CHAPTER IV.
PHOTO-ZINC PROCESS.[12]
IN order to turn any of these drawings into blocks for the type press, the first process is to have it photographed to the size required, and to transfer a print of it on to a sensitized zinc plate. This print, or photographic image of the drawing lying upon the zinc plate, is of greasy substance (bichromate of potash and gelatine), and is afterwards inked up with a roller; the plate is then immersed in a bath of nitric acid and ether, which cuts away the parts which were left white upon the paper, and leaves the lines of the drawing in relief. This “biting in,” as it is called, requires considerable experience and attention, according to the nature of the drawing. Thus, the lines are turned into metal in a few hours, and the plate when mounted on wood to the height of type-letters, is ready to be printed from, if necessary, at the rate of several thousands an hour.
PORTRAIT. (T. BLAKE WIRGMAN.)
(From “Academy Notes.”)
[This portrait was exhibited in the Royal Academy in 1880. I reproduce Mr. Wirgman’s sketch for the sake of his powerful treatment of line.]
No. XV.
“Forget-Me-Not,” by Henry Ryland.
(From the “English Illustrated Magazine.”)
An unusually fine example of reproduction in line, by zinc process, from a large pen-and-ink drawing. It serves to show how clearly writing can be reproduced if done by a trained hand. Students should notice the variety of “colour” and delicacy of line, also the brightness and evenness of the process block throughout.
This illustration suggests possibilities in producing decorative pages in modern books without the aid of printers’ type, which is worth consideration in art schools. It requires, of course, knowledge of the figure and of design, and a trained hand for process. One obvious preparation for such work, is an examination of decorative pages in the Manuscript Department of the British Museum. (See Appendix.)
It would be difficult, I think, to show more clearly the scope and variety of line work by process than in the contrast between this and the two preceding illustrations. Each artist is an expert in black and white in his own way.
“BABY’S OWN.” (G. HILLYARD SWINSTEAD.)
(From “Academy Notes,” 1890.)
A wonderful and startling invention is here, worthy of a land of enchantment, which, without labour, with little more than a wave of the hand, transfixes the artist’s touch, and turns it into concrete; by which the most delicate and hasty strokes of the pen are not merely recorded in fac-simile for the eye to decipher, but are brought out in sharp relief, as bold and strong as if hewn out of a rock! Here is an argument for doing “the best and truest work we can,” a process that renders indestructible—so indestructible that nothing short of cremation would get rid of it—every line that we put upon paper; an argument for learning for purposes of illustration the touch and method best adapted for reproduction by the press.[13]
“A SILENT POOL.” (ED. W. WAITE.)
(From “Academy Notes,” 1891.)
GELATINE PROCESS.
By this process a more delicate and sensitive method has been used to obtain a relief block.
The drawing is photographed to the required size (as before), and the negative laid upon a glass plate (previously coated with a mixture of gelatine and bichromate of potash). The part of this thin, sensitive film not exposed to the light, is absorbent, and when immersed in water swells up. The part exposed to the light (i.e., the lines of the drawing) remains near the surface of the glass. Thus we have a sunk mould from which a metal cast can be taken, leaving the lines in relief as in the zinc process. In skilful hands this process admits of more delicate gradations, and pale, uncertain lines can be reproduced with tolerable fidelity. The blocks take longer to make, and are double the price of the photo-zinc process first described. There is no process yet invented which gives better results from a pen-and-ink drawing for the type-press. These blocks when completed have a copper surface. The reproductions of pencil, chalk, or charcoal drawings by the zinc, or “biting-in” processes are nearly always failures, as we may see in some of the best artistic books and magazines to-day.
No. XVI.
“The Miller’s Daughter,” by E. K. Johnson.
Another very interesting example of Mr. E. K. Johnson’s drawing in pen and ink. Nearly every line has the value intended by the artist.
The drawing has been largely reduced, and reproduced by the gelatine relief process.
“THE END OF THE CHAPTER.” (FROM THE PAINTING BY W. RAINEY.)
Royal Academy, 1886.
(Reproduced by the old Dawson process.)
“IN THE PAS DE CALAIS.” (JAS. PRINSEP BEADLE.)[14]
GRAINED PAPERS.
For those who cannot draw easily with the pen, there are several kinds of grained papers which render drawings suitable for reproduction. The first is a paper with black lines imprinted upon it on a material suitable for scraping out to get lights, and strengthening with pen or pencil to get solid blacks. On some of these papers black lines are imprinted horizontally, some vertically, some diagonally, some in dots, and some with lines of several kinds, one under the other, so that the artist can get the tint required by scraping out. Drawings thus made can be reproduced in relief like line drawings, taking care not to reduce a fine black grain too much or it will become “spotty” in reproduction.
“GOLDEN DAYS.” (F. STUART RICHARDSON.)
(Black-grained paper.)
This drawing and the one opposite by Mr. Hume Nisbet show the skilful use of paper with vertical and horizontal black lines; also, in the latter drawing, the different qualities of strength in the sky, and the method of working over the grained paper in pen and ink.
No. XVII.
“TWILIGHT.” (SPECIMEN OF BLACK-GRAINED PAPER.)
(From “Lessons in Art,” by Hume Nisbet, published by Chatto & Windus.)
No. XVIII.
“Le Dent du Géant,” by E. T. Compton.
Another skilful use of the black-grained paper to represent snow, glacier, and drifting clouds. The original tone of the paper may be seen in the sky and foreground.
The effect is obtained by scraping out the lighter parts on the paper and strengthening the dark with pen and pencil.
It is interesting to compare the two blocks made from the same drawing. (Size of drawing 7¾ × 4 in.)
No. XIX.
Landscape, by A. M. Lindstrom.
Example of bold effect by scraping out on the black-lined paper, and free use of autographic chalk.
This drawing shows, I think, the artistic limitations of this process in the hands of an experienced draughtsman.
The original drawing by Mr. Lindstrom (from his painting in the Royal Academy) was the same size as the reproduction.
Other papers largely used for illustration in the type press have a white grain, a good specimen of which is on page 123; and there are variations of these white-grained papers, of which what is known in France as allongé paper is one of the best for rough sketches in books and newspapers.
The question may arise in many minds, are these contrivances with their mechanical lines for producing effect, worthy of the time and attention which has been bestowed upon them? I think it is very doubtful if much work ought to be produced by means of the black-grained papers; certainly, in the hands of the unskilled, the results would prove disastrous. A painter may use them for sketches, especially for landscape. Mr. Compton (as on p. 116) can express very rapidly and effectively, by scraping out the lights and strengthening the darks, a snowdrift or the surface of a glacier. In the drawing on page 123, Mr. C. J. Watson has shown us how the grained paper can be played with, in artistic hands, to give the effect of a picture.
The difference, artistically speaking, between sketches made on black-grained and white-grained papers seems to me much in favour of the latter.
No. XX.
“Volendam,” by C. J. Watson.
Example of white-lined paper, treated very skilfully and effectively—only the painter of the picture could have given so much breadth and truth of effect.
This white paper has a strong vertical grain which when drawn upon with autographic chalk has the same appearance as black-lined paper; and is often taken for it.
(Size of drawing 6 × 4½ in.)
But at the best, blocks made from drawings on these papers are apt to be unequal, and do not print with the ease and certainty of pure line work; they require good paper and careful printing, which is not always to be obtained. The artist who draws for the processes in this country must not expect (excepting in very exceptional cases) to have his work reproduced and printed as in America, or even as well as in this book.
“AND WEE PEERIE WINKIE PAYED FOR A’.” (FROM THE PAINTING BY HUGH CAMERON.)
Example of a good chalk drawing too largely reduced.
No. XXI.
“An Arrest,” by Melton Prior.
This is a remarkable example of the reproduction of a pencil drawing. It is seldom that the soft grey effect of a pencil drawing can be obtained on a “half-tone” relief block, or the lights so successfully preserved.
This is only a portion of a picture by Mr. Melton Prior, the well-known special artist, for which I am indebted to the proprietors of Sketch.
The reproduction is by Carl Hentschel.
The reproduction on the previous page owes its success not only to good process, paper, and printing, but also to the firm, decisive touch of an experienced illustrator like Mr. Melton Prior. A pencil drawing in less skilful hands is apt to “go to pieces” on the press.
Mr. C. G. Harper, in his excellent book on English Pen Artists, has treated of other ways in which drawings on prepared papers may be manipulated for the type press; but not always with success. In that interesting publication, The Studio, there have appeared during the past year many valuable papers on this subject, but in which the mechanism of illustration is perhaps too much insisted on. Some of the examples of “mixed drawings,” and of chalk-and-pencil reproductions, might well deter any artist from adopting such aids to illustration.
The fact is, that the use of grained papers is, at the best, a makeshift and a degradation of the art of illustration, if judged by the old standards. It will be a bad day for the art of England when these mechanical appliances are put into the hands of young students in art schools.
For the purposes of ordinary illustrations we should keep to the simpler method of line. All these contrivances require great care in printing, and the blocks have often to be worked up by an engraver. The material of the process blocks is unsuited to the purpose. In a handbook to students of illustration this requires repeating on nearly every page.
As a contrast to the foregoing, let us look at a sketch in pure line by the landscape painter, Mr. M. R. Corbet, who, with little more than a scribble of the pen, can express the feeling of sunrise and the still air amongst the trees.
“SUNRISE IN THE SEVERN VALLEY.” (MATTHEW R. CORBET.)
MECHANICAL DOTS.
Amongst the modern inventions for helping the hurried or feeble illustrator, is the system of laying on mechanical dots to give shadow and colour to a pure line drawing, by process. It is a practice always to be regretted; whether applied to a necessarily hasty newspaper sketch, or to one of Daniel Vierge’s elaborately printed illustrations in the Pablo de Segovia. One cannot condemn too strongly this system, so freely used in continental illustrated sheets, but which, in the most skilful hands, seems a degradation of the art of illustration. These dots and lines, used for shadow, or tone, are laid upon the plate by the maker of the block, the artist indicating, by a blue pencil mark, the parts of a drawing to be so manipulated; and as the illustrator has not seen the effect on his own line drawing, the results are often a surprise to everyone concerned. I wish these ingenious contrivances were more worthy of an artist’s attention.
On the opposite page is an example taken from an English magazine, by which it may be seen that all daylight has been taken ruthlessly from the principal figure, and that it is no longer in tone with the rest of the picture, as an open air sketch. The system is tempting to the hurried illustrator; he has only to draw in line (or outline, which is worse) and then mark where the tint is to appear, and the dots are laid on by the maker of the blocks.
“THE ADJUTANT’S LOVE STORY.” (H. R. MILLAR.)
(Example of mechanical grain.)
No. XXII.
In the illustration on the last page (I have chosen an example of fine-grain dots; those used in newspapers and common prints are much more unsightly, as everyone knows), it is obvious that the artist’s sketch is injured by this treatment, that, in fact, the result is not artistic at all. Nothing but high pressure or incompetence on the part of the illustrator can excuse this mechanical addition to an incomplete drawing; and it must be remembered that these inartistic results are not the fault of the process, or of the “process man.” But the system is growing in every direction, to save time and trouble, and is lowering the standard of topical illustrations. And it is this system (inter alia) which is taught in technical schools, where the knowledge of process is taking the place of wood engraving.
The question is again uppermost in the mind, are such mechanical appliances (“dodges,” I venture to call them) worthy the serious attention of artists; and can any good arise by imparting such knowledge to youthful illustrators in technical schools? Wood engraving was a craft to be learned, with a career for the apprentice. There is no similar career for a lad by learning the “processes;” and nothing but disappointment before him if he learns the mechanism before he is an educated and qualified artist.
Mention should be made here (although I do not wish to dwell upon it) of drawing in line on prepared transfer paper with autographic ink, which is transferred to zinc without the aid of photography, a process very useful for rapid and common work; but it is seldom used for good book illustration, as it is irksome to the artist and not capable of very good results; moreover, the drawing has often to be minute, as the reproduction will be the same size as the original. It is one of the processes which I think the student of art had better not know much about.[15]
That it is possible, by the common processes, to obtain strong effects almost equal to engraving, may be seen in some process illustrations by Mr. Lancelot Speed, in which many technical experiments have been made, including the free use of white lining.
Mr. Speed is very daring in his experiments, and students may well puzzle over the means by which he obtains his effects by the line processes.
The illustration opposite from Andrew Lang’s Blue Poetry Book, shows a very ingenious treatment of the black-lined papers. Technically it is one of the best examples I know of,—the result of much study and experiment.
From Andrew Lang’s “Blue Poetry Book.” (LANCELOT SPEED.)
No. XXIII.
No. XXIV.
“The Armada,” by Lancelot Speed.
This extraordinary example of line drawing for process was taken from Andrew Lang’s Blue Poetry Book, published by Messrs. Longmans.
In this illustration no wash has been used, nor has there been any “screening” or engraving on the block. The methods of lining are, of course, to a great extent the artist’s own invention. This illustration and the two preceding lead to the conclusion that there is yet much to learn in drawing for process by those who will study it. The achievements of the makers of the blocks, with difficult drawings to reproduce, is quite another matter. Here all is easy for the reproducer, the common zinc process only being employed, and the required effects obtained without much worrying of the printer, or of the maker of the blocks.
Thus far all the illustrations in this book have been produced by the common line process.
“SEINE BOATS.” (FROM THE PAINTING BY LOUIS GRIER.)
“HALF-TONE” PROCESS.
The next process to consider is the method of reproducing wash drawings and photographs on blocks suitable for printing at the type press, commonly known as the Meisenbach or “half-tone process;” a most ingenious and valuable invention, which, in clever hands, is capable of artistic results, but which in common use has cast a gloom over illustrations in books and newspapers.
First, as to the method of making the blocks. As there are no lines in a wash drawing or in a photograph from nature, it is necessary to obtain some kind of grain, or interstices of white, on the zinc plate, as in a mezzotint; so between the drawing or photograph to be reproduced and the camera, glass screens, covered with lines or dots, are interposed, varying in strength according to the light and shade required; thus turning the image of the wash drawing practically into “line,” with sufficient interstices of white for printing purposes.
“THERE IS THE PRIORY!”
Thus, all drawings in wash, chalk, pencil, etc., that will not reproduce by the direct line processes, already referred to, are treated for printing at the type press; and thus the uniform, monotonous dulness, with which we are all familiar, pervades the page.
The conditions of drawing for this process have to be carefully studied, to prevent the meaningless smears and blotches (the result generally of making too hasty sketches in wash) which disfigure nearly every magazine and newspaper we take up. There is no necessity for this degradation of illustration.
The artist who draws in wash with body colour, or paints in oils in monochrome, for this process, soon learns that his high lights will be lost and his strongest effects neutralised, under this effect of gauze; and so for pictorial purposes he has to force his effect and exaggerate lights and shades; avoiding too delicate gradations, and in his different tones keeping, so to speak, to one octave instead of two. Thus, also for this process, to obtain brightness and cheap effect, the illustrator of to-day often avoids backgrounds altogether.
In spite of the uncertainty of this system of reproduction, it has great attractions for the skilful or the hurried illustrator.
No. XXV.
“Helga rode without a saddle as if she had grown to her horse—at full speed.”
(“Hans Andersen’s Fairy Tales.”)
No. XXVI.
“The Storks,” by J. R. Weguelin.
“And high through the air came the first stork and the second stork; a pretty child sat on the back of each.”
Example of half-tone process applied to a slight wash drawing. The illustration is much relieved by vignetting and leaving out: almost the only chance for effect that the artist has by the screened process. It suggests, as so many of the illustrations in this book do, not the limits but the scope and possibilities of process work for books.
This and the preceding illustration by Mr. Weguelin are taken from Hans Andersen’s Fairy Tales (Lawrence & Bullen, 1893).
That this “half-tone” process is susceptible of a variety of effects and results, good and bad, every reader must be aware.
The illustrations in this book, from pages 138 to 165, are all practically by the same process of “screening,” a slight difference only in the grain being discernible.
The wash drawing on page 139 suffers by the coarse grain on it, but the values, it will be seen, are fairly well preserved. The lights which are out of tone appear to have been taken out on the plate by the maker of the block, a dangerous proceeding with figures on a small scale. Mr. Louis Grier’s clever sketch of his picture in wash, at the head of this chapter, gives the effect well.
Mr. Weguelin’s illustrations to Hans Andersen’s Fairy Tales have been, I understand, a great success, the public caring more for the spirit of poetry that breathes through them than for more finished drawings. This is delightful, and as it should be, although, technically, the artist has not considered his process enough, and from the educational point of view it has its dangers. The “process” has been blamed roundly, in one or two criticisms of Mr. Weguelin’s illustrations, whereas the process used is the same as on pages 149 and 157.
However, the effect on a wash drawing is not satisfactory in the best hands. So uncertain and gloomy are the results that several well-known illustrators decline to use it as a substitute for wood engraving. We shall have to improve considerably before wood engraving is abandoned. We are improving every day, and by this half-tone process numberless wash drawings and photographs from nature are now presented to the public in our daily prints.
Great advances have been made lately in the “screening” of pencil drawings, and in taking out the lights of a sketch (as pointed out on page 127), and results have been obtained by careful draughtsmen during the last six months which a year ago would have been considered impossible. These results have been obtained principally by good printing and paper—allowing of a fine grain on the block—but where the illustration has to be prepared for printing, say 5,000 an hour, off rotary machines, a coarser grain has to be used, producing the “Berlin wool pattern” effect on the page, with which we are all familiar in newspapers.
Let us now look at two examples of wash drawing by process, lent by the proprietors of Black and White.
No. XXVII.
This is a good average example of what to expect by the half-tone process from a wash drawing. That the result is tame and monotonous is no fault of the artist, whose work could have been more brightly rendered by wood engraving.
That “it is better to have this process than bad wood engraving” is the opinion of nearly all illustrators of to-day. The artist sees his own work, at any rate, if through a veil of fog and gloom which is meant for sunshine!
But the time is coming when the public will hardly rest content with such results as these.
No. XXVIII.
Illustration from “Black and White,” by
G. G. Manton.
This is a good example of wash drawing for process; that is to say, a good example from the “process man’s” point of view.
Here the artist has used his utmost endeavours to meet the process half-way; he has been careful to use broad, clear, firm washes, and has done them with certainty of hand, the result of experience. If, in the endeavour to get strength, and the best results out of a few tones, the work lacks some artistic qualities, it is almost a necessity.
Mr. Manton has a peculiar method of lining, or stippling, over his wash work, which lends itself admirably for reproduction; but the practice can hardly be recommended to the attention of students. It is as difficult to achieve artistic results by these means, as in the combination of line and chalk in one drawing, advocated by some experts.
At the same time, Mr. Manton’s indication of surfaces and textures by process are both interesting and valuable.
“A SUNNY LAND.” (FROM THE PAINTING BY GEORGE WETHERBEE.)
(New Gallery, 1891.)
DECORATIVE DESIGN BY RANDOLPH CALDECOTT.
(The above design, from the Memoir of R. Caldecott, is lent by Messrs. Sampson Low & Co.)
One of the many uses which artists may make of the half-tone process is suggested by the reproduction of one of Mr. Caldecott’s decorative designs, drawn freely with a brush full of white, on brown paper on a large scale (sometimes two or even three feet long), and reduced as above; the reduction refining and improving the design.
This is a most legitimate and practical use of “process” for illustrating books, architectural and others, which in artistic hands might well be further developed.
Of the illustrators who use this process in a more free-and-easy way we will now take an example, cut out of the pages of Sketch (see overleaf, p. 155).
Here truths of light and shade are disregarded, the figure stands out in unnatural darkness against white paper, and flat mechanical shadows are cast upon nothing. Only sheer ability on the part of a few modern illustrators has saved these coarse ungainly sketches from universal condemnation. But the splashes, and spots, and stains, which are taking the place of more serious work in illustration, have become a vogue in 1894. The sketch is made in two or three hours, instead of a week; the process is also much cheaper to the publisher than wood engraving, and the public seems satisfied with a sketch where formerly a finished illustration was required, if the subject be treated dramatically and in a lively manner. If the sketch comes out an unsightly smear on the page, it at least answers the purpose of topical illustration, and apparently suits the times. It is little short of a revolution in illustration, of which we do not yet see the end.[16]
The bookstalls are laden with the daring achievements of Phil May, Raven Hill, Dudley Hardy, and others, but it is not the object of this book to exhibit the works of genius, either for emulation or imitation. It is rather to suggest to the average student what he may legitimately attempt, and to show him the possibilities of the process block in different hands. It may be said, without disparagement of the numerous clever and experienced illustrators of the day, that they are only adapting themselves to the circumstances of the time. There is a theory—the truth of which I do not question—that the reproductions of rapid sketches from the living model by the half-tone process have more vitality and freedom, more feeling and artistic qualities than can be obtained by any other means. But the young illustrator should hesitate before adapting these methods, and should never have anything reproduced for publication which was “drawn to time” in art classes.
One thing cannot be repeated too often in this connection: that the hastily produced blotches called “illustrations,” which disfigure the pages of so many books and magazines, are generally the result of want of care on the part of the artist rather than of the maker of the blocks.
No. XXIX.
This is part of a page illustration lent by the proprietors of Sketch. It does not do justice to the talent (or the taste, we will hope), of the illustrator, and is only inserted here to record the kind of work which is popular in 1894. (Perhaps in a second edition we may have other exploits of genius to record.)
It should be noted that this and the illustration on p. 149 are both reproduced by the same half-tone process, the difference of result being altogether in the handling of the brush. This sketch would have been intolerable in less artistic hands. Artists will doubtless find more feeling and expression in the broad washes and splashes before us, than in the most careful stippling of Mr. Manton.
Students of wash drawing for process may take a middle course.
A word here on the influence of
PROCESS-BLOCK MAKERS
on the young illustrator. The “process man,” the teacher and inciter to achievements by this or that process, is not usually an “artist” in the true sense of the word. He knows better than anyone else what lines he can reproduce, and especially what kind of drawing is best adapted for his own process. He will probably tell the young draughtsman what materials to use, what amount of reduction his drawings will bear, and other things of a purely technical not to say businesslike character. Let me not be understood to disparage the work of photo-engravers and others engaged on these processes; on the contrary, the amount of patience, industry, activity, and anxious care bestowed upon the reproduction of drawings and paintings is astonishing, and deserves our gratitude.[17] This work is a new industry of an important kind, in which art and craft are bound up together. The day has past when “process work” is to be looked down upon as only fit for the cheapest, most inferior, and inartistic results.
“THE BROOK.” (FROM A PAINTING BY ARNOLD HELCKÉ.)
PHOTOGRAPHIC ILLUSTRATIONS.
One result of hasty work in making drawings, and the uncertainty of reproduction, promises to be a very serious one to the illustrator, as far as we can see ahead, viz.: the gradual substitution of photographs from life for other forms of illustration. The “Meisenbach” reproduction of a photograph from life, say a full length figure of an actress in some elaborate costume, seems to answer the purpose of the editor of a newspaper to fill a page, where formerly artists and engravers would have been employed. One reason for this is that the details of the dress are so well rendered by photography on the block as to answer the purpose of a fashion plate, an important matter in some weekly newspapers. The result is generally unsatisfactory from an artist’s point of view, but the picture is often most skilfully composed and the values wonderfully rendered, direct from the original.
In the case of the reproduction of photographs, which we are now considering, much may be done by working up a platinotype print before giving it out to be made into a block. Much depends here upon the artistic knowledge of editors and publishers, who have it in their power to have produced good or bad illustrations from the same original. The makers of the blocks being confined to time and price, are practically powerless, and seldom have an opportunity of obtaining the best results. It should be mentioned that blocks made from wash drawings, being shallower than those made from line drawings, suffer more from bad printing and paper.
A good silver print (whether from a photograph from life or from a picture), full of delicate gradations and strong effects, appears on the plate through the film of gauze, dull, flat, and comparatively uninteresting; but the expression of the original is given with more fidelity than could be done by any ordinary wood engraving. This is the best that can be said for it, it is a dull, mechanical process, requiring help from the maker of the blocks; and so a system of touching on the negative (before making the block) to bring out the lights and accents of the picture is the common practice. This is a hazardous business at the best, especially when dealing with the copy of a painting. I mention it to show where “handwork” in the half-tone process first comes in. The block, when made, is also often touched up by an engraver in places, especially where spotty or too dark; and on this work many who were formerly wood-engravers now find employment.
There is no doubt that the makers of process blocks are the best instructors as to the results to be obtained by certain lines and combinations of lines; but in the majority of cases they will tell the artist too much, and lead him to take too much interest in the mechanical side of the business. The illustrator’s best protection against this tendency, his whole armour and coat of mail, is to be an artist first and an illustrator afterwards.
This is the sum of the matter. Perhaps some of the examples in this book may help us, and lead to a more thorough testing of results by capable men.
“SKETCH.”
It will be interesting here to consider the material of which one number of an illustrated paper (Sketch) is made up, and how far the artist and wood engraver have part in it. From an economic point of view it will be instructive. I take this “newspaper” as an example, because it is a typical and quite “up-to-date” publication, vieing, in circulation and importance, with the Illustrated London News, both published by the same proprietors. In one number there are upwards of 30 pages, 10 being advertisements. There are in all 151 illustrations, of which 63 appear in the text part, and 88 in the advertisement pages. Out of the text illustrations, 24 only are from original drawings or sketches. Next are 26 photographs from life (several being full pages), and 13 reproductions from engravings, etc., reproduced by mechanical processes—in all 63. Some of the pages reproduced from photographs are undeniably good, and interesting to the public, as is evidenced by the popularity of this paper alone. In the advertisement portion are 88 illustrations (including many small ones), 85 of which have been engraved on wood; a number of them are electrotypes from old blocks, but there are many new ones every week. The reason for using wood engraving largely for advertisements is, that wood blocks print more easily than “process,” when mixed with the type, and print better (being cut deeper on the block) where inferior paper and ink are employed. But this class of wood engraving may be summed up in the words of one of the craft to me lately:—“It is not worth £2 a week to anybody.”
No. XXX.
MISS KATE RORKE. (FROM “SKETCH.”)
Photographed from life by H. S. Mendelssohn. Reproduced by half-tone process)
Thus it will be seen that in the “text” part of this newspaper two-thirds of the illustrations are produced without the aid of artist or wood engraver!
To turn to one of the latest instances where the photographer is the illustrator. A photographer, Mr. Burrows, of Camborne, goes down a lead mine in Cornwall with his apparatus, and takes a series of views of the workings, which could probably have been done by no other means. Under most difficult conditions he sets his camera, and by the aid of the magnesium “flash-light,” gives us groups of figures at work amidst gloomy and weird surroundings. The results are exceptionally valuable as “illustrations” in the true meaning of the word, on account of the clear and accurate definition of details. The remarkable part, artistically, is the good colour and grouping of the figures.[18]
Another instance of the use of photography in illustration. Mr. Villiers, the special artist of Black and White, made a startling statement lately. He said that out of some 150 subjects which he took at the Chicago Exhibition, not more than half-a-dozen were drawn by him; all the rest being “snap-shot” photographs. Some were very good, could hardly be better, the result of many hours’ waiting for the favourable grouping of figures. That he would re-draw some of them with his clever pencil for a newspaper is possible, but observe the part photography plays in the matter.
In America novels have been thus illustrated both in figure and landscape; the weak point being the backgrounds to the figure subjects. I draw attention to this movement because the neglect of composition, of appropriate backgrounds, and of the true lighting of the figures by so many young artists, is throwing illustrations more and more into the hands of the photographer. Thus the rapid “pen-and-ink artist,” and the sketcher in wash from an artificially lighted model in a crowded art school, is hastening to his end.
No. XXXI.
(A Photograph from life, by Messrs. Cameron & Smith. Reproduced by half-tone process.)
The time is coming fast when cheap editions of popular novels will be illustrated—and many in the following way. The artist, instead of being called upon to draw, will occupy himself in setting and composing pictures through the aid of models trained for the purpose, and the ever-ready photographer. The “process man” and the clever manipulator on the plates, will do the rest, producing pictures vignetted, if desired, as overleaf. Much more the makers of blocks can do—and will do—with the photographs now produced, for they are earnest, untiring, ready to make sacrifices of time and money.
The cheap dramatic illustrations, just referred to, which artists’ models in America know so well how to pose for, may be found suitable from the commercial point of view for novels of the butterfly kind; but they will seldom be of real artistic interest. And here, for the present, we may draw the line between the illustrator and the photographer. But the “black and white man” will obviously have to do his best in every branch of illustration to hold his own in the future. It may be thought by some artists that these things are hardly worth consideration; but we have only to watch the illustrations appearing week by week to see whither we are tending.[19]
The last example of the photographer as illustrator, which can be given here, is where a photograph from life engraved on wood is published as a vignette illustration.[20] It is worth observing, because it has been turned into line by the wood engraver, and serves for printing purposes as a popular illustration. The original might have been more artistically posed, but it is pretty as a vignette, and pleases the public. (See opposite page.)
There are hundreds of such subjects now produced by the joint aid of the photographer and the process engraver. It is not the artist and the wood engraver who are really “working hand-in-hand” in these days in the production of illustrations, but the photographer and the maker of process blocks. This is significant. Happily for us there is much that the photographer cannot do pictorially. But the photographer is, as I said, marching on and on, and the line of demarcation between handwork and photographic illustrations becomes less marked every day.
The photographer’s daughter goes to an art school, and her influence is shown annually in the exhibitions of the photographic societies.
No. XXXII.
(A Photograph from life, engraved on wood.)
This influence and this movement is so strong—and vital to the artist—that it cannot be emphasised too much. The photographer is ever in our midst, correcting our drawing with facts and details which no human eye can see, and no one mind can take in at once.
On the obligations of artists to photographers a book might be written. The benefits are not, as a rule, unacknowledged; nor are the bad influences of photography always noticed. That is to say, that before the days of photography, the artist made himself acquainted with many things necessary to his art, for which he now depends upon the photographic lens; in short, he uses his powers of observation less than he did a few years ago. That the photographer leads him astray sometimes is another thing to remember.
The future of the illustrator being uppermost in our thoughts, let us consider further the influences with which he is surrounded. As to photography, Mr. William Small, the well-known illustrator (who always draws for wood engraving), says:—“it will never take good work out of a good artist’s hands.” He speaks as an artist who has taken to illustration seriously and most successfully, having devoted the best years of his life to its development. The moral of it is, that in whatever material or style newspaper illustrations are done, to hold their own they must be of the best. Let them be as slight as you please, if they be original and good. In line work (the best and surest for the processes) photography can only be the servant of the artist, not the competitor—and in this direction there is much employment to be looked for. At present the influence is very much the other way; we are casting off—ungratefully it would seem—the experience of the lifetime of the wood engraver, and are setting in its place an art half developed, half studied, full of crudities and discords. The illustrations which succeed in books and newspapers, succeed for the most part from sheer ability on the part of the artist; they are full of ability, but, as a rule, are bad examples for students to copy. “Time is money” with these brilliant executants; they have no time to study the value of a line, nor the requirements of the processes, and so a number of drawings are handed to the photo-engravers—which are often quite unfitted for mechanical reproduction—to be produced literally in a few hours. It is an age of vivacity, daring originality, and reckless achievement in illustration. “Take it up, look at it, and throw it down,” is the order of the day. There is no reason but an economic one why the work done “to look at” should not be as good as the artist can afford to make it. The manufacturer of paperhangings or printed cottons will produce only a limited quantity of one design, no matter how beautiful, and then go on to another. So much the better for the designer, who would not keep employment if he did not do his best, no matter whether his work was to last for a day or for a year. The life of a single number of an illustrated newspaper is a week, and of an illustrated book about a year.
The young illustrators on the Daily Graphic—notably Mr. Reginald Cleaver—obtain the maximum of effect with the minimum of lines. Thus Caldecott worked, spending hours sometimes studying the art of leaving out. Charles Keene’s example may well be followed, making drawing after drawing, no matter how trivial the subject, until he was satisfied that it was right. “Either right or wrong,” he used to say; “’right enough’ will not do for me.”
No. XXXIII.
“PROUD MAIRIE.” (LANCELOT SPEED.)
(From “The Blue Poetry Book.” London: Longmans.)
Pen-and-ink drawing by line process.
Another influence on modern illustration—for good or bad—is the electric light. It enables the photographic operator to be independent of dark and foggy days, and to put a search-light upon objects which otherwise could not be utilised. So far good. To the illustrator this aid is often a doubtful advantage. The late Charles Keene (with whom I have had many conversations on this subject) predicted a general deterioration in the quality of illustrations from what he called “unnatural and impossible effects,” and he made one or two illustrations in Punch of figures seen under the then—(10 or 15 years ago)—novel conditions of electric street lighting, one of which represented a man who has been “dining” returning home through a street lighted up by electric lamps, tucking up his trowsers to cross a black shadow which he takes for a stream. Charles Keene’s predictions have come true, we see the glare of the magnesium light on many a page, and the unthinking public is dazzled every week in the illustrated sheets with these “unnatural and impossible effects.”
Thus it has come about that what was looked upon by Charles Keene as garish, exaggerated, and untrue in effect, is accepted to-day by the majority of people as a lively and legitimate method of illustration.
DANIEL VIERGE.
One of the influences on the modern illustrator—a decidedly adverse influence on the unlearned—is the prominence which has lately been given to the art of Daniel Vierge.
There is probably no illustrator of to-day who has more originality, style, and versatility—in short more genius—than Vierge, and none whose work, for practical reasons, is more misleading to students.
As to his illustrations, from the purely literary and imaginative side, they are as attractive to the scholar as drawings by Holbein or Menzell are to the artist. Let us turn to the illustration on the next page, from the Pablo de Segovia by Quevedo; an example selected by the editor, or publisher, of the book as a specimen page.
First, as to the art of it. Nothing in its own way could be more fascinating in humour, vivacity, and character than this grotesque duel with long ladles at the entrance to an old Spanish posada. The sparkle and vivacity of the scene are inimitable; the bounding figure haunts the memory with its diaphanous grace, touched in by a master of expression in line. In short, we are in the presence of genius.
No. XXXIV.
Example of Daniel Vierge’s illustrations to Pablo de Segovia, the Spanish Sharper, by Francisco de Quevedo-Villegas, first published in Paris, in 1882; afterwards translated into English (with an Essay on Quevedo, by H. E. Watts, and comments on Vierge’s work by Joseph Pennell), and published by Mr. T. Fisher Unwin, in 1892.
Vierge was born in 1851, and educated in Madrid, where he spent the early years of his life. Since 1869 he has lived in Paris, and produced numerous illustrations for Le Monde Illustré and La Vie Moderne, and other works. His fame was made in 1882 by Quevedo’s Pablo de Segovia, the illustrations to which he was unable to complete owing to illness and paralysis. About twenty of these illustrations were drawn with the left hand, owing to paralysis of the right side. His career, full of romantic interest, suggests the future illustrator of Don Quixote.
These drawings were made upon white paper—Bristol board or drawing paper—with a pen and Indian ink; but Vierge now uses a glass pen, like an old stylus. The drawings were then given to Gillot, the photo-engraver of Paris, who, by means of photography and handwork, produced metal blocks to be printed with the type.
But the whole effect is obviously untrue to nature, and the tricks—of black spots, of exaggerated shadows on the ground, of scratchings (and of carelessness, which might be excused in a hasty sketch for La Vie Moderne)—are only too apparent.
In nearly every illustration in the Pablo de Segovia (of which there are upwards of one hundred), the artist has relied for brilliancy and effect on patches of black (sometimes ludicrously exaggerated) and other mannerisms, which we accept from a genius, but which the student had better not attempt to imitate. To quote a criticism from the Spectator, “There is almost no light and shade in Vierge. There is an ingenious effect of dazzle, but there is no approach attempted to truth of tone, shadows being quite capriciously used for decoration and supplied to figures that tell as light objects against the sky which throws the shadows.” And yet in these handsome pages there are gems of draughtsmanship and extraordinary tours de force in illustration.
In the reproduction of these drawings, I think the maker of the blocks, M. Gillot, of Paris, would seem to have had a difficult task to perform. The fact is, that Vierge’s wonderful line drawings are sometimes as difficult to reproduce for the type press as those of Holbein or Menzell, and could only be done satisfactorily by one of the intaglio processes, such as that employed by the Autotype Company in éditions de luxe. That Vierge’s drawings were worthy of this anyone who saw the originals when exhibited at Barnard’s Inn would, I think, agree.
It is the duty of any writer or instructor in illustration, to point out these things, once for all. That Vierge could adapt himself to almost any process if he pleased, is demonstrated repeatedly in the Pablo de Segovia, where (as on pages 63 and 67 of that book) the brilliancy and “colour” of pure line by process has hardly ever been equalled. That some of his illustrations are impossible to reproduce well, and have been degraded in the process is also demonstrated on page 199 of the same book, where a mechanical grain has been used to help out the drawing, and the lines have had to be cut up and “rouletted” on the block to make them possible to print.
Of the clever band of illustrators of to-day who owe much of their inspiration (and some of their tricks of method) to Vierge, it is not necessary to speak here; we are in an atmosphere of genius in this chapter, and geniuses are seldom safe guides to students of art.
Speaking generally (and these remarks refer to editors and publishers as well as draughtsmen), the art of illustration as practised in England is far from satisfactory; we are too much given to imitating the tricks and prettinesses of other nations, and it is quite the exception to find either originality or individuality on the pages which are hurled from the modern printing press; individuality as seen in the work of Adolphe Menzell, and, in a different spirit, in that of Gustave Doré and Vierge.
[12] The heading to this chapter was drawn in line and reproduced by photo-zinc process. (See page 134.)
[13] The mechanical processes, neglected and despised by the majority of illustrators for many years, have, by a sudden freak of fashion, apparently become so universal that, it is estimated, several thousand blocks are made in London alone every week.
[14] This excellent drawing was made on rough white paper with autographic chalk; the print being much reduced in size. It is seldom that such a good grey block can be obtained by this means.
[15] The young artist would be much better occupied in learning drawing on stone direct, a branch of art which does not come into the scope of this book, as it is seldom used in book illustration, and cannot be printed at the type press. Drawing on stone is well worthy of study now, for the art is being revived in England on account of the greater facilities for printing than formerly.
[16] The evil of it is that we are becoming used to black blots in the pages of books and newspapers, and take them as a matter of course; just as we submit to the deformity of the outward man in the matter of clothing.
[17] On the opposite page is an excellent reproduction of a painting from a photograph by the half-tone process.
[18] “’Mongst Mines and Miners,” by J. C. Burrows and W. Thomas. (London: Simpkin, Marshall & Co.)
[19] Both Mr. Cameron’s and Mr. Mendelssohn’s photographs have had to be slightly cut down to fit these pages. But as illustrations they are, I think, remarkable examples of the photographer’s and the photo-engraver’s art.
[20] From the Graphic newspaper, 28th October, 1893.
FROM “GRIMM’S HOUSEHOLD STORIES.” (WALTER CRANE.)