The pictorial matter is to the painted work what vocabulary is to the writer’s production; and the quality and variety of the material used condition the longevity of the piece, allowing for a superior expression at equal talent.
Oil painting, in particular, suffers from the disappearance of physical knowledge, which forms the indispensable support for the magical projection of artistic vision.
This lack has caused such concern among painters aware of the necessary union of body and spirit in their works over the past century that their research has led to plastic revolutions (Impressionism), the subsequent intellectualization of which (Cubism) attempted to save what refused to exist physically; the Symbolist escape, of which the latest manifestation is Surrealism, marks the complete abandonment of any search for the pictorial body as such.
Thus, it must be acknowledged that only the loss of the tradition of the painter’s craft has generated the astonishing convulsions of the living who are prevented from expressing themselves freely.
Some force a particular technique to the point of demonstrating by absurdity; others get lost in the appearances of an extremely sterilized process; but all use an opaque, heavy, or lifeless material.
The pictorial failure is here momentarily masked by the originality that necessarily results from the quest for a new craft. However, time reminds us of the poverty of the means employed, destroying the works of both the greatest and the smallest painters of the past century and the present time.
In a hundred years, we will possess as valid testimony of current painting only the colour reproductions, fortuitously preserved by bibliophiles astonished by their success.
There are exceptions to this general shipwreck, the painters who have strived to remain close to the traditional craft, which disappeared during the 18th and 19th centuries. The example of Delacroix and sometimes that of Derain will serve to illustrate our thought.
Some contemporary painters have recently tried to restore a craft that, due to the disdain and ignorance of a multitude of occasional executors, has become inferior to that of a house painter. Goerg, the first to our knowledge, followed by Dufy and recently Rouault and Marchand, have made a little noticed yet very visible effort to renew the art of painting in «depth». How many are there among painters, critics, and art lovers—not to mention knowing, but simply to be concerned about the physical quality of painted works?”
Professors Berger, Doerner, Ostwald, and Laurie have examined the secret of the Van Eyck brothers and concluded that a mixed technique, using egg and oil, was employed, although they were unable to reconstruct anything useful.
More recently, Ziloty (in La Découverte de Jean Van Eyck et l’évolution du procédé de la peinture à l’huile du Moyen-Age à nos jours, éd. Flourit, Paris, 1941) in a remarkable synthesis of previous studies, leans towards the use of resins combined with oil and plant essences, but also cannot establish anything practically.
Everything would remain in the realm of supposition if a restorer of paintings in Paris did not use a substance that strangely resembles that of the ancient painters in its effects. This wise individual jealously guards his discovery, rightly believing that such a rare pearl should not be made available to the masses of artists, who have become so proud of their ignorance.
A former assistant, less discreet, has revealed the secret to us, or rather what he believes to be such, with the support of such strong artistic and commercial publicity that it had to be acknowledged that it was primarily a «business» in itself.
This product, which appears to be a combination of casein, oil, and alumina, has obvious but fleeting qualities; it has been used by most painters and is generally applied to backgrounds unsuitable for receiving it.
This update of the so-called secret of the Van Eycks is primarily a success for the manufacturer and does not satisfy serious researchers, who observe the reproduction of the various issues that have plagued oil painting for too long.
Thus, painters are still reduced to «virtuously envying» the Van Eyck brothers and their heirs; we want to name those who are curious and knowledgeable about their art, seeking, beyond the usual «crust», the luminous and vibrant sea where the eye gets lost, confused and delighted.
There is a renewed initiation that is slowly progressing within a few circles of cultured artists; it reaches the differentiated critical element of vulgar journalism, and one can hope that it will eventually touch demanding art lovers, and perhaps be mentioned one day at the School of Fine Arts.
The most conclusive demonstration of this unique knowledge is the presentation of works that exhibit the same physical characteristics as those of the ancients.
We have no doubt that young painters come to seek technical advice from the creators of such works, capable of effectively prolonging the duration of their productions.
We will not here criticize the material poverty of contemporary painting; that would be to denounce the obviousness of death. Instead, we will prefer to present the proven characteristics of the «mediating» material of the ancients, along with some general indications that could improve the technique of artists who are passionate about painting.
It is worth noting that the «recipes» of the ancient masters have never been made public, but were passed down orally to the best disciple, much like hermetic science, before curious ignoramuses thought to codify the results of their fortuitous discoveries under the name of «chemistry».
Thus, the possession of a fragment of truth remains, through all times, the privilege of a few, independent of any apparent reason or justice.
Returning to our main concern, we will point out that the abusive use of turpentine is the primary cause of the destruction of contemporary works; the terpenes contained in turpentine (90%) destroy the linoleic acid in the oil, which consequently loses its luster, cohesion, and becomes black and powdery as it dries.
(Rubens mitigated this defect by using concentrated oils rich in linoleic acid and resin).
The second cause of destruction lies in the defective choice and poor preparation of the supports that form the current commercial absorbent and darkening grounds.
Panels prepared with genuine gelatinous white provide the ideal support for painting and remain white and impermeable to oil, thanks to their final layer of isolating glue.
The hot addition of resins to oil, or its natural concentration, constitutes the most effective embalming processes among those that are commonly known to us.
Rubens made the most of it, which can be admired in his small and medium-sized canvases.
We warn hurried artists against the use of thickened oils on lead litharge, which form powdery and black driers, as well as against the addition of wax in prepared colours, which disrupts the homogeneity of the oily medium.
Before applying colours, it is advantageous to «print» the white background with a thin and transparent layer of natural earth, which allows the drawing to show through and enables the differentiation of lights and shadows in the work.
The unfinished Saint Barbe by Van Eyck at the Antwerp museum gives us a measure of the transparency required in the execution material. The extraordinary finish of the drawing would indeed be without reason if it could not be perceived through the successive layers of colours, up to the completion of the painting.
This «onion skin» technique preserves the benefit of the luminosity of the background, which is particularly felt in the shadows, but complicates the pictorial problem by the simultaneous use of juxtaposition and superposition of tones.
A talented painter recently told us about this: «To hell with all your cares, we sell more than we can produce, and we are asked to please, not to be true.»
His friend specified: «A cuckold who is flattered becomes the most generous of patrons». We dedicate these too-lucid reflections to the amateurs and officials, apparently so indifferent to the precious work of the ancients.
Do we know whether or not the works of the last century are deteriorating and darkening at a pace surpassed only by the record deterioration of current works?
Renoir, by preserving the memory of his early works on porcelain and attempting to restore that shifting transparency to his new works, extended the life of his paintings for more than a hundred years. He simply added oil to oil.
This technique of allowing light to pass freely makes the teachings of the old masters accessible to us.
— Warm tones achieved by applying a dark translucent colour over a light background.
— Cool tones created by laying a light transparent colour over a dark background (the phenomenon of opalescence).
— Warmth and transparency enhanced by layering one tone over another of the same nature.
— Vigor and opacity obtained by applying one tone over another complementary tone.
— And the supreme recommendation: only use natural transparent colours for shadows, excluding white and black which «block» all tones.
All of this requires a patience and effort that current painting with oil and mortar does not demand.
Painting the same surface twenty times seems less advantageous than covering twenty different canvases; yet this is the price one must pay to time, to avoid the premature blows of its sharp justice.
Only a few unrepentant pedants continue to sing the mind-numbing song: «One must copy nature», instead of the philosophical teaching that says: «One must imitate the processes of nature». Thus, it is not about sterilely counterfeiting the surface of things, but rather attempting to achieve an equivalence; like the pearl or the onion, whose layers are made up of overlapping transparent films that allow light to penetrate and reflect it back in a multitude of rainbows, bestowing colourful life.
If Van Eyck and Rubens are the poles of painting between which all the perfections and powers of art are contained, the mastery and inspiration combined at this point remain whole only by the grace of a definitive synthesis, uniting the most luminous material and the most delicate spirit there is.
What grateful encouragements should our slumbering Fine Arts not provide to the often impoverished search of its believers, convinced that there is still something to be rediscovered in the magical realm of the art of painting? This foundation, this diaphanous and coherent body without which everything remains in the cold opacity of death.
It may now be appropriate to try to save and highlight the surviving portion of intelligence and love that still watches over us.
Below, we provide some characteristics of the «mediating» material used by the practitioner mentioned above, as guidance for well-meaning artists who are not lacking.
— With a handling and with a colour that reminds us of a mixture of mayonnaise and honey, this material blends so intimately with the colours typically prepared with oil that no mechanical, physical, or chemical process could separate the pigments from the medium without destroying the substance.
— The proportions of the mixture are established from the saturation of the colour without diminishing the hue, to the slightest addition of coloured pigments, which provides a thick glaze that is almost imperceptible to the eye.
— Under the microscope, the coloured particles can be seen, evenly distributed within the transparent mass, as if by a phenomenon of ionization typically produced in homeopathic dynamizations. This homogeneity proves the perfect balance of the oil and the associated resins.
— These pigments, thus separated and «embalmed», remain protected from air reactions and easily allow light to pass through, which, reflecting on the white background of the painting, illuminates the coloured mass.
— (It is interesting to note here that the opposite phenomenon occurs in common oil painting, where the coloured particles gather into opaque blocks, outside the oily medium that cracks, oxidizes, and darkens before turning to powder. Painters are well aware of this tendency to sedimentation, which even appears inside the tubes of colour before any use).
— The refractive index of the dried medium, approaching 1.52, proves the massive use of resins, and the elasticity of the paste demonstrates the perfect preservation of the linoleum from the oil.
— The ductility is remarkable, and the coloured material easily detaches from the brush.
— The ability to layer wet strokes indefinitely without erasing them is one of the major advantages of using this process, which also allows for the modelling of the paste. The colours can be worked again while wet by dipping the brush in essence of turpentine or oil, which are the preferred solvents (it is worth noting that essence of turpentine contains only 10% terpenes); this simultaneously achieves the association of colours in depth and in breadth.
— The absolute adhesion to the support and between each layer, along with the gradual and complete drying, allows for a homogeneous, accelerated, or collected work, as desired, and is only interrupted by the fatigue of the executor.
— The dry colour becomes increasingly transparent and enamel-like; surprisingly, it resists ordinary solvents, including commercial paint strippers.
— No cracking ever occurs, even when using varnishes.
— The colour, difficult to scratch, quickly regains its shine and tends to heal its wounds; when heated, it swells and detaches in a single soft layer; when subjected to low temperatures, it becomes cloudy and gradually clears up with the cessation of the cold.
Here are the main observations we could make about this medium that appears so ordinary. The analysis concludes with the presence of oils and resins, although it cannot determine the process for reconstituting the product.
We will consider ourselves satisfied if we have managed to attract the attention of the educated public and to spark the interest of passionate artists in their art towards such an important issue, which ensures the preservation of pictorial heritage when resolved.
As a consolation to those who might think of performing «miracles» using this ancient material, we dedicate the words of the practitioner who has been using it for over ten years:
«I have almost reinvented and rebuilt a magnificent harpsichord, and I play the song ‘Au Clair de Lune’… with just one finger.»
To conclude, we offer critics, amateurs, and juries an unprecedented way to judge the painted work by stripping it of its contemporary clothing, which misleads so many skilled people.
This involves a «physical» examination that should necessarily precede aesthetic choice, in order to avoid the ridicule of discussions based on emptiness.
Everyone struggles to arrive at a classification ending in «ism», without caring whether it is actually painting to begin with.
It is hard to imagine the absurdity of a choice that would consist of accepting payment only in currency of a certain form, without caring whether it is made of lead or gold, or choosing clothing based solely on its cut without ensuring whether it is made of paper or fabric. This is, with the exception of the object, what happens every day in judgments made about painting.
But here is the recipe to know with certainty and without possible distraction the intrinsic value of the work being examined.
Cut out a rectangle of dark grey paper measuring about 12 centimetres by 2, and randomly apply it to the proposed work. Then examine, carefully, for at least two minutes and in bright light, the painted surface thus delimited. Repeat the experiment three times, and then you can concern yourself with whether it is a landscape, a still life, a nude, or a free invention.
We insist that the three prescribed data above be absolutely respected, because space, time, and number govern the human functions that generate knowledge and choice, manifestations of differentiated, intelligent life.
