DIOGENES

Chiaroscuro woodcut by Ugo da Carpi

Before leaving the South, we must yet cast a glance at an interesting though minor manifestation of the graphic arts, the chiaroscuro. Repeated allusions have been made to the demand for color on the part of the general public. In response to this ever-present craving for the joy of varied tones, the chiaroscuro takes a step in the direction of painting by translating color into several graded tones giving the effect of a semi-colored wash-drawing. The process was used in various ways, in various countries and at various times, but the golden era of chiaroscuro is the sixteenth century in Italy. The example selected, “Diogenes,” by Ugo da Carpi, is one of the finest of the period. It is impossible to render in this monochrome reproduction the rich glow of superimposed tones of golden and greenish browns, which constitute its greatest charm; chiaroscuros must be seen themselves to be appreciated. One can then see what manner of success attended the wood-cutter’s endeavors, the endless possibilities of variety of tones become apparent, also the difficulty attendant upon the accurate placing (register) of the paper on the three or more successive blocks printed from, one for each tone. A few scattered experiments in Germany, during the period of extensive production in northern Italy, and thereafter a short-lived appearance here and there, such is—briefly—the history of the chiaroscuro woodcut.


V
GERMANY

In former chapters, we have followed the origin of woodcut and engraving in Germany, to the end of the fifteenth century; we have seen woodcut grow from the crude conceits of the early craftsman to illustrations of distinct artistic merit; we have followed engraving from its origin in the goldsmith’s shop to the expressive beauty of Martin Schongauer’s plates. Both are to culminate during the early sixteenth century. At this time Maximilian reigned over the vast German Empire: “Massimiliano pochi denari” the Italians called him, because of the insufficiency of the imperial resources. Ambitious to perpetuate the glory of his illustrious house, yet quite unable to vie with the Pope and Italian princes in the erection of sumptuous edifices, the Emperor saw in the effective and inexpensive woodcut a means of transmitting to posterity a record of his own deeds and adventures and of the virtues of his ancestors. The leading German artists of the time were employed on designs for their imperial patron, chiefly Hans Burgkmair of Augsburg, and Albrecht Dürer of Nuremberg. With Dürer we reach the zenith of the graphic arts in Germany. He stands, a monumental figure, seen from afar, influencing—not only his German contemporaries, but the artists of Italy and of the Low Countries. Dürer was a thoughtful, forceful, imaginative leader; he was more—he had thought out the resources, the latent possibilities of engraving and of woodcut, he knew their limitations and the manner of presentation most adequate for either process. These principles of treatment are illustrated in his prints, set forth so clearly as to be readily understood and applied by other engravers, by other designers for woodcut. For this reason he has become a teacher for all times. His development may be followed through many stages, from his early manner, imitative of fifteenth-century masters, to the pictorial finish and wonderful play of light in his grand “St. Jerome in his Study.” Italian influence is felt in many of his early plates, the “Effect of Jealousy,” for instance, the “Apollo and Diana,” or the charming “Madonna with the Monkey”; but his vigorous individuality was not swayed long nor impaired by these Southern charms which were soon to overwhelm Northern art. Even in the days when young Dürer responds with enthusiasm to the power, to the passionate energy of Mantegna, his German characteristics are plainly apparent; I am thinking of his famous series of illustrations to the Apocalypse. Take the powerful print of the “Four Horsemen,” with their resistless onward rush, violent action vividly expressed, every figure, every detail instinct with close scrutiny and conscientious rendering of nature. Then as to technique, see how outline and shade-stroke are made to yield their full measure of expressiveness. None of the uniform diagonal shading of early Italian masters is found in these woodcuts; nor shall we find such summary treatment in Dürer’s engravings. If we turn to his “Arms with the Skull,” for instance, we see there no mere suggestion of shadow, every line tells. The outline swells and accents the form, the shading-strokes curve and bend to accent the rounding, the modeling of the figure; the quality, strength, tonality of the line varies with every texture which is to be expressed, such as the metal of the helmet, the feathers on the crest, the cloth, the leather, the wood, the hair. The modest means of black lines and white paper, which at first had seemed barely sufficient for suggestive outline and indications of the rounding of form, are now becoming a medium fit for the presentation of all the infinite phenomena of visible nature. From the large, predominant figures massed in the immediate foreground of early woodcut series like the Apocalypse, or the large Passion, Dürer progresses to a deepening of the scene in the serene woodcut illustrations of the “Life of the Virgin.” We are led along the pleasant, peaceful paths of life, we are spared the anguish and suffering of the previous series. In this illustration, for instance, we see the Holy Family at rest in Egypt; Joseph is working at his trade, while the Mother watches her sleeping Babe, and angels busy themselves or gambol about the Holy group. The scene is laid in a pleasing German landscape, among low hills, which carry out the serenity of the composition.

APOCALYPSE: THE FOUR HORSEMEN

Woodcut. Albrecht Dürer