1. ON FIRST PRACTICE
73
practice, at first, than the real trees, because the black pro-
file in the drawing is quite stable, and does not shake, and
is not confused by sparkles of lustre on the leaves,) you
may try the extremities of the real trees, only not doing
much at a time, for the brightness of the sky will dazzle
and perplex your sight. And this brightness causes, I be-
lieve, some loss of the outline itself; at least the chemical
action of the light in a photograph extends much within
the edges of the leaves, and, as it were, eats them away,
so that no tree extremity, stand it ever so still, nor any
other form coming against bright sky, is truly drawn by
a photograph; and if you once succeed in drawing a few
sprays rightly, you will find the result much more lovely
and interesting than any photograph can be.
83. All this difficulty, however, attaches to the rendering
merely the dark form of the sprays as they come against
the sky. Within those sprays, and in the heart of the tree,
there is a complexity of a much more embarrassing kind ;
for nearly all leaves have some lustre, and all are more or
less translucent (letting light through them) ; therefore, in
any given leaf, besides the intricacies of its own proper
shadows and foreshortenings, there are three series of cir-
cumstances which alter or hide its forms. First, shadows
cast on it by other leaves,—often very forcibly. Secondly,
light reflected from its lustrous surface, sometimes the blue
of the sky, sometimes the white of clouds, or the sun itself
flashing like a star. Thirdly, forms and shadows of other
leaves, seen as darknesses through the translucent parts of
the leaf; a most important element of foliage effect, but
wholly neglected by landscape artists in general.
84. The consequence of all this is, that except now and
then by chance, the form of a complete leaf is never seen ;
but a marvellous and quaint confusion, very definite, in-
deed, in its evidence of direction of growth, and unity of
action, but wholly indefinable and inextricable, part by part,
by any amount of patience. You cannot possibly work it
out in facsimile, though you took a twelvemonth's time to
73
practice, at first, than the real trees, because the black pro-
file in the drawing is quite stable, and does not shake, and
is not confused by sparkles of lustre on the leaves,) you
may try the extremities of the real trees, only not doing
much at a time, for the brightness of the sky will dazzle
and perplex your sight. And this brightness causes, I be-
lieve, some loss of the outline itself; at least the chemical
action of the light in a photograph extends much within
the edges of the leaves, and, as it were, eats them away,
so that no tree extremity, stand it ever so still, nor any
other form coming against bright sky, is truly drawn by
a photograph; and if you once succeed in drawing a few
sprays rightly, you will find the result much more lovely
and interesting than any photograph can be.
83. All this difficulty, however, attaches to the rendering
merely the dark form of the sprays as they come against
the sky. Within those sprays, and in the heart of the tree,
there is a complexity of a much more embarrassing kind ;
for nearly all leaves have some lustre, and all are more or
less translucent (letting light through them) ; therefore, in
any given leaf, besides the intricacies of its own proper
shadows and foreshortenings, there are three series of cir-
cumstances which alter or hide its forms. First, shadows
cast on it by other leaves,—often very forcibly. Secondly,
light reflected from its lustrous surface, sometimes the blue
of the sky, sometimes the white of clouds, or the sun itself
flashing like a star. Thirdly, forms and shadows of other
leaves, seen as darknesses through the translucent parts of
the leaf; a most important element of foliage effect, but
wholly neglected by landscape artists in general.
84. The consequence of all this is, that except now and
then by chance, the form of a complete leaf is never seen ;
but a marvellous and quaint confusion, very definite, in-
deed, in its evidence of direction of growth, and unity of
action, but wholly indefinable and inextricable, part by part,
by any amount of patience. You cannot possibly work it
out in facsimile, though you took a twelvemonth's time to