Lectures on Painting, Delivered to the Students of the Royal Acadamy — A Closer Reading

Galloping Horses and the Limits of Science

Armitage devotes a striking passage to the controversy over how to depict a galloping horse. He recounts that instantaneous photographs proved horses never have all four feet off the ground with legs extended—yet Géricault and Horace Vernet painted exactly that. Armitage's response is pragmatic: 'Speaking scientifically, they are wrong, but science and art, though often bracketed together, are very distinct.' He argues that if the old-fashioned way conveys speed better, artists should 'continue to wallow in our ignorance.' The lecture warns students not to be disquieted by modern investigations of animal motion: 'In art, whatever appears right is right.' This principle—that art's impression can override literal truth—becomes a recurring thread.

Impressionism and the Value of General Impressions

Armitage mentions the new school of Impressionists with little sympathy, accusing them of neglecting form, 'the highest quality of art.' Yet he immediately confesses that in drawing moving objects, he is 'somewhat of an Impressionist myself.' When rapid movement makes deliberate drawing impossible, he trusts 'general impressions' over instantaneous photography. This nuanced stance—rejecting Impressionist doctrine while embracing its practical insight—reveals Armitage's flexible teaching. He advises selecting or even inventing an attitude that gives the 'general impression' of action, since art cannot capture every momentary position. The lecture thus balances tradition with a surprising openness to subjective perception.

Color Theory Without the Diagrams

Armitage notes that lectures on color are 'generally semi-scientific discourses' explaining primaries, secondaries, and optical contrasts with colored diagrams. He implies that such theory, while useful, is not the heart of painting. His own approach, glimpsed in the excerpts, is more concerned with practical effect than systematic science. He does not reproduce the color diagrams here, but the preface's emphasis on 'simple, practical manner' suggests he aimed to demystify color for students who might be overwhelmed by theory. The lecture likely steers between explaining principles and warning against over-reliance on rules—consistent with his broader theme that art's truth is not always scientific truth.

Structure and Movement Between Lectures

The book's structure is straightforward: twelve lectures, each treating a distinct topic—ancient costumes, Byzantine art, eighteenth-century painters, David and his school, and so on. Yet the excerpts show Armitage moving fluidly between subjects within a single lecture, as when he jumps from horse photography to Impressionism to color theory. This reflects the oral delivery: lectures were likely punctuated by chalk diagrams and audience questions. The preface acknowledges that omitted lectures on old masters would be 'hardly comprehensible' without engravings, hinting that the printed text is a stripped-down record. Readers should imagine the live performance, with Armitage's rough sketches and candid asides filling the gaps.

Armitage's lectures are best read as a seasoned practitioner's advice, not a systematic treatise. He values practical judgment over rigid rules, as when he sanctions 'wrong' horse positions for the sake of speed. The book rewards those who appreciate a teacher willing to contradict himself—rejecting Impressionism while adopting its logic for motion. For students of painting, these pages offer a window into late-Victorian academic training, where science and art were still negotiating their boundaries.

I keep thinking about how Armitage trusted a horse’s gallop over the camera’s eye, that quiet insistence on felt truth. It reminded me of wandering through old Spanish towns where guidebooks miss the point. There’s a gentle companionship in that—Leon, Burgos and Salamanca: a historical and descriptive account — A Closer Reading—places lingering longer than any snapshot could hold.