Visualisation means seeing something in the mind’s eye. A drawing of such a visualised image is more determined than a drawing made by copying a subject from life, bit by bit. This is perhaps best explained by considering and exercise that that the artist and teacher Robert Catterson-Smith developed. He was teaching mainly 14 yr old boys, in the main training them for industrial design in Birmingham, UK, c1900):
“…a somewhat unusual practice in use needs explanation. In order to secure concentration the student is required, when working out most of the exercises, to shut his eyes and image in his mind’s eye the object or design he is about to draw. When he sees mentally a sufficiently clear image—still keeping his byes shut—he draws an outline in pencil on paper of the image he sees. Of course the lines do not join up correctly, but as a rule it is quite easy to see what is intended.
After the student has made the “shut-eye” drawing, he is then asked to make a completely finished drawing with his eyes open of the object or design he imaged. He is not allowed to copy his shut-eye drawing, or indeed to refer to it, as it is considered that having once imaged his object or design he can, and should, image it again when drawing with his eyes open.
It is not the aim to make shut-eye drawings with the parts placed in correct relation to one another, it being sufficient for the purpose of the exercise if the student thinks he is making a correct drawing of each part of the complete image his mind has in focus. It does not matter, for instance, if the eye of an animal occurs in the tail as long as the student thought he had drawn it in the head.
(Drawing from memory and mind-picturing (1921), Robert Catterson-Smith (1853-1938).
These visualised drawings tend to omit the dithering that one sees in drawings from life by artists whose memories have not been developed. Although the memory must come into play to some extent when working from life, the memory used in visualisation is of a different order. To explain, Catterson-Smith quoted the eminent painter, Sir Hubert von Herkomer CVO RA (1849 – 1914) :
The late Professor Von Herkomer when comparing the methods of landscape painters with those of the figure painters who paint landscapes, wrote in his book My School and My Gospel:
“ I practically needed Nature for every touch, and I cannot think I am singular in this respect amongst my brother figurists. . . . But this failing led me into copying Nature too closely throughout. . . . The figure painter who is accustomed to his model, and to have Nature always before him, has by his habits of work become unfitted for the education of memory. . . . But this precludes those effects which alone can arouse the imagination of the beholder and make him dream.”
Visualisation involves forming an image in the mind before making a drawing. As we have seen, this came naturally to earlier painters, who learnt by copying and memorising the works of their masters; but with the advent of drawing in academies (‘from life’ – or from the static model in the life-class), the practice of drawing from memory fell from general use among fine artists (though many illustrators continue to practice it). Memory training was neglected to such an extent that when the 19thC teacher, LeCoq de Boisbaudran (1802 – 1897), took up the subject, it was as if he were breaking new ground. In fact he was really only re-establishing what is perhaps the most important element in the art of representational painting. As we have seen, William Hogarth had stressed its importance, and Reynolds had given it a brief mention:
A facility of drawing, like that of playing upon a musical instrument, cannot be acquired but by an infinite number of acts. I need not, therefore, enforce by many words the necessity of continual application; nor tell you that the port-crayon ought to be for ever in your hands. Various methods will occur to you by which this power may be acquired. I would particularly recommend, that after your return from the Academy (where I suppose your attendance to be constant), you would endeavour to draw the figure by memory. I will even venture to add, that by perseverance in this custom you will become able to draw the human figure tolerably correctly, with as little effort of the mind as is required to trace with a pen the letters of the alphabet. (Discourse 2)
But it was only with Lecoq de Boisbaudran that the subject became of central concern to an art teacher at an art school. Lecoq’s ideas were taken up by Catterson-Smith (1853 – 1938) at Birmingham School of Art, where he taught mainly industrial designers. His pupil, Marion Richardson (1892 – 1946) extended his ideas to schoolchildren, continuing to stress the importance of the mind’s eye. Her book The Art of the Child (published in 1948, two years after her death) could almost serve as a primer for the core or grand, or classical approach to painting – as much for adults as for children.
The vital concerns of visualisation are as follows:
1. Power to conceive. To think before you draw. An image is to be formed in the mind first. This is in contrast to the approach in which the artist copies a subject bit by bit without ever forming a clear mental image of it. In visualisation, the emphasis is on the image, not on the process. One does not score high for showing a struggle and failure to resolve an image.
Note: the difference between a visualised and an unvisualised image is relatively easy to see when one tries both approaches. The visualised image is made up of lines confidently and decisively drawn, free of random wobbles. This is true even when the drawing is made with the eyes closed – something which Catterson-Smith demonstrated when he asked his pupils to make ‘shut-eye’ drawings.
2. Power to change and develop conceptions. By allowing the mind to conceive the image before the artist touches the paper or canvas, the mind is freer to generate and combine images than when grappling with the mechanics of drawing or painting.
It is true that any sort of drawing of painting must involve at least a minimal amount of visualisation. Comparing the canvas and the subject in order to spot the difference and so determine what to add to the picture involves rudimentary visualization of small sections of the scene. But the visualization required in order to paint, say, a god flying through the air, is of a wholly different order. As Reynolds before him, the 19th C artist James Barry stressed the importance of what was known as, ‘invention’. The artist could distinguish himself by making novel combinations of elements taken from other artists, elements which he had memorised. Without a store of memories, artists would have no materials with which to invent. They would only be able to reproduce the scene in front of them as photographers might.** Thus memory and imagination were absolutely essential if the artist were aiming to produce work at the highest level.
(It need hardly be added that, for and artist who aspires to the highest style, a trained memory is necessary but not sufficient. Many other elements are required, not least a strong feeling for the beauties of line, form, tone and colour).
*Lectures on painting : by the royal academicians, Barry, Opie and Fuseli
https://archive.org/details/lecturesonpainti00worn_0
**Now with the advent of photography and computers, artists would be able to cut and paste from photographs of paintings or of all kinds of subjects; but they would not be able to do this fluently, in their mind, if continually looking around for bits and pieces to paste together.
Photographers can imagine a subject before photographing, and so claim that the resulting photograph has been visualised. Cecil Beaton sometimes even made little drawings in preparation for his photographs. However, whatever the preparation, the photograph can be only a duplicate of what appeared in the viewfinder – it includes no schemata, and so offers no evidence of visualisation. A photograph is not visualised at all, being purely a record of what appeared in the viewfinder.
Highly finished paintings can look like photographic at least at first sight, but even here there is a distinction between a work that has been visualised strongly or weakly. To a viewer coming to this subject for the first time, it must be a mystery why Fantin-Latour’s paintings are considered to be only worthy and respectable, while those of Velazquez (which at first sight resemble photographs just as much) are held to be amongst the supreme achievements of oil painting. It may take a little while for the viewer to notice how the Velasquez incorporates complete shapes in a way which is missing from the Fantin-Latour.
The main distinction is in the presence of schemata – the initial pattern or formula which is modified to best fit the subject, and yet which remains discernable to the attentive viewer. The Fantin-Latour looks like a copy of a photograph, with flattened tonal areas carefully imitated, whereas the Velasquez is based on lines which surround the objects. This may be seen in the portrait of a sculptor and in the cupid in the NG. A viewer needs practice in appreciation, just as an artist does.
Sargent (at left)
A marvellous example of choice in tonal shapes as far as recognition is concerned, but lacking in wholeness
Rembrandt (at right)
This painting may not be as eye-catching as the Sargent, but it gives a fuller sense of the solidity and movement of the subject.