Lectures on Painting, Delivered to the Students of the Royal Acadamy

by Edward Armitage

The real shadows, the reflected light, and the half-tones were all in their right places and of the right value.

When a man has been painting pictures for twenty or thirty years, he knows pretty well what his effect ought to be under certain conditions. He knows when he may venture to copy the effect of light on the model before him, and when he must depart from it, but the beginner has no experience to guide him, and I would strongly recommend him to try the little clay figures. The whole group of say ten figures could be modelled in two days. The legs of those which are to be clothed in flowing drapery need, of course, not be indicated at all, and the roughest approximation to nature in the attitudes is all that is necessary, provided effect only is wanted. Of course, if you wish to study drapery from your small figures, you will have to elaborate them with greater care, and probably have to make them larger than would be convenient for the other purpose.

Another advantage of pursuing this method is that it gives a little practice in modelling, and I think that every figure-painter ought to be able to give expression to his ideas in clay just as well as on canvas. There is no necessity for his learning to work out detail in the clay; he need never model nose, eyes, or mouth, and still less fingers and toes, but he ought to be able to give proportion and action to a small clay figure, just as easily as he would sketch with charcoal on a sheet of paper.

Before I have done with my little clay figures, I think it right to caution you against relying too implicitly on the effects of light and shade of your miniature figures. They are intended to serve as aids, but not as models to be servilely copied. When copied too closely, the shades are generally too black, and there is an absence of half-tones, which gives rather a harsh look to the picture.

An ingenious fellow-student of mine improved on the method by rigging up a light semi-transparent canvas box instead of the wooden one. He cut the usual opening to admit the light, and the canvas sides of the box let in just daylight enough to take away all unnatural blackness from the shadows. It may be asked: Why have a box at all? Why not model the little figures, clothe them, and put them on your studio table? In the first place, the light you require for your picture may be dissimilar to the light of your studio; and, secondly, one of the principal advantages of the box system is that the sides of the box represent the sides of the hall or room of the picture, so that you see at a glance how the shadows of the groups are cast, you see which portions of the figures stand out dark, and which light, against the background. In short, you get a much more complete idea of what you propose painting than you could possibly manage in any other way.

For out-of-door subjects, where the light ought to be generally diffused, this method is altogether inapplicable, but for any prison, catacomb, or cloister scene, it will be found extremely useful.

In a composition of several figures, you will, after arranging your groups, often find large portions of the ground or floor space unoccupied. Don’t be in a hurry to fill up these spaces with unmeaning accessories. They are sometimes most valuable, as giving rest to the eye, and ought often to be preserved. At any rate, they ought never to be filled up promiscuously with objects which do not assist in telling the story.

I remember when I was a student we had a stopgap always ready in the shape of a pot of some sort or other. If Joseph was being sold by his brethren, and there was an awkward corner in the foreground, we would put in a water-pot. The Egyptian merchants who bought him would be sure to carry large pots with them. If Æneas was escaping from Troy with his father on his back, there would certainly be a large amphora in the corner, supposed to be too heavy for him to carry. The captive Jews could not wail by the waters of Babylon without a whole set of pots occupying the nooks and corners of the composition.

Now, an Oriental water-jar or an Etruscan vase may be beautiful objects and nice things to paint, but this is no reason why they should be invariably used as stop-gaps. In a subject like Hagar in the desert, the empty water-bottle is an essential element in the story; or again, in Rebecca at the well, you may paint pots to your heart’s content, but in subjects where they are out of place it is best to refrain if you possibly can. All stop-gaps are very objectionable; and if I mention this particular kind, it is because it is the one usually resorted to. I do not by any means wish to imply that you are to leave a disagreeable vacant corner unoccupied, but whatever you put in it, whether it be some cast-off cloak, fruit, or flowers, dog or cat, or even the irrepressible jar, it ought not to look as if it had been purposely put there to fill up a hole. Doubtless it would be put there with that intention, but the artifice ought not to be readily detected.

My main object to-night has been to impress upon you that in designing figure-subjects you are not to take the first commonplace ideas which may occur to you, but to reason your subject out, and select whatever treatment you think most telling.