type of chalk-covercd board on which drawings are
made with pen and ink, crayon, etc., the light parts being
is used mostly in
scratched out with a steel tool. This technique
commercial art and illustration.
SCRATCH TECHNIQUE: The mcthod of using a palette knife for scratch-
ing through layers of wet paint. A feature of "calligraphic tex-
ture" (q.v.).
SCUMBLING: The technique of "dragging" (q.v.) paint over previously
painted surfaces with a "dry" brush (one that has not been
dipped into turps), so as to permit part of the color beneath to
show through. This is usually done with light, opaque pigment
over deeper color.
"s" CURVE: A "curvilinear" "motif" (qq.v.) frequently found in nature,
such as in the rolling of hills, the winding of roads, the curve of a
bough and of a human form, etc.
SECCO: A variety of "mural" painting (q.v.) that is executed on dry
plaster, as opposed to "fresco," and has a dull, "matt" finish
(qq.v.).
SECONDARY COLORS: A Combination of any two "primary colors" (q.v.)
in equal proportion.
SECULAR PAINTING: Nourcligious painting, or painting that is not bound
by the dictates of any ecclesiastical dogma. It first made its ap-
pearance in Europe during the "Renaissance" (q.v.) when the no-
bility along with the rising merchant class began to take over
patronage of the arts that was previously e.xercised exclusively by
the church.
SEMiABSTRACT PAINTING: Painting that is pronouncedly abstract in de-
sign but in which subject matter has not entirely been obscured.
SENSE PERCEPTION: Seeing by means of the senses. The awareness that,
esthetically speaking, there is more to a subject than meets the eye.
SEPiA: A pigment of rich brown color made from the secretion of cut-
tlefish that is largely employed in "wash drawings" (q.v.).
serigraphy: (See silk screen print).
SFUMATO: (or LO SFUM.'^To) Italian for smoked. A technique originated
:

by Leonardo da Vinci involving the blurring of outlines by fine

shading and color "blending" (q.v.) to soften outlines.

218
 .

shade: a degree of color value, such as a "dark shade of green." etc.

SHADING: The use of gradations of "values" (q.v.) in drawing for
sculptural effect.
SHALLOW' SPACE: As opposcd to "deep space" {q.v.), space in painting
which is concerned with keeping the elements in shallowest pos-
sible relation to the picture surface.
siccatives: Agents that are used to facilitate or hasten the drying of
oil paints. These agents arc made from manganese, cobalt, metal

o.xides,and diluted with oil of turpentine. They are capable of

drying in a few hours, but unless used sparingly the\- can
oils

prove dangerous to the pictine.

SILK screen print: a technicjuc of printing flat color designs through
a piece of silk, known as Swiss bolting cloth which is stretched
over a wooden frame fastened to a table by means of hinges with
removable pins. Silk screen printing is done on many surfaces,
such as glass, plastics, wood, metal, leather, paper, and cloth.
simultaneity: The representation in "Cubism" of different aspects of
an object in a single composition. In "Futurism" (qq-v.) it im-
plies the portrayal of motion by a sequence of simultaneously
shown positions, such as Duchamp's Nude Descending a Stair-
case.
SIZE: Liquified rabbit or fish glues spread over raw canvas to provide
adhesion for the "grounds" (q.v.).
sketch: Anv relatively quick rendition of a scene or other subject with
pencil, charcoal, or color.
source of light: The direction of light falling on a subject.
SPATIAL composition: (See recession.)
spatial movement: (See movement.)
spatial tension: The term that is used to describe the implied mag-
netism that certain forms in composition have for one another, as
though forcibh- held apart by the interxening space. (See nega-
tive space.)
sp.\tial volume: The sense of spatial enclosure in composition; space
that has three dimensions, as opposed to the depth of distance
which, being uncontrolled, leads the eve into infinity, hence, loses
the sense of enclosure of controlled or limited space.
SPECTRUM: The composition of light in colored bands as produced bv
the "prism" (q.v.)
SPECTRUM PALETTE; The usc of pigments in painting corresponding
closely to the colors found in the spectrum. It was first employed
by the Impressionists and later developed in more scientific man-
ner bv the "Pointillists" (qq.v.). (See prismatic colors.)
STAIN: In oil painting, a thin wash of color diluted with turpentine.
STATIC: The opposite of "dynamic" (q.v.). In composition it is gen-
erally the quality that is obstructive to the sense of spatial tension
or movement.
STEREOSCOPIC: Visual depth. Tlie seeing of objects in three dimen-
sions.
STILL LIFE: An arrangement of inanimate objects as a subject for paint-
ing. The term is also used to describe the finished painting of such
a subject.
STIPPLE: The method of obtaining a iniiform dotted texture by dab-
bing wet surfaces of paint w ith the tips of bristle brushes.
STRETCHED CANVAS: Cauvas that h;is been drawn tight over mortised

and secured bv means of either tacking or stapling.

stretchers
STRETCHER: A Strip of wood about two inches wide and one inch deep
that has been "mortised" (q.v.) so that it is c;ipable of being

219
 )

joined at right angles with other stretchers to form a frame over

which canvas can be stretched.
STRIP FRAME: The framing of pictures with strips, usually one inch
wide, generally preferred by abstract or "nonobjective painters"
{qq.v.)
STUDIO: Any painter's or sculptor's workshop.
STUDY: Any drawing or painting, done either imaginatively or from
nature, for purposes of study in preparation for a projected work
of art.
SUNK-IN COLOR: Color that has sunk in due to excessive use of turpen-
tine, or other careless handling of pigment. (See retouch var-
nish).
surrealism: a movement in modern painting and literature, begun
in 1925 and influenced by Freudian psychology. Its aim is to
create a superreality through fresh associations and relationships
of ordinarily unrelated themes and ideas. Although an expression
of the imagination "as revealed in dreams," Surrealism became a
conscious method for projecting new associations and general
incongruities in a whimsical or erotic manner. Exemplified by the
works of Dali, Tanguy, and Chagall.
SYMMETRY: The disposition of equal elements of design around a cen-
tral axis, resulting in a superficially pleasing arrangement. Such

designs are usually "static" (q.v.), hence, unsuited for spatial

composition.
synthetic cubism: The phase of Cubism which, in 1913, introduced
the use of the papier colli {q.v.) in painting.
TABLE EASEL: A short, usually collapsible tripod easel, constructed so
that can stand on any table.
it

TACTILE VALUES: The scnse of tangibility of objects in a painting, a

term that originated with the Bernard Berenson, and has
critic,

since become standard in the phraseology of art criticism.

TACKY: Sticky, unpleasant-looking surfaces in painting.
TAPESTRY: Decorative weavings of complex and multicolored design,
usually for pictorial wall-hanging. An art that originated in Egypt
in the fifteenth century B.C. The famous Gobelin tapestries of
France have been known to use as many as 14,000 tints in the
creation of a single hanging.
TECHNIQUE: The method, or procedure in the creation of a work of
art, as distinguished from the purely expressive element, or con-

ception of the artist. The term is also used in reference to a particu-

lar form of creative activity, such as oil painting, water color,

etc. (See medium.)

tempera: Painting in which the yolk of egg or water is used as a
medium, instead of oil. The pigment dries quickly, leaving "matt"
surfaces (q.v.), and recjuires considerable skill in handling. It is
the oldest known painting medium and also the most permanent.
(Renaissance tempera paintings remain practically unaffected to
the present time.
tertiary COLORS: (Meaning third in the order of mixture.) Any color
that is produced by the mixture of two "secondary" {q.v.) colors.
The tertiaries are gray, being either red-gray, blue-gray, or vellow-
gray where either of the primary colors (red, blue, or yellow)
predominate in the mixture. Where the "secondary" {q.v.) colors
predominate, the tertiaries will be violet-gray, orange-gray, or
green-gray.
TEXTURE: An element in painting that is often used for both func-
tional and decorative purposes. Tactile texture is that which is

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 produced by the mixture of alien substances, such as sand, gravel,
etc. to the paint, or by the building up of the
paint by means of

coagulative agents such as "wax emulsion" (q-v.). Visual, or

"calligraphic" (q.v.) texture is usually produced by the massing
of motifs of one t\pe or another in such a way as to attract
and
stimulate the eye.
thinner: The solvent, or diluting agent such as turpentine, that is

used in oil painting. (Benzine, which is a thinner for house

paints, is not used with artists' colors as it can prove injurious to
the pigments.)
THBEE dimensional: Anvthing having three dimensions, hence a

"volume" (q.v.).
TiLT-BOABD; A vertical working surface for drawing or painting that is

capable of being tilted to approximately fifteen different angles,

and is usually furnished with a well for pencils, brushes, etc.

TINCTUHE: A tinge, or faint suggestion of a particular color.

tinge: a sensitive-almost imperceptible gradation of color. The

slightest trace of a color. Tinnc and tincture are practically inter-

changeable.
TONAL PAINTING: A term used to describe painting in which color has
been subordinated to the requirements of photographic represen-
tation. (See NATURALISM.)
TONE: A color value. Every color has \alue gradations, from dark to
light, such as deep red, intermediate, light red, etc. The term is
also used to describe the manner or mood of a work of art.
torso: The trunk nf the human body, independent of head, arms, or
legs.
tour de force: An artistic accomplishment brought about b\- sheer
force of skill. Clever artistic performance that is beyond the range
of normal expectancy.
TRACING: The method of transferring a design, pattern, or picture, usu-
ally by means of superimposition of semitransparent paper over
the original and impressing the lines thus copied onto another
surface. (See camera obscura.)
TRECENTO: (Italian for three hundred) The term that is used to de-

scribe fourteenth centurv Renaissance art.

TRIPTYCH: An altarpiece in the form of three hinged panels contain-
ing paintings generally designed as a single composition. The
triptych has been used in modem times without religious subject
or function.
TROMPE l'oeil: A French expression meaning deceive the eye. It is

used to describe a tvpe of painting where the artist's intention is

to achieve a high degree of "verisimilitude" (q.v.) so that the
spectator is at times deceived into accepting any subject .so treated
as the real article. (The history of art abounds with anecdotes re-
lating to such happenings.)
TRUNCATED: Anv form (usually a cone or pyramid) that is cut off at
some point in its elevation by a plane that is parallel to its base.
TURPENTINE: A resinous licjuid that is used as a paint "thinner" and
painting "medium" (qq.v.). Cutn turpentine has a greater affinity
with the chemistry of artist's oil paints, hence preferred to the
commoner distilled wood turpentine.
TURPS: An abbreviated term for tiu-]ientine.

TWO DIMENSIONAL: Having just two dimensions— length and width—

hence, flat.

UNDERPAINTING: The first coat of paint in a picture, usually applied

"lean" to permit (juick drying, so that the slower-drying "fat

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 )

colors" that are painted over them do not fuse with the under-
painting. The age old principle of painting "fat over lean" is

traceable to the "Old Masters" (qq.v.).

UNDERPAiNTiNG vv'HiTE: A type of white paint capable of being used
with all "media" (q.v.), that is quick drying and thus can be
used to produce textured surfaces in the underpainting.
UNSCHOOLED PAINTERS: Generally, painters whose work is character-
ized by apparent lack of formal training and whose work is often
distinguished by a rather quaint originality in their conception
and execution. The best known among these are Henri Rousseau,
Camille Bambois, and Grandma Moses.
VALUES; Those qualities in drawing and painting that are distinguish-
able in terms of light and dark. Values indicate the presence or
absence of light in varying degrees. (See artist's squint.)
VANGUARD: The forward van or most revolutionary section of an art
movement.
VANISHING POINT; The point on the horizon toward which paral-
lel lines seen in perspective tend to converge. (See perspec-
tive.)
VARNISH: A glossy preparation of liquid resinous substances that is

used as a finish— mainly for oil paintings. (Also see retouch

VARNISH.
VEHICLE: Any substance, such as oil, gum, glue, etc. with which pig-
ments are bound or tempered in the grinding of paints. (See
MEDIUM.)
verisimilitude: The actual appearance of things in nature.
viE-w FINDER: Usuallv a small piece of cardboard in which a rec-
tangular opening of about 3x4
inches has been cut out and is
used as an aid to composition in outdoor painting, the object
being for the painter to shift the view-finder about until he has
framed in a view containing the most desirable elements for
composition.
VINE CHARCOAL: A slcuder coal of the vine. It is preferred for all

charcoal drawing or composition requiring sensitivity of line.

VISUAL DENOMINATORS: The Sphere, cone, cylinder, and cube deemed

to be the foundation of all forms and shapes in nature.
VISUAL ARTS: All art that is understood and appreciated through the
agency of sight.
volume: Anything having three-dimensional form.
WASH DRAWING: Drawing done with diluted India ink to produce
various shades of gray, although "sepia" {q.v.) or water colors
are sometimes used.
WATER COLOR; The art of painting on paper with thin glazes of water
soluble pigments. The term is also used to describe any finished
work in this medium.
WATER COLOR PAPER: Paper that is usually made from pressed pulp
of linen rags. The uneven texture and absorbency of this rag
paper is specially suited for water color painting.
WAX EMtiLSiON: An emulsion containing wax that has a coagulating
effect on oil used as an agent for building up thick-
paints. It is

nesses of paint wherever desirable. (See texture.)

WET-iN-wET: Oil painting that is usually done in one sitting. (See
ALLA PRIMA.)
WHITING; Pulverized chalk that is used as a pigment, mostly in the
preparation of "grounds." {q.v.).
wnNDOw-Box; A term used to describe any picture frame that is deeply
recessed.

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WOOD-BLOCK PRINT: An impression on paper or fabric that is made
from an incised woodblock.
WOODCUT: A wooden block on which a picture or design has been
engraved, carved, or otherwise incised and from which prints
are made.

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