Ruskin's Catalogue of Examples (1870)
Ruskin's first catalogue with notes containing his plans for the Standard, Reference and Educational series.
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Alchemilla. Copy of
drawing by Andrea Amadio, in illustration of Benedetto Rino’s Herbal
. (1415.)
The wonderful MSS. in St. Mark’s Library, at Venice, from which this drawing is copied, contains the earliest botanical drawings I know of approximate accuracy. They are, however, like all previous work, merely suggestive of the general character of the plant, and are very imaginative in details. But I should like you to copy this one, because it will show you the delicacy and care of Venetian school-work; and farther impress on you the Venetian respect for law. Every plant, whatever its own complexity of growth, is reduced in this book to some balanced and ornamental symmetry of arrangement.
There is a beautiful piece of fancy in the page representing the common blue chicory. Its current Latin name in the fifteenth century, from its rayed form, was Sponsa Solis. But its blue colour caused it to be thought of as the favourite, not of the sun only, but of the sky. And the sun is drawn above it with a face, very beautiful, in the orb, surrounded by vermilion and golden rays, which descend to the flower through undulating lines of blue, representing the air. I have never seen the united power of Apollo and Athena more prettily symbolized.
I think, then, you cannot be introduced to the practice of colour under better augury than by this good old Venetian herbalist, with his due reverence for aerial and stellar influences; nor by any worthier plant than this wild one of the lowlands and of the hills; which indeed once grew freely with us in divers places, as in the towne pastures by Andover, and also upon the banke of a mote that encloseth a house in Bushey, fowerteene miles from London: and which I doubt not grows now, at least the Alpine variety of it, as it did then, on Bernard’s Hill in Switzerland. And with its fair little folded mantle of leaf, and Arabian alchemy, strong to heal wounds and to prolong youth, it may take happy place, with the white mountain Dryas, among the thornless roses.
And now in beginning colour:—remember once for all (and it is the main meaning of what I said long ago— you are always safe if you hold the hand of a colourist ), that you cannot colour unless you are either happy as a child is happy, or true as a man is true—sternly, and in harmony through his life. You cannot paint without one or the other virtue—peace of heart, or strength of it. Somehow, the very colour fails, itself, under the hand which lays it coldly or hesitatingly. If you do not enjoy it, or are not resolved it shall be faithful, waste no time with it.
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41 B. Maple and Oak. Heads of young shoots.
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41 C. Grass.
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41 D. Wreath of bramble-leaves.
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42. Cluster of leaves (real size) from the foreground of Mantegna’s picture of the Madonna, with the Magdalene and St. John, in the National Gallery. (By my assistant, Mr. W. Ward.)
We were both of us, however, foiled, successively, in trying to get the exquisite outlines of this cluster. But it will give you some idea of the symmetry and precision of Mantegna’s design, and of his grave though pale colour. Copy it as well as you can.
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Grapes and peach. (William Hunt.)
It is not a first-rate Hunt; you shall have a better, some day, among the Standards: this, however, illustrates several matters of importance, and is placed here for present comparison, and eventual service.
First, I want you to notice its general look of greengrocery, and character of rustic simplicity, as opposed to the grave refinement of Mantegna. Generally speaking, you will find our best modern art has something of this quality,—it looks as if done by peasants or untrained persons, while good Italian work is visibly by accomplished gentlemen. The reason of this, of course, primarily is, that our artists do not think their general education of importance, nor understand that it is an essential part of their eventual art-power; but it results also much from an Englishman’s delight in taking his own way, and his carelessness and general ignorance of vital abstract principle, so only that he gets a momentarily pleasant effect; which carelessness he thinks a practical turn of mind in him. I like to see a thing fudged out, said William Hunt once to me. Yes, but to see it felt out, and known, both out and in, is better still.
Nevertheless, the simplicity has its own charm, when it is modest also; as in Hunt and Bewick: unhappily there is a tendency in the modern British mind to be at once simple and insolent; a most unfortunate base-metal.
Secondly, note of the method of work of this picture. It assumes that you are looking at the fruit very near it; and at that only. And the mode of finish is on those conditions admirable; but only on the condition, observe, that this piece of painting is to be no part of a larger scene. If these grapes were in the hand of a figure, and, to see the figure, you had to retire six or seven feet, all this laborious and careful completion of bloom would be useless, and wrong. Here, 43 B, are bunches of black and white grapes, from Rubens’ Peace and War, in the National Gallery. Mr. Ward has fairly enough for my present purpose (he shall do it afterwards better), facsimiled the few touches, by which, in about ten minutes of the master’s work, these masses of fruit have been set nobly in their place. The two examples will show you clearly the difference between genre painting and that of the great schools; only remember, that Rubens always errs by inattention and violence, and if the higher example had been by Titian, it would have seemed as complete as Hunt’s , though majestic also.
Lastly, note in the Hunt, that though the peach is yellow, and the grapes blue, it is as easy to throw the blue fruit before the golden one, as it would have been to throw a cluster of golden grapes before a blue plum. And be advised, once for all, that there are no such things as retiring or advancing colours; but that every colour, well taught, is equally ready to retire when you wish it to retire, and to advance when you wish it to advance; and that you must by your own magic, and by that alone, command the delicate amber into the infinite of twilight, or complete it into the close bloom of the primrose in your hand.
- 43 B. Study of grapes, from Rubens. See notes on 43.
- 43 C. Garden-wall at Abbeville. (W. Ward.)
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43 D.
Gable at Abbeville, seen through the stems of the trees in the little square before the Palais de Justice. (W. Ward.)
To show you the retiring of colour by mystery of texture; and the use of two important substantial pigments in northern countries—chalk, and red brick, and a little of the grace of French trees, inimitable by ours, I know not why; and other things besides, for future service.
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44.Scarborough Castle.
Sketch on the spot. (Turner.)
Copy this as well as you can, and observe how the bloom and texture is beginning to come on the distant rocks, by the mere purity of the calmly-laid colour. And put out of your head, finally, any idea of there being tricks or secrets in Turner’s colouring. Flat wash on white paper, of the shape that it should be, and the colour it should be,—that is his secret.
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45. Gothic mansion. Early drawing by Turner, probably when he was a boy of 15 or 16.
Of the shape that it should be? Yes. And to that end we must sometimes pencil it in very carefully first.
Try either the forms of the white clouds in colour, or those of the building in pencil, and you will soon know what to think of the assertion that Turner could not draw.
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46. Unfinished drawing of ruined abbey. (Turner.)
This is a perfect example of Turner’s method of work in his early time—every colour deliberately chosen, and set in its place like Florentine mosaic.
- Sketch of common snail-shell, enlarged.
- 47 B. Sketch of Helix Gualteriana, enlarged.
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47 C. Study of Paper Nautilus.
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48.
Study of sculpture of the perfect school of Venice; from the base of a pilaster in the interior of the church of the Madonna de’ Miracoli.
Exercise in transparent wash of simple tints, with body colour for the lights.
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49.
Sketch for the Head of Danae.
(Edward Burne Jones.)
Showing, better than any other modern example I have by me, some parallel to the nobly subdued methods of colour employed in the thoughtful schools of the Venetians, after their union with those of light and shade.
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50.
Study of part of Tintoret’s picture of the Presentation in the Temple in the Scuola di San Rocco.
(Edward Burne Jones.)
As like Tintoret’s colour as the material will permit, the picture is one gloom of black and crimson, lighted with grey and gold, and a type of all that is mightiest in the arts of colour and shade.
Into the analysis of which we will try to enter farther hereafter: enough work is before us for our present strength.
41.
These old sketches of mine may be useful to you as showing the pleasantness of the simplest forms of foliage when carefully outlined; and the first (41 B) how some little note of colour may be made with one tint, changed, when necessary, as it is laid. You will find this a quick and helpful method of study.
43.
47.
I have left the first two of these sketches slight. I They are merely to show you the mode in which the contours (22 C and 22 D) appear to be altered by the colours that fill them; and observe that all contours whatsoever are to be determined with this absolute accuracy, before you trust yourself to colour them. The third is carried farther, but does not efface its pencil outlines.
