I

In art, color is not essential to some forms and processes, as engraving, etching, charcoal work, and the various forms of crayon work; and in printing, it is absent from the large percentage of work done in black and white.

This limitation of the application of the word "color" in printing is quite arbitrary. If we speak in the strictest sense we must consider that black and white work is color work. White is the concentration of all the rays of the solar spectrum, the epitome of all colors; while black is the appearance of the substance that most nearly rejects all reflections of the spectrum colors; and black and white are as truly colors as are red, violet, vermilion, or any of the other brilliant tints. Yet as it is usual to allude to black and white as some other qualities than color, and as they affect us so differently, it is deemed to be more convenient to consider them in relation to light and shade, tone, and values, and to confine the meaning of "color" to the tints shown by the spectrum. This is not an insignificant distinction when employed in relation to printing, as much of the beauty and power of the plainly printed book page is due to the apportionment of black and white—black type and white paper. So when we speak of color in printing it must be understood that the word is not used in its broadest, nor in its most exact, sense; but in an arbitrarily restricted sense, applying exactly as it is applied by printers in actual practice.

The printer's understanding of color, his appreciation of its usefulness and power, is approaching toward the high esteem in which it is held by the painter. He is coming to know that it is a high quality of his work, and that by it he is able to suggest several other qualities that are vital, such as lights, shadows, perspectives, etc.

There are no explicit rules for the guidance of the printer in the use of color. There are certain fundamental principles, and many rules deduced from them, a thorough acquaintance with which will enable him to avoid serious blunders and greatly aid him in the working out of a scheme; but that sense of rightness which the successful artist or craftsman occasionally experiences, cannot be won by the mere following of the letter and the spirit of rules. How true this is becomes apparent when the work of the best printers is examined with intelligent care, and it seems absolute when the meager list of great painter colorists is reviewed: Titian, Giorgione, Tintoretto, Paul Veronese, Rubens, Velasquez, Delacroix, and a few with less claim to the title. All that is known about color has been absorbed by hundreds of artists; yet out of a great army of successful students there have come so few good colorists that their names can be spoken in ten seconds.

To effectively deal with color a fair understanding of what science is able to tell of its essential properties and powers is necessary as a basis. To this may be added such of the deductions and rules as have been formulated by the great painters and the students.

The important starting point is this: To realize that color is not a material existence, not a substance, not a fixed fact equally appreciable by all and equally demonstrable to all. It is a sensation; and a sensation not of the same force or quality for different individuals. Of itself it depends upon the waves of the ether in space; for us it depends upon the power and truth of our eyes. One may truthfully see a color that is quite another thing to another person, if there should chance to be a difference radical enough or defects serious enough in the eyes of either. The laws governing light are of great importance to the colorists. There are subtleties that have important practical application which cannot be guessed otherwise than by direct reference to science. In no other way can a printer know for example what colors are complementary or what effect a certain color will have upon another when they are used together.

There are many curious facts about color which do not appear to be regulated by laws at all similar to those we are accustomed to apply in other matters; that there is this universal and radical difference is of great importance to those who use color in printing. It is interesting to realize that color is produced by light waves, the different colors by waves of different lengths, or greater frequency; that red appears to the eye when the light wave is 1/39000 of an inch in length, or when the frequency of the vibration is 392 quadrillions per second, by the American system of enumeration. It may be also of practical money value to the printer to know such facts, and to always be conscious of a fact more likely to be of practical use, namely, that the sensation of color is produced upon our sensory nerves in a manner closely analogous to that which produces the sensation of harmony: by ether waves set in motion in a different way. These sensory nerves are the most easily entered avenues to our pleasurable sensations; far more delicate and responsive than the different brain organs to the more obvious consciousnesses, as personal regard and literary appreciation, etc.

The printer handling color is making an appeal of the most subtle and delicate nature, vastly more so than is made by the type matter that may form the body of the piece of printing he is embellishing with color.

There are three primary colors—red, yellow, and blue—and three composite colors, which can be formed by mixings of primary colors—green, orange, and violet. It is of importance to the printer to know which of these colors are complementary and which uncomplementary. Complementary colors are those that may be used in close conjunction without one unfavorably affecting the other. This is the secret of complementary, or harmonious, colors: Will they make white if mixed? This means a natural and perfect union of the light rays reflected from the color scheme upon the eye's retina, and so passed along to the sensory nerves—the telegraph line from the physical world to the appreciative brain. It appears that those complementary color schemes which can be perfectly justified are such as reflect light rays nearest like the rays that show us white. Red and green, the two most pronounced and vigorous colors, are complementary. When mixed in the proper proportions they produce white, but this does not mean that they weaken each other when otherwise used; when placed side by side they enhance each other's power and brilliancy by reflection. Their very intimate relation is further shown by the fact that red, by itself, is bordered by a faint halo of green, and green by a tinge of red. Yellow and indigo also make white by mixing, and easily reveal traces of each other when properly manipulated. This interchange between complementary colors is carried still further: The shadow of a color does not show the color itself, but the complementary color to which it is most nearly related.

There is a curious law of optical mixture to deal with—that tendency of the eye to unify the color scheme which changes colors when used in combination upon a piece of printing or upon a canvas. This sometimes so changes the expected effect of a color scheme that has been carefully studied as to render it inadvisable to use it. It is generally found that optical mixture verifies the taste and judgment of the colorist who has been faithful to the complementary color laws, and helps him to a harmony, rather than condemns his work. Optical mixture is too nearly a mere name for a manifestation of the relation of complementary colors to trouble the printer, though a consciousness of it and its effect may at times aid him in producing some delicate effects.

The reasons for desiring reliable knowledge of these qualities of colors are clear. Brilliancy is obtained by using complementary colors side by side, because each gives to the other its favorable halo of color; and dulness of coloring follows the use of uncomplementary colors side by side because each partially kills the other with its unfavorable halo of color.

Careful observance of this law of colors will not give perfect harmony to the color scheme, but it will give one of the more important elements of harmony. But there is an important exception to be noted. The law of contrast claims attention, though it cannot produce harmony. Strong effects may be obtained by ignoring these rules relative to harmony, or by boldly employing pronounced discords and seeking to so mitigate the discord as to tempt the attention to divide itself between the contrasting colors. Red and blue in the national flag are so tempered with pure white as to subdue their fierce antagonism. And so it may be with other examples—there must be either some overpowering sentiment or some skilful expedient, like breaking the main colors into lower tints, to ease the transit from one to the other. A good piece of color work need not be composed of different colors. It may be composed of different shades of the same color, or of tints very nearly related. This requires a good workable knowledge of perspective and of that rather elusive and indefinite quality known in painting as "values"; which chiefly means that each tint employed in a piece of work shall be placed as it would appear in nature and shall properly harmonize with every shade or color in the piece. Such a composition as this is difficult for a letter-press printer, less so for a lithographer, with exactly the kind of delicate manoeuvering that delights some painters. It involves such fine discriminations as are necessary to show the difference between a white handkerchief and white snow, between a gray house and a gray sky, between a green tree and a green mountain, between a carnation pink and a pink muslin gown.

It is well to appreciate the difference between color and colors, and to recognize the fact that good color does not necessarily alone mean the degree of brightness or contrast, but is oftener found in accordance, mellowness and richness. Color does not always mean bright color. There is beginning to be seen some low keyed color work, simple in color composition. It is a good sign. It is only the masters who are able to successfully cope with the high keyed compositions, and the masters are, as they ever were, scarce.

The wise choose, when there is a choice, such harmonies as may be indicated by mahogany wood and Cordova leather; Indian red instead of brick red, peacock blue instead of sky blue, olive green instead of grass green; golden browns, garnet reds, Egyptian yellows, deep tones of brown, green, and orange. These colors are not gay, flippant nor flimsy; they are dignified and good style; they have a quality of beauty inherent in them—a depth; and they may be in keeping with a motive in the printed piece that means something other and better than a shock to the color sense.

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