The Skin Game

I've just been reading a recent post in an art blog (to remain anonymous) which I typically enjoy, but not today. The post is on the topic of skin. High praise is accorded to classic artists and illustrators who dutifully chart every scar, mole, blemish and age spot. But when the example turns to pin-up artists the tone of the goes red. It is true, pin-up artists invariably make skin tones pure and rosy, glowing without the slightest taint of imperfection that the blogger and his pantheon of followers hold so praiseworthy. Not surprisingly the entire genre of pin-up received repeated lashings from the tip of a wet Windsor & Newton Kolinsky Sable brush. One comment in particular zeroed in on our man Bolles with a particularly snooty aside (comparing his girls to Gumby!) and as you might anticipate, that set me off. But first, a personal disclosure. Generally speaking I am not a pin-up fan. There are yards of it that I find insipid, misogynistic, poorly rendered or just plain dumb (think Art Frahm). But there is the good stuff and of course there is Enoch Bolles, who we all know by now was much more than just a pin-up artist. Plus it is simply unfair to compare salon artists with commercial illustrators who in the case of Bolles had the responsibility of eight mouths to feed while the economy was sunk in deep depression. Even back in his day there was a snobbery about what was called art-art versus commercial art. The debate was so serious that the guys who ran the big billboard companies would occasionally go to the absurd extreme of pasting up reproductions of classical paintings on outdoor billboards. Others claimed the art in their ads was the equivalent of fine art and so they were doing the public a service (Ha!).

Miriam Hopkins, by Enoch Bolles circa 1935. Unpublished as far as I know. As much as I admire Bolles' treatment of her skin, it's the amazing attention to her hair that really jumps out. This example should put to rest the notion that Bolles was merely a 'cartoonist'.

But back to Bolles. Skin-or at least skin color-was something he obsessed over all his life. He did not resort to tube colors or other quick fixes and in fact was continually tinkering with how to get it just right. He was trained in classic methods of painting by Robert Henri and other instructors at the Art Students League and the National Academy of Design and was a keen observer of classic artists (one of these days I'll get around to posting his commentary on the techniques he thinks were used to paint the Mona Lisa). To give you an idea of Bolles' passion for getting "picture making" right, I've transcribed portions of two among the dozens of letters he exchanged with his daughter, Liza, who was a talented artist in her own right. Their correspondence involved a discussion of both theory and technique and they also exchanged study paintings. It's worth pointing out that Enoch was writing these letters from a mental hospital where he had spent nearly three decades! If there is any evidence against him "dying a mad-man" as as been claimed, then this is it. His writing reveals him to be engaged both intellectually and culturally. He was widely read and knowledgeable about an amazing range of subjects. But best of all the letters revealed his keen sense of humor and kindliness. The reality having to endure life in a hospital that housed over 7,000 patients did not rob Bolles of his humanity or sap his spirit.

Note: these are exerpts out of much longer letters. You'll notice that Enoch uses a sort of short-hand to describe certain techniques.

Enoch to daughter Liza, September, 1965 (subject: on painting a mango)

In your tilts with paints have you discovered that doing that tantalizing surface, or human skin, or an egg, depends upon a delicate progressive graying of the color from the third lighted hue on down? Lesson: mix orangy color of mango, red and yellow-this paled with white is your #2 circle with tiny bit of white in centre, #1. (Note: there is an illustration in the letter that corresponds to these numbers). To #2 mixture (orange and white) add very slightest amount of color (orange, red and yellow) and imperceptible amount of graying (blue) which will be #3, these three being your highlight. Now to #3 add small amount of color (orange) and gray slightly with blue and you have #4, the first halation from highlight. Add more color and slightly more blue #5, second halation. To this add enough color to be the true color of mango, gray slightly, #6. From here down in narrowing courses, enough in number to meet shadow, continue to add color plus red, more and more red as tone darkens and gray these with blue or black. This is not complicated after you have tried, made your mis-mixtures, finally got color and form. Of course mangos, vary in color but win your knowledge with one color of orange or light orange. If you haven't already mastered this you will be surprised by the illusion of color and form right up to the tiny brightest spot which is so important. You'll need red sable water color brush [illustrated in the letter] and of course, small flat red sable oil brushes. You will need many goes to get right mixtures and smooth blending but then you'll have a fascinating toy that most or many, painters don't have. Think of it this way; #6 is the color of mango-all above that is a sort of light-cap spreading over lighter than the true color part. Below #6 is easier, local color going down into redder hues properly grayed.

Enoch to Liza, 1968 (They had been mailing an oil portrait painted by Liza back and forth)

Our girls' neck is too dark, too red in front. Don't try for sterno-mastoid here, it would confuse you. Be led by the treatment of the copy I sent you. General color of light on front of neck, grayed red with tiny addition of yellow to match appearance but not quite brightness of face. Then match my spots of pink on cheeks and carry almost full length of cheek. Not pure pink. No made with parent color which I think was vermilion with little yellow added. Grayed of course by mixing vermilion with hue next above it and tiny bit of black. Be careful to match my grayed pink.

Now with the tiny reflected light. It is dependent upon the so-called third line which separates it from darkest lighted part of face as you see-in flesh this third line is usually made with red, black, very little which. The reflected light is usually red (more orange) bit of black, much lighter as you see, yet it can be the color of the reflecting light, whatever that may be. In modeling a garment, which the third line can be blue, almost pure, an illusion in bright lighting. Look at this old Leyendecker Post cover, double lighted, warm, cool. You will see third line running between the lights everywhere.