by Robert Maniscalco

Did you ever wonder how Carvaggio was able to make his paintings seem so real or marveled at how Frans Hals could paint a laughing boy? I have. Why do suppose so many people respond to excellent realism with, "it looks just like a photograph?" Although intended as a compliment the statement begs the question, how can realism transcend the level of a snapshot, where the experience of the artist is alive on the surface of the canvas?

Creating quite a stir in art circles these days is the recent book by David Hockney, Secret Knowledge - Rediscovering the Lost Techniques of the Old Masters. It is an exhaustive but fascinating look at the optical techniques used by the masters since about 1430 AD. Hockney postulates that even though we have proof that the giants of art used optical projections to achieve incredible detail and immediacy, in much the same way, today's artists use photography -- this "Secret Knowledge" in no way diminishes their accomplishments.

Though Hockney's book demystifies the technology used by the masters it fails to truly address the dangers of relying on photography to achieve radiance and subtlety in painting. The use of such devices as the camera obscura, the camera lucida or the use of convex mirrors to create projections has been a carefully guarded secret for centuries - until now! Although the use of photography, which seems the natural evolution of these devices, is in common use today by most realists, many "purists" consider it cheating (at least publicly!).

Clearly, there is no substitute for excellent draftsmanship, the ability to see and draw without the use of aids. Hockney repeatedly points out that even with mechanical aids, it is still the artist who makes marks. No technology can make up for an untrained eye, just as no amount of state-of-the-art surgical equipment can compensate for a lack of medical training and experience.

If one accepts, after the considerable evidence presented, that many of the most beloved products of Western culture were created with the aid of mirrors and lenses then we must accept that the use of photography is the natural progression for current practitioners.

Or do we?

Cubism and post-modernism were a direct response to the advent of photography. What happened? The moment we had the ability to preserve an optical image it divided painting into two groups, the realists were suddenly wiped out like the dinosaurs, replaced with the more raw and "awkward" modernist movements. At that moment, artists who used optics were no longer compelled to be present with the subject.

Realism disappeared because the mystery was taken away. Now Hockney comes along and argues there wasn't really a mystery in the first place! He details how chiaroscuro, the use of strong lighting to express form, came about because of the intense light needed to create the projected image. He also includes examples of how the unique soft focus effects of paintings done with optical technologies lead to the almost "photographic" qualities present in the paintings of Vermeer and Ingres.

Although his arguments are always compelling, Hockney stops short in "Secret Knowledge" of addressing the central dilemma in the use of photography by today's realists: whether to use photography or to work from life. Many of today's top realists claim to work exclusively from life, carefully guarding their secrets, just as the old masters did. If nothing else, Hockney has revealed the in-authenticity of perpetuating this mystique. After all, if optics were good enough for Vermeer, who are we to judge? The true mystery of painting is in the artistry of the mark made by the sure hand of talent and experience.

But does working from a photograph impede or diminish our talent? Many artists find working form a photo to be limiting and frustrating. They have rejected (or at least claim to have rejected) photographic technology altogether. It's true, a photograph flattens forms and creates unnatural contrasts (take a look at Caravaggio!); shadows in photos tend to become black and we loose most of the subtlety of form and color; a camera has no ability to select what is important in an image. Yet some artists have learned to compensate, even thrive, by practicing diligently from life and applying the lessons of honest observation to photographs.

My solution has been to develop an understanding of the limits and advantages of both. When I employ photography (who has time to sit for a portrait!) I bracket, getting light and dark exposures. I have studied the impact of focal length, depth of field, emulsion chemistry, lighting; in short, I have made it my business to understand the technology of photography. Likewise I have applied myself to a careful study of values, color theory, perspective, design, anatomy, physiognomy and logged countless hours of painting and drawing from life. In other words, I have committed myself to a mastery of the technology available to me and adapted accordingly rather than bury my head in the sand. If we are not the master of our technology we will be it's slave. Just ask Bill Gates!

True art is the difference between knowledge and experience, whether we are talking about realism or cubism. I believe realism fell out of vogue because it was caught protecting a lie. It is enjoying resurgence now because it is coming clean. This is the implied challenge of "Secret Knowledge." When talent and success are based on secrets it will almost certainly fail us. I know I am the only one who will ever paint like me, not because of technology, but because of who I am. I also know the same is true for anyone who dares to step into the arena of self-expression. Who knows where the next Caravaggio will turn up?

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