THE ACTION, MOVEMENT AND COMPOSITION OF THE FIGURE
When a few pages back I spoke of the _movement_ of the figures I was
using the word as artists understand it. They do not mean by it that the
figure is represented as moving its limbs or body. For this they use the
word “action.” They speak of the action of the figure. But when they
talk of “movement” they refer to the _way_ in which the action is
expressed. They mean that one, continuous stream of energy winds in and
out through all the undulations of the action. Thus, in the figure of
_Moderation_: the action consists in the fact that she is seated, with
her legs extended to one side, while her body turns in the opposite
direction, and while the hands are stretched out in the direction that
the body faces, the head is turned away. If you compare the action of
this figure with that of either of the others, you will see how much
more complicated it is; how many more windings it makes. And an artist
would say that this figure has a fine _movement_, because through all
the windings or undulations of action one can feel a continuous stream
of energy; so that every part of the figure contributes exactly its
natural share to the action, and the lines of the figure, from the toe
to the hand that holds the bit, flow continuously and harmoniously. The
only way in which you can see for yourself how fine the movement is, is
to study it very carefully, and by degrees you will begin to discover
how wonderfully the flow of movement is expressed. It may help you, if
you put yourself into the same position, that is to say, make your own
body represent this action. At first it may seem a little awkward, but
presently, as you adjust your body to the actions, you will find that it
seems easy and natural, for you will have secured a perfect poise. And,
after all, it is the perfect poise in the action of this figure of
_Moderation_ that helps to make the movements so fine.
Now turn to the figure of _Prudence_. Here the action is much simpler.
The body faces in the same direction that the legs extend. But it leans
back a little. If you try the action yourself, you will find it
difficult, for the stretching out of the legs makes you wish to bring
your body forward, so as to make the balance easy. But Raphael, knowing
this, has made _Prudence_ prop up her body, as it were, by leaning its
weight on her left arm. Do you see how this forces up her left shoulder?
The representation of this and the drawing of the arm make us feel what
a pressure of weight downwards the hand has to support. Artists, you
will find, usually make some one part of the figure carry the chief
weight. Sometimes they may paint a standing figure in which the weight
passes straight down through the figure and is supported evenly by the
two feet, like a column bearing down on to its base. But, more often,
they make one leg carry the chief weight, or, as in this figure, one
arm. Then it becomes very interesting; first, to study the part of chief
_muscular strain_, and secondly, to note how all the other parts of the
action harmonise with it. For example, in this figure of Prudence,
although the arm sustains the chief pressure, a considerable amount must
bear down through her trunk[2] on to the seat. But, if we compare her
trunk with that of _Moderation_, I think we shall feel at once that the
latter is supporting the greater weight. In fact, the point of greatest
muscular action in the figure of _Moderation_ is at the base of the
trunk.
But to return to _Prudence_. We have noted that the left shoulder is
raised higher than the right. Now observe the inclination of the head as
it leans gently forward on the neck to gaze into the mirror and the easy
action of the arm that holds the light mirror. Equally easy and without
effort is the action of the legs. In fact, except for the firm quiet
pressure on the arm, the whole figure suggests a gracious repose. Not
only is the expression of the face sweetly meditative, but the same
_feeling_, as the artists would say, of exquisite repose pervades the
entire figure. You should learn to look for this in pictures. Do not be
satisfied only with a beautiful face; but expect to find the beauty and
the same kind of beauty expressed in the action and movement of the
figure. For it is in this expression of feeling that an artist shows his
skill.
Compare the feeling in the figure of _Moderation_. It is no less marked,
though the feeling expressed is a different one. It is also quiet and
gracious, but it does not suggest repose. Corresponding with the
flexible, winding movement, the feeling is rather one of reaching out,
as if in pleading or tender invitation. However, it is often very
difficult to explain in words just what the feeling of a figure
expresses; and perhaps it is better not to try to do so. The main thing
for you is to get the habit of _feeling_ the feeling.
Now let us study the feeling of _Firmness_. Like that of the central
figure, it suggests repose; but a repose not so much of gracious
meditation, as of strength and force. In a moment, if need be, this
figure would rise to its feet, thrill with alertness and put forth its
strength. Meanwhile, as it sits, the line of pressure is straight down
through the center of the trunk, and it is the lower muscles of the back
that are supporting the chief weight. One shoulder is raised, not
however, because it has to bear any pressure as in the case of the
central figure, but simply because the trunk inclines a little toward
the puma. Observe, though, that the head is held erect over the central
line of the figure. If it were not, the feeling of firm strength in the
figure would be lessened. On the other hand the face is turned to one
side, in order that by its contrast of direction the movement of the
whole figure may be more effective.
For, I wonder if you have noticed that the movement in every case
presents a chain of contrasts and repetitions. Start, for example, with
the left foot of _Firmness_, and move your finger over the direction of
the figure; first up the calf of the leg to the knee; then off toward
the right to the hip; then leftward up the body, then again to the right
at the slope of the shoulders; then slightly to the left up the neck,
and lastly note the face turned to the right. You will have found that
your finger has described a series of zig-zags. If you start with the
other foot, the figure will equally present a series of zig-zags, though
some differ from the former ones.
Similarly, if you begin with the foot of _Prudence_, your eye travels up
to the knee; then horizontally toward the lap; next up the slight
backward slope of the body; then in the opposite direction, when you
reach the neck and head. The contrasts in the figure of _Moderation_ are
so marked, that I am sure you can make the zig-zag for yourself.
I have used the word zig-zag because I want you to feel how marked the
contrasts are, and to realise that it is by means of these contrasts
that an artist composes his figures. The zig-zag, however, in the actual
figure has rounded angles; it is indeed rather a series of alternate
curves to right and left, somewhat like the curves described by a
skilful and graceful skater, cutting figures on the ice. And it is this
series of curves that give the effect of rhythm as well as harmony to
the figures in this picture. For, as you may have seen for yourself, the
principles on which an artist composes a single figure are the same as
those he uses in the composition of several figures into one picture. He
relies upon repetitions and contrasts to produce a balance, which
because of its rhythm of parts shall ensure a harmonious whole.
The only difference in the case of the picture is that the composition
is made up, not only of figures, but of the empty spaces of the
background also. As artists would say, the composition is an arrangement
of full and empty spaces; and its beauty depends upon the harmony and
balance between them. In the Jurisprudence, for example, it is
remarkable how the space filled by the figure of _Prudence_, corresponds
in size and even in its wedge shape to the empty space formed by the
upper and lower step of stonework. For the rest, the quantity of space
occupied by the other two figures seems to be about equal to the empty
spaces around them, though the latter, instead of being solid masses are
broken up and distributed. But you will notice, how large a stretch of
empty space is left at the top of the lunette, so that the eye is drawn
upward and the dignity of the whole decoration thereby elevated. Note
also, what a quiet impressive spot the head of Prudence makes against
the background of the sky. There is, as it were, nothing to disturb its
gracious repose. This device of setting a figure against the background
of the sky, Raphael may have learned from one of his masters, Perugino.
At any rate, both employed it, with beautiful effect.
You may often see in nature the beauty of this effect; when, for
example, on the top of some rising ground a tree, or a figure, or a
church spire, stands against the sky. If the object is motionless, it
seems to become more impressive because of the vastness of the sky. Or,
should the objects be children at play (I can remember a picture of
this), then their sport seems to take on more joyousness, freedom, and
buoyancy, from the vastness of the sky.
And now, a short description of the way in which this decoration was
painted. It is what is called “fresco,” an Italian word that means
“fresh.” The name is used because the painting is done while the plaster
of the wall is still fresh, that is to say, not “set” or dry. The
following is the process. The wall was first covered, as in our houses
to-day, with a coat of rough-cast plaster, which was allowed to dry
thoroughly. In the meanwhile the artist had prepared full-sized drawings
of his figures. As soon as he was ready, a thin coating of smooth-finish
plaster was spread over such portion of the lunette as he could paint in
a day. Upon this the drawing was placed and an assistant would go over
all the lines with a blunt-pointed tool, pressing hard enough on the
paper to leave a mark in the plaster underneath. There, when the paper
was removed, appeared the figure, enclosed in grooved lines. Then the
artist set to work and laid in the color, using paint that was mixed,
not with oil, but with water to which some gluey substance was added.
The plaster, you remember, was still damp, but since it contained plenty
of cement, dried or “set” quickly, and as it dried, the paint dried with
it, and became a part of the plaster. When it was done, the artist, if
he wished, could add a few decisive strokes. The following day another
portion of the lunette would be treated in the same manner and so on
until the whole was painted. It is a method, you see, that left the
artist no chance of fumbling over his work. He had to make up his mind
beforehand exactly what he meant to do, and to do it quickly. Hence,
with an artist so skilled as Raphael, the work has the extra charm that
belongs to what has been done easily and fluently. You know how much
pleasanter it is to listen to an easy, fluent speaker than to one who
hesitates and corrects himself continually. So, too, in a work of art,
the feeling that it has grown easily under the artist’s hand adds to our
enjoyment of it. It seems to be a spontaneous expression of himself.