-1Raphael, Rubens, and Reynolds -- YOUR TEACHERS

By ELEANOR PARKE CUSTIS

American Photography OCT 1946

WOULD you like to have Raphael and Rubens and also Sir Joshua Reynolds for
your teachers? Or would you prefer Frans Hals -- or perhaps Michelangelo?
Take your choice. How any who makes pictures would jump at a chance like
that! Yet all these masters -- and many others -- have left us a rich heritage in
pictures that would yield a bountiful harvest in pictorial knowledge if we would but
study them.

Painters and art students do study the masterpieces, even copy them just for
the fund of knowledge they derive from that study. We see artists and art
students in the galleries, sitting before this picture or that, copying it. Ask any
one of these artists and they will tell you how much they are learning from the
masterpiece.

But those who make their pictures with a camera rarely seem to turn to the
masters of art for learning. They examine thoroughly the current photographs,
they exchange their photographs with each other, but the masterpieces of art,
those pictures that have lived and lived through the ages seem to be a closed
book to them, whereas they should be an open book -- a wide open book. Every
minute spent studying any one of the masterpieces of art will yield bountiful
returns.

Just what can we learn from the old masters?

The first thing for anyone making pictures to realize is that there is a place in
this world for pictures -- that is, good pictures. Perhaps “good” is an inadequate,
starved word, but we seem to have gotten in the habit of speaking of “good” and
“poor” pictures. By “good pictures” we mean pictures that are technically
satisfactory and at the same time are artistically beautiful, and that, in their
beauty, appeal to our emotions. Always man has craved pictures, always man
has desired to express his feelings, his interest and joy in world around him.

We can trace this desire back to the stone Age, with its crude outlines of
familiar animals and objects carved or scratched on stones and bones. It is
impossible to find any race, no matter how uncivilized or backward, that does not
have its “art,” crude though it may be. We need not go into the value placed on
pictures by the ancient Egyptians, later by Greeks, then even by the war-loving
Romans, and so on through the ages. In our present day one has only to keep
track of the exhibitions of pictures to realize the genuine love of them and the
numbers of them that are purchased each year just because of that love. At any
counter of pictures in any department store, real interest is shown by the
customers.
Your own pictures might get into the salons or they might not, but if they are
“pictures” in the true artistic, esthetic sense, there is a place for them and sooner
or later they will get into both the salons and any other exhibition of photographs
they are sent to. We often hear the remark, directed at some exhibitor or
potential exhibitor, to the effect that, “It is wonderful that he does not seem to
worry when his prints are turned down at salons.” That would-be exhibitor who
does not become downcast when his pictures are rejected is the artist who has
studied his pictures, who has put his best into them, who knows that they have
artistic merit, and who knows therefore that there is a place for them whether this
particular jury thought so or not, and he knows that they will sooner or later find
that place.

That brings us right up to the one general lesson we can learn from a study of
the masters -- one that we must learn if we are ever to be on an exhibition jury,
and one that will always stand us in good stead. Of primary interest we learn that
just as there is room for all sorts of people on this old planet of ours, so there is
room for all sorts of pictures: landscapes, portraits, pictures of kittens or of wild
lions, pictures that make us laugh, and pictures that make us think, “modernistic”
pictures, “poetic” pictures, big pictures and little ones. We need not be
dependent on the latest craze in the salons. We need go no further than the
three masters we mentioned in our title to see the wide difference in the pictures
that the world loves. The pictures of all three of these are accepted and loved
masterpieces. Let salon judges ponder this variety in pictures when viewing a
prospective salon. Everyone interested in pictorial photography knows the
various crazes we have gone through. One year one sort of picture was “sure
fire,” the next year, another sort. Who is there who has not heard the remark “If
you want to get into salons now, you must make your prints this way or that?” We
had a craze for non-objective pictures. Wagon wheels, and broad expanses of
sand dunes with one lone blade of grass ruling supreme. We have had over-
sized heads that made us feel like pigmies as we looked at them, but they were
sure-fire, regardless of whether they were of a pirate of a dired-up old peasant
woman, or a tiny, cuddly baby. We have had a craze for dark --- shall we say
black -- pictures. Even a seascape, in nature sunny and full of light and
brilliancy, was rendered almost a jet black. Any other rendering was “out.” That
led to the craze for “impact,” and so on. But happy the artist who has rendered
his pictures true to the beauties of nature. His pictures in their beauty and
trueness will be good when the pictures of impact have impacted themselves into
oblivion.

So we learn from the old masters first of all not to let ourselves get caught up
in any craze but to keep beautiful pictures always our goal.
 Just a glance at the work of these three artists of our title will show the
difference in the pictures the world loves. We have reproduced a typical picture
of each artist. One is as great a masterpiece as the other -- could any three
pictures be more different! “Divine” Raphael, Raphael of sheer beauty, of a
sweetness and “serenity of soul;” Rubens the powerful, Rubens of the flowing
brush, of splendor, assured, respecting strength; and Sir Joshua Reynolds, the
grand gentleman, his grand manners showing in his paintings, the intellectual,
restrained, genteel.

But you may say that these men lived centuries apart. Raphael was born in
1483, Rubens in 1530, and Reynolds in 1732. Maybe each did follow some
current craze -- we have seen the crazes in our own time vary from year to year.
But look at Raphael’s contemporary, Michelangelo. He was only a few years
older than Raphael, being born in 1475, and they were both working at the same
time, Raphael painting the Stanze of the Vatican and Michelangelo his famous
ceiling in the Sistine chapel. Raphael’s work, finished first, was rewarded with
“unparalleled success,” we are told. Yet, so was the work of Michelangelo a
short time later, so much so that when it was presented to the public, not only
were people astounded at his great achievement but his contemporary and
could-be rival, Raphael, not only praised it but “thanked God aloud that he had
been born in the same century.” And note how very different Michelangelo’s
forceful, dynamic work is from Raphael’s sweet, lovely work -- they had no
current fad to bow to.

Throughout the history of art, we find artists of entirely different temperaments

making entirely different pictures, and each and every kind of picture equally
admired. So we learn how silly are our current fad for this type of print or for that
type.

Certainly another thing we learn from the masters is that excellence of

technique is essential. Study systematically the whole galaxy of the world’s
masterpieces, or select a few at random -- all are technically excellent. That is
an accepted necessity. If we are to make good pictures photographically. We
must know our craft. Technical excellence must be so habitual that we need not
think of it but can give our entire attention to the important artistic or pictorial side
of the picture.

Excellence of technique can help pictorially more than one might think, which
brings us to another bit of help we can get from the masters. That is the
realization that the commonplace, even the ugly, can be rendered so beautifully
that it loses its commonplaceness or ugliness and the spectator see only the
beauty that the artist saw in it. This should be one of the aims of the artist -- to
enable the spectator to see the beauty of the “commonplace” and the “ugly,” we
do not confuse these with the disgusting, or with bad taste -- subjects that had
best be left unrecorded.
Except for pictures in these two categories, it is up to the artist, not to the subject,
as to whether the picture is beautiful or not. We have seen many a beautiful
subject made into a very unattractive picture and many an unattractive subject
made into a beautiful picture. What really makes the picture, is the way that the
artist see and feels his subject, the manner in which he treats it and presents it to
us.

And so we find that when we speak of beautiful pictures, we must not think
that subject matter alone can make a beautiful picture. Many an unattractive
scene, many an ugly person has been given beauty by the artist. Perhaps it
would be more accurate to say that the artist has shown us what beauty was
there and has ignored the more obvious ugliness. What person with no
knowledge of picture making would ever choose an old man whose face was
covered with warts as a model for a beautiful picture? We hate to think how
some of us would have presented him! But the master Ghirlandajo chose one as
a model in 1485 or so, and made a picture so beautiful that the world has loved it
ever since, and to such an extent that it is considered one of the world’s
masterpieces. Technical excellence helped, and also there was loving
understanding of human nature and great artistic feeling. As to technical
excellence, besides the excellent painting technique, we know enough about
composition to realize how beautifully Ghirlandajo used it. There is a perfect
balance between the two heads and also between the child’s hand and the view
through the window. So technical excellence and perfection of design, or
composition, gave Ghirlandajo a perfect framework for his picture. But note that
he was not content with this mere perfection of technique -- he wanted more
than a diagram of an old man and a child. By the very placing of their heads, by
this use of composition, he gives us a feeling of the love and the trust of the little
child for the grandfather, and having established this, excellence of technique
being habitual with this artist, he has gone further and has concentrated on the
deeper emotions that he felt. He has made the physical ugliness of the old man
incidental, unnoticeable, and has brought out his kind benevolence and his love
for the child, just as he has brought out the complete trust and love of the child
for the man. And so from a subject that we would certainly call ugly, and
probably never think of using for any pretentious work, this master has made a
beautiful and well-loved picture that has been admired for nearly five hundred
years, and will be admired for many more. He saw and revealed to others, the
inner beauty of the situation.

Photographers are often worried as to whether their pictures should be

vertical or horizontal. Study the old masters and note how perfectly they made
their pictures fit into their mats, or shapes, whether vertical or horizontal, oval, or
the vaulted shape of a ceiling.

Fitting a horizontally inclined picture into a vertical shape because it fits our
mats better has been fatal to many a picture. We must admit sometimes it is
difficult to decide whether a picture should be vertical or horizontal.
Of course, we know that a prominent vertical object in a scene usually makes it a
vertical picture -- and of course an important horizontal object makes a horizontal
picture. But not always. In determining the shape a picture should be, we must
be guided by the movement of the eye through the picture, and we must be sure
the vertical objects really suggest a vertical picture. For instance, there might be
several vertical lines, such as a row of trees in the scene, and usually a row of
verticals will suggest a horizontal because the eye moves horizontally across
from one to another. So, even if there are strong vertical lines in the scene, do
not be too hasty in deciding the picture’s shape. “The Shepherdess” by Lerolle
shows just what we mean. Glancing at the scene, the tall figure of the
shepherdess and the vertical tree trunks might have influenced a less adroit artist
to make a vertical picture. By framing it with our hands, we can see the effect of
the vertical shape, and it is not as happy a choice as the horizontal shape,
because the vertical tree trunks, by the very number of them and their position in
a row, give a horizontal feeling to the picture. This feeling is carried out by the
horizontal backs of the sheep, and you may be sure the artist accented the stick
of the shepherdess and a couple of branches cutting horizontally across the
vertical trunks. Thus an attractive and unusual picture results.

It is not only a question of choosing the right shape but after choosing it, of
making every line and form in the picture suitable, just as the backs of the sheep
and the stick and the branches of the tree fitted the horizontal shape. Although
the photographer does not make odd-shaped pictures, he can learn much about
choosing the shape of his picture and about “furnishing” it from a study of the
masters. Note “The Magnificat” of Botticelli. Note the pure decorative charm,
note how every line, every shape, every mass, fits into the circular shape. Note
also that this perfection of design in no way overpowers the intense spirituality of
the exquisite Madonna.

An inverted pyramid is an even less likely shape to choose for a picture, but
Michelangelo shows us that even that can be used to advantage if necessary. It
is a pleasure as well as an inspiration to see how beautifully he has fitted his
Sibyls into that pyramid shape. Again note how every line, every mass, and
every form in the “Libyan Sibyl, which we reproduce, fits into the space, carrying
out the shape of the picture and making it a harmonious whole. When we see
figure studies fitting so beautifully into these unusual shapes, we can surely be
encouraged in composing our more usual rectangular pictures -- and not only are
we encouraged but we learn much about fitting the scene or subject to any shape
picture by a study of these pictures of the masters.

Fitness -- how much we hear of that! We have been speaking of the subject
actually fitting the shape of the picture, but we must use fitness in another sense.
How often we hear groans at exhibitions, and at salon judging, over pictures of
chubby children with handkerchiefs over their heads and given the heart-rending
titles of “Forgotten,” “Refugee,” etc; or old people in obvious studio rags with
sympathy-provoking titles, the type of person not fitting the clothes or title a bit.
But hunt through the pictures of the masters. Nothing out of place is found. Of
course, we realize that the “costumes” of these models were the everyday
clothes of the time, so they are not apt to look “studio dressed up.” But we can
go further and note how every figure, every accessory, every bit of background,
is always entirely in keeping.

The masterful portrait groups of Frans Hals have always interested us and
earned our complete admiration as they have that of the world ever since they
were painted, and what better study of the fitness of things could we find than in
a comparison of two of these famous groups, “The Officers of St. Andrew’s
Company,” and “The Directresses of the Almshouse.” Frans Hals, always and
interesting painter! Exuberance is the quality usually associated with him, and
his paintings as a whole show just that. Into his several guild pictures he got just
that exuberant atmosphere. Note in the illustration we show, how every line
carries out that feeling, not only the expressions on the faces and the positions of
the figures, but also the flowing movement of every line. Compare this with the
picture of the directresses. Gone are the flowing lines. Even the naturally
flowing lines of the skirts are kept subordinate and unnoticeable, and instead, the
straight lines are the ones accentuated, not only in the costumes but in the very
positions of the arms and hands, in the straight line of the table, and of the
picture on the wall behind. In the guild picture there are many straight lines, just
as there are many flowing lines in that of the directresses, but in each picture
these were subdued, and only those lines that carried out the victorious
exuberance of the officers and the sternness of the directresses were
emphasized. Surely the excellent effect of accenting the lines and masses that
fit the subject and subduing those that do not, is plainly shown here.

So far we have been talking in generalities as we have examined and studied

these famous paintings. That photographers interested in portrait or figure
pictures can get a wealth of ideas for actual poses of their models and of the
lighting of their pictures, is too obvious to mention. The beautiful poses of the
models of the masters give portrait photographers many suggestions. But
besides the suggestions as to definite pose, the photographer can learn a great
deal about details. What trouble we have with hands in portraits! Usually the
model has a natural way of holding them, and since hands are very expressive of
character, it is well to encourage the model to place them naturally. But
sometimes the natural use of the hands is awkward in a picture and the
photographer must help the model in posing them. How many times has a
photographer remarked that it seemed as if his model had a dozen hands!

A study of any of the portraits for figure paintings of the masters will yield
innumerable suggestions as to the use of the hands. If hands trouble you, make
a point of this study.

That we can learn the rules of composition by studying the masters is

obvious, for masterpieces of painting have been used to teach composition ever
since we used the term. Rarely do we find a thesis on this subject that does not
show Raphael’s “Sistine Madonna” and Leonardo da Vinci’s “Last Supper” as
perfect examples of balance. If the design or the arranging of your pictures
bother you, cultivate the habit of tracing out the chief composition lines and
masses in the famous masterpieces. Learn to notice the masses of light and
dark and to trace the leading lines through these pictures.

We have mentioned some of these things we can learn from a study of the
masters of painting in the hope of starting the beginner in the art of making
pictures with a camera in this study, knowing that once started he will find it so
fascinating that he will continue until he has an intimate knowledge of the old
masters, and we know of no study that will yield greater rewards to the maker of
pictures. Each photographer will learn new ideas especially suited to him, new
ways of arranging his pictures, new thoughts about pictures. The photographer
must study the technique of his craft and all its intricacies, but pictorially he will
find an abundance of help in the study of the masterpieces of painting whether
they be by Raphael, or Rubens, or Reynolds -- or by the painter of his choice.