Art & Evolution Create Motion

In this week’s readings, Livingstone (2002) quotes Henri Matisse: “Movement thus understood corresponds to nothing in nature: when we capture it by surprise in a snapshot, the resulting image reminds us of nothing that we have seen. Movement seized while it is going on is meaningful to us only if we do not isolate the present sensation from that which precedes it or that which follows it” (77). I think Matisse highlights the Gestalt theory of unity and balance, in addition to the visual system’s achievement of unity and balance. Movement can be taken as a pattern. Taking one moment out of a larger action is similar to listening to one tone of a twelve-tone melody (the example used by Arnheim (1974)). Motion and music are both greater than the sum of their parts. Taking the flipbook example, isolated, each picture looks static, but sequenced together the images become a stream of motion. Arnheim writes that if twelve people were to listen to the twelve-tones of a piece of music separately, their combined experiences would not be equal to listening to the piece in its entirety. Similarly, if each page of a flipbook were independently examined by a single viewer, their examinations would not total a “motion picture.”

Additionally, if you were asked to look at each flipbook image separately, most likely you would not know at what point in the sequence it was from (unless there was some outstanding detail that hinted at it cognitively). This is similar to what was talked about in class last week—it is very difficult to recognize different shades of one color when not comparing them side-by-side. If one creates temporal or physical space between the two color samples it would be very hard to distinguish the two. The cones in the retina distinguish color based on relative stimulation of the three different types of cones. Movement is another form of contrast.

Continuing with her explanation of the uses of peripheral vision, Livingstone (2002) surmises that the interpretation of emotions may rely more heavily on our peripheral vision than in our center of gaze. Livingstone (2002) explains that emotional expressions are induced by deep facial muscle activity that can be obscured by subcutaneous fat. Thus, emotional expressions are comprised of courser information that goes undetected by our foveal vision. Micro-muscle movements are not detectable to the untrained eye. Ekman, a researcher at the forefront of the study of emotional expression and lie detection, has compiled a library of all of the possible emotional expressions that are created by different patters of facial muscle contractions. Interestingly, Livingstone (2002) suggests that lie detection might be assisted if the faces are blurred to mirror our peripheral vision acuity. I am not sure I agree with this. Ekman is able to detect “pure” emotion or lying by recognizing the face’s microexpressions. In other words he can detect the contraction of muscles that the layman cannot. This would require the high acuity of our center of gaze. That being said, I wonder if (and now I am contradicting myself) if Ekman is able to detect micro-expressions not by the addition of singular details, but because he recognizes a more subtle change in the overall facial expression?

It is interesting to explain our visual system in light of evolution and then apply its abilities and idiosyncrasies to the creation and observing of art. I am trying to reconcile the fact that the visual system is not “intended” for the production and interpretation of art, yet we humans use it to do just that. I was reminded of something the evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins said, “For good Darwinian reasons, evolution gave us a brain whose size increased to the point where it became capable of understanding its own provenance, of deploring the moral implications and of fighting against them.” Of course Richard Dawkins was not talking about art but rather something much different “Social Darwinism,” (and from Solso (2003) we know that increased brain size in conjunction with a growth in neural connections is responsible for the brain’s complex functioning), but what I found relevant is the concept that because of the evolution of the brain, humans are able to consciously employ and challenge its inner-workings to produce art. Monet’s “Rue Montorgueil in Paris, Festival of June 30, 1878” is a perfect example of this phenomenon. How does an artist create movement on a static canvas? Monet is manipulating the visual system so that the viewer “feels” the movement. Livingstone (2002) explains that low spatial precision enhances a sense of vitality in the painting because with each glance we see something different. In addition, it is analogous to a single glance of a visual scene; one that is always incomplete because we only see clearly what the center of gaze happens to focus on. The rest of the scene is left to the peripheral vision and completed by “illusory conjunctions.”