Saturday 14 June 2014

Artful Dodgers: Painters and their colourful tricks

“In order to tell the truth you have to make things up.” Fiction writers crank out this truism so often it as all the revelatory impact of a fortune- cookie message. Worse yet, huffing and puffing will blow it away. This is one cliché that has no roots in the fertile soil of fact. Yet when an artist uses paint rather than words, it is essential. Consider this, one of many possible examples:


The Adoration of the Magi
The Adoration of the Magi  Giotto di Bondoni, circa 1320
 The thin sheets of gold leaf that Byzantine artists applied to the surface of their pictures look more artificial than the illusion of gold created by later artists using yellow and white pigments mixed with oil.
 As Leon Battista Alberti observed in his fifteenth century treatise “On Painting,” (Della Pictura), when gold leaf is used “some planes shine where they ought to be dark and are dark where they ought to be light.”

Portrait of Jan Pranger  by Frans van der Mijn 1742


 To successful create the illusion of a plausible three dimensional world on a two dimensional surface requires the deployment of quite a bag of tricks not least among them the manipulation of colour.  And yet:                                   
When people stand in front of a work of art and talk about how an artist uses colour they almost always sound pompous, so know-it-all ---and so beside the point—that my ears shut down and my legs move me away. Maybe for me this is because colour is the most important aspect of a picture; more important than line. In reading about technique, when colour comes up my reaction has always been much as it was when I was in tenth grade and Lettie Lee Craig tried to teach us algebra. Blind panic.  It wasn’t lack of interest exactly: As a graduate student in physiological psychology, I specialised in visual perception—how the brain and eye communicate, and the results. But about how artists use colour to create the colours I look at in the work, I remained ignorant and helpless to do anything about it. I am happy, even excited, to use the past tense. I’ve just finished reading “Colour.” It has been a revelation. Big applause and much gratitude to its authors, David Bomford of the Getty and Ashok Roy at London’s National Gallery. This small book (it is less than 100 pages) is the latest in the NG’s “A Closer Look” series. (Others have been about such topics as Angels, Allegory and Frames.) “Colour,” is clear and logical with many useful illustrations from the gallery’s collection used as examples, yet it is also lively and engaging, it doesn’t pack too much into a paragraph. It gave me time to take in an idea—like Alberti’s about the supremacy of paint over actual gold to create a believable image of gold—before going on.  Now the use of glazes makes sense. I understand the connection between Venice's position as a key trading post made pigments available to local painters like Veronese and Titian which were hard to get--or prohibitively expensive--to those elsewhere. And so much more. If you have had any of the kinds of gaps I regret having had, you will learn a lot too.

The publication of “Colour” is pegged to the National Gallery exhibition “Making Colour,” which opens June 18.  I'll be there and post.
  By the way: The illustrations here come from the Metropolitan and the Rijksmuseum. The National Gallery's images don't seem to want to join in with cut and past.