Painting in Tempera, c. 1900. Edited by Karoline Beltinger and Jilleen Nadolny. London, Archetype, 2016. Part One

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Painting in Tempera, c. 1900

Edited by Karoline Beltinger and Jilleen Nadolny

London, Archetype Publications, 2016

Review by Giovanni Mazzaferro

Part One

Painting in tempera is a complex book. It is not easy particularly for those who, like me, do not have a specific knowledge in chemistry. At the same time, it is an illuminating work, which we were missing, because it allows deepening the study of painting in tempera in the period at the end of the nineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth century, and does not fail to place technical data within the context of their historical background. The book (published by Archetype, the meritorious publisher specializing in artistic techniques, which has also released the very recent critical editions in English of Cennini’s Book of the Art and the Strasbourg Manuscript) is part of the series KUNST-material, sponsored by the Swiss Institute of Art Research (SIK-ISEA). In particular, in this case, it incorporates the contributions of the so-called 'Tempera Group', namely a group of 15 researchers from different backgrounds, who have tried to investigate aspects related to the use of tempera in Germany and Italy.

I will try to briefly present the individual contributions:

Eva Reinkowski-Häfner, 

Tempera: on the history of a technical term 

When coping with the study of 'tempera', one has first of all to take account that its meaning is not historically unique. In fact, it has changed significantly over time; moreover, in different geographical areas the concept of 'tempera' has been differently understood in the same time span. A study of the painting in 'tempera', therefore, cannot ignore the prior definition of the scope of the survey. Eva Reinkowski-Häfner flags for instance that the latest edition of Malmaterial und seine Verwendung (Painting Materials and Their Use in Pictures), personally supervised by Max Doerner, the famous historian of art techniques (we are in 1938 and this is the sixth edition), defines tempera as any type of emulsion, whether of the type ‘oil-in-water’ or inverse (‘water-in-oil’). This definition, for example, is different from what was said in the rest of Europe, where 'tempera' was only an ‘oil-in-water’ emulsion. It goes without saying that this definition is quite different (although perhaps etymologically very similar) to the way Cennino or Vasari, who were unaware of what it is a chemical emulsion (the dispersion of a liquid in the form of minute particles in another one, in which they remain completely insoluble and therefore distinguishable), talk of tempera. For the ancient sources, tempera is a binder, usually an egg; but it is possible to 'temper’ even through glues or natural and artificial rubber. The evolution of the term is the result of studies lasting centuries and involving painters, art historians, restorers and scientists, each with their own specific interests. In his seminal study on Materials for a History of Oil Painting (1847), Charles Lock Eastlake defines at least three types of tempera: "In its most general sense, ‘tempera’ could simply mean ‘binding medium’ or it could be used in a more limited manner to encompass aqueous binding media [note of the editor: with the exclusion therefore of wax- or glue-based binders]; in its most restrictive form, it may have designed binding media made specifically of egg-yolk or whole egg mixed with fresh fig sap" (p. 12). The author cites fundamental instances for the study of the matter; she recalls, for example, how important was the opening of the Berlin Royal Museum in 1822, and what role had been played by historians like Waagen and von Rumohr in this area; she also reviews the whole question of the so-called 'discovery' of oil painting by Van Eyck as described by Vasari, and challenged only by Lessing’s discoveries at the end of the eighteenth century with the publication of the text of Theophilus. She then discusses the requirements that brought the artists, already in the nineteenth century, to rediscover techniques such as fresco and tempera; those requirements are dictated by both the awareness of the limits of oil (which dries very slowly and whose colours tend to darken over time) and the desire to recover the 'historicity' of art making, by turning back to the Middle Ages and to the artists of the fifteenth century until Raphael (of course, she starts by talking about the Nazarenes and their Italian experience). The artists shared these motivations with the restorers (who very often - at least in the eighteenth and early nineteenth century – are artists themselves). On their side, the restorers begin reflecting on the case for restoring with tempera or oil not only the works of the 'primitives' (in fact, there is no demand for that), but even the oil paintings of the old masters.

Fra Angelico and Filippo Lippi, Adoration of the Magi (Cook Tondo),
temper on a wood panel, National Gallery of Art, Washington
Source: Miguel Hermoso Cuesta via Wikimedia Commons

Sandro Botticelli, Primavera, 1482-85, tempera on panel, Florence, Uffizi Gallery
Source: Google Art Project via Wikimedia Commons

The German and Italian cases start diverging in the second half of the nineteenth century, as a result of the differences in the economic development of both countries. In the German market, large commercial operators begin producing oil as well as tempera paints. New types of temperas, often with misleading names, are launched in the market, making use of smart marketing campaigns and gaining famous artists as testimonials. The really interesting thing is that, at the end of the century, interest in tempera doubles; on the one hand it remains the historical interest for the study of ancient techniques, on the other one it emerges the new one for contemporary art creations. Munich is the epicentre of these developments, and it is by no coincidence that the controversy between advocates and supporters of the oil tempera outbursts violently just in Munich, where the first Secession is founded in 1892. A caveat is however immediately due: this controversy does not reproduce the same dialectics between vanguard and rear-guard as in the Secession. Here (as we shall see) the split is entirely transversal, however somehow replicating the 'gang wars' that distinguishes the German art world of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century [1].

As part of the purely technical aspects, however, we must remember some facts: the first explanation of the 'tempera' as a fact chemical, i.e. an emulsion, is provided by the painter Jacob Roux and the chemist Philipp Lorenz Geiger 1828. At the turn of the nineteenth and twentieth century, there are two leading figures in the German world. Let us begin with Ernst Berger (1857-1919), who takes the view that the discovery of oil painting by Van Eyck is nothing but the finding of artificial emulsion, i.e. the dissolution of oil in water. The invention of Van Eyck, therefore, might not be a revolution, but the adoption of a different way of painting in tempera, using synthetic emulsion. This method is given the name of Oil-tempera. Also for Max Doerner (1870-1939) Van Eyck uses an artificial emulsion (the fact remains, of course, that Berger and Doerner hate each other, but there is nothing to be surprised: in Munich everyone hates everyone in those days). Doerner introduces the concept of 'mixed technique', referring to the subsequent application of layers of paint and glaze. The case of Doerner is important, not only because he authors the most successful manual of art techniques (we have already mentioned its sixth edition), but since his interest is less and less 'historical' and more and more 'modern', whatever Cennino or Vasari may have written. Tempera is an emulsion, and emulsion is the key feature to technically define a 'tempera'.

Under this point of view, the change from the ‘oil-in-water’ emulsion to the reverse one (i.e. the much more complicated ‘water-in-oil’ emulsion) does not changes things at all: it is always about emulsions, and therefore about tempera. This leads to the absurd result that Doerner includes within painting in tempera also works which today (recovering somewhat historical reality, while perhaps sacrificing a bit scientific consistency) are defined oil paintings, because they basically consist of oil.

When one undertakes the study of tempera, it is therefore sound to consider at least two fundamental aspects: first, the Flemish primitive technique would be called today a tempera (or, rather, an ‘oil-tempera’, being nothing more than an emulsion) and, second, in Germany (but not in the rest of Europe) in the early twentieth century tempera also includes art pieces which today would be said to be oil. 

Giuseppina Perusini and Teresa Perusini, 

The use of tempera by painters and restorers in Italy and Latin Europe, c. 1800-1870 

The Italian reality in the nineteenth century appears to be culturally closer to those of countries such as France. Only isolated figures (as it is the case of Pietro Selvatico) refer to German studies. In general, even here there is some lexical confusion: there are cases (the most part) in which 'tempera' is considered an aqueous binder; in others, the definition extends to other binders such as wax and glues. The discussion on methods obviously concerns also the restorers and we should recall here the famous treatises of Ulisse Forni on the one hand (the bearer of the most exquisite Tuscan artistic tradition) and Giovanni Secco Suardo on the other one. In both cases, they testify a good knowledge of French texts on artistic techniques (among which the most famous is De la peinture à l'huile by Jean-François Merimée 1830). The main difference between the French and the Italian experiences in the field of restoration seems to be determined by the standing use in the former case of oils for the resettlement of the paintings, while in Italy it is widely acquired to use tempera (Forni) or tints and tempera (Secco Suardo). The authors, however, point out that, alongside the debate on the relative techniques for monumental and history painting, the use of tempera (namely a 'wax' tempera) is widely evidenced throughout the period in decorative as well as in landscape and scenery painting. In this connection, they discuss the cases of two painters from the Veneto area such as Ippolito Caffi (1809-1866) and Giuseppe Bernardino Bison (1762-1844).

Eva Reinkowski-Häfner, 

From wall to canvas: the role of tempera in the development of mural and easel painting in Germany in the 19th century 

The rediscovery of monumental painting, a painting which is due to play a role not only in the religious sphere, but also in the field of public life and in some way in the discovery of collective identity, during the century of the triumph of the national states, is one of the best known aspects of the art of the nineteenth century. However, when it comes to the technical field, things get less linear (and most charming). For example, it is not true that the Nazarenes slavishly imitate the medieval techniques in the field of frescoes. Eva Reinkowski-Häfner flags that, in 1800, it is both required that the frescos can be well observed from a distance, but also do not disfigure at a closer examination; in substance, what is essential is the same level of high detail in faces, gestures and particulars, which is ensured by the oil painting. Therefore, artists make more and more use of the practice to ‘finish' the murals, once they have painted them at fresco, with layers of dry paint. New techniques gain success, and others are recovered, like encaustic (in substance, a wax tempering) or stereochrome (with the use of soluble glasses) painting.

Peter Cornelius, Joseph Reveals Himself to His Brethren, 1814-1816, fresco with secco details,
Berlin, Alte nationalgalerie
Source: www.settemuse.it

In substance, in the course of the century mural painting becomes less and less 'frescoed' and is made of 'intermediate materials', which in Germany also include industrial products such as the Neisch tempera in Dresden and the Wurm tempera in Munich. These intermediate instruments allow accomplishing the pictorial results of the frescoes without sacrificing aspects such as chiaroscuro, the perspective construction and sophisticated details. The stylistic evolution of the last decades of the century, however, leads to a substantial simplification of the 'fresco' and an enhancement of their decorative role: “…history paintings were composed of flat stages, i.e. without any spatial depth, while their backgrounds consist of ornamental patterns (vines and three-dimensional gilded ornament). In a subsequent example, Gustav Klimt (1862-1918), inspired by Egyptian art, fused ornament and figure in the Beethoven Frieze in Vienna (1901/1902) to the point where the figures dissolved into the decoration” (p. 46). The Beethoven Frieze is worked with casein (in substance, it is a tempera) on completely dry plaster. Mural painting, therefore, tends to abandon the fresco, and experiments new techniques, also proposed by industry.

If it is true that this kind of art is more and more asking for similar results to oils, it is equally true that also the reverse process materialises: there are artists who think of adopting the techniques of fresco (either pure or contaminated with tempera, as we have just said) for painting on canvas, or painting with brush, if you prefer. Their effort is, in essence, to replicate the monumentality of the frescoes in mobile structures. It also has a practical value. It is indeed not easy for artists to get wall commissions; to 'free' the fresco from the wall support and to resort to the canvas or the panel also means freeing them from the fear and burden of the art committees, to allow them to develop their imagination freely and to present their works on the market. It is no coincidence that one of the first artists to set a similar goal is the young Hans von Marées, who, returning from his stay in Italy, and literally exalted from the execution of his frescoes at the Zoological Station in Naples, finds himself in Germany without any commissions on fresco. A work like Hesperides II, made on wood, punctuated in a triptych that somehow follows the rhythm of the wall frescoes and painted on blended layers (often overlapping tempera and oil) is its classic illustration. Compared to what you can see today, it is to be taken into account that the work also included a lower frieze, which was executed by clearly citing Pompeian motifs.

Hans von Marées, Hesperides II, Munich, Neue Pinakothek
Source: The Yorck Project: 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei. DVD-ROM, 2002 via Wikimedia Commons

Albin Egger-Lienz, Dance of Death, 1906-8, casein on canvas, Vienna, Austrian Gallery Belvedere
Source: The Yorck Project: 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei. DVD-ROM, 2002 via Wikimedia Commons

Kathrin Kinseher, 

Ernst Berger and his role in the Munich tempera controversy 

Ernst Berger (1857-1919) was an artist of Viennese Jewish family. His pictorial work is basically forgotten, while his name is a milestone in the field of art techniques and in particular in the context of the rediscovery of tempera. After having moved at an early stage to Munich for his studies, Berger is attracted by technical issues, because of the great reputation acquired by the method of working in tempera proposed by his compatriot Alfons von Pereira-Arnstein (see Part Two). The late nineteenth century Munich is not only the German capital of art, but also a city in which particular attention is paid to the technical aspect in the production of artworks. In 1882, it is founded here the Versuchsanstalt für Maltechnik (Institute for Painting Technologies) which publishes the journal Technische Mitteilungen für Malerei (Technical Communications on Painting) as a dissemination tool of its research. In 1886, then, it is established the Deutsche Gesellschaft zur Beförderung rationeller Malverfahren (German Society for the Promotion of Rational Painting), whose president, in those years, is Franz von Lenbach. With regard specifically to the technical issues, the point of reference is Adolf Wilhelm Keim (1851-1913), whom Berger makes immediately acquaintance with, as soon as he arrives in Munich, also becoming part of the German Society. This Society promoted a major initiative in 1893, by organizing an exhibition on technology in painting and a concurrent conference on the same subject. Here one has to somehow bring attention to the dates, while shunning simplifications that would be completely wrong. The first Secession is set up in Munich in 1892; a group of artists (including Franz von Stuck) abandons the traditional associative structures in direct conflict with the type of painting that was proposed by them, in their view an excessively academic art production. The Secession actually fails to exhibit in Munich before 1893 because of economic problems, and it is certain that the conference and exhibition on painting techniques fall outside the scope of the controversy; and yet the state of mind must be extremely heated.

The fundamental problem is that Adolf Wilhelm Keim is a staunch supporter of the oil technique; he is for conviction, but also for economic interests, being also the holder of a line of oil colours that are industrially produced precisely in Munich. Most likely, the exhibition and the conference are also occasions for promoting such a (new) series of oil colours and for refuting the fashion of tempera, which has already widely penetrated in the city since the time of Böcklin. Except that Berger has other ideas, and he is a firm believer in the tempera technique. The fact is that, while in the catalogue oil accounts for the lion's share, it seems that at the conference the balance of power is reverted and almost all intervening artists speak in favour of the insured benefits from the modern products in tempera. Incredibly, to line up on the same side of the fence are precisely Franz von Lenbach, president of the German Society and bitter enemy of the Secession, and Franz von Stuck (the most prominent figure of the Munich Secession). Figures that we are used to consider as taking position in favour of opposite views actually find themselves aligned in appreciating the creative possibilities offered by industrial tempera colours compared to oil colours. Keim does not take it well at all. Berger immediately becomes the scapegoat of the situation and is expelled from the German Society in 1894. The magazine Technische Mitteilungen für Malerei becomes a tool of systematic demolition of his work.

It should also be said that Berger is not a fool. While he continues working in Munich, he benefits from the funding of the Prussian Ministry of Education and the Academy of Fine Arts in Berlin. He is thus able to write basic books. His masterpiece is undoubtedly constituted by the Quellen und Technik der Fresko-, Oel und Tempera-Malerei des Mittelalters (Sources and Technique of Fresh, Oil, and Tempera Painting of the Middle Ages) in 1897 where he presents to the public extracts from major medieval sources and formulates the hypothesis that we have already talked about earlier: the discovery of oil painting by Van Eyck would not be an invention in all respects, but simply the adoption of an emulsion with water mixed with oil (the ‘oil-tempera’).

For a while Berger is still able to exercise and hold classes at the Munich Academy. His positions, however, are further refused by Keim, who continues systematically to make war against them. A famous episode dates back to 1904. In 1894 von Stuck paints one of his most famous paintings (Der Krieg - The War) using the Syntonos tempera tints (one of the most famous brands at the time). Bought by the Bavarian art collection, shortly afterwards the painting begins to show signs of damage. Keim and the pro-oil party do not lose the occasion to launch an attack that even results in a debate at the Bavarian parliament, after which Berger is not allowed anymore to continue teaching courses at the academy.

Beyond his personal destiny, prestige and influence that his researches are able to achieve is what matters most to Berger. In England, Lady Christiana Herringham, founder of the British Tempera Society and second translator (1899) of Cennini’s Book of the art after Mary Philadelphia Merrifield, frankly admits her debt to the Berger study. In 1906, the Munich museum opens a Department of painting techniques, of which the now elderly Viennese researcher is appointed director in 1914; the department is visited by the American billionaire Edward Waldo Forbes, who does nothing but replicate it establishing a new one, once back in America [2]. Unfortunately, fate is not particularly generous with regard to Berger: in 1919, at the outbreak of the coup attempting to establish a Soviet state in Munich, he is taken hostage by the rebels and shot dead. His lab is soon dismantled by Alexander Eibner and Max Doerner, namely just that Max Doerner who shares with Berger the idea that tempera is an emulsion and pushes to the limit this definition, as we have seen from the beginning: more than science, what counts are personal hatreds.

End of Part One
Go to Part Two 


NOTES

[1] For an overview through the sources of the main protagonists of the German art world of that time, see the post series German Artists's Writings in the XX Century in this blog, by Francesco Mazzaferro.

[2] On the laboratory of Forbes see the memoirs of David Varney Thompson in this blog.