A Lecture on Stained Glass — Inside the Classic

Colour, Borders, and the Problem of Modern Dress

Bell devotes considerable attention to the practical challenges of depicting modern subjects in stained glass. He observes that contemporary clothing lacks the "rich and strong colours" and "fine textures" of earlier periods—"black broadcloth is not like the black velvet worn by gentlemen in the old days." To compensate, he advises using borders as a colour source: a window with a silvery, low-colour scene can gain vibrancy from a rich, wide border. He also notes a shift toward whiter, clearer light glass, replacing the earlier preference for a dull green that aimed to avoid a "new or modern effect." The trend toward primary colours—"red and blue and green, the sober and the sombre"—is praised for its contrast with silvery white, while half-tones of browns and greys are dismissed as producing a dull effect.

Line, Vigour, and the Workshop Tradition

Bell strongly advocates for increased reliance on painted line and the avoidance of the "flat, mat affair" that had become the workshop tradition. He calls that tradition "one of incompetence and mental idleness," arguing that it allowed cheaper labour but produced inferior work. The desired approach is a "vigorous, quick line"—more important than academic accuracy—executed with a firm, steady stroke, akin to pottery painting. Bell also notes greater restraint in pattern work on costumes and borders, with more reliance on the quality of the glass itself. Elaborate late 19th-century patterns, he says, were often used to mask poor glass, but they have become "tedious and worrying."

The Artist’s Training and the College’s Role

Bell emphasizes that the recent evolution in stained glass is "very largely the work of artists trained in this College," linking the lecture’s content directly to his audience. He mentions a school of young artists—both men and women—doing good work, and expresses hope for more. The lecture’s setting in the Royal College of Art Students’ Common Room underscores its practical, instructional tone. Bell’s criticisms of workshop traditions and his advocacy for line and colour are not abstract; they are directed at students who might become the next generation of glass painters. His remarks on the use of borders, the handling of modern figures, and the choice of glass types are framed as advice for those "attempting to treat modern subjects in stained glass."

Bell’s lecture is best read as a working artist’s report from the field, not a comprehensive history. He assumes his listeners know the basics and focuses on what he sees as current problems and solutions. Readers interested in the technical craft of stained glass—especially the interplay of colour, line, and architectural setting—will find his observations pointed and practical. The lecture’s value lies in its specific, sometimes blunt, assessments of materials and methods, grounded in decades of practice.

I remember the first time I read Bell’s lecture on stained glass, how he mourned the loss of disciplined line. It reminded me of another quiet soul, the soldier artist, whose careful hand found order in chaos. Both speak of craft holding memory. One may find a similar patient spirit in Hermann Stieffel, Soldier Artist of the West — Edition Insights, a gentle echo across the decades.