an un-victorian photograph of the 1860's

An Un-Victorian Photograph of the 1860'sAuthor(s): John FullerSource: Art Journal, Vol. 29, No. 3 (Spring, 1970), pp. 303-308+400Published by: College Art AssociationStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/775458 .

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An Un-Victorian Photograph of the 1860's

John Fuller

The fleeting image created by light passing through a small aperture or optical system fascinated man for hundreds of years, and for the Renaissance such images produced by the camera obscura formed an important link between scientific theories of perspective and artistic practice. When the photographic processes of Jacques Louis Daguerre and William Henry Fox Talbot were made public in 1839, however, this new medium for visual imagery faced an art world that had long since aban- doned the Renaissance view of the oneness of art and science. Consequently, when photography is considered in conjunction with art in nineteenth century England, it is not surprising that the photographic imagery often ap- pears as the antithesis of Victorian aesthetics and the har- binger of a new, but largely unrecognized visual vocabu- ary.

"In a word the Royal Academy was Art," is the way Oppe sums up the situation in Victorian England.1 This meant essentially a static, aristocratic art based on eighteenth century principles which placed Raphael and Ti- tian as the highest names in art.2 Such traditionalism-at a time when England was in the throes of the Industrial Revolution-caused F. T. Palgrave to note in his review of the Royal Academy Exhibition of 1865 that ". . . the advance of the English School is so smooth and steady as to be almost imperceptible. Pre-Raphaelitism, whether in its genuine or its imitative form, is now little to be seen."3

From around 1848-1853, however, the Pre-Raphael- ite Brotherhood did cause a stir, when Royal Academy students Dante Gabriel Rossetti, William Holman Hunt, John Everett Millais and others challenged the deifica- tion of Raphael and called the broad effects of Sir Joshua Reynold's style, "slosh." The story of the P.R.B.'s devo- tion to Ruskin's concern for facts in painting and the re- sulting canvases showing nature precisely rendered is well known, and frequently this extreme detail is cited as an influence of photography upon these painters. Justi- fication for this influence of the new medium on painting comes not only from examining the paintings or from oc- casional references in letters to using photographs as aids, but also from the following statement by a close follower of the Brotherhood, William Bell Scott:

Every movement has its genesis, as every flower its seed; the seed of the flower of Pre-Raphaelism was, photography. The seriousness and honesty of motive, the unerring fatalism of the sun's action, as well as the perfection of the impression on the eye, was what it aspired to. History, genre, mediaevalism, or any poetry or literality, were allowable as subject, but the execution was to be like the binocular representations of leaves that the stereoscope was then beginning to show.4

This concern for photographic-like detail must, however, be viewed in context with the Pre-Raphaelite's lu- minous color, which broke sharply with the Academy's preference for brown, but which could not be called photographic at a time when the new medium was limited to monochrome. Also, the Pre-Raphaelites were not espe- cially interested in technology, but Hunt and Rossetti were impressed by the precise Flemish painting they saw in Antwerp.5 The Pre-Raphaelite's involvement with (le- tail-whether influenced by photography or van Eyck- -does not suggest the work of revolutionary inventors, but rather a shift from one traditional rendering of nature to another. Conceivably, loyal Academicians were even more aware of photography than the Pre-Raphael- ites, for the Academicians discovered that soft focus photographs were like Reynold's broad effects and, therefore, were useful as sketch material for paintings.6

The practice of molding the new photographic image into an accepted framework of art has its roots in a cultural problem well expressed by Marshall McLuhan: "When faced with a totally new situation, we tend always to attach ourselves to the objects, to the flavor of the

JOHN FULLER received the Ph.D. in Comparative Arts from Ohio University (Athens) in 1968 and has been teaching art history at the State University of New York, College of Arts and Science, Oswego, since 1967. e

1. Dante Gabriel Rossetti, The Girlhood of Mary, oil, 1849. The Tate Gallery, London.

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2. John Brett, The Stonebreaker, oil, 1857-58. The Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool, England.

most recent past. We look at the present through a rear- view mirror. We march backwards into the future."7 Mc- Luhan, with his involvement in the impact of electronic media on the twentieth century seems an appropriate re- ference, for in many respects the impact of photography on the nineteenth century is the counterpart to television in this era. Boase, for instance, places far greater impor- tance on photography than most art historians, and finds that

. . .very shortly [after 1863] this new vision, a new sense of varying focus and of unexpected angles, was to make its mark on the older art, and to be a component in a visual revolution as important as that created by the Renaissance experiments with linear perspective.8

This visual revolution took place in France, however, while British artists continued to paint knights and monks in Wardour Street costumes. Wylie Sypher finds that "among the blockages in nineteenth-century art was the inability, or unwillingness, of the artists to utilize science intelligently, to make art genuinely contemporary."9 The abundant new photographic imagery-not just that resembling Renaissance styles-could have pointed the way to a truly expressive English art. That art should be

contemporary was of little concern to most British artists, since they largely shared Sir Edward Burne-Jones's view that "a picture is a beautiful, romantic dream, something that never was, never will be, in a light better than any light that ever shone, in a land no-one can define or re- member-only desire."10 The camera was not suited for such dream-worlds, and so artists failed to find anything expressive in "circles of confusion," blurred recording of motion, optical "distortions," Talbot's "stroboscopic" ex-

periment, sharp cropping, superimposed images or the cliche vere.11

E. H. Gombrich notes that "language grows by in- troducing new words, but a language consisting only of new words and a new syntax would be indistinguishable from gibberish.'12 Except when a photograph was sharp like a Pre-Raphaelite painting or showed "breadth of effect" like a Reynolds, the language of photography was largely incomprehensible, or to extend Gombrich's idea, was "indistinguishable from gibberish." That English artists retreated into medievalism instead of responding to the changing times and perceiving possible formal expression for this photographic visual "gibberish"-as did the French artists-is further reason for agreeing with Douglas Cooper that "between 1860 and 1890 British art

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3. Robert Martineau, The Last Day in the Old House, oil, 1862. The Tate Gallery, London.

sank to its lowest depth."13 This aesthetic decline was readily transferred to pho-

tographers, since the Photographic Society (London), later the Royal Photographic Society, was headed by Sir Charles Eastlake, then president of the Royal Academy. The academic leanings of the Photographic Society were reinforced by R. W. Buss in 1853, when he advised that "the artist may with his camera plunge into Pre-Raf- faelism, or Rembrandtism or Reynoldsism ... ,"14 Results such as 0. G. Rejlander's Two Ways of Life, the well known photographic composite suggesting Raphael's School of Athens, showed what it meant to "march backwards into the future" with the new medium of photography.

Chance, naivete and unique characteristics of the

photographic medium often produced images that vio- lated traditional concepts. The verisimilitude associated with most of the photographic images suggested represen- tational art, but other effects were so removed from accepted art that some photographs might well be called "un-Victorian art" because of the nature of their imagery.

Edward Draper's Boy with Parrots (fig. 4) is an ex-

ample, for the relationship of the young lad, the two parrots in their cages and the background produces an un- easiness that is not simply amateurish, but is visually in- triguing and refreshingly free of academism. Lighting is difficult to judge, but apparently diffused sunlight illu- minates the child from the left side, blocking skin tones and leaving much of the right side of the face in shadow. A long exposure was unlikely, since parrots could not be depended upon to remain motionless for several minutes, so the boy does not lean against the cage and stump sim-

ply to endure a long exposure, but, conceivably, he has been placed there in a hurried attempt at unity and to avoid a soldier-like stance. The serious, direct gaze, the blurred, distorted right hand and the childish awkward- ness do not share common ground with English portraiture of the nineteenth century, but with such twentieth century works as Arshile Gorky's Artist and His Mother (fig. 5) a painting based on a snapshot.15

In this modest-sized photograph the untraditional background, with its wild play of out-of-focus patches of light from leaves or sky, adds a cacophony which reinforces

305



the wide-eyed stare of the boy in the company of exotic birds. This setting bears no similarity to the photographic-like ivy walls of Pre-Raphaelitism or to the classicism of the Academy, although the open form and sense of ambiguity suggest a distant kinship to Man- nerism. Past styles cannot fully explain this image, for it is contemporary, and, instead, areas like the speckled background share a common vocabulary with the lumi- nous foliage in Claude Monet's version of Le Dejeuner stir l'herbe (1866). Such links between Boy with Parrots and the new French art of light and optical renderings serve to underscore the estrangement of this photograph from its native art.

Traditional English portraiture, for instance, was largely confined to the titled class, and while numerous individual child studies were painted, more frequently the child was grouped with his family or brothers and sisters. Inclusion of certain objects relating to the family's status, or at least a pet, was common, and often the figure would be painted against a gallery of ancestors' portraits or a backdrop of a garden. Whatever the background, pose or facial characteristics of the subject, the English portrait painter from Reynolds down through the nineteenth century academicians could be counted on to satisfy the patron's ego with an expression of ideal- ity rather than a penetration into the psyche.

Instead of the awkward stance typical of a real child, a portrait painter would have had a Greek sculpture or a Van Dyke in mind or, perhaps, would have moved the

boy indoors and had him practicing dance steps. Draper's subject has legs that bear little resemblance to those of (lancers or to plaster statues in the Academy's studios, but the photograph hides the details with blur and shadow, which results in a quiet, almost impressionistic statement about a specific child's limbs. The clothing is not a device for artistic virtuosity or display of wealth, but serves to quietly define the boy's position while to- nally breaking up the composition. The foreground tonal pattern and soft focus on the large bird aid in draw- ing attention to the brilliant face of the boy, where blocked highlights give an added intensity to the left eye, which contrasts dramatically with the right eye, all but lost in shadow. The strong light on the upper lip and the shadow below create distortion and produce tension amid the overall sombre expression.

In contrast to this photograph British portraiture is often spacious, with evidence of bounteous gardens, puffy clouds and warm, late afternoon skies; nature, like the subject is well groomed and refined. A portrait painter would certainly have looked askance at an old dead stump and peeling paint on a bird cage, for this is subject matter more fitting the unkempt picturesque, such as Uvedale Price in the eighteenth century liked to describe on his walks in the country. The background in Boy with Parrots is not a restful scene from William Gilpin's views of nature, however, but a mysterious, monochromatic

blur abstracted from nature. This sense of mystery, of ob-

jects presented but without relationships clearly defined, is what gives strength and freshness to the photograph and separates this work from the British portrait tradition.

The lack of easily definable relationships between the parrots, the background and the boy also isolate this

picture from a multitude of paintings showing children in narrative roles. The Victorians were good visual story- tellers, and while some of the themes may be lost today to forgotten lines of Southey or Rossetti, at the time the

plots illustrated were usually familiar. A sense of a child's psyche captured in Draper's im-

age contrasts with the ruddy lad in Martineau's The Last

Day in the Old Home (fig. 3) where the boy raises a wine

glass in a nostalgic toast with his father to an ancestral

portrait on the wall. A vapid, uncomprehending smile,

coupled with appropriate gestures-all painted with me- ticulous post-Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood detail-says nothing of this boy as an individual, but only records his actions as part of a painted melodrama. This detailed narrative with its naturally lit interior-inaccessible to the tonal range of photographic material at this time-is

non-photographic when compared with actual camera work such as Draper's image.

Young boys in British paintings were not all such sentimental dandies as the one in the Martineau tableaiu. and John Brett, another follower of the P.R.B., sought to show a fair-haired, ruddy-cheeked lad in the sad lot of the Stonebreaker (fig. 3). The seated figure, legs spread apart and hammer raised behind his head, is engaged in a definite storytelling activity, quite unlike the boy and

parrots in the photograph. The downcast eyes, drooping left arm and the pile of stones suggest the weariness andt

futility of the task, while a struggling, broken tree and a tombstone are grim reminders of nature's course. Despite the work and the possible symbols, the painting is far from dreary, for behind the boy and his frolicking dog is a typical open English landscape of soft, rolling hills and blue sky-tranquil assurances that this is not the same

message as Courbet's Stone Breakers of 1849. The Boy with Parrots offers no assurances, since

whatever storytelling qualities the photographer may have intended are lost in the static pose; a finger point- ing toward the parrots would have relegated this photograph to a bad attempt at narration, a sickly mutation of a Renaissance tradition. With only the boy's coat sleeve and hat in physical contact with the bird cage, a story line does not come through; the visual elements are present, but not "visual sentences."

An example of what is meant by "visual sentences" is the child angel in the Rossetti Girlhood of Virgin Mary (fig. 1). Here stance is similar to the Boy with Par- rots, for she is located at the extremity of the picture with a wing pressing against a pile of enormous books, which, support a vase with a lily plant. As with the boy, she

306



4. Edward Draper, Boy with Parrots, photograph, c. 1865. Courtesy of Gernsheim Collection, Humanities Research Center, University of Texas at Austin.

307



5. Arshile Gorky, The Artist and his Mother, oil on canvas 1926-29. Whitney Museum of American Art. Gift of Julien Levy for Maro and Natasha Gorky in memory of their father.

gazes not at the objects near her, but outward beyond the picture plane with an intense, rather than angelic, expression. Unlike the boy, however, she extends a right hand on top of the weighty tomes, while her left touches a leaf of the lily, while above her a dove perches on a trellis outside. Unlike the bird cages, tree trunk and parrots, the various objects in this painting are standard Christian iconography, so there is no problem in recog- nizing the child as representing the Announcing Angel, who traditionally stands between the Virgin and the lily; here she tends this symbol of purity during the Virgin's girlhood. The dove functions at an entirely different level from the parrots, for the former symbolizes the Holy Spirit who has not yet entered the Virgin. The great books are more than a convenient prop, and repre- sent that Mary was skilled in all the Arts, while even the angel's expression-supposedly prompted by Rossetti's raging at the child-is also understandable, for the eyes go past the thorns of sorrow and indicate a comprehen- sion of the tragic and great events to come. In the Ros- setti, then, representative objects become symbols of a re- ligious story, whereas the Draper photograph shows rep- resentational objects without narration.

As an informal study, then, the Boy with Parrots shows a Victorian child without the usual visual tradi- tions; the result is different from most English portraiture which aimed at imaging what a person was without penetrating to who a person was. Lady Eastlake knew

that photography was not the "mirror of nature," and this image testifies to the fact, for certainly the illusion created by the clumping of silver particles in Draper's picture is something far apart from a "reflex copy" of

perceivable nature. Within a precariously balanced organization addi-

tional ambiguity is created by the relationship of the sub-

ject matter, sharp focus, blur, blocked highlights and

deepening shadows. The twentieth century, like Blake in the early nineteenth, was to recognize meaning in the artistic expression of the incongruous-meaning that touched deeper to the spirit of man than the academic portraits or the story-pictures of Landseer, Burne-Jones and many other literary painters of the Victorian era. The

Boy with Parrots suffers from the photographer's lack of control and must be viewed, not as a masterpiece, but as one of the departures photography could make from the visual tradition-a departure that refutes the equation between photography and visual realism. Stripped of academism, the photograph in all its shortcomings reveals something of childhood which Victorian painters seldom

approached, as they attempted to transfer moral mes- sages, sweet sentiment and status symbols to the faces of little men and little women.

Several years ago Robert Rosenblum in the ART

JOURNAL suggested a need for a review of Victorian art "to

separate the bogus from the genuine, the kitsch from the high art of the period."16 Such reconsiderations of Victo- rian art should include a careful look at the photographs of this period, since some were made by sensitive individ- uals like "Lewis Carroll," untrained in Academic style but responsive to their epoch. Such photographs come closer to the Renaissance relationship between art and science than do the large, brilliant canvases of painters seeking escape from their age. In French painting of the latter part of the nineteenth century and in much painting and graphic art of the twentieth century, the vocabu-

lary of the photographic medium has been assimilated into these other media. The general acceptance today of

photography as a medium of expression, the liberal atti- tude toward chance in art and the recognition of the "found object" as a source of aesthetic experience all as- sist the modern viewer in realizing the aesthetic value of

many of these early photographs. Indeed, the modern viewer is much better equipped to make judgments about the medium of light and chemicals than were the Royal Academicians who served as members of the Pho- tographic Society and saw photography in terms of academic doctrine. If the modern viewer approaches these early photographs more as one considers small etchings as opposed to great canvases, then he may well conclude that many nineteenth century photographs are among the most fresh, vital images of this era, and that they have less to do with Victorian precepts of art than with an expression of the oncoming modern era.

(Continued on page 400)

308



notes. 21 black and white illustrations of works of art and 1 map. 28 pages. $1.00.

Newsletter of The Committee for Art at Stanford, Winter 1969-70, Betsy G. Fryberger, Editor, and Anita V. Mozley, Consultant. This issue contains a short essay by Gerald Nordland, Director, San Francisco Museum of Art, on a Richard Diebenkorn painting given to the Museum-Window, 1967. There are other acquisitions listed and exhibition notes. 9 illustrations of works of art in black and white. 12 pages.

George Washington Carver Museum, TUS- KEGEE INSTITUTE, a brochure describ-

ing the history of the Museum, which was dedicated in 1941, damaged in a fire in 1947, and restored and enlarged in 1951. The Museum houses some paintings and has gallery space for traveling exhibitions. It houses, as well, many of Dr. Carver's products and collections, and rare books and

pamphlets on South, Central and West Coast Africa and photographs of life in Ghana and

Nigeria. The booklet also contains a bio-

graphical sketch of Dr. Carver and lists of

products he developed.

Studio Faculty Exhibition Group I; Studio

Faculty Exhibition Group II, THE UNI- VERSITY OF MARYLAND Art Gallery, a

portfolio of folders on the artist-teachers of the faculty. Each folder gives a photograph of a work of art, a photograph of the artist, and his vitae. An attractive and clever publication.

Ronald Arnholm, Georgia Museum of Art, THE UNIVERSITY OF GEORGIA, 1969, catalogue published after the exhibition in-

cluding a reprint of the article "Ronald Arn- holm, Maker of Word Paintings," first published in American Artist. A handsome cata-

logue with 42 excellent illustrations in black and white. 62 pages. $2.00.

Lowe Art Museum Quarterly, Lowe Art Mu- seum, UNIVERSITY OF MIAMI, Coral Gables, a new quarterly primarily intended for those interested in art history, featur-

ing scholarly articles by members of the

University faculty and research articles on works in the Museum. Thomas H. Correll, Editor and Assistant Professor of Art, stresses its role as a new outlet for faculty research and as an aid to students. The first issue includes a history of the Museum

by Director August Freundlich; a discus- sion of Jacob Jordaens's Judgement of Paris by Shirley Ann Brown; an article on the black-on-red decorative style of a Greek

amphora in the Museum by Dr. John Hall. R. Michael Brekke is design editor and

John Podayko is art director of the Univer-

sity Publications office, both associated with the format. $1.50.











































catalogues received Art of India: Sculpture and Miniature Paint-

ings, University Gallery, UNIVERSITY OF MINNESOTA, Introduction by Dr. Stella Kramrisch, 1969, 54 pages, 38 illustrations, $1.00.

Philipon's Printmakers, Watson Gallery, WHEATON COLLEGE, 45 pages, 10 illustrations, $1.00.

Ninety-Nine Drawings by Marsden Hartley, William J. Mitchell, Treat Gallery, BATES COLLEGE. Ford Foundation Grant awarded 1969-70 for publication and circu- lation. 136 pages, illustrations of 99 draw-

ings to scale. Photography and typography by Meriden Gravure and Anthoensen Press.

Lorjou in America, Museum of Art, UNI- VERSITY OF ARIZONA. Hard-cover cata-

logue, fully illustrated with 57 plates, 9 of which are in color.

The Hearst Hillsborough Vases, The STAN- FORD Museum, Isabelle K. Raubitschek, 1969, 97 pages, 27 illustrations, $4.20.

Enamels-The XII to the XVI Century, Do- nald F. Rowe, S. J., Martin D'Arcy Gallery, LOYOLA UNIVERSITY of Chicago, a handbook giving history and description of

techniques, as well as full notes and bibli-

ography of the 41 pieces on exhibition. 72

pages, 66 illustrations, 1 in color, paper- bound, $5.00.

Fourth Annual Invitational Exhibition of Painting and Sculpture, School of Art Galleries, KENT STATE UNIVERSITY, ca. 32 pages. Illustrations.

Studies in Drawings for An Exhibition of Master Drawings from the Cecile and Mil- ton Hebald Collection, produced by a sem- inar in drawings and connoisseurship, Grunwald Graphic Arts Foundation, UNI- VERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS AN- GELES (see special exhibitions).

Nineteenth Century Natchez-Made Silver, Anglo-American Art Museum, LOUISI- ANA STATE UNIVERSITY, 48 pages, 52

pictures, $2.00. Extensions of the Artist, Krannert Art Mu-

seum, UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS, Mrs. Muriel B. Christison, author; essay by Ly- dia Winston Malbin, 52 pages, 8 illustrations, $3.75.

On Art and Perfume or Did Mondrian Use

Masking Tape? Hayden Gallery, MASSA- CHUSETTS INSTITUTE OF TECH- NOLOGY, Nov, 1969, 66 pages, 58 pictures and photographs, $2.00.


(Continued from page 308)

1Paul A. Oppe, "Art," Early Victorian England, ed. by G. M. Young (London, Oxford University Press, 1934), 11, 101. 2 Sir Joshua Reynolds, Discourses on Art, intro. by Robert Lavine (New York, Collier Books, 1961), 172.













































3F. T. Palgrave, Essays on Art (New York, Hurd and Houghton, 1867), 94. 4 William Bell Scott, Autobiographical Notes of the Life of William Bell Scott, ed. by W. Minto (New York, Harper and Brothers, 1892), I, 251. 5 William Holman Hunt, Pre-Raphaelitism and the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood (New York, Mac- Millan, 1905), 1, 193.

See Sir William J. Newton, "Photography in an Artistic View, 1853," On Photography, ed by Beau- mont Newhall (Watkins Glen, Century House, 1956), 90-91. 7[Herbert] Marshall McLuhan and Quentin Fiore, The Medium is the Massage (New York, Bantam Books, 1967), 74-75. 8 T. S. R. Boase, The Oxford History of English Art: 1800-1870. (Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1959), X, 319. 9 Wylie Sypher, Rococo to Cubism in Art and Lit- erature (New York, Vintage Books, 1963), 260-261. 1 Douglas Cooper, The Courtauld Collection (Lon- don, Athlone Press, 1954), 15. 1 The clich6-vere, a graphic arts process using

photography for making positive copies, was developed by William Havell and J. T. Wilmore in 1839. According to Helmut Gernsheim, Masterpieces of Victorian Photography (London, Phaidon, 1951), 14, the Barbizon School of painters made use of this process. 12E. H. Gombrich, Art and Illusion (New York, Pantheon Books, 1960), 324. 13 Cooper, 14-15. 14 R. W. Buss, "On the Use of Photography to Artists," Journal of the Photographic Society, I (June 21, 1853), 77. 15 For details on Gorky's use of a snapshot see Van Deren Coke, The Painter and the Photograph (Al- buquerque, University of New Mexico Press, 1964), 29-30. 16Robert Rosenblum, "Victorian Art in Ottawa," AJ, XXV (Winter, 1965-66), 139.

On Rights of Possession of Student Art Work


They can, however, substantially reduce the number of art objects needed for retention. Assuming acceptance of the above suggestion, each professor in the art department should be directed to select student work that he feels is absolutely necessary for retention and

report his requirements to a committee of art

professors appointed by the Department Chairman. The committee should then ap- praise the selected work. Reasonable prices ranging from perhaps $15 for sketches to a maximum of $250 for sculpture work should be offered the student as the purchase price. It is expected that most students would be

ready and willing to sell. The budgeting of funds to support such a program is a problem but not an insurmountable one. If uni- versities can buy football teams, build cyclo- trons and uniform the band, there is no reason why the suggested art program cannot be funded.

If the above suggestions are followed, the needs of the art department can be satisfied and at the same time the property rights of the student are maintained. In short, the art

department can avoid being a new target for student protest.























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an un-victorian photograph of the 1860's

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