By Dan Fergus
Originally written September 26, 2007
Published on-line October 25, 2007
If one were to read through a comprehensive text on art history, like Professor H.W. Janson’s (1977) seminal work, or attend a college–level course on the subject, one could expect to learn much about the history of painting, sculpture, architecture and perhaps even photography. But chances are such a book or course would not contain much information about illustration. It would appear that in the minds of many historians, illustration is considered a lesser art form, not on par with the ‘fine arts.’ The obvious question is why? How does the work of artists like Pyle, Wyeth and Greenaway differ from those included in Janson and similar surveys? And should these illustrators be included along with the great painters and sculptors of history?
In order to answer these questions we must first find a workable definition for illustration and determine how illustration differs from the so-called ‘fine arts.’ I would argue that illustration has a number of characteristics. First, an illustration gives concrete visual form to ideas—it depicts things like stories, histories, and myths. Although an illustration can make use of abstraction and symbolism, there is a definite message that its creator is trying to communicate. Of course, much great art from history also falls into this broad category. For example, during the middle ages, cathedrals were adorned with sculptures, bas-reliefs, and paintings that depicted Bible stories and the lives of saints, which were used as teaching tools for a largely illiterate populace. Therefore depicting a story or idea is not enough of a definition in and of itself, so a second characteristic is needed: illustrations are usually found in printed works like books and magazines, accompanying some form of text (poetry, prose, history, science, etc.). This effectively excludes most painting, sculpture and architecture. However, it could be argued that not all illustration is actually printed—for example one might find images on the Internet and call them illustrations. But like printed work, these are widely disseminated through the medium—available in multiple copies, and viewable in one’s own home. Perhaps reproduction might be a better term to use than printing. However, it is also possible that images appearing on the web represent an entirely new category of image, and not illustration at all; for now I will leave that discussion aside and for sake of my argument, focus on the traditional printed image. A third characteristic of much illustration is that it is commercial in nature. Books, newspapers, pamphlets, and magazines are all put out by businesses or organizations that hire illustrators to convey a specific message that the organization wishes to put forth to the public. Contrast this with the stereotypical image of the fine artist, who struggles to create art that is true to her own personal vision. Illustration then is often art-for-hire. While not perfect, this gives us a good working definition, sufficient to allow us to examine the question at hand—why is illustration excluded from so many histories of art?
In fact illustration has not been left out of art history completely; some works best referred to as “illustration” can be found in Janson and others. For example, the great illuminated manuscripts of the middle ages like the Book of Kells figure prominently in these surveys. Likewise the wonderful and fantastic woodcuts done by Albrecht Dürer for St. John’s Apocalypse are often featured. And then there are the delightfully imaginative works of William Blake, who wrote, illustrated, and printed his own books. So why are these illustrators included while many of the more recent notables in the field—Pyle, Wyeth, and Sendak—are not?
I believe that this exclusion comes as a direct result of a split that occurred in the art world at the end of the 19th and beginning of the 20th century. There was a time when what we call the fine arts (painting and sculpture) and commercial arts (illustration, graphic design) were more closely aligned. Indeed, art in general was a largely commercial industry for much of its history as artists were often commissioned to create works with specific subjects for specific communicative purposes. What difference is there between a painting on a church wall that teaches about the Last Judgment, and one printed in a book other than the medium? For artists like Dürer, art that appeared in a book was as legitimate as that which was hung on a wall. Paintings were bigger, grander and more impressive to look at, but printed illustrations reached a wider audience. There was no qualitative difference between painting and illustration; the difference was quantitative in nature.
But in the late 19th century a distinction began to be drawn between fine art and popular art. In the 1850s, Gustav Courbet, unable to gain admittance into the popular Salon, set up his own exhibition and began to issue manifestos that called into question the public’s ability to judge great art. Courbet also eschewed the popular subjects of his day—myths, histories, and religious stories to paint his own personal vision. In the decades that followed, Manet, Whistler, and the impressionists took up the mantle and fought for “art for art’s sake.” The Post-Impressionists—Van Gogh, Gaugin, and Cezanne—went further still, insisting on the primacy of personal vision over commercial or popular success. In the 20th century artists continued to move away from the main stream by exploring abstraction, psychoanalysis, existentialism, and other personal subjects. To the general public, this art was often perplexing and frustrating.
At the same time illustration continued to fulfill its historical role as the depicter of stories and communicator of ideas to the people. This mission was further aided by developments in technology—steam powered presses, linotypes, paper making machines, chromolithography, and photography created a boom in the printing industry. Books and magazines were everywhere, and at prices almost everyone could afford. The artists who created images for print—Howard Pyle, N.C. Wyeth, Charles Dana Gibson, Kate Greenaway, and so on—became immensely popular (and in many cases quite rich), and had a real impact on the day-to-day lives of everyday people.
But when the histories of art were written in the 20th century, the authors chose to follow the course of the avant garde, and largely ignored popular graphics. Countercultural innovators were lauded; those that created art for the masses were looked down upon as being old-fashioned, or reactionary, or too commercial. Was this a fair assessment of illustration? Should it have been excluded? It depends on how one defines art, and its role in society. In his forward to Graphic Design History (2001) Jorge Frascara argues that histories of graphic design do us a disservice by focusing too much on the innovators of fanciful and esoteric design ideas that had no practical impact on society. Frascara feels that such histories should instead focus on the designs that made a difference in the everyday lives of people. His is a more utilitarian and egalitarian approach. If we accept this line of reasoning, we must rethink how we evaluate illustration in regards to fine art, for as interesting and thought provoking modern art may be, its impact on our culture as a whole pales in comparison to that of illustration through books, magazines, newspapers and the like. Contemporary illustration is fulfilling the historical role of the fine arts through the depiction of stories and ideas for purposes of education, edification, persuasion or entertainment. In a way the illustrators of today are the true heirs of the great image-makers of the past—Giotto, Michelangelo, Rubens, Rembrandt, and Goya to name a few. By excluding illustration, art historians have not been presenting the entire picture.
But there are signs that the tide is finally beginning to change. Some galleries and museums have begun to collect and display works of Illustration. The Minneapolis Institute of Art, for example holds in its collection paintings by N.C. Wyeth and Maxfield Parish. Recently published textbooks such as Megg’s History of Graphic Design (1998) touch on, albeit ever so tentatively, key figures in illustration. It is incumbent on illustrators and others of like mind to press the point and insist on the inclusion of this neglected field. If we do so, perhaps within the next few decades it will no longer seem strange or unreasonable to see Howard Pyle discussed in the same class or text as Winslow Homer.
Frascara. J. (2001). Graphic Design History (S. Heller, G. Balance, Eds.). New York: Allworth Press.
Janson, H. W. (1977). History of Art (2nd ed.). Englewood, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, Inc.
Meggs, P. B. (1998). History of Graphic Design (3rd ed.). New York: John Wiley & Sons, Inc.
All images and work shown herein copyright Daniel C. Fergus. All rights reserved. No reproduction without permission.