Crayon portraiture

In Short

This comprehensive technical guide serves as both an instruction manual for the late 19th-century professional photographer and a primer for the dedicated amateur. It provides meticulous, step-by-step guidance on transforming silver and platinum photographic enlargements into finished, artistic portraits using crayon, stump work, and liquid water colors. By demystifying the mechanical processes of mounting, outlining, and shading, the work aims to elevate the reader's technical proficiency. It has endured as a primary historical record of the specific studio methods and aesthetic standards prevalent in the 1890s.

The Story

The narrative arc of the book follows the progression of a portrait from a raw, industrial photographic base to a finished, gallery-ready piece of art. It begins with the essential preparation: the student must select an appropriate enlargement—whether silver or platinum—and master the delicate, often nerve-wracking process of mounting paper onto a strainer. This physical act of mounting, which requires the assistance of a second person and a precise application of starch paste, establishes the discipline required for the artistic work to follow.

Once the surface is prepared, the "story" moves to the crucial phase of outlining. The author details five distinct methods for transferring the image from the negative to the crayon paper, ranging from the complex use of a darkroom-shutter camera to the more accessible employment of a pantograph or a hand-drawn grid. This stage is framed as a test of the artist’s courage; the author warns that students are often too timid to work boldly, fearing that a single mistake will ruin the likeness. He reassures the reader that the work can always be redeemed and stresses that a clear, strong outline is the bedrock upon which all subsequent beauty rests.

The heart of the book lies in the "filling in"—a meticulous, almost rhythmic process of building up the shadows, modeling the features, and softening the transitions. The author guides the reader through the eyes, the mouth, and the hair, insisting that the artist avoid drawing individual lines and instead seek the soft, fluid flow of life. He introduces the "mirror test" as the final arbiter of truth, explaining that viewing one's work in reverse reveals distortions that the tired eye of the artist might otherwise ignore.

The final act of the book expands into the addition of color. By applying transparent liquid water colors, the student adds the "missing link" to the monochrome photograph. The process moves from the theoretical study of primary, secondary, and tertiary colors to the practical application of washes. The book concludes by placing these technical instructions within a broader philosophical framework: art is not a pursuit for the idle, but a lifelong, rigorous discipline. The reader is reminded that while these photographic enhancements do not "create" in the traditional sense, they provide the essential first steps that may lead a student to a lifetime of artistic devotion.

How It Unfolds

The preparation of the ground The student must first master the physical labor of mounting paper on a strainer, a task requiring patience, clean starch, and often the steady hand of an assistant. This foundation must be perfectly smooth, as any wrinkle or imperfection will compromise the final portrait.

The acquisition of the outline Using tools as varied as the pantograph or the magic lantern, the artist transfers the image to the paper. The author emphasizes that this step requires boldness, urging the student to avoid the timid, scratchy lines that betray a lack of confidence.

The modeling of features Using a combination of tortillon stumps, crayon sauce, and erasers, the student begins the iterative process of shading. The author provides specific guidance on how to define the eyes and mouth, warning that excessive detail can destroy the natural expression.

The correction through reflection The student is instructed to use a mirror to critique their progress, a technique that forces a fresh perspective on the work. This objective viewing is presented as the only way to ensure that the portrait is truly accurate and free of distortions.

The integration of color The final technical shift involves the application of liquid water colors to add warmth and life. The author explains how to balance these tones, noting that the goal is to enhance the existing structure provided by the photograph rather than obscuring it.

The People

The book addresses two central figures: the "student" and the "expert." The student is characterized by a mix of eagerness and insecurity. They are prone to the fear of making mistakes—specifically, the fear of losing the original outline or creating dark, muddy patches in the background. They are often "timid," a trait the author views as the greatest obstacle to achieving excellence. Through the course of the book, the student is expected to transition from a hesitant imitator of the photograph to an artist who possesses the "courage" to work with freedom and intentionality.

The expert, embodied by the author, acts as a steady mentor. He is pragmatic and thoroughly unpretentious, valuing "perseverance" above innate genius. He wants the student to succeed, promising to fix their ruined work if necessary, yet he holds them to high standards. He serves as a guide who understands that the path to art is paved with mundane tasks like cleaning brushes, mixing paste, and using pumice stone. By the end of the book, the student who has followed his instructions is no longer a mere technician, but a "votary" of art, someone who has traded the freshness of youth for a deeper, more enduring power gained through years of careful, conscientious labor.

In Its Own Voice

"As an expert in chirography can read character in handwriting, so the artist's public will judge him from his work."

The author uses this analogy to remind the student that their internal level of confidence is always reflected in the final quality of their strokes.

"At every step of your progress look at your work in a good mirror, as here it is changed about, the left side being the right side, and no error will escape detection."

This practical advice highlights the book’s emphasis on objective self-critique as the primary method for improvement.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an argument for the dignity of labor within the arts. The author addresses the tension between the "falsity" of the photograph and the "sacred calling" of true art, suggesting that the former is merely a tool, or a "first step," for the latter. The underlying question is how to cultivate artistic taste and professional excellence within the constraints of commercial, studio-based production. The text explores the idea that beauty is not always an act of spontaneous inspiration, but the result of rigorous, systematic technique—the balance of light against dark, the management of color, and the constant, humble willingness to see one's own work for what it truly is through the impartial lens of a mirror.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in the history of photography or the evolution of studio crafts will find this an essential, if highly specialized, document. It feels remarkably intimate, written by someone who has spent twenty-four years in a studio and wants to share the specific, unglamorous secrets of his trade. Because it is a technical manual from 1890, the modern reader must be prepared for the dense, step-by-step descriptions of tools and chemicals that have long since fallen out of common use. The prose is warm and encouraging, though it reflects the formal, slightly didactic tone of the Victorian era.

What stays with the reader is the author's profound respect for the "earnest student." Despite the focus on tools like tortillon stumps and bromide papers, the book is ultimately about the development of an artistic eye. It captures a moment when the line between a photograph and a painting was being blurred, and it invites the reader to value the discipline required to master that intersection. It is a slow, methodical read that rewards those who enjoy seeing the "how" behind the "what," and it leaves one with a lingering appreciation for the patience required to turn a mechanical print into a piece of individual expression.