An interesting little work still in the form of a dialogue (Fabio and Lauro), appeared a year earlier; the author, Paolo Pino, was a Venetian painter. In speaking of the practical methods Fabio observes, as usual, that oil-painting is of all modes of imitation the most perfect, but his reasons for this opinion seem to have a reference to the Venetian practice of going over the work repeatedly. Lauro ask whether it is not possible to paint in oil on the dry wall, a Sebastian del Piombo did. Fabio answers, “the work cannot last, for the solidity of the plaster is impenetrable and the colours, whether in oil or distemper, cannot pan the surface.” This might seem to warrant the inference that absorbent grounds were prepared for oil-painting, bin there are proofs enough that resins as well as oil were used with the gesso to make the preparation compact. See Doni, Armenini, &c. This writer, again, does not speak of varnish. These appear to be the chief Venetian and Italian authorities of the sixteenth and part of the following century; and although Boschini wrote latest, he appears to have had his information from good sources, and more than once distinctly quotes Palma Giovane.
In all these instances it will be seen that there is no allusion to the immixture of varnishes with the solid colours, except in painting on walls in oil, and that the processes of distemper and oil are always considered as separate arts. On the other hand, the prohibition of Boschini cannot be understood to be universal, for it is quite certain that the Venetians varnished their pictures when done. After Titian had finished his whole-length portrait of Pope Paul III. it was placed in the sun to be varnished. Again, in the archives of the church of S. Niccolo at Treviso a sum is noted (Sept. 21, 1521), “per far la vernise da invernisar la Pala dell’ altar grando,” and the same day a second entry appears of a payment to a painter, “per esser venuto a dar la vernise alla Pala,” &c. It is to be observed that in both these cases the pictures were varnished as soon as done; the varnish employed was perhaps the thin compound of naphtha (oglio di sasso) and melted turpentine (oglio d’abezzo), described by Borghini, and after him by Armenini: the last-named writer remarks that he had seen this varnish used by the best painters in Lombardy, and had heard that it was preferred by Correggio. The consequence of this immediate varnishing may have been that the warm resinous liquid, whatever it was, became united with the colours, and thus at a future time the pigment may have acquired a consistency capable of resisting the ordinary solvents. Not only was the surface of the picture required to be warm, but the varnish was applied soon after it was taken from the fire.
Many of the treatises above quoted contain directions for making the colours dry: some of these recipes, and many in addition, are to be found in Palomino, who, however defective as an historian has left very copious practical details, evidently of ancient date. His drying recipes are numerous, and although sugar of lead does not appear, cardenillo (verdigris), which is perhaps as objectionable, is admitted to be the best of all dryers. It may excite some surprise that the Spanish painters should have bestowed so much attention on this subject in a climate like theirs, but the rapidity of their execution must have often required such an assistance.
One circumstance alluded to by Palomino, in his very minute practical directions, deserves to be mentioned. After saying what colours should be preserved in their saucers under water, and what colours should be merely covered with oiled paper because the water injures them, he proceeds to communicate “a curious mode of preserving oil-colours,” and of transporting them from place to place. The important secret is to tie them in bladders, the mode of doing which be enters into with great minuteness, as if the invention was recent. It is true, Christoforo Sorte, in describing his practice in water-colour drawing, says he was in the habit of preserving a certain vegetable green with gum-water in a bladder; but as the method was obviously new to Palomino, there seems sufficient reason to believe that oil-colours, when once ground, had, up to his time, been kept in saucers and preserved under water. Among the items of expense in the Treviso document before alluded to, we find “a pan and saucers for the painters.” This is in accordance with Cennini’s directions, and the same system appears to have been followed till after 1700.
The Flemish accounts of the early practice of oil-painting are all later than Vasari. Van Mander, in correcting the Italian historian in his dates, still follows his narrative in other respects verbatim. If Vasari’s story is to be accepted as true, it might be inferred that the Flemish secret consisted in an oil varnish like copal. Vasari says, that Van Eyck boiled the oils with other ingredients; that the colours, when mixed with this kind of oil, had a very firm consistence; that the surface of the pictures so executed had a lustre, so that they needed no varnish when done; and that the colours were in no danger from water.
Certain colours, as is well known, if mixed with oil alone, may be washed off after a considerable time. Leonardo da Vinci remarks, that verdigris may be thus removed. Carmine, Palomino observes, may be washed off after six years. It is on this account the Italian writers recommend the use of varnish with certain colours, and it appears the Venetians, and perhaps the Italians generally, employed it solely in such cases. But it is somewhat extraordinary that Vasari should teach a mode of painting in oil so different in its results (inasmuch as the work thus required varnish at last) from the Flemish method which he so much extols — a method which he says the Italians long endeavoured to find out in vain. If they knew it, it is evident, assuming his account to be correct, that they did not practice it.
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Note W. — Par. 608.
In the second volume Goethe gives the nomenclature of the Greeks and Romans at some length. The general notions of the ancients with regard to colours are thus described: — ”The ancients derive all colours from white and black, from light and darkness. They say, all colours are between white and black, and are mixed out of these. We must not, however, suppose that they understand by this a mere atomic mixture, although they occasionally use the word ; for in the remarkable passages, where they wish to express a kind of reciprocal (dynamic) action of the two contrasting principles, they employ the words , union, , combination; thus, again, the mutual influence of light and darkness, and of colours among each other, is described by the word , an expression of similar import.
“The varieties of colours are differently enumerated; some mention seven, others twelve, but without giving the complete list. From a consideration of the terminology both of the Greeks and Romans, it appears that they sometimes employed general for specific terms, and vice
“Their denominations of colours are not permanently and precisely defined, but mutable and fluctuating, for they are employed even with regard to similar colours both on the plus and minus side. Their yellow, on the one hand, inclines to red, on the other to blue; the blue is sometimes green, sometimes red; the red is at one time yellow, at another blue. Pure red (purpur) fluctuates between warm red and blue, sometimes inclining to scarlet, sometimes to violet.
“Thus the ancients not only seem to have looked upon colour as a mutable and fleeting quality, but appear to have had a presentiment of the (physical and chemical) effects of augmentation and re-action. In speaking of colours they make use of expressions which indicate this knowledge; they make yellow redden, because its augmentation tends to red; they make red become yellow, for it often returns thus to its origin.
“The hues thus specified undergo new modifications. The colours arrested at a given point are attenuated by a stronger light darkened by a shadow, nay, deepened and condensed in themselves. For the gradations which thus arise the name of the species only is often given, but the more generic terms are also employed. Every colour, of whatever kind, can, according to the same view, be multiplied into itself, condensed, enriched, and will in consequence appear more or less dark. The ancients called colour in this state,” &c. Then follow the designations of general states of colour and those of specific hues.
Another essay on the notions of the ancients respecting the origin and
nature of colour generally, shows how nearly Goethe himself has followed in the same track. The dilating effect of light objects, the action and reaction of the retina, the coloured after-image, the general law of contrast, the effect of semi-transparent mediums in producing warm or cold colours as they are interposed before a dark or light background — all this is either distinctly expressed or hinted at; “but,” continues Goethe, “how a single element divides itself into two, remained a secret for them. They knew the nature of the magnet, in amber, only as attraction; polarity was not yet distinctly evident to them. And in very modern times have we not found that scientific men have still given their almost exclusive attention to attraction, and considered the immediately excited repulsion only as a mere after-action?”
An essay on the Painting of the Ancients was contributed by Heinrich Meyer.
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Note X. — Par. 670.
This agrees with the general recommendation so often given by high authorities in art, to avoid a tinted look in the colour of flesh. The great example of Rubens, whose practice was sometimes an exception to this, may however show that no rule of art is to be blindly or exclusively adhered to. Reynolds, nevertheless, in the midst of his admiration for this great painter, considered the example dangerous, and more than once expresses himself to this effect, observing on one occasion that Rubens, like Baroccio, is sometimes open to the criticism made on an ancient painter, namely, that his figures looked as if they fed on roses.
Lodovico Dolce, who is supposed to have given the viva voce precepts of Titian in his Dialogue, makes Aretino say: “I would generally banish from my pictures those vermilion cheeks with coral lips; for faces thus treated look like masks. Propertius, reproving his Cynthia for using cosmetics, desires that her complexion might exhibit the simplicity and purity of colour which is seen in the works of Apelles.”
Those who have written on the practice of painting have always recommended the use of few colours for flesh. Reynolds and others quote even ancient authorities as recorded by Pliny, and Boschini gives several descriptions of the method of the Venetians, and particularly of Titian, to the same effect. “They used,” he says, “earths more than any other colour, and at the utmost only added a little vermilion, minium, and lake, abhorring as a pestilence biadetti, gialli santi, smaltini, verdi-ozzurri, giallolini.” Elsewhere he says, “Earths should be used rather than other colours:” after repeating the above prohibited list he adds, “I speak of the imitation of flesh, for in other things every colour is good;” again, “Our great Titian used to say that he who wishes to be a painter should be acquainted with three colours, white, black, and red.” Assuming this account to be a little exaggerated, it is still to be observed that the monotony to which the use of few colours would seem to tend, is prevented by the nature of the Venetian process, which was sufficiently conformable to Goethe’s doctrine; the gradations being multiplied, and the effect of the colours heightened by using them as semi-opaque mediums. Immediately after the passage last quoted we read, “.He also gave this true precept, that to produce a lively colouring in flesh it is not possible to finish at once.” As these particulars may not be known to all, we add some further abridged extracts explaining the order and methods of these different operations.
“The Venetian painters,” says this writer, “after having drawn in their subject, got in the masses with very solid colour, without making use of nature or statues. Their great object in this stage of their work was to distinguish the advancing and retiring portions, that the figures might be relieved by means of chiaro-scuro — one of the most important departments of colour and form, and indeed of invention. Having decided on their scheme of effect, when this preparation was dry, they consulted nature and the antique; not servilely, but with the aid of a few lines on paper (quatrro segni in carta) they corrected their figures without any other model. Then returning to their brushes, they began to paint smartly on this preparation, producing the colour of flesh.” The passage before quoted follows, stating that they used earths chiefly, that they carefully avoided certain colours, “and likewise varnishes and whatever produces a shining surface: When this second painting was dry, they proceeded to scumble over this or that figure with a low tint to make the one next it come forward, giving another, at the same time, an additional light — for example, on a head, a hand, or a foot, thus detaching them, so to speak, from the canvas.” (Tintoret’s Prigionia di S. Rocco is here quoted.) “By thus still multiplying these well-understood retouchings where required, on the dry surface, (a secco) they reduced the whole to harmony. In this operation they took care not to cover entire figures, but rather went on gemming them (gioielandole) with vigorous touches. In the shadows, too, they infused vigour frequently by glazing with asphaltum, always leaving great masses in middle-tint, with many darks, in addition to the partial glazings, and few lights.”
The introduction to the subject of Venetian colouring, in the poem by the same author, is also worth transcribing, but as the style is quaint and very concise, a translation is necessarily a paraphrase.
“The art of colouring has the imitation of qualities for its object; not all qualities, but those secondary ones which are appreciable by the sense of sight. The eye especially sees colours, the imitation of nature in painting is therefore justly called colouring; but the painter arrives at his end by indirect means. He gives the varieties of tone in masses; he smartly impinges lights, he clothes his preparation with more delicate local hues, he unites, he glazes: thus everything depends on the method, on the process. For if we look at colour abstractedly, the most positive may be called the most beautiful, but if we keep the end of imitation in view, this shallow conclusion falls to the ground. The refined Venetian manner is very different from mere direct, sedulous imitation. Every one who has a good eye may arrive at such results, but to attain the manner of Paolo, of Bassan, of Palma, Tintoret, or Titian, is a very different undertaking.”
The effects of semi-transparent mediums in some natural productions seem alluded to in the following passage — ”Nature sometimes accidentally imitates figures in stones and other substances, and although they are necessarily incomplete in form, yet the principle of effect (depth) resembles the Venetian practice.” In a passage that follows there appears to be an allusion to the production of the atmospheric colours by semi-transparent mediums.
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Note Y. — Par. 672.
The author’s conclusion here is unsatisfactory, for the colour of the black races may be considered at least quite as negative as that of Europeans. It would be safer to say that the white skin is more beautiful than the black, because it is more capable of indications of life, and indications of emotion. A degree of light which would fail to exhibit the finer varieties of form on a dark surface, would be sufficient to display them on a light one; and the delicate mantlings of colour, whether the result of action or emotion, are more perceptible for the same reason.
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Note Z. — Par. 690.
The author appears to mean that a degree of brightness which the organ can bear at all, must of necessity be removed from dazzling, white light. The slightest tinge of colour to this brightness, implies that it is seen through a medium, and thus, in painting, the lightest, whitest surface should partake of the quality of depth. Goethe’s view here again accords, it must be admitted, with the practice of the best colourists, and with the precepts of the highest authorities. — See Note C.
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Note AA. — Par. 732.
Ample details respecting the opinions of Louis Bertrand Castel, a Jesuit, are given in the historical part. The co-incidence of some of his views with those of Goethe is often apparent: he objects, for instance, to the arbitrary selection of the Newtonian spectrum; observing that the colours change with every change of distance between the prism and the recipient surface. — Farbenl. vol. ii. p. 527. Jeremias Friedrich Güllich was a dyer
in the neighbourhood of Stutgardt: he published an elaborate work on the technical details of his own pursuit. — Farbenl.. vol. ii. p. 630.
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Note BB. — Par. 748.
Goethe, in his account of Castel, suppresses the learned Jesuit’s attempt at colorific music (the claveqin oculaire), founded on the Newtonian doctrine. Castel was complimented, perhaps ironically, on having been the first to remark that there were but three principal colours. In asserting his claim to the discovery, he admits that there is nothing new. In fact, the notion of three colours is to be found in Aristotle; for that philosopher enumerates no more in speaking of the rainbow, and Seneca calls them by their right names. Compare with Dante, Parad. c. 33. The relation between colours and sounds is in like manner adverted to by Aristotle; he says — ”It is possible that colours may stand in relation to each other in the same manner as concords in music, for the colours which are (to each other) in proportions corresponding with the musical concords, are those which appear to be the most agreeable.” In the latter part of the 16th century, Arcimboldo, a Milanese painter, invented a colorific music; an account of his principles and method will be found in a treatise on painting which appeared about the same time. “Ammaestrato dal qual ordine Mauro Cremonese dalla viola, musico dell’ Imperadore Ridolfo II. trovo sul gravicembalo tutte quelle consonanze che dall’ Arcimboldo erano segnate coi colorii sopra una carta.”
Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Page 326