Graphic & Pictorial Space: Haden & Brangwyn

How do artists create meaningful images when one component of their brain is analytical and the other is intuitive?

In an earlier post focused on Daniel Heimlich, I proposed that his arrangement of subject material matches the constructs of the Foote, Cone and Belding Grid in engaging the viewer’s left and right brains' functions. For the present discussion I will move the focus away from the concept that the analytic and intuitive leanings of our divided brain prefer certain arrangements of imagery and focus on how these two propensities of the brain impact on the way that artists’ make images. More specifically, I wish to discuss how Sir Francis Seymour Haden (1818–1910) and Sir Frank Brangwyn (1867–1956) present their very different ways of looking at subjects into coherent images.

Before exploring these artists’ approaches I must clarify that the following explanation is based solely on what can be seen in the prints examined rather than being based on privileged knowledge about these artists’ motivations and intentions when they made the images.

At first glance, Haden's etching, Thames Ditton—with a Sail (shown below) may appear to be an easily understood image. Essentially, the immediate foreground shows the broken remains of a tree trunk. The left silhouette edge of this tree creates an arching rhythm leading to a sail strung loose on a mast with water behind it stretching back to a cluster of houses in the distance. On a closer inspection, however, this initial reading of the scene is not so straight forward. The foreground tree is not an objective representation of what Haden would have seen (see detail further below). For instance, the treatment of its upper region is far from being an accurate description of bark and twigs. But this does not mean that the drawing of the tree is inappropriate. It is a wonderful tree. From my standpoint the treatment of its representation with a web of seemingly searching marks expresses clearly Haden’s emotional response to the non-visible spirit of the tree. Just as important, this very subjective rendering of the tree juxtaposed beside the mimetic treatment of the rest of the image projects a mood of unease arising from the note of discord the contrast between the two drawing styles creates.

(Sir) Francis Seymour Haden (aka Dean, H [used for RA exhibitions]) (1818–1910)

“Thames Ditton—with a Sail” (aka ”Le Village de Thames Ditton”), 1864

Etching with drypoint on fine cream laid paper with wide margins.

Size: (sheet) 26.8 x 36.1 cm (plate); 14 x 20.6 cm; (image borderline) 12.7 x 20.5 cm

State viii (of viii) with the “bare strip 10mm. across the bottom of the plate” and the inscription from the previous state with the address of Cadart & Luquet removed.

Schneiderman (Seymour Haden) 68.VIII (Richard S Schneiderman 1983, “A catalogue raisonné of the prints of Sir Francis Seymour Haden”, Robin Garton, London, p. 171, cat.no. 68.VIII); Harrington 73 (Samuel Henry Nazeby Harrington 1910, “The engraved work of Francis Seymour Haden, an illustrated and descriptive catalog”, p. 36, cat.no. 73)

The Rijksmuseum offers the following description of this print from the same state (viii) as this impression:

“The village of Thames Ditton on a river. In the foreground two old trees and a man in a sailing ship.”

(http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.collect.42501)

See also the description of the print by the British Museum:

http://www.britishmuseum.org/research/collection_online/collection_object_details.aspx?objectId=1564366&partId=1&searchText=ditton&page=1

Condition: crisp, impression with a bare upper left corner—perhaps resulting from the plate having been inadvertently held before it was printed. The sheet is in near pristine condition (i.e. there are no tears, holes, folds, abrasions, stains or foxing but there is lightening of tone around the impression).

I am selling this exceptionally fine impression in faultless condition for the total cost of AU$430 (currently US$324.65/EUR270.86/GBP238.76) including postage and handling to anywhere in the world.

If you are interested in purchasing this remarkable print by Haden with a simply incredible drawing of a tree that goes far beyond a pictorial description of it and from my viewpoint expresses Haden’s intimately personal exploration of what the tree means to him, please contact me (oz_jim@printsandprinciples.com) and I will send you a PayPal invoice to make the payment easy.

(Detail) Thames Ditton—with a Sail, 1884

(Detail) Thames Ditton—with a Sail, 1884

(Detail) Thames Ditton—with a Sail, 1884

What Haden exemplifies in this print are two essential ways of drawing. One way is by visual representation of superficial appearance arising from the left brain processes, as exemplified in the mimetic rendering of the landscape beyond the foreground tree. This approach also involves the mechanics of drawing (e.g. perspective, sight-size measuring, construction of shadows. reflections and all the other subtleties of portraying form) in a very conscious and disciplined way. In short, this approach is to create what may be described as “pictorial space”—a space of three-dimensional illusions. The other way is by analogue representation of essentially non-visual experiences arising from right brain processes, as exemplified in the web of gestural marks describing the foreground tree. This is a more intuitive approach wherein artists configure their gut feelings about a subject into marks, shapes and rhythms onto the drawing support. This concept of intuitively sensing the subject and configuring the drawing to match the experience may be described as “graphic space”—a space of synthesised ideas and non-visual feelings.  

These two spaces—pictorial and graphic—are equally evident in Brangwyn’s remarkable etching, Le Pont Valentre, A Cahors (shown below). Here Brangwyn’s analytical eye defines his vision of the bridge and reflection with finely hatched strokes rendering the tones in pictorial space while his intuitive eye describes in a layering of richly inked lines his experience of a tree on the right in graphic space. What I find fascinating with this print is how literally the two spaces are so unapologetically abutted. From my standpoint, Brangwyn is making a forceful statement with this print that the world of concrete mortar and bricks is also inhabited with the shadowy world of a brooding mood.

Sir Frank Brangwyn (1867–1956)

Le Pont Valentre, A Cahors, 1912

from Revue de L’Art Ancien et Moderne

Etching in sepia ink on cream wove paper,

printed by Chardon Wittman with original tissue guard

18 x 24 cm (plate); 22.6 x 30.9 cm (sheet)

Condition: beautiful impression in pristine condition.

I am selling this print for $310 AUD including postage and handling to anywhere in the world. Please contact me using the email link at the top of the page if you are interested or click the “Buy Now” button.

(Detail) Le Pont Valentre, A Cahors, 1912

(Detail) Le Pont Valentre, A Cahors, 1912

 

Although the above discussion focuses on how Haden and Brangwyn integrated their divided ways of looking into a singular vision, for the viewer of their images the point needs to be made that composition also plays a significant role in how meaning is communicated. Again, like Daniel Heimlich’s arrangement of subject matter, these two artists’ disposition of pictorial and graphic space aligns well with the constructs of the Foote, Cone and Belding Grid: pictorial space is shown on the left and graphic space is shown on the right.

Female perception: Delasalle

What are the attributes of a female’s view of landscape?

Whenever a discussion moves to the topic of what constitutes women’s art, most sensitive (and sensible) folk know that a change of subject is necessary and required quickly. In short, the topic verges on taboo; a bit like chatting idly about religion and politics around the dining room table. While not disregarding that any discussion of what constitutes a female’s view of landscape is problematic—even more so when an answer is being proposed by a man—the question is not really about a how women see the landscape so much as the differences in women’s vision to the way men look at landscape. After all defining most problems involves comparison with what something is not. But before I set forth on what must be shaky ground of political correctness, I need to make my position regarding the following discussion very clear: my views are based solely on personal experience and reflection as a teacher. They are not the outcome of formal research and fact-finding missions. Instead, I see the following “answers” as an initial framing of ideas—very raw beginnings—and platforms of departure for future formal investigations into feminine ways of looking.

Let me begin by focusing attention on the passionate French painter-printmaker, Angele Delasalle (1867–1941). As shown in her etching, Montigny-Beauchamp (1907) (see below), Delasalle’s portrayal of landscape reveals an artist who has a well-formed personal perception of her subject. This is expressed in part by the uncompromising confidence of her line work with its signature style of freely laid and looped strokes that are clustered in shadow areas and spread out in the light. Delasalle’s perception of landscape is also expressed by the consistency of her approach: a type of pictorial democracy where no individual landscape feature is treated differently to the next. By this I mean that each feature is depicted in the same broad (i.e. non specific) way rather than each feature having been rendered to show its specific attributes of texture, sheen and incidental detail.

Angele Delasalle (1867–1941)

Montigny-Beauchamp, 1907

Printed by Louis Fort and published in the Revue de L’art Ancien et Moderne, 1911

Etching on cream wove paper

13.3 x 20.3 cm (plate); 22 x 30 cm (sheet)

Edition size unknown but scarce. Signed in the plate

Condition: Excellent

I am selling this print for [deleted] including postage and handling to anywhere in the world. Please contact me using the email link at the top of the page if you are interested in purchasing this print.

Delasalle’s pictorial democracy is not in itself a hallmark of a feminine disposition. After all, the truly memorable male artists (such as Claude Lorrain whose consistency of style I discussed in an earlier post) portrayed their chosen subject with a singular vision. The element that makes Delasalle’s stylistic consistency feminine is what is missing at the centre of vision: a distant point of focus. Essentially, I wish to argue that Delasalle has showcased a peripheral field of vision (i.e. vision glimpsed from outer boundaries of the eye) and this interest in what is occurring outside the centre of vision is the attribute of a feminine way of looking. Compare, for instance, Delasalle’s portrayal of landscape with the tunnel vision of Maxime LaLanne’s (1827–1886) etching, Rouen (1884) (shown below) to see what I mean. In Lalanne’s landscape the funnelled focus on the distant spires is a man’s vision—the primeval hunter contemplating distant prey—whereas Delasalle’s landscape is like a mother’s overview (i.e. the “big picture”) of the surroundings to protect her children from any potential danger. Perhaps this argument of separating man’s vision from women’s vision based on foveal (i.e. centre of the eye) and peripheral propensities has a few flaws. For example, B. Dufernex, a critic at the time of Delasalle, saw her art practice as “the work of a man” (Magazine of Art, 1902) because of her “characteristic energy.” But one only has to look over the history of art to see male artists’ leaning to tunnelled perspectives with a single point of interest and female artists’ leaning to broadly scattered points of interest.

Maxime Lalanne (1827–1886)

Rouen (Hamerton’s title: Rouen from the Country), 1884

Published in P.G. Hamerton 1885, Landscape, Seeley, London

Etching on cream wove paper

15.8 x 23.4 cm (plate) 21 x 30 cm (sheet)

ii/ii, Signed lower right “Rouen. 1884 / Maxime Lalanne”

Villet: 151

Condition: Excellent

I am selling this print for [deleted] including postage and handling to anywhere in the world. Please contact me using the email link at the top of the page if you are interested or click the “Buy Now” button.

This print has been sold

Another attribute that I have discovered during my teaching experience is the female fascination with pattern and texture. For instance, when students are asked to take photographs in the landscape that they can later use as reference material, the men tend to find natural phenomenon like oddly shaped trees and rocks while the women are drawn to textures of bark and shadow patterns.

The same fascination with surfaces applies to the way women tend to make images. In the case of Delasalle’s print, notice how the line work appears to be woven like a textile (see detail below). Then compare this treatment with the line work in Lalanne’s print (see detail further below) and how different the marks are laid. This difference could be summarised (with much generalisation and tentativeness) as suggesting that women have an interest in expressing their experience by tactile representation whereas men have an interest in figuratively portraying what they see.

  Detail of Montigny-Beauchamp, 1907

  Detail of Rouen, 1884

The last attribute that I wish to propose is all about different mindsets. Without too much apologising for making sweeping statements, I wish to suggest that men lean to an analytical way of looking whereas women lean to intuitive response and feeling. This reality is clear when comparing Delasalle’s vigorous looping marks suggesting an authentic gut-level experience of landscape and feeling its mood and soul with Lalanne’s much more clinical approach of being ever mindful that the finished image is meant for public scrutiny.

Graphic strength: Frans Masereel

What underpins graphic strength in imagery?

The 1920s was a special time for graphic novels (i.e. narrative books featuring sequential images without text). This was the period when the first wordless books were published and one of the artists who played an instrumental role in promulgating this purely visual way of storytelling is Frans Masereel (1889–1972). Beyond Masereel’s role in revitalising the woodcut tradition for his book illustrations, a key attraction of his work and its influence on fellow illustrators (most notably Lynd Ward) is the graphic strength of his prints. By this term I mean that his prints have the very desirable attribute, especially in book illustration, of being able to catch and sustain a viewer’s attention and to express meaning clearly. The following discussion focuses on explaining this strength with regard to Maserreel's woodcut, Angel (see below).



Frans Masereel (1889–1972)

Angel, 1964 (illustration from Das Gesicht Hamburgs)

Pencil signed and signed with initials in the plate

Woodcut on handmade paper

12.9 x 10.7 cm (plate); 24.3 x 16 cm (sheet)

Condition: Strong impression and in pristine condition with blank verso. I am selling this print for $235 AUD including postage and handling to anywhere in the world. Please contact me using the email link at the top of the page if you are interested or click the “Buy Now” button.

Broadly speaking, the graphic strength of this print rests with two properties: the simplicity of its composition to express meaning and the arresting use of line to portray light and dark. Regarding compositional simplicity, Masereel employs symmetry to divide the image centrally, by the vertical edge of a wall. More subtly, he also divides the image horizontally, by the alignment of distant ships (see below).

Vertical and horizontal divisions in Angel

Overlaying this formal arrangement and spanning from the top of the composition to its lower edge is a symmetrically placed “V”-shape created by the angle of the angel’s cross-topped lance and the angle of the angel's wing (see below). This “V”-shaped rhythm is the critical element giving the print its graphic potency and meaning. I see the perceived angles of the “V”-shape as inviting my eye downwards to a demon that the angel subjugates. In short, the simplicity of symmetry underpinning the composition draws a viewer's attention to the narrative of godliness trampling on evil.

  “V”-shape rhythm

 

Regarding Masereel’s use of line that gives the image its graphic strength, the arrangement of the composition is literally of pivotal importance. The vertical division in the composition (described above) is like a fulcrum balancing and separating the line work portraying a sunlit (moonlit?) harbour scene on the left side of the image from line work portraying a dark slice of architecture on the right. What makes the lines on the left so dramatically different to those on the right is the contrast between black lines (often described in technical terms as positive lines) shown on the left and white lines (negative lines) shown on the right. This contrast of two different types of lines separating the realm of light from that of darkness is not accidental. In fact it is so intentional that the effect takes a considerable foresight and effort.

To create the black lines on the left side of the image Masereel carefully cut away the woodblock so as to leave in relief those areas that were to be inked and printed as positive lines. This is a demanding process as each line to be printed must be rationalised as if it were an island-like shape on the block where the artist has not physically made a mark. Making the process even more demanding, each untouched shape on the block must also be viewed as a line shape that will ultimately be printed as a mirror image on a sheet. Fortunately the creation of white lines is much less demanding. To create these lines Masereel cut directly into the plate to create the void spaces that print as negative lines.

 

Graphically strong images, like Masereel’s Angel, consist of more than just compositional simplicity and bold contrast of line to attract and sustain a viewer’s interest. All the elements and principles of design play their roles in creating a memorable artwork. Nevertheless, these two components, when co-ordinated to address the same overriding meaning, are arguably the most important and the easiest to control by an artist.

Rendering tone: 16th century woodcut

What are the advantages and disadvantages of shading with parallel lines?

One of the most common ways of showing light and shade on a subject is to match the pattern of darks observed on the subject with rows of parallel lines (a process called hatching). If a large area is to be shaded a conundrum soon arises: whether to use uninterrupted lines from one side of the area to be shaded to the next or to break each line into manageable units (i.e. units of length that the artist can draw comfortably). The following discussion focuses on an early woodcut of a ram to illustrate some of the positive and negative outcomes of both approaches.

Anonymous artist

Ram, c.1550

Woodcut on laid paper

6.3 x 9 cm (image); 6.5 x 9.2 cm (sheet)

 

Condition: Strong impression with breaks in the outer borderline. The print is trimmed with fine margins and is printed on laid paper faintly darkened with age. It is not pasted down. Verso shows printed text in old German, a mounting hinge and light pencil inscription.
I am selling this print for $65 AUD including postage and handling to anywhere in the world. Please contact me using the email link at the top of the page if you are interested or click the “Buy Now” button.

Verso of woodcut

This print has been sold

I will begin by proposing what would happen if this unknown woodcut artist had chosen to use long marks stretching from left to right across the shadow areas of the ram. Be mindful, however, that each stroke showing in the print is in fact created by the artist carefully carving away the “white areas” rather than being created with direct mark-making.

In the digitally altered image below I have used straight lines to show what happens if the short lines in the shadow areas of the ram are replaced with mechanically ruled lines. For some viewers the outcome may be desirable if they are seeking aesthetically clean imagery (i.e. images that are free of the inherent signature gestures of the artist such as naturally occurring interruptions and varying thickness of a line). For others the continuous straight lines shown in the detail below lessens the graphic strength (i.e. the visual impact) of the image. This lessening of graphic strength can be explained partly by the lack of natural phrasing of line—the gentle broadening from the start to the centre of a line and then an equally gentle narrowing towards the end. But there is also a suspension of credibility in the mechanical look of the lines. By this I mean that viewers see the length of the uninterrupted lines as unnatural in terms of their own experiences of hand movements when drawing marks. This perception of the mechanical attribute of the lines makes the rendering style inappropriate in terms of an image projecting a palpable aura of the artist.

  Digitally altered image with uninterrupted shading lines

Keeping in mind the idea that a line can express a human dimension, each curving mark in the parallel shading style seen in the original woodcut can be perceived as evidence of an intuitive sense of mark-making. In short, the inherent gesture and length of mark showcases a natural way to draw. Of course, displaying natural looking marks does not necessarily mean that all natural marks are ideal for rendering shadows. In the detail of the woodcut shown below, some issues of ambiguity with the shading style may arise regarding how the artist’s marks are interpreted.

  Detail of Ram, c.1550

For instance, some viewers may perceive the curved strokes in the shading as contour marks portraying folds in the fleece of the ram. Alternatively, the curved stokes may be interpreted as surface patterning on the fleece. This is a difficulty faced by all artists wishing to portray shadows: how to describe form without the visual devices describing more than their intended role. There is a way, nevertheless, that works. In the digitally altered image below, the parallel style of shading in small marks is still employed. Here, however, the individual lines are meshed together like a random arrangement of rain drops to avoid the suggestion of folds or surface patterns.

  Digitally altered image with shading lines randomly aligned in parallels like rain drops

This style of hatching relates to one of the first historical approaches consisting of “short lines arranged with regularity like bricks in a wall” (Bliss, DP 1964, A History of Wood-Engraving, Spring Books, London, p. 35). With this convention the centre of each line becomes the beginnings and endings of the lines above and below. A good example of the “brick” rendering style can be seen in Bidpai’s Das Buch der Weyßheit der Alten, Straßburg, 1536.