The Illustration of Books / A Manual for the Use of Students, Notes for a Course of Lectures at the Slade School, University College

by Joseph Pennell

Despite all these things, and many more, people struggle to become illustrators.

Another qualification for the illustrator is education; no ignorant person may become a decent illustrator. He need not possess an university degree; few do. But he must be able to understand a vital or dramatic or pictorial point, and to arrive at this understanding may necessitate much study of literature at home and the visiting of many lands.

How can one illustrate a history of Napoleon, for example, without reading everything possible about his life that the author read, and without visiting the various countries in which his life was passed; in short, the conscientious illustrator goes through exactly the same process as the author, when collecting his materials. With this difference; the author is, in most cases, the final judge of his own work, and of his artist’s efforts too. It is amazing that, considering that an illustrator has to submit to having his work judged by editors, rejected by authors, spoiled by engraving, injured by process, and ruined by printing—and all this may happen to good as well as bad work—armies of young people are rushing into an over-crowded profession, and every art school, by teaching illustration, is encouraging them to do so.

Seeing, then, that such is the case, my object is to endeavour to give you a start in the right way if possible, at least in the way that, up to the present, the best work has been done.

That is, briefly, by drawing well, by working carefully, by expressing ideas plainly, and these desired results can only be obtained by those who regard illustration quite as seriously as any other branch of the Fine Arts; who know the good work that has been done in the past, and working on the right traditions, adapt their methods to the requirements of the present.

There are many more points to be noted, not least of which is that an illustrator must learn to keep his temper; from the first drawing he submits, until he takes to painting in despair, his work will almost surely be misunderstood, his motives disbelieved. If he works in the style affected by his paper, that is, the style which the editor considers appeals to his subscribers—for papers are published for gain, not love—he will be asked by the critic why he does so. If he dares to be original, to follow his own inclinations, he will be told to efface himself and work like the rest. If he sketches he will be accused of shirking his work. If he elaborates he will be told he is ruining the proprietor.

His only consolation is that he, personally, seldom sees the editor, he prepares himself for the ordeal, and as the editor has to encounter a constant succession of irate, contrite, emphatic, and even furious artists, his life cannot be an altogether happy one. Still he flourishes, and so does the illustrator.

But there are compensations. One may be asked to illustrate the works of a deceased author, one may treat the volume almost as one likes, and discuss the result with the editor. In this case the artist will almost certainly do his best. If he has the true illustrative spirit, he will study the period, the country, the manners, the costume; and, if let alone, to produce the work in his own way and at his leisure, he may create a masterpiece. This, however, depends entirely on the artist. It is in this way that the great illustrated works of the century have come into existence, without hurry, without worry, and, after all, the pleasure of work has been almost the only reward the artist has gained—and that seems to be enough to attract crowds—but I doubt if the business side of illustration means much to the student.

Better still, the artist may make a series of drawings, and then get a writer—an artist in words—one of those people who talk of impressionism in prose, or impasto in poetry, to turn out so many yards of copy. With what a grace he does so, and with what glee the artist pounces on his lines! If it were not for the ever-present editor the author’s lot would be almost as bad as the illustrator’s.

Best condition of all under which work may be produced is when the illustrator is his own author, when he writes his own story or does his own description; this requires that one shall be doubly gifted. Much may be learned by practice, but to be really great in this has as yet scarce been granted. But a few very talented artist-authors exist.