It is not possible to teach style. It is almost as impossible to acquire style. This seems like a paradox, but a paradox is not always a symbol of hopelessness. Style must be born in a man—style in any art or profession. "Style," a writer has recently said, "is gesture—the gesture of the mind and of the soul." We can eliminate the last clause, and call style in printing the gesture of the mind, the evidence of the amount and degree of knowledge possessed by the mind, tempered, arranged, given distinction, by the born talent, aptitude, or whatever it may be termed, which is the seed germ of style. We do not hesitate to accept the obvious theory that artists are born, not made. Some claim for printing that it is an art. Why then should we hesitate to admit that a printer capable of cultivating and expressing a genuine style must depend upon something other than mere knowledge; something deeper and more subtle than knowledge, which is able to mould knowledge into style?
Style, in the highest sense, is given to but few, and we cannot hope that printers will be more favored, in proportion, than the practitioners of other graphic arts. But they may be as highly favored, if they avail themselves of the opportunities for culture that are open to them, as they are open to other artists, and not otherwise. While it is not to be expected that the printing art will produce Morrises or Bradleys with great profuseness, it is to be frankly admitted that in the grade next below—the grade of talent, that is, as distinguished from the grade of genius—there is not found the high average of attainment among printers that rules in other graphic arts. The reason is as obvious as the fact: Printers are not students, in the sense that painters, etchers, engravers, illustrators, and even photographers, are students. Printers (the progressive ones) have in recent years become close observers and good imitators, but there are few who have attempted to qualify themselves for original work by thorough study of those principles of graphic art that vitally control printing. The artist, in any other line than printing, comes to the practice of his art only after prolonged study and mastery of the principles and the laws governing it. Not so with the printer.
The time has arrived when eminence in printing means much more than good work along existing lines. It means a radical departure and the full recognition of the power and value of art in printing. We have been rather hesitant in accepting this word, art, as applying legitimately to printing, and we have been hesitating merely because we have seen the term so freely and ignorantly applied to work that merited no better name than archaic; to work that, while it usually possessed the common virtues of good mechanical execution, was wholly deficient in those qualities which fairly entitled it to be called artistic. But we must put away this prejudice against an innocent and needed term, and boldly reclaim it from the philistines. We must reinstate in the public mind, and in our own minds, the thing and the name that fittingly describes the thing. We must make art printing mean art printing.
Style should be the goal of the printer who cherishes hopes of distinction or of wealth. We have said that style is born in a man, not acquired by him. This is true, if we consider the highest development of style. But we are all capable of greatly improving our style by study. We cannot improve upon it in any other way. It is almost useless for us to observe the good work of others, for this purpose. We must go beyond that. The first step is to keenly realize the need. We are on a par with every other person who wishes to truly understand any art. We cannot arrive at that understanding by merely wishing it. There is no understanding of art except through study of art.
We may spend a lifetime looking at the great paintings of the world and then know so little about them as to appreciate but a tithe of the rich store of culture and pleasure they hold in reserve for us. We may cultivate a taste for paintings by putting ourselves frequently under their influence, as we may build up a taste for literature by strenuous reading. But knowledge, as distinguished from acquaintance, gives us a very different conception of a painting, or a piece of sculpture, or an example of any form of art, and reveals to us new beauties. So it is in printing. We cannot do good color printing unless we understand color as an artist understands it; we cannot get the best results from a halftone engraving unless we understand tone, light and shade, and values, as an artist understands them. We are not sure of our ground with regard to a page of plain type matter unless we know something conclusive about the fundamentals of art.
We cannot take one pronounced step toward acquiring style until we realize the need, the vital need, of a good foundation knowledge of art—not in a historical sense, but in a technical sense—for the technique of printing that is better than good.
The Binding
