I am fascinated by the way this chapter in Arnheim reflects on the task of translating the three dimensional vision into a two dimensional representation. When the chapter discussed this translation directly, it focused mostly on the failure of a two dimensional rendering to capture a three dimensional seen sufficiently. The problem was that objects on a two dimensional plane could not simultaneously display all aspects of themselves and appear as a correct, unified image. The tone was one that condemned the effect of flattening, implying that it failed on a fundamental level to achieve its implied goal of total reenactment.
A bit later on, however, Arnheim made a very interesting claim that allowed me to reconsider and reassess the accomplishments of the two dimensional translation. Arnheim writes:
"The method of copying an object or arrangement of objects from one fixed point of observation--roughly the procedure of the photographic camera--is not truer to that concept than the method of the Egyptians.... When figures in Egyptians fail to present the human body the way it 'really is,' but because the observer judges their work by the standards of a different procedure. once freed of this distorting prejudice, one finds it quite difficult to perceive the products of the 'Egyptian method' as wrong."
Arnheim goes on to say that in adopting the goals of realism, Western art lost an appreciation of the value of other methods of visual record. Without the pretense of the impossible expectation of perfect representation, the qualities in drawings and paintings that subvert the illusion of reality become exciting new visual entities unattainable by objects in the real world.
In reality, a cube can only exist in one form. It's form is dynamic so it may appear to change its form, but whatever variants occur, the cube will always be firmly and easily tethered to its simple unified qualities. When drawn, however, each different perspective of the cube becomes a distinct, autonomous entity. A simple adjustment of perspective does not begin to scratch the surface of the many ways in which a cube can exist upon canvass. The analysis involved in the 3-d to 2-d translation allows for the creation of infinite objects wherein reality there can only exist one. In this way, the translation is not one that fetters reality, rather it frees it.
It is Gestalt psychology that allows shapes freed from the laws of reality to be coherent and therefore valid. Because we inherently make something out of what we see, we allow images to have only loose ties to what would be considered thoroughly coherent. When less of the effort of the artwork is spent on recognition there is far more room to incorporate more interesting aspects of the work. Each aspect of the whole work then accrues meaning and makes for a richer experience.
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I was really intrigued by Heinrich Wolfflin's concept of empathic composition and the comparable Gestalt principles of perceptual preference mentioned in van Campen (1997); the idea that we see the forms that we ourselves embody. It reminded me of a dance class I took in which we examined the form, contour and shape of our bodies. After feeling our surfaces we attempted to formulate each position with our whole body. In essence, we seek to find the micro on a macro level. I was also interested in the Japanese emphasis on simplification and Okakura's notion that beauty is achieved only when the form in mentally completed. This idea that beauty is not static, but in transition. It must be mentally completed; it is constantly moving towards completion. I was a bit confused by Kandinsky's concept of tension, but I thought that the Gestalt theory of structural economy and closure would be a natural reconciliation of aesthetic tension.
ReplyDeleteArheim's dissection of "La Source" was an interesting example of the the temporal element in static art. In the gestalt writings they speak of things spontaneously resolving themselves into organized wholes, which might give us the impression that the correct impression of a work of art occurs within moments of first sight. Arnheim's exegesis has a tone of "but wait a moment..." you know, where he mischeviously points out all of those elements of our first impression that turn out to be totally incorrect. On our initial encounter "La Source" we see it as being magically realistic. When Arnheim points out the inconvenience of her stance, the similar shapes of the head and jug, the incredibly specific structural skeleton, our Gestalt of the painting becomes more structurally specific. In other words, our spontaneous apprehension of a static form evolves over time, as we learn to undo he effects of some of our perceptual priors.
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