Part 23

The common explanation of the above important question is that the artist "selects and eliminates from the forms of nature." But surely this is the principle of the caricaturist and virtuoso? A beautiful drawing, however slight, is but the precipitate of the whole in the artist's mind. And a highly finished drawing by a master does not show even any apparent selection or elimination. The adoption of the principle of selection to differentiate art from mechanical reproduction is fundamentally vicious, and could be shown to be wholly inapplicable to the so-called formative arts. Nor could the theory of "selection" be used as a principle of teaching, for if to the first question the pupil would make, "What am I to select?" it were answered, "Only the important things," then the next question, "What are the important things?" could be answered only by saying, "That alone the real artist knows, but cannot teach." Certainly there are important things that can be taught the student in the initial stage of "laying-in" a figure, but _when_ to begin selecting or eliminating no teacher could tell him, simply because he must be aware that a true draughtsman can afford to eliminate nothing when the truth of the whole is at stake. The artist's conception and its expression may be slight or elaborate, but in neither case can selection or elimination take place, for a true conception must be founded upon the character of the whole, which is determined by the entire complex of all the parts.

To explain the essential difference between art and mechanical drawing or mechanical reproduction, a more applicable theory must be found. Compare the art of telling a story. If, to describe an incident in the street you had the entire affair reenacted on the same spot, you would have but made a mechanical reproduction of it, leaving the spectator to simplify the affair, and construct his _own_ conception of it. You have not given _your_ ideas of the event, and so you have not made a work of art. So, if a man draws an object detail for detail by any mechanical process, or traces over its photograph, he has but reduplicated the real aspect of the object, and has failed to give the spectator a simple and intelligible idea of it. Starting out with the generous notion of giving all, that there may be "something for everyone," he has given nothing. He did not originally form an intelligible and simplified idea of the figure, so how can his drawing be expected to give one to others?

But how can forms be made _more_ simple and intelligible than by reproducing their aspect with absolute accuracy? Our combined sense of vision and touch comprehends very easily certain elementary solid forms, the sphere, the cube, the pyramid and the cylinder. No forms but these, and their modifications, can be apprehended by the mind in one and the same act of vision. Every complex form, even so simple as that of a kidney, for instance, must be first broken up into its component parts before it can be fully apprehended or remembered. Analogously with the above, Prof. Wundt has shown how the mind can apprehend _as separate units_ any number, of marbles for instance, up to five, after which every number must be split up into lots of twos, threes, fours and fives, or twenties, thirties and so on, before it can realize the full content of that number in one and the same mental picture. So the only way to receive an intelligible idea of a complex form, such as a human figure, is first to discover in the figure itself, and then in all its parts, only modifications of the above elementary solid forms, and the drawing of a conception thus informed must needs be a very clear and intelligible one. The more the artist is capable and practised, the more clearly will he conceive and distinguish in nature each subtle modification of these elementary forms, their direction, their relation to, and their dependence upon one another. The only difference between a good draughtsman and a bad one is the degree of subtlety of his apprehension. Unless the draughtsman has seen some such clear forms in his original, his labour to produce a work of art will be grievous and fruitless. All good drawing is stamped with this kind of structural insight. The more the artist adheres to nature, and the more finished his drawing, the more will the lines and forms that he makes be, so to speak, _in excess_ of those of nature, or dull imitation or photography. It is not to be supposed that able draughtsmen work, or need ever have worked, consciously in this manner. It is, indeed, the virtue peculiar to the artist, as interpreter of form, that he instinctively comprehends the real elemental character of complex forms, whilst the majority of people (on the showing of their own drawings) entertain but confused or _no_ ideas of them. It is because a good drawing reduces the chaos of ideas supplied by the raw material of nature, to one intelligible manner of seeing it, that all lovers of nature welcome it with joy. It is this process of discovery and interpretation that marks the essential difference between art and mechanical drawing or reproduction. Art gives intelligible ideas of the forms of nature, mechanism attempts to reduplicate their aspects.

There are some who hold that drawing is not exclusively a matter of interpreting form, but that great artists have their own "personalities" which they infuse into their work. They will ask, How is it otherwise to be explained that two equally good draughtsmen will invariably make different drawings of the same figure? Is it not for the same reason that one man will divide up a row of eight marbles into groups of four, and another into five and three? The subjectivity of experience governs the different conceptions that good draughtsmen will form of the same object. Accordingly as a draughtsman feels form so will he draw it, and it is only because our sense apparatuses are more or less similarly constituted that we can understand and appreciate one another's conceptions.

But if the master draughtsman gives the true character of his model's form, why is it that his drawings are not pleasing to all alike? Whence the doubts and criticism that have been called forth by all original artists? If we first examine the attitude of the average man, artist or layman, towards nature, we can better explain his attitude towards works of art. The average man or artist has not a highly developed appreciation of form _per se_, whether it be the form of natural or manufactured objects. And it would seem that he is still less a disinterested spectator of the forms and features of his fellow beings and animals, their movements, their colour, their value in a room or landscape. He has sentimental, moral or intellectual preferences. In other words, he likes or dislikes only those faces or figures which hundreds of personal associations have taught him to like or dislike. The riding man's admiration for the look of a particular horse is based upon the fact that it looks like "a horse to go," and hence it is what he calls beautiful, while the artist, in the capacity of artist and not of sportsman, is not particular in his choice of horse-flesh, but finds each animal equally interesting for itself alone. Consequently in art any face, figure or object that does not come into the category of what the average man cares for is condemned by him even as it would be in real life, since he is no lover of form for form's sake, but provided the subject or moral be pleasing the quality of the draughtsmanship is of small account. The picture of a dwarf, or of an anatomy lesson, or of a group of ordinary bourgeois folk would not really please him, even though he were told that the work was by Velazquez, Rembrandt or Manet. We have only to listen to the common criticism of works of art to know that it is founded upon personal predilection only. We do not hear such personal criticism upon drawings of landscape, not because artists do them better, but because natural landscape has no interest for any one other than for its form, or, at least, people do not hold such definite personal likes or dislikes with regard to its various manifestations. But the artist, though his own personal predilections may, and generally do, lead him to work within that agreeable _milieu_, has, in the capacity of artist, no subjective prejudices; indeed, if he had them, he could not represent them by line, light and shade. He seeks always new varieties of form; hence his subjects, and his manner of posing them, are often unpleasing to the man who is busy with other affairs, and has no great experience of nature's forms. Let a good draughtsman make a successful likeness of the mother of some average man, and the latter will be delighted, but it by no means follows that he will delight in a drawing of the wife of the artist, though done by the same hand and with equal skill.

If drawing is the art of giving one's ideas of the forms of nature, then all criticism of drawing must be based upon the question, "How far does such and such a work show an intimate knowledge of or intelligent visualization of the forms we know in nature?" and no other principle of judgment can be applicable to all drawing alike. Hence only those who have by natural endowment a clear sense of the forms of things, and who have made more than ordinary study of them, are in a position to apply to drawings the above criterion with any approach to infallibility. It is a fact that there are, and always have been, a certain number of people who agree perfectly in their appreciation of the works of certain draughtsmen of different times and countries, and who can state reasons for their appreciation in definite and almost identical terms, for it is based upon knowledge and experience. To such people all fine draughtsmanship owes its public fame, and its immortality lies in their safe keeping.

It may be argued that each has a right to his own opinion about form and its representation, on the supposed ground that we all see form in different ways. But there is a fallacy in this argument. If we take the average man's drawing of any form more complex than a loaf of bread as a fair and only testimony of his power of visualization of forms, we must conclude that most of us see not differently, but _wrongly_, or rather confusedly and disconnectedly, and that some can visualize form scarcely at all. If this be true, the average person's sight and ability to judge drawing is seriously diminished. If, then, drawing can be judged and appreciated only by knowledge and experience of the forms of nature, no critical formula could be made out so as to enable a child or savage or ordinary civilized adult to estimate or enjoy it. If it be argued that drawings are to be judged from some abstract or symbolic point of view, independently of its subtle representation of form, then incompetent drawing might be as beautiful as the competent, which would be absurd. However, if the competent characterization of form were admitted as at least the first condition of beautiful drawing, it would follow that any abstract value it might have must be wholly dependent upon the manner in which form is represented, and so it would be superfluous to judge it by any standard other than the direct, definite and concrete one of form. Abstract beauty, since no one has yet defined it agreeably to all, is, apparently, with those who affect a feeling for it, a matter of individual taste, and therefore cannot be questioned. But the clear visualization of the forms of nature is based upon a special endowment and knowledge, and can be criticized by demonstration. People may differ in their tastes, but they may not, nor do they, differ upon questions of real knowledge. Drawing, as the activity of giving one's ideas of form, must therefore be judged not by taste but by knowledge.

In view of the purpose and content of drawing as here demonstrated, there is no other principle of judgment that is relevant. Yet we often hear drawing judged by criteria which are founded upon no such concrete base but upon certain vague abstractions; or, again, upon a literary or moral base which could be applicable only to symbolic art.

It is said that this or that draughtsman excels in "beauty of line." Now in spite of the labours of many painters and theorists, it cannot reasonably be held that one purely abstract line or curve is more beautiful than another, for the simple reason that people have no common ground upon which to establish the nature of abstract beauty. It may be, however, that even as certain simple forms are more easily apprehended than complex ones, there is the same distinction with regard to lines. If then an artist of clean vision sees in an object of reality such clear characteristic lines, he draws them not for their abstract beauty, but merely because by them alone can he express his idea of the form before him. The early Greek vase painters, and all great artists of primitive periods, being attracted only by the silhouette, became very subtle to observe nature's outlines in their most intelligible character, and to this capacity is due their "beauty of line," and not to any preconceived notion of an abstract line of perfect beauty, and nowhere will "beauty of line" be found on Greek vases, or elsewhere, that is not informed by, and does not express, a fine conception of nature's contours. So too in later three-dimensional drawing there is no beauty of line which does not intelligibly express not only the directions and angles of the main contour, but the inner modelling, i.e. the relief of the figure. It is only a superficial judgment that would prefer one drawing to another, even if both may be equally good, because the line of one is neat and the other "tormented." Contour being _in nature_ an ideal line between one form and another, it is illogical to treat it or criticize it in a _drawing_ as an actual and specific thing, apart from the forms that make it and are made by it. If an artist drew a dragon with deliberate disregard for animal construction, his drawing would be silly, and only by a profound knowledge of the forms of nature could it be made to have beautiful lines. Truth to nature is always originality, and it is the only originality worth the name.

Again, some people judge one drawing as better than another in that it shows more "individuality" or "temperament." Now a man's individuality is, presumably, a vague feeling in our minds produced by the net result of the ways in which he sees, hears, loves, thinks and so on, so that we could not tell a man's individuality from any single one of his manifestations. With his entire work as an artist before us, i.e. his manner of seeing, we could do no more than infer, with the help of outside data, from the subjects he chooses, and the neatness or boldness of his line, something about his general character, and that with small degree of certainty. To regard a man's works of art, or indeed any of his manifestations, from this point of view, is, after all, nothing but a kind of inquisitive cheiromancy. Those who pretend to like the drawings of Watteau or Michelangelo "because they show more individuality" than the incompetent work of a beginner or poor artist cannot be skilled in their own business, because the lady who tells your character by your handwriting finds as much individuality in bad writing as in good,--sometimes even more. It may be entertaining to some to guess at the artist's character from his works by this process of inference and comparison, but it is unreasonable to imagine that "individuality," as such, can be made a serious criterion of aesthetic judgment. The only individuality a draughtsman can show directly by his drawing is his individual way of conceiving the forms of nature, and even this is immaterial provided the conception and drawing be good.

A word or two are necessary upon "style," which unfortunate word has made much mystery in criticism. The great draughtsmen of every time and country are known by their own words, as well as their works, to have been infinitely respectful to the form of every detail in nature. Their drawings always recall to our minds reality as we ourselves have seen it (provided we have studied from nature and not from pictures). The drawing of a hand, for instance, by Hokusai, Ingres or Dürer, revives in us our own impressions of the forms and aspects of real hands. In short there is manifest in all good drawings, whatever their difference of medium or superficial appearance, an entire dependence upon the forms of nature. Hence we cannot imagine that they were conceived and executed with the conscious effort to obtain some abstract style independent of the material treated. The style they plainly have can spring from this common quality, their truthful and well understood representation of forms. Style, then, is the expression of a clear understanding of the material from which the artist works. Unless a drawing shows this understanding it would be as impossible as it would be gratuitous to argue that it could have style. But it would seem that some people mean by style nothing more than the mere superficial appearance of the work. They would have a draughtsman draw "in the style of Holbein," but not "in the style" of Rembrandt. This kind of preference, as remarked above, is superficial, for it overlooks the main issue and purpose of drawing, viz. the representation, by any means whatever, of the artist's ideas of form. It is as though one should prefer a letter from Holbein to one from Rembrandt, though both were equally expressive, simply because Holbein's handwriting was prettier than Rembrandt's. Each draughtsman manifests a kind of handwriting peculiar to himself even in his most faithful rendering of form; and by this we can immediately recognize the artist; many, for instance Hogarth and some Japanese, seem to have let their quirks, full stops and so on, get the upper hand at the expense of serious, sensitive draughtsmanship.

It is fair to suppose that all abstract principles of aesthetic judgment, such as beauty of line, personality, style, nobility of thought, romanticism, are merely pretexts set up by people who would still affect to admire the drawings of recognized masters when they have neither the knowledge of, nor the care for, the forms of nature by virtue of which alone these drawings are what they are, and by which alone they can be immediately appreciated. (J. R. FO.)

_Drawing-Office Work._--In modern engineering, few pieces of mechanism are ever produced in the shops until their design has been settled in the "drawing office," and embodied in suitable drawings showing general and detailed views. This is a broad statement to which there are exceptions, to be noted presently.

Drawing-office work is divisible into four principal groups. First, there is the actual designing, by far the most difficult work, which is confined to relatively few well-paid men. The qualifications necessary for it are a good scientific, mathematical and engineering training, and a specialized experience gathered in the particular class of mechanism to which the designing relates. Second, there is the work of the rank and file who take instructions from the chiefs, and elaborate the smaller details and complete the drawings. Third, there are the tracers, either youths or girls, who copy drawings on tracing paper without necessarily understanding them. Fourth, there is a printing department in which phototypes are produced on sensitized paper from tracings.

The character of the drawings used includes the general drawings, or those which show a mechanism complete; and the detailed drawings, which illustrate portions isolated from their connexions and relationships. The first are retained in the office for reference, and copies are only sent out to the men who have to assemble or erect and complete mechanisms. The second are distributed to the several shops and departments where sectional portions are being prepared, as pattern shop, smithy, turnery, machine shop, &c. General drawings are, as a rule, drawn to a small scale, ranging say from 1/8 in. to 1 in. to the foot; but details are either to actual size, or to a large scale, as from 1½ in. to the foot or 3 in. or 6 in. to the foot.

A large number of minutiae are omitted from general drawings, but in the detailed ones that are sent into the shops nothing is apparently too trivial for insertion. In this respect, however, there is much difference observable in the practice of different firms, and in the best practice of the present compared with that of former years. In the detailed drawings issued by many firms now, every tiny element and section is not only drawn to actual size, but also fully dimensioned, and the material to be used is specified in every case. This practice largely adds to the work of the drawing-office staff, but it pays.

The present tendency therefore is to throw more responsibility than of old on the drawing-office staff, in harmony with the tendency towards greater centralization of authority. Much of detail that was formerly left to the decision of foremen and skilled hands is now determined by the drawing-office staff. Heterogeneity in details is thus avoided, and the drawings reflect accurately and fully the past as well as the present practice of the firm. To so great an extent is this the case that the preparation of the tools, appliances, templets, jigs and fixtures used in the shops is often now not permitted to be undertaken until proper drawings have been prepared for them, though formerly the foreman's own hand sketches generally sufficed. The practice of turret work has been contributory to this result. In many establishments now the designing of shop tools and fixtures is done in a department of the office specially set apart for that kind of work.

The growing specialization of the engineer's work is reflected in the drawing office. Specialists are sought after, and receive the highest rates of pay. A man is required to be an expert in some one branch, as electric cranes or hydraulic machines, steel works plant, lathes, or heavy or light machine tools. The days are past in which all-round men were in request. In those firms which manufacture a large range of machinery, the drawing-office staff is separated into departments, each under its own chief, and there is seldom any transference of men from one to another.