Head

Without referring to M. Claudet’s well-known experiment of a falsely coloured female face, it may be averred that, of all the surfaces a few inches square the sun looks upon, none offers more difficulty, artistically speaking, to the photographer, than a smooth, blooming, clean washed, and carefully combed human head.

The high lights which gleam on this delicate epidermis so spread and magnify themselves, that all sharpness and nicety of modeling is obliterated—the fineness of skin peculiar to the upper lip reflects so much light, that in spite of its deep colour it presents a light projection instead of a dark one—the spectrum or intense point of light on the eye is magnified to a thing like a cataract. If the cheek be very brilliant in color, it is as often not represented by a dark stain. If the eye be blue, it turns out as colourless as water; if the hair be golden or red, it looks as if it had been dyed, if very glossy it is cut up into lines of light as big as ropes.

This is what the fair young girl has to expect from the tender mercies of photography—the male and older head, having less to lose, has less to fear. Strong light and shade will portray character, though they mar beauty. Rougher skin, less glossy hair, Crimean moustaches and beard overshadowing the white under lip, and deeper lines are all so much in favor of a picturesque result.

Lady Elizabeth Eastlake, “Photography”

February 27, 2005 12:19 PM