In the hushed, hallowed halls of the National Gallery, a unique pedagogical experiment is unfolding, one that transcends the traditional boundaries of art history and studio practice. The course, titled "Titian's Colour: A Stratigraphic Unpacking," invites a select group of advanced art students and conservators into a profound dialogue with the past, specifically with the revolutionary techniques of the Venetian master, Tiziano Vecellio, known as Titian.

The premise is as ambitious as it is fascinating. It is not merely an exercise in copying form and composition; it is a deep, almost archaeological investigation into the very materiality of Titian's genius. The goal is to understand not just what we see, but how it came to be. Participants are tasked with recreating a section of a Titian masterpiece, layer by painstaking layer, employing historically informed materials and methods. This process, akin to a scientific dissection, reveals the structural secrets behind the luminous, atmospheric, and emotionally resonant color that defined his work and changed the course of Western painting.

The methodology is rigorous and multi-faceted. The course begins not with a brush in hand, but in the laboratory and the library. Students engage with conservators and scientists who have used non-invasive techniques like X-radiography, infrared reflectography, and macro-X-ray fluorescence to map the hidden histories of Titian's canvases. These technological insights provide a roadmap, showing the evolution of a painting from its initial charcoal sketch (sinopia) through its various stages of underpainting and complex glazing.

Armed with this knowledge, the students then embark on their own material journey. They stretch and prepare their canvases with traditional gesso grounds, creating a smooth, radiant surface that will act as a reflector of light. They learn to grind their own pigments, transforming lumps of lapis lazuli into the most precious ultramarine, cinnabar into vibrant vermilion, and malachite into earthy green. This physical engagement with the raw materials is a revelation in itself, fostering an intimate understanding of the substance of color—its weight, its texture, its inherent qualities.

The heart of the course lies in the slow, deliberate application of these colours. Titian’s technique was a radical departure from the linear, precise approach of his Florentine contemporaries. He pioneered a more painterly method, building his images through a complex stratification of semi-transparent glazes over a monochromatic underpainting, often in warm earth tones. This method, known as colorito, allowed light to penetrate the layers of oil and varnish, reflect off the white ground, and bounce back to the viewer's eye, creating a depth and luminosity that a simple opaque layer of paint could never achieve.

Students first establish their underpainting (abbozzo), defining the forms and the dramatic chiaroscuro in tones of burnt umber or terre verte. This stage is about capturing the emotional weight and structure of the scene in a stark, sculptural way. Once this layer is thoroughly dry, the true magic begins. They mix their meticulously prepared pigments with a medium of linseed oil and resin, creating thin, jelly-like glazes. With soft brushes, they slowly tint the monochrome foundation, applying films of color that are so thin they seem like stained light.

A patch of shadow on a robe is not merely a mix of black and brown on the palette; it is built from a glaze of deep ultramarine over the dark underpainting. The radiant flesh of a Venus is not a single hue of pink but a complex optical mixture: a cool grey-green underpainting (a technique Titian learned from Giorgione) moderates and cools subsequent layers of warm pinks, whites, and ochres applied on top, creating a vibration and a lifelike warmth that feels breathable. Each glaze must dry completely before the next is applied, a process that can take days or even weeks, forcing a rhythm of work that is contemplative and deeply intentional.

This hands-on, stratigraphic approach demystifies Titian’s seemingly effortless brilliance. What appears as a spontaneous, almost impressionistic dash of color from a few feet away reveals itself, upon this close study, to be the product of immense forethought, technical control, and profound patience. The students learn that his atmospheric haze, his sfumato, is not an effect of blurred edges alone but a calculated optical phenomenon achieved through the interplay of multiple translucent layers.

The implications of this course extend far beyond the technical mastery of Old Master techniques. For the art historians involved, it provides a tangible, physical context for their theoretical studies. They gain a new language to describe artistic process, moving from abstract terms to a concrete understanding of material cause and effect. For the practicing artists, it is a liberation from the flat, direct application of modern acrylics and oils, opening up a new world of depth and luminosity in their own work. They are not copying Titian; they are learning his language to write their own poetry.

Perhaps most importantly, for the conservators, this exercise is invaluable. Understanding the layered construction of these paintings is paramount to their preservation. It informs decisions on cleaning, as different layers may react differently to solvents, and on restoration, ensuring that any in-painting respects the original optical logic of the artwork. They are not just repairing a surface; they are caring for a deep, complex, and delicate historical structure.

The "Stratigraphic Unpacking" course is more than an art class; it is a bridge. It connects the past to the present, science to art, and the hand to the eye. In an age of digital reproduction and instant gratification, it champions the values of slow looking, deep material engagement, and embodied knowledge. As students stand before their own small panels, watching a complex hue emerge not from a tube but from the patient layering of time and light, they participate in a centuries-old conversation. They come to understand that Titian’ colour is not something applied to a surface, but something built within it, a light born from darkness, a revelation achieved not in a moment, but through a dedicated and glorious process of becoming.