biography
|
One of the pioneer delineators of this
country, Mr. Hughson Hawley, was one of the most "popular" the
profession has produced. Today his work looks mid-Victorian but
with all its faults, measured by later standards, it still had a
popular appeal that the most beautiful "architectural" drawing
lacks.His buildings were of brick and stone, not white paper and
India ink; his skies were blue with real clouds in them,which
cast cloud shadows in a fascinating way across even the most
monotonous of facades. His streets were full of people who were
doing something, not just figures, gaitered and caned,
obligingly standing still to give scale to the building.
-Kenneth Clark, Pencil Points, January 1926
1
(click on footnote or figure number to view)
This vivid and succinct description
of Hughson Hawley’s charm as an architectural renderer was written
near the end of his long and productive career. Clark characterizes
his own period as an "age of great architectural renderers," but
says that the modern renderer expresses the architect’s point of
view, and in doing so, may fail to translate architectural ideas
into a form that the layman can grasp. Of necessity, the architect
must make detailed technical drawings, almost always line drawings,
if others are to construct an actual building from the ideas that
are put down on paper. On the other hand, if the resources are to be
secured with which to construct the building, the architect must
convince the client to spend money, hence the reason for many
architectural renderings. As John Floyd Yewell, a popular renderer
in the first half of the twentieth century, wrote:
Plan and elevation alone may suffice
to convey to the trained and experienced eye a clear conception of
an architectural project but for most individuals a three
dimensional representation, such as a good perspective, is necessary
. . . As long as there are clients, this need will exist
2
That was Hawley’s genius. Active from 1880 until 1931, Hughson
Hawley was a bright star in an age of highly talented illustrators
and renderers. By his own account, he finished a prodigious 11,000
drawings over the course of his 50 year career—a career that spanned
one of the great eras in American architecture, from the
construction of the first tall buildings in New York City until the
onset of the Great Depression. It was a period that saw the
establishment of the profession of architecture and of schools of
architecture in the United States, developments that brought many
changes to the business of architecture. Furthermore, the
introduction of photography in the nineteenth century revolutionized
the mechanical reproduction of artwork for magazines, books, and
newspapers, laying the groundwork for the ubiquity of visual imagery
in late twentieth century life.3
Much of Hughson Hawley’s biographical information comes from an
article about him published in Pencil Points in 1928, when
the artist was 78 years old.4
Triumphing over early adversity, Hawley’s life was one of long
periods of hard work and strenuous play. Born in England in 1850, he
married at the age of 16, had two sons by age 18, and soon
thereafter, a daughter as well. In order to support his young
family, Hawley tried scene painting, first in Liverpool with some
success and then for a theater in Exeter, where he was an astounding
failure. Instead of taking the advice of a supervisor and hanging up
his brush, Hawley began to study in earnest, drawing constantly and
working from nature. He made such a turnaround that by 1874, he
moved to London to paint scenery for Christmas pantomimes at Covent
Garden. Then, in 1879, Hawley received an offer from an American
theatrical producer to paint scenery for the Madison Square Theatre
in New York City. He arrived in September and by the following year
had established himself solidly enough to enable his family to join
him in New York from England. On the advice of Thomas Wisedell, one
of the architects of the Madison Square Theatre, Hawley decided to
try the profession of architectural rendering(fig. 2).
|
(fig.
2) |
Old Madison Square Theatre
Hughson Hawley
© BPI Communications, Inc.:Pencil Points
Photography courtesy of Avery Architectural and Fine Arts Library,
Columbia University |
In 1880, he rented his own studio,
printed and distributed business cards, and by Monday of the
following week, accepted the first of his 11,000 commissions. By the
end of his career a half-century later, Hawley had worked for
architects all over this country and internationally as far away as
Japan.
In addition to his work as an
architectural renderer, Hawley published illustrations in
Harper’s Weekly and the Century, among other New York
City based magazines, and exhibited as an independent artist. He was
a regular participant at the annual exhibition of the Architectural
League of New York, which began in 1886 (fig. 3). His success is
evident in the prices requested for his drawings done for commercial
sale. In 1890, his drawing of Rouen Cathedral (fig. 4) was listed
for sale at $650, a substantial sum of money at that time. In the
same exhibition, a drawing by John LaFarge was for sale at $450 and
a mural painting by Kenyon Cox at $2,000, while drawings by
lesser-known artists were tagged at $50 and $75.5
Clearly Hawley was ranked in the top level of artists in late
nineteenth century New York.
|
(fig.
3) |
|
(fig.
4) |
Vanderbilt Gallery, 16th
Annual Exhibition: Architectural League of New York
Unknown
© BPI Communications, Inc.: Pencil Points
Photography courtesy of Avery Architectural and Fine Arts Library,
Columbia University |
|
Ruen
Cathedral
Hughson Hawley
© BPI Communicartions, Inc.: Pencil Points
Photography courtesy of Avery Architectural and Fine Arts Library,
Columbia University |
As was typical of that time, Hawley
performed different functions depending on the type of commission he
received. For his work as an illustrator, he was responsible for the
entire design and execution. In the beginning of his architectural
career, Hawley learned how to create a perspective drawing of a
building from a plan, a time consuming task, but decided after two
years to have architect clients submit a perspective drawing in
pencil to him. In cases of architects ordering from a great distance
where a drawing on paper might be damaged in transit, Hawley
sub-contracted that task to an associate, Emil Lowenstein.6
In one of the few documents of Hawley’s career, he wrote to John
Duncan, architect of Grant’s Tomb, that he charged by the hour and
if he could have the size of drawing for the project in question, he
could give Duncan an estimate for coloring the perspective.7
New York in the 1880s witnessed the beginning of the skyscraper era
as land values transformed the limited area of lower Manhattan into
increasingly expensive real estate and the technological innovation
of steel frame construction made tall buildings economically
feasible. These developments were critical in transforming the city
from a small-scale harbor port into the bustling, densely packed
metropolis of the future that we know today. William Starrett,
president of the Starrett Brothers Construction Company, which built
many of these new buildings, wrote in 1928 that:
The skyscraper is the most
distinctively American thing in the world. It is all American and
all ours in its conception, all important in our metropolitan life;
and it has been conceived, developed and established all within the
lifetime of men who are, in many cases, still active in the great
calling. . . . For the skyscraper, to be a skyscraper, must be
constructed on a skeleton frame, now almost universally of steel,
but with the signal characteristic of having columns in the outside
walls, thus rendering the exterior we see simply a continuous
curtain of masonry penetrated by windows—we call it a curtain wall .
. . . We use these skyscrapers and accept them as a matter of
course, yet as each new one rears its head, towering among its
neighbors, our sense of pride and appreciation is quickened anew,
and the metropolis, large or small, wherein it is built, takes it as
its very own, and uncomplainingly endures the rattle and roar of its
riveting hammers, and the noises and the inconvenience of traffic
which it brings. And this is because we recognize it as another of
our distinctive triumphs, another token of our solid and material
growth
8
Hawley’s clients were the architects of many of these new buildings,
some of which still stand as familiar landmarks on the skyline and
others of which have now been demolished to make way for much taller
buildings. George B. Post and R. H. Robertson, two of the leading
commercial architects of the day, were among the first architects to
engage Hawley’s services. Post’s Cotton Exchange
(plate 5), now demolished, was one of Hawley’s first renderings.
The building appears, as built, in the background of Hawley’s later
rendering for Francis H. Kimball’s entry in the U.S. Custom House
competition
(plate 19). Bruce Price, Clinton and Russell, McKim, Mead &
White, William Schickel, J. C. Cady, Cass Gilbert, and Ernest Flagg,
among many other architects, commissioned numerous drawings from
Hawley throughout their careers. In an era when competitions were a
popular way of soliciting designs for new projects, the 1928
Pencil Points article reports that Hawley was often the
renderer for entries by different architects in the same competition
and states his rate of success in winning competitions as an
astonishing 75 percent!9
What made Hawley such a popular and
successful renderer for this period? From the vantage point of the
end of the twentieth century, Hawley’s vision of New York City at
the beginning of the era of the skyscraper and great urban
development is full of the confidence and prosperity described in
William Starrett’s account of building construction at the time, and
none of the gritty urban reality. Hawley’s training as a scenic
artist probably stood him in good stead for rendering large-scale
drawings of increasingly taller buildings.10
Before the advent of the elevator, buildings were rarely more than
three or four stories high, and architectural drawings were on a
correspondingly smaller scale. In building a commercial structure of
substantial height, it stands to reason that the client would want
an image imposing enough to convey the architectural beauty,
solidity, and character of his investment. Hawley, having painted
theatrical scenery, would have been comfortable working in such a
scale and coloring a large area with consistent shade, shadow, and
tone. Additionally, his background had familiarized him with a long
tradition of nineteenth century English architects who employed
perspective artists to render large and detailed pictures of their
buildings.11
Both these traditions are seen in Hawley’s work; indeed, many of his
largest architectural works can easily be imagined as the urban
back-drop for a theatrical production.
What makes Hawley’s entrance onto the late nineteenth century
American architectural scene even more interesting is the role that
drawing had played in previous generations. Counter to the
prevalence of imagery in modern life, there was no widespread
accessibility to books or illustrations in the architectural world.
Architects of the early nineteenth century were protective of their
individual work because, before the advent of copyright, ideas could
be openly copied and presented as one’s own.12
Some architects were adamantly opposed to the publication of their
work and when pressed to do so, submitted small-scale perspectives
that would make it difficult for a rival to steal down to the
details. Public architectural libraries were non-existent, and rare
was the architect who shared the books from his personal library
with a fellow architect or student. Paper in that era was a very
expensive commodity, not to be wasted, and books and journals not
commonly acquired. Alexander Jackson Davis (1803-1892), one of the
best known American architects of the period, often produced his
elaborate watercolors on paper that had other drawings on the verso.13
By mid-century, cheap methods of making paper were discovered. After
the Civil War, there was a boom in the establishment of periodicals,
as changes in postal rates and the new railroad system made national
distribution of periodicals an attractive venture. Architects
gradually became convinced that the publication of their works would
attract more clients than plagiarists. Hawley’s large-scale works
can thus be seen as an instrument of the new architect, ready to
compete for his commissions and confident in his professional
standing.
Critical reaction to Hawley’s work can be traced through the
architectural journals of the period. The Pencil Points
biography, written at the end of his career, is understandably
laudatory. That journal was founded in 1920 to support the art and
profession of architectural rendering, and Hawley was a hero from
the early days of the practice. In fact, Hawley’s arrival in the
United States in 1879 had coincided with the increasing
professionalization of architecture. The first journal devoted to
architecture, the American Architect and Building News
(hereafter referred to as the AABN), had just begun
publication in Boston on January 1, 1876. Journals at this time were
illustrated with reproductions of drawings or other artwork usually
in the form of a wood engraving. Although architects were at first
reluctant to use journals to present their works, the advent of the
AABN
created a demand for architectural illustration such that the early
subscribers wrote asking for more drawings, as they never read the
text.14
With the Massachusetts Institute of Technology opening the first
school of architecture in the United States in 1868, and with the
Boston architect Henry Hobson Richardson the leading figure in
American architecture, Boston sent out architectural news and gossip
to the rest of the country through this vehicle.15
As the century progressed, however, New York emerged as an equally
strong architectural center, and competition between the two cities
can be noted on the pages of the AABN. Eventually, in 1907,
the publication moved its editorial offices to New York. The early
architectural renderers in the AABN were either architects
or illustrators. Chief among these renderers was E. Eldon Deane,
whose work in the magazine is almost exclusively in ink line
drawings. Many of the staff draftsmen imitated his style, to such an
extent that there almost appears to be a house style for the
journal.16
In addition to reporting on architectural projects, the AABN
chronicled the exhibitions, sketch clubs, meetings, issues, and
general comings-and-goings of architects. Both Boston and New York
had very active communities, and Hawley was a well-known figure in
both spheres. In 1886, a reviewer began his description of the
Boston Exhibition of Architectural Drawings with the following
statements in which the flavor of the AABN can be enjoyed:
The example set by the New York
Architects has already been followed by their brethren in Boston,
who have had enterprise enough to offer to the public an exhibition
containing nothing but architectural drawings, and notwithstanding
the absence of other attractions, the collection is as pretty and
interesting, even to the unprofessional visitor, as one often finds
anywhere, . . . Taken as a whole, the appearance of the Boston
collection as hung upon the walls, is superior to that of the
similar exhibition in New York. There are fewer of the great,
heavily-colored competition perspectives, and fewer, also, in
proportion to other kinds, of black-and-white work; so that the
general effect is one of delicate color, sepia, brown ink; tinted
paper and sketchy washes giving the prevailing tone, upon which an
occasional black-and-white sketch, or a drawing in full color, count
like the high lights and deep shadows of a well-balanced picture,
instead of fighting for supremacy with each other.17
While Hawley undoubtedly would have been the artist of some of the
"heavily-colored competition perspectives," this critic writes with
appreciation of several unusually good watercolors. He notes two
renderings of houses:
. . . both colored by Mr. Hughson
Hawley, in his very best style. Mr. Hawley always seems, at first
sight, to be a little over-fond of forcing the color of his
buildings, or rather, we should say, of giving them a sombre aspect;
but a more careful examination shows that this is done with a
legitimate purpose, for heightening the beauty and transparency of
his skies. Most beautiful and transparent they are, too, and if we
cannot avoid the reflection that the architecture is a little
sacrificed to them, we can still find instruction in noticing the
skill with which, by the superposition of a dark chimney or finial,
he transmutes a colored wash into the glow of a sunset sky, or fills
his distance by the subtle application of a strongly profiled
outline, with air and sunshine.18
Reaction to Hawley’s work by different critics varies according to
the writer’s point of view, although the description of his work is
consistent. Another admirer wrote of the First Annual Exhibition of
the Department of Architecture of the Brooklyn Institute of Arts and
Sciences in 1892 that there are a number of beautiful renderings by
Hawley who "gets even more glory than do the architects themselves."19
But not all critics were enamored of this style of presenting
architecture in rendering, and in some reviews mentioning Hawley’s
works, it is difficult to tell whether the writer is critical of the
architect, the renderer, or both. In a review from the AABN
of the designs for the competition of the Cathedral of St. John the
Divine in the Architectural League of New York exhibition, the
reviewer noted the entry by J. C. Cady as:
. . . a plan with a dome in a
Romanesque, or perhaps better, an indeterminate style, covered with
row upon row of interlacing arcades, which are rather monotonous
applied as decoration to so large a surface, and, when they come to
be bent over on their backs in the upper portions of the dome, are
positively disagreeable to the architectural instinct. [This
rendering by Hughson Hawley] . . . forms one of the most conspicuous
objects in the room, although the brilliancy of the coloring does
not, to the expert eye, conceal a certain poverty of detail, and it
positively increases the paltry, model-like look which an excess of
foreground, and a bad arrangement of horizon and vanishing points,
give to the representation of the building.20
This tension between the architectural design of the building and
the artistic means whereby it is expressed was a leitmotif of many
reviews of architectural exhibitions published in the architectural
journals of the late nineteenth century. One strand of this
discussion involves not the medium of expression, but the creator of
the actual drawing. The reviewer of the Boston Architectural
Exhibition of 1891 in the AABN strongly advocates the role
of architects in rendering:
. . . [some architects] show no
intention of letting their skill disappear for want of use; but many
architects . . . seem to find it necessary to get expert assistance
for their larger drawings. Although this is, perhaps, financially
wise, the art of architectural drawing loses by the defection of so
many of its once valiant champions, and exhibitions lose very much
by the appearance of sameness of style among the most important
works. If Street, Nesfield, Norman Shaw, Ernest George, Jackson and
Waterhouse [noted English architects] can afford time to make their
own perspective drawings, our architects, apart from the unfortunate
heads of what the Frenchmen call the American "usines
d’architecture," [factories of architecture] ought to be able to do
so, and their artistic reputation would gain in consequence, however
it might be with their pocket-books.21
His description of the faults of artists rendering architectural
subjects is almost a prescription of a drawing by Hawley; qualities
noted with admiration by other critics: "Watercolorists, not
primarily architects, almost always fail in representing
architectural subjects by drowning the architecture in chiaroscuro,
‘masterly’ brushwork and startling cloud-effects."22
Exhibitions of the kind reviewed in the AABN played a
crucial role in the development of architecture and architectural
education in the United States; hence some of the debate about
renderers versus architects can be ascribed to the ongoing
discussion about the nature of architectural education and practice.
Throughout the nineteenth century, architects exhibited their works
in many different settings, often mixed in with other artists.
Alexander Jackson Davis, architect and superb watercolorist, was a
frequent exhibitor at the Mechanics’ Institute of New York
exhibitions. Other architects, such as Daniel Burgess, H. Cook, and
Alexander Rich, whose works and reputations have faded from
collective memory, exhibited at the American Institute of theCity of
New York from the late 1830s until the early 1850s. For the
exhibitions of the latter organization, Davis, Minard Lafever,
Calvin Pollard, Martin Thompson, and Richard Upjohn, all prominent
New York architects, served as judges for the fairs.23
But with the growing professionalization of architecture, as
indicated by the foundation of the American Institute of Architects
(AIA) in 1857 and of schools of architecture at American
universities, exhibitions featuring architectural drawings and
models assumed a more vital role in this community. In New York, for
example, the Architectural League was established in 1881 to promote
the artistic training of architects, and began annual exhibitions in
1886, at first in conjunction with the exhibition of the Salmagundi
Club, which had been founded in 1871 as an artists’ sketch club.24
In architectural journals, reviewers of these exhibitions note the
pedagogical value of seeing so many different kinds of works
displayed together. The 1886 Boston Exhibition of Architectural
Drawings elicited the following advice from the reviewer:
A collection of architect’s sketches always has a certain interest
in the variety of treatment which it shows. Some men succeed better
in color, and some with ink, and nearly all have tried several
methods of getting effect, the results of which convey to their
fellows encouragement or warning, as the case may be; so that for
the young architect or student, himself uncertain as to what style
to choose, the opportunity to study the experiments of others is of
great use.25
The acerbic reviewer of an 1891 architectural exhibition in Boston
is highly enthusiastic, writing that this is an exhibition that
people actually went to see! He notes the attendance was no doubt
enhanced by the location of the exhibition in the newly opened
Boston Public Library (designed by Charles McKim) and its free
admission, but nonetheless, he was moved to write of the
exhibition’s importance:
. . . it is impossible for an
architect to take a general survey of [these 500 better
architectural designs and drawings] without a feeling of pride at
the power and independence with which American architecture is
advancing towards a development which may be far off, but which will
be a very brilliant one. Even now there are buildings in this
country which will be revered centuries hence by architects as the
first transitional examples of the new style; and when the
contemptible colonial chicken-pox has spent its force, and
architects and their clients begin again to use their artistic sense
freely, we shall see more and more the results of the energy with
which American architects have been training their eyes and hands,
and collecting recourse of observation and recollection, for the
past twenty years.26
Ironically, the type of drawing taught in architecture schools was
not like the highly dramatic watercolor style of Hawley and other
popular renderers like Eldon Deane. At Columbia University’s School
of Architecture, founded in 1881, students were not given classes in
watercolor rendering. Most of the drawing exercises emphasized ink
or pencil on paper, many copying line drawings of photographs or
engravings! Wash drawings and watercolor were used in the Beaux Arts
tradition, but only by advanced students whose work focused on the
architectural elements of the building.27
While Hawley’s generation of renderers were often illustrators or
artists who worked in several different genres, the next generation
of renderers, who began to appear around the turn of the century,
were usually graduates of the new American schools of architecture.
Trained as architects, they approached their subjects differently
from the artists trained as illustrators.
In addition to the new schools of architecture, there were other
avenues for a young artist or architect to improve his visual
skills. Hawley himself was a member of the New York Sketch Club, and
both the AABN and the New York based journal,
Architecture, recount summaries of lectures, demonstrations,
and sketching trips held by this club during the 1880s and 1890s.
Hawley frequently gave demonstrations of his watercolor techniques
and accompanied club members on trips to sketch from nature, very
much like his practice from his early days in England.
The Sketch Club appears to have ceased operation around 1904,
judging from a notice in Pencil Points in 1928 that records
the 24th annual alumni dinner for the New York club. In a style
typical of Hawley’s showmanship, the article recounts a
demonstration entitled "How to paint like Hawley in one lesson." The
description gives a good flavor of the kind of company these clubs
provided:
An outline drawing in pencil of Ripon
Cathedral, large enough to give each man present a six inch square
to color, was presented, on card board, together with a full array
of brushes, paint and pots, water and sponges. Lots were drawn for
the respective squares and each of the forty members was to render
his square in three minutes. When the kaleidoscope result was ready,
Hawley announced that he would proceed to work the drawing up,
soften the hard edges and bring it together harmoniously. He said,
however, that it was always his custom to work in the dark, so the
lights were turned out and he went to it, keeping up a running
conversation meanwhile. Five or six minutes later the lights were
turned on and the finished painting was there on the easel, much to
the astonishment of the members. The explanation, of course, was
there were two drawings prepared beforehand, one for the members to
work on and the other a finished rendering.28
Both watercolors were illustrated in the journal to allow readers to
share in this elaborate joke (fig.5).
|
(fig. 5) |
Ripon
Cathedral: top-members of the Sketch Club of New York Alumni;
bottom- Hawley rendering
© BPI Communications, Inc.: Pencil Points
Photography courtesy of Avery Architectural and Fine Arts Library,
Columbia University |
The differences between the two are
"instructive for they show the means with which a watercolorist
begins to accumulate detail, shade and shadow, and other effects and
transform them into a cohesive picture." The story also relies on
Hawley’s reputation as an extremely prolific renderer for its punch
line. Rather than making fun of Hawley as the renderer, the sleight
of hand pays homage to his talent. The cumulative two hours of work
executed by the forty members present at the dinner did not bring
the drawing close to a conclusion. Hawley’s estimate of having
produced 11,000 drawings in the course of a 50 year career is a
truly staggering figure. At roughly 220 drawings per year, Hawley
would have completed almost five drawings every week with no break
in production at all.29
The size of some of his renderings makes this rate of production
even more impressive. Hawley was famous as a robust individual; the
Pencil Points hagiography details his ability to get by on only
two or three hours sleep a night, a capability that attracted the
attention of the medical community, who reportedly studied him.30
After a period of little more than 20 years, the New York Sketch
Club was revived in 1926, in part to provide professional
instruction to both designer and draftsman, and also to foster the
kind of fraternal activity described in the passage above. One major
difference in this second incarnation was that the club was to
provide instruction in "pencil painting." It is no coincidence that
the popular journal for renderers was called Pencil Points.
The explanation given for this emphasis underscores the difference
between the beginning of Hawley’s career in the 1880s and the end in
the 1930s:
The lead pencil is perhaps the one
most important tool of the architect, and in making studies,
sketches and rapid memoranda it is his invariable resort and
constant companion. An architect who cannot use his pencil with
facility and decision is at great disadvantage. It is the invaluable
process of representing a building, as a work of art by means of
another work of art.31
Hawley’s reputation had been built on his extreme facility with
watercolor, and as styles in rendering changed, it was inevitable
that his work would seem unfashionable to the younger generations of
architects who arrived on the scene. Hawley may have been the first
renderer of the stylistically advanced Woolworth Building, but he
had already been working for its architect, Cass Gilbert, for many
years. Given that no job book or other documents survive that list
Hawley’s work year by year, one can only guess at the ebb and flow
of his commissions through the course of his 50-year career.
Certainly, in looking through the illustrations of renderings in the
Architectural League Annual as well as the standard
journals, one sees a shift away from the "mid-Victorian"
watercolors, as noted by Kenneth Clark in the opening passage of
this essay, to an acceptance of more varied styles, from watercolor
to wash and pencil.
After 1908, the name of the renderer was no longer included in the
list of participants in the Architectural League of New York’s
annual exhibition, making it difficult to track Hawley’s career.
That he maintained a high rate of production is clear from one story
recounted in the Pencil Points biography describing a
nine-week charrette in 1921, prior to his departure for England
(fig. 6). Throughout the 1920s, Hawley retained many clients. At the
same time, judging from illustrations published in the 1928
Pencil Points, he was trying to stay up-to-date by working in
pencil and creating scenes that show more of the urban context of
the buildings (figs. 7 and 8). In 1927 Hawley wrote to architect
Lawrence Grant White, son of Stanford White, asking for work and
assuring White that as rendering in watercolor was "out of fashion"
and "almost a Lost Art," he too could render in black and white
sketches.
32
|
(fig.
6) |
(fig.
7) |
(fig.8) |
Hughson Hawley Cartoon
Reginald Birch
|
Ely Cathedral
Hughson Hawley
|
city Hall Square, New York
Hughson Hawley
|
These three images are ©
BPI Communications, Inc.: Pencil Points
Photography courtesy of Avery Architectural and Fine Arts Library,
Columbia University |
A glance through the architectural
periodicals of the 1920s—and there were many more than when Hawley
started in the 1880s—shows that a variety of different rendering
styles was being published. Many of the renderings appear to be in
some form of black-and-white media, which would of course translate
more readily into a reproduction for publication. Here was another
major transformation in the profession of architectural rendering
that transpired over the course of Hawley’s 50-year career. In the
beginning of Hawley’s career, the drawings he produced were likely
to be presented to the client, used in a competition, or at some
later time, put on display for the public. There were opportunities
to reproduce watercolors for larger distribution, most notably in
color lithographs, but the quality of the reproduction in printed
black-and-white media was not particularly high. Even color
lithographs substantially altered the appearance of the original.
They are of a different size than the original, and the medium
itself solidified the transparent washes into a weightier presence.
Nonetheless, the lithographic versions of these works are impressive
in their own right
(plate 4).
After the invention of photography, artists and illustrators had to
face the question of how reproduction of the original art work in
the mass media would affect the character of the work itself.33
From the vantage point of the later twentieth century, it may be
difficult to understand the revolution this caused, given the
proliferation of images in our era. But the impact of the technical
questions involved is better understood when one considers the
nature of dealing with digital imagery or the recent introduction of
color photography in daily newspapers. The means of production have
a profound impact on the quality of the reproduction.
As an illustrator himself, Hawley would have been familiar with such
issues and taken care that the detail in his drawings would not have
been lost when translated into a reproduction. As was typical of
journals at the time, Hawley’s drawings made expressly for
illustration in magazines such as Harper’s Weekly were
gouache on paper
(plate 3), a broader medium than watercolor with areas of tonal
contrast that would translate well onto the printed page. The
watercolors, produced for public exhibition, were reproduced as
heliotypes, the means best suited for reproducing that kind of work.
The effects of the delicate detail and color of the watercolors are
miniaturized by the reproduction, thereby losing much of the stature
of the original work.
In both architectural journals and exhibitions, the impact and role
of architectural photography was often noted. Of the Ninth Annual
Exhibition of the Architectural League of New York in 1894, the
reviewer in the AABN wrote:
Hereabout, we come to some
photographs of Mr. Kimball’s theatres, which, notwithstanding the
interest of their subject, count as dark, unpleasant spots among the
bright drawings. It would be a pity to discourage contributors from
showing photographs of their works, and some things can only be
properly shown in that way; but it would be very much for the
advantage of exhibitors to have the photographs collected in a room
by themselves, where they would neither injure the effect of the
drawings nor be injured by them.34
By 1899, photographic reproduction had replaced illustrations of
drawings in the AABN.35
After the turn of the century, photographs of projects were the
predominant form of illustration in most architectural journals.
In many ways, a comparison of Hawley’s career with that of Hugh
Ferriss (1889-1962), the great renderer of the early twentieth
century, underscores the differences of their respective eras and
the development of the profession of rendering.36
Ironically, Ferriss entered Cass Gilbert’s office as a draftsman in
1913, right at the time that Hawley was rendering the Woolworth
Building for the architect. Trained as an architect, Ferriss worked
briefly as a draftsman for Gilbert and then, as Hawley had done 35
years earlier, opened his own studio in 1915. Ferriss quickly became
a very popular renderer and illustrator and, later in the 1920s,
with the architect Harvey Wiley Corbett, one of the new voices in
architectural circles. Rather than reflecting the prevailing
attitude about buildings, Ferriss was a visionary, dedicated to the
discussion and formulation of new ideas about architecture and the
future city. Whereas most of Hawley’s renderings focus on one
building towering alone in the city, as indeed many were at the time
of construction, Ferriss liked to depict the buildings within the
urban context, often from a vantage point high above the street
level. While Hawley left no writings about his work or his
profession, Ferriss was articulate and outspoken, publishing and
lecturing on a frequent basis. Although of different generations,
Ferriss was undoubtedly familiar with Hawley’s work because an
illustration of a Hawley piece is reproduced in Ferriss’ article on
architectural rendering in the Encyclopedia Britannica.
Many of Ferriss’ drawings were made directly for publication,
although the drawings were also exhibited at various times. What is
surprising about his works is that it is nearly impossible to guess
the actual size by looking at the reproduction. Nearly all of
Ferriss’ works show a large-scale scene in which the mass of the
structure, not the volume or the detail, is the major focus. For
example, the drawing "Buildings Like Mountains," the frontispiece to
Ferriss’ 1928 Metropolis of Tomorrow, shows a vast
landscape of mountain peaks. In reality, the drawing measures only
11 x 8-1/2 inches. Yet the discrepancy in scale is imperceptible, so
well do the medium and composition fit the form of reproduction. The
dominant role of black-and-white photographs in architectural
illustrations had a major impact on the swing to renderings in
pencil. In 1940, Ferriss wrote an article on rendering for Pencil
Points that printed statements and works by 26 renderers, of
which 18 drawings are in a black-and-white medium. One renderer,
Alan C. Davoll, mentioned that he chose the photographic color
values in the drawing, which had a "highly effective sales value" on
the client, because they translated successfully into
black-and-white reproduction.37
In 1931, at the age of 81, Hughson Hawley retired from active
professional life and returned to his native England to live with
his daughter and her husband, Mr. and Mrs. Jeffrey Farnol.38
He died on May 11, 1936, in Brighton. As is true of anyone who
enjoys longevity in this world, Hawley saw many changes in his
lifetime—artistic, technological, political, and historical. That he
continued to prosper throughout the changing times is testament to
the continuing appeal of his vivid and exuberant watercolors, even
as new styles and media of architectural representation came to the
forefront. The business of architecture had been transformed
dramatically over the course of Hawley’s career—nevertheless, the
renderer continued to function as an intermediary between the
architect and the outside world.
The introduction to the 1940 Pencil Points article on
rendering defines the essential issues facing renderer and
architect:
All are pretty much agreed that the
drawing should tell the truth—but what kind of truth, and how much?
Is the literal truth about the projected assemblage of sticks and
stones enough or should there be added, so far as the delineator is
able, some expression of the spiritual quality, a suggestion of the
designer’s aspiration towards a beauty born in his mind, possibly
not to be quite reached in the execution of the building itself?
Once having departed from the strict literal truth, is it possible
to check further departures, motivated by less noble intentions? . .
. How far may an architect stretch his conscience under the urge to
persuade or retain a client’s interest through the admitted power of
brilliant draftsmanship? These are questions to be asked of himself
by the delineator as he approaches his task and by the architect of
himself as he commissions the drawings to be made—questions which
require for their proper answer a high degree of essential honesty.
39
These elements are no less true for the renderer today than they
were in Hawley’s day. It was the depiction of the essential truth of
the building, the ability to render it in such a way as to make it
live for its audience, that made Hawley the great success he was.
Hawley’s renderings preserve a vision of a city in an era not that
long passed, one that lives on in memory, and in occasional glimpses
and perspectives on the streets of New York
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