International studio (60.1916/1917)

Tempera

Tempera
BY MAXWELL ARMFIELD
The word Tempera, taken from the

phraseology of the Italian Renaissance,
has lately been used to imply an egg-medium ex-
clusively, and indeed it was so used to some extent

by Cennini himself in his treatise on art-methods,
but the word has no such actual meaning, and
merely signifies a medium. We have the same
word, of course, in English in varied forms: we

can even say that our colours are "tempered”
with various oils, etc., in order to render them

adhesive and cohesive. The word has become

identified so closely with the ancient egg medium,
chiefly because that was the method most in
practice at the time when technical matters be-
gan to be written of with any degree of freedom
and accuracy. Fresco was almost the only alter-
native before the Italian of Angelico’s age, and
for that no medium but water was required.
So that it is perfectly accurate to speak of a
gum-tempera or a size-tempera or an oil-tempera,
but in this paper the word will be used to denote
the egg-method exclusively; that is to those
methods of painting where egg-yolk or the oil of
egg is used to bind the powdered colour into a
suitable paste for work. Owing to the pioneer
revival work of Messrs. Fairfax Murray, Joseph
Southall, J. D. Batten, Mrs. Herringham, A. J.
Gaskin, and others, tempera has lately come to
the fore as a modern possibility to such an extent
that the colour-makers have introduced a species
of paint, done up in tubes, which they call tem-
pera. It is sometimes ground with some egg-
mixture, and sometimes with resinous concoc-
tions. These colours, of which the best are of
German manufacture, are excellent for poster-
work and all kinds of designing. They are, how-
ever, quite unlike true tempera in effect, and it
is impossible to use them in the same way. The
reason, in the case of those actually ground in oil
of egg, probably is that the egg loses as much
elasticity in being preserved in this way as it does
when preserved in water-glass for the table. The
yolk of preserved eggs is very much thinner than
that of fresh ones, and almost always breaks into
the white before it can be separated for use. At
any rate the colours are quite different from those
mixed by oneself with yolk of fresh eggs. [The
actual procedure is to shake up the yolk of egg
with the same quantity of pure water till thor-

oughly mixed. This medium is then ground with
the powder colour on a ground-glass slab with an
ivory palette knife until mixed thoroughly. The
proportion of medium to colour will vary with
the colour, but it should be about equal in volume.[
The technique of the medium is now easily
accessible to the student in Mrs. Herringham’s
translation of Cennini’s Treatise and in a short
pamphlet by her, "How to Paint a Tempera
Picture,” published by Madderton & Co., who
supply the powdered colours and useful palettes,
etc., with deep holes to keep the colour moist.
The procedure is so different from that of either
oil or water-colour that a beginner working in it
on those lines will certainly be disappointed. The
method is not perhaps more intricate, but as so
few painters use it, a good deal of the mechanical
part has to be done by the artist himself, and this
is entirely to the advantage of the picture.
Whilst the actual practice is straightforward,
the use of the medium in its characteristic beauty
requires, as a rule, considerable mental readjust-
ment on the part of the painter. It demands a
habit of mind, or point of view, that is somewhat
rarely met with amongst artists, even to-day.
Very broadly it takes time. It requires too, a
certain continuity of thought and effort combined
with a precision and regularity of workmanship
that is much out of fashion at the moment. A
tempera picture cannot be thrown off in a wave
of emotional excitement. It must be an orderly
analysis and expression of a definite emotional
idea. The artist should not be at the mercy of
his emotions but must have entire control over
them as well as over his tools.
The, Attraction of Tempera.—Tempera is attrac-
tive to almost everyone who sees it. The shock
given to the public by the painters of the Bir-
mingham school at the New Gallery ten years ago
is forgotten, and Mr. Southall’s success in Paris
with his tempera exhibition (some of which is
now in America) vindicated the method in what
was then the art metropolis. The unique attrac-
tion of tempera is, of course, its jewel-like colour:
its gay and debonnair ingenuousness. And es-
pecially of late has its decorative value begun to
be appreciated, “it goes with architecture” as
nothing else does except buon fresco.
To-day as painters, we most of us feel in a
period of unsettlement. A new Renaissance is
on us. We are an point du jour. We know that
we need a new sense of colour: purer, cleaner,

LXXVIII