'I want to paint a portrait. What colours shall I use? How shall I apply the paint – in long strokes, short strokes, or little dots?' so asks Patrick Larking in this 1959 article from The Artist.

'My colour plate shows a portrait of Miss Irene Briers that was painted before a critical audience of thirty people. In this, I used every possible resource to repeat the tones of a woman in a violet dress with a green background, as she appeared under the rays of one consistent electric light. Questions were shot at me all the time, such as, “What colours are you using?” I used here light red, yellow ochre, ivory black, cobalt and alizarin crimson.

'I must state with emphasis that there was no attempt at any surface quality. I started with the darks, which I applied with thickish paint, explaining the need to have enough paint on the canvas for mixing in to the next lighter tone.The chief problem, as my witnesses agreed, was to hit off exactly the tone of the right cheek, which was in shadow; a very subtle tone, as related to the light and the very dark. The picture is not a masterpiece but regarding that tone, I have kept my word.'

Miss Irene A. Briers. Oil 24” x 18”

'Students took notes of the colours I used, not realising that another set for the next face in their visual experience would probably be much better.

'What are you going to use for that striking looking man with a fresh complexion? You will pose him, I hope, in a light with sharp contrasts. Arrange it so that the quality of light coincides with the sequence of the planes receiving it.

Douglas Cator, Esq.: Oil

'Now, what is it that makes his face so different from the last one, which also had two eyes, one nose and one mouth? It is the composition that differs, the shapes between, the relation of parts to a unified whole, in terms of tone, according to the light on it. There are two billion faces in this world, all designed differently, varying from youth to age.

'There are ninety years between the subjects of two of the portraits reproduced here. Now, it must be reasonable to suppose that you are not going to use the same treatment to express something as luminous as a billiard ball, as transparent as a pearl, as you would to express the feeling of a piece of old cheese with cracks in it.

'The face, with its particular design, will always be your guide, will tell you how the paint must go, will give you an idea. It has been said that a painter has no idea or vision above his technical means for putting down that idea or vision. Critics are fond of putting into opposition these two things. It causes copy to foam up like paper from a conjuror’s hat.

'It is only in relation to the particular that a method can be taught. The language of paint, however, has certain attributes that can be universally applied to all portrait painting. The method that has been most commonly in use for some time is the mixed, or opaque, method, for by this use of paint with very little medium, one comes to know something of the infinite resources of oil paint. Through a knowledge of how paint behaves, one gains a command.

'This method also admits of re-working to an extent impossible in other more traditional methods, and, although this may lead to a heaviness or fumbling, from which I myself do not always escape, it also gives confidence to the hand and mind, thereby encouraging freedom of treatment. The method is especially suited to another kind of portraiture – not the kind that means flattering somebody, but rather the portraiture of the intellect. By a method which permits of constant re-working, or the deliberate addition of subtle refinements of modelling to the first broad likeness, a great man’s mind may be suggested on canvas with infinitely more success than by methods with which everything depends upon a single coat of paint, however skilful the master who applies it.

'I have never seen the subject of my portrait, Frank Pick, reproduced here. It was a posthumous portrait, arrived at through the aid of a non-artistic, critical audience who gave extremely good descriptions of his character and ability. The photograph, from which our reproduction was made, was taken before completion and revealed the need for reworking the eyes.'

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The Late Frank Pick of London Transport: Oil

'We come now to another problem in painting the face – that of the society woman. For some reason, this work is associated with bad painting, although I do not see why this should necessarily be so. I think it arises from a confusion in the mind of the painter as to what is skin and what is complexion. Now a head is a sphere of flesh with a skin stretched tightly, sometimes loosely, over bony structure. Unfettered study of form is impossible if competing with the touched up photograph. But it would be mean to criticise the artists of this type of work; they are under orders.'

Bryony: Oil

'I dislike children, but I love their little faces, their expressions and the seeming luminosity of the skin, which epitomizes the whole element of chance in this fascinating art – not the chance that the child will keep still, but whether or not we shall capture this quality, this transparency, even if she does. This is arrived at by a single fluid brush stroke which is not retouched, but it must first be seen in the subject.

'By the up-to-date art critic, this is scathingly called just copying natural appearances, but just try doing it! As I have suggested, your hand never lags behind your mind. I should have added, your will power, as well as your hand. So often that loose touch is the result of about five attempts – and now we come to the recipe for the fresh, or rather, direct touch. An alla prima painting, as my demonstration picture here in colour, implies the use of fresh paint on a gesso ground, but a direct touch (loose) with meaning requires catering for carefully. For this, I always do a first painting, or underpainting, of a low, warm tone. I know that I am going to see much more in the second sitting. So it must be with confidence and firmness of intention that the so-called loose touches are administered. Painting is no trick of the hand.

'I am aware that I have been considering each subject as a new problem for pictorial effect; in other words, I have suggested means for good painting, thinking most of you would like it that way. But I am forgetting that a good portrait need not be a good picture. There are lots of nice, painstaking, unimaginative people who are quite happy making a map of a sitter’s features with great accuracy; in which case it is of value as a document. So-and-so was like that! And anything beyond that depends on the artist’s ability to separate the significant from the irrelevant, and his degree of courage in rejecting the latter.

'A head is naturally a form existing in space. The word “form” for many, needs definition, as it has been applied in the past to so many lunacies and abortions that it might not now have sufficient meaning. It is solidity of structure, and in general refers to something substantial, palpable and permanent. An artifice, to assist in the creation of solidity with the head alone, is to have light in the background, on the shadow side, and a dark tone in the background against the light side of the head.

'If more of the person could be included, such as hands or perhaps feet, and if it could take in something that belongs to the subject, such as a picture on the wall behind, then the picture might be said to possess form. So many portraits are heads of people existing nowhere in particular.

'The sitter’s role is of importance, after accepting the fact that his job is sometimes an arduous one. He is apt to exercise a certain influence over proceedings; he can make it difficult for you during a preliminary pencil sketch, when you know that he is waiting to see paint flung on the canvas. He will be puzzled, or even annoyed, by any proceeding that is at all unorthodox, such as a sitting that I once spent in just looking and not painting at all, doing the work after my sitter had gone. Lastly, the spectator’s role: he must use discrimination and must not jump to too hasty conclusions at the sight of wet paint, freshly applied; nor must he be side-tracked by the smiles, frowns and winks portrayed on the canvas.'


This article was originally published in volume 57 of The Artist, which covered the period March 1959 – August 1959


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