Naturalistic Photography for Students of the Art.

by P. H. Emerson

Now let us turn to Art, and look at our imaginary man from the artistic standpoint. Assuming that we have learned the technique of some method of artistic expression, and that is part of the science we require, we will proceed with our work.

Let us look at the figure before us from the sculptor’s point of view. Now what is our mental attitude? We no longer care for many of the facts that vitally interested us when we were studying the man scientifically; we care little about his anatomy, less about his physiology, and nothing at all about organic chemistry and molecular physics. We care nothing for his morality, his thoughts, his habits and customs,—his sociological history, in fact; neither do we care about his ethnological characters. If he be a good model, it matters little whether he be Greek, Italian, or Circassian. But we do care, above all, for his type, his build, and the grace with which he comports himself; for our aim is to make a statue like him, a statue possessing qualities that shall give æsthetic pleasure. For the raison-d'être of a work of art ends with itself; there should be no ulterior motive beyond the giving of æsthetic pleasure to the most cultivated and sensitively refined natures.

The first thing, then, we must do is to sit in judgment on our model. Will he do for the purpose? Are his features suitable? Is he well modelled in all parts? Does he move easily and with grace? If he fulfils all these conditions we take him. Then we watch his movements and seize on a beautiful pose. Now with our clay we begin to model him. As we go on with our work we begin to see that it is utterly impossible to record all the facts about him with our material, and we soon find it is undesirable to do so,—nay, pernicious. We cannot model those hundreds of fine wrinkles, those thousands of hairs, those myriads of pores in the skin that we see before us. What, then, must we do? We obviously select some,—the most salient, if we are wise,—and leave out the rest.

All at once the fundamental distinction between Science and Art dawns upon us. We cannot record too many facts in Science; the fewer facts we record in Art, and yet express the subject so that it cannot be better expressed, the better. All the greatest artists have left out as much as possible. They have endeavoured to give a fine analysis of the model, and the Greeks succeeded.

It is beside the question to show how Science has exercised an injurious influence upon certain schools in art; but that would be very easy to do. At the same time, the best Art has been founded on scientific principles,—that is, the physical facts have been true to nature.

To sum up, then, Art is the selection, arrangement, and recording of certain facts, with the aim of giving æsthetic pleasure; and it differs from Science fundamentally, in that as few facts are compatible with complete expression are chosen, and these are arranged so as to appeal to the emotional side of man’s nature, whereas the scientific facts appeal to his intellectual side.

But, as in many erroneous ideas that have had currency for long, there lurks a germ of truth, so there lurks still a leaven of Art in Science and a leaven of Science in Art; but in each these leavenings are subordinate, and not at the first blush appreciable. For example, in Science the facts can be recorded or demonstrated with selection, arrangement, and lucidity; that is, the leaven of Art in Science. Whilst in Art the physical facts of nature must be truthfully rendered; that is, the leaven of Science in Art.

And so we see there is a relationship between Science and Art, and yet they are as the poles asunder.

II.

We shall now endeavour to discuss briefly how our remarks apply to photography. Any student of photographic literature is well aware that numerous papers are constantly being published by persons who evidently are not aware of this radical distinction between Science and Art.