The Triangle.
In angular composition the return of the eye over its course, as in
circular observation, is practically eliminated. While the circle and
ellipse offer a succession of items and events, one the sequence of the
other, so that the vision concludes like a boomerang, angular composition
sends a shaft direct, with no return.
Here the pleasure of reverie through an endless chain must be exchanged
for the stimulation of a shock, for force by concentration, for ruggedness
at the expense of elegance.
Pure triangular composition is a form rarely seen, as, in most cases where
the lines of the triangle are detected as the first conception, other
lines or points have been added to destroy or modify them.
Jacque has been successful in the management of what is considered a
difficult form. In the herder with cattle although we feel in the next
moment the subject will have passed, while it lasts the artist has kept
the eye upon it by the use of dark figures at either end and a
concentration of light in the centre; also by the presence of the tree in
the distance which turns the eye into the picture as it leaves the cow on
the right.
[The Herder--Jaque]
Another example more complete as a composition is his famous _“__Shepherd
and Sheep,__”_(11) in which the angle is formed by the dark dog at the
extreme right, the lines expanding through the figure of the shepherd and
thence above into a group of trees and below along the edge of the flock.
In this example the base line runs into the picture by perspective and
thence back into the picture to the trees.
The _“__Departure for the Chase,__”_ by Cuyp, shows an unsuccessful use of
this shape.
In _“__The Path of the Surf,__”_ the main form—the surf—is a triangle and
the two supporting spaces triangles. Such a construction is particularly
stable, as these focalize on the line of interest. Some artists construct
most of their pictures in a series of related triangles. The writer
calling upon Henry Bacon found him painting a group of transatlantic
travellers on a steamer’s deck. He pointed out a scheme of triangles
which together formed one great triangle, but said he was looking for the
last point for the base of this. A monthly magazine was suggested, which,
laid open on its face, proved _le dernier clou._
THE VERTICAL LINE IN ANGULAR COMPOSITION
When Giotto was asked for his conception of a perfect building, he
produced a circle. When Michael Angelo was appealed to, he designated the
cross. On both bases may good architecture and good pictures be founded.
If the extremities of the Greek cross be connected by arcs, a circle will
result, and if the Latin cross be so bounded we will have a kite-shape, or
ellipse. The two designs are, therefore, not as dissimilar as may at
first be supposed. In both, from the pictorial standpoint, they are the
framework by means of which the same given space may be filled.
The simple vertical line is monotonous. Its bisection produces balance; a
cross is the result. Again, two crosses placed together, the arms
touching, and three crosses in like position, will represent the picture
plan of the grouping so frequently used by Raphael—a central figure
balanced by one on either side, the horizon joining them, and behind this
the balance repeated in trees and other figures.
Pictorially, the vertical line is much more important than any other. It
is the direction of gravity; it represents man upright, in distinction
from the brutes; it also can stand alone, all other lines demanding
supports. Of two equally forcible lines, this would first be seen. In
composition, therefore, it has the right of way.
Let us start with a subject represented by a vertical line—a tree or
figure. The directness, rigidity, isolation and unqualified force of such
a line demands balance; otherwise, extension is the sole idea. With the
thought of a frame or sides of the picture comes the necessary horizontal
line, bisecting the vertical. Length and breadth have then been
represented, something in two dimensions started, and the four sides of a
frame necessitated.
In sculpture this consideration weighs nothing. A statue is framed by all
outdoors. The vertical of a single figure pierces the unlimited sky, and
the only consideration to the artist is that the mass looks well from any
point of view. The group by Carpeaux is a sample of plastic art unusually
picturesque, and would easily fit a frame, because in it the vertical
figure is supported by horizontals, both of lines and in the idea of
lateral movement. It is, therefore, solid and complete and sets forth in
its structure the thought of Alexander the Great when he had his artists
represent, in a design painted upon his equipments, lasting power as a
sword within a circuit.
This piece of sculpture is a cross within a cylinder, but on a flat
plane the principle is just as forcible, as will further be shown in the
picture by Israels.
[Alone--Jacques Israels (Constructive Synthesis upon the Vertical); The
Dance--Carpeaux (The Cross Within the Circle)]
“The Crucifixion,” by Morot, is more statuesque than picturesque, and
would gain in effect if seen unembarrassed by the limitations of a frame.
Its strength in one situation is its weakness in another. The presence of
the frame creates three spaces, one above the horizontal and one on either
side of the vertical, and these are empty. Therefore, although the single
thought of the dying Saviour is sufficiently great to bear—nay, even,
perhaps, demand—isolation, it unites itself with nothing else within our
compass of vision, and, therefore, cannot be said to compose with its
frame. The reader is now in a position to appreciate the simple mechanics
which underlie the composition by Israels. In “Alone” the artist starts
with the figure of the man—a vertical. The next thought closely allied is
the woman. The two complete a cross. From either end two more verticals
are erected. On the left another horizontal joins the vertical in the top
of the table and unites it with another vertical, the shutter, and so on
to the edge of the picture. On the other side the basket top leads off
from the vertical and thence down the side to the floor and to the edge of
the picture by the lines of fagots. The circuit, which helps to keep the
vision in the picture and serves to render more compact the subject
proper, is developed by the shelf, weights of the clock, basket, cap,
items upon table, shutter and bedpost. For proof that the horizontal lines
in this composition were all placed there for the relief of the verticals,
with the first of which the picture starts, let us remove the table,
basket and bench and see how the arrangement becomes one of quadrangles,
paralleling instead of uniting with the sides. In every case, in the
accompanying illustrations, there has been an effort to reach out toward
the sides and take hold there. Those that have established these points
of contact most fully are the most stable and the most satisfying.
In the composition of the _“__Beautiful Gate,__”_ by Raphael, the two
pillars, in that they span the whole distance from bottom to top, destroy
all chance for unity. Three pictures result instead of one—a triptych
elaborately framed. Even with these verticals cutting the picture into
sections, had horizontals been introduced between them and in front, or
even behind, some of the necessary unity of pictorial structure could have
been secured. What connection exists between these several parts is all
subjective, but not structural, the impulse to exhibit the wonderful
columns in their remarkable perfection of detail being a temptation to
which the picture was sacrificed.
Such an exhibition of the uncontrolled vertical produces an effect on a
par with a football carried straight across the field and placed on the
goal line without opposition. All the strategy of the game is left out,
and although the play produces the required effect in the score, a few
repetitions of the procedure would soon clear the benches. The interest
to the spectators and players alike enters in when the touch-down is
accomplished after a series of zigzags toward the outer line, where force
meeting force in a counter direction results in a tangent, when the goal
is reached by the subtlety of a diagonal. A cushion carom is an artistic
thing; a set-up shot is the beginner’s delight. In the _“__Allegory of
Spring,__”_ by Botticelli, we have a sample of structure lacking both
circular cohesion and the stability of the cross adhesion. Like separate
figures and groups of a photographic collection, it might be extended
indefinitely on either side or cut into four separate panels. The
accessories of the figures offer no help of union. Besides the lack of
structural unity, no effort toward it appears in the conception of the
subject. Each figure or group is sufficient unto itself, and the whole
represents a group of separate ideas. This is not composition, but
addition.
But what of the single figure in standing portraiture, when only the
person is presented, and no thought desired but that of personality, when
the outline stands relieved by spaces of nothingness? Though less
apparent, the principle of union with the sides still abides. What is
known as the lost and found outline is a recognition of this, an effort of
the background to become homogeneous with the vertical mass, the line
giving way that the surrounding tone may be let in. Such is the feeling
with which many of the most subtle of Whistler’s full-lengths have been
produced. The portraits of Carriere are still more striking examples of
absolute dismissal of outline.
In the well-known portrait of “Alice,” by Mr. Chase, where the crisp edges
of a white dress are relieved against a dark ground, such treatment is
impossible. Here, however, the device of flying ribbons is a most clever
one, which, besides giving the effect of motion, causes an interruption in
these clean-cut outlines, as also in the formal spaces on either side.
The horizontal accent of dark through the centre of the canvas, suggesting
a grand piano in the dim recesses behind, fulfills a like obligation from
the linear as well as tonal standpoint.
ANGULAR COMPOSITION BASED ON THE HORIZONTAL
As the vertical may be termed the figure painters’ line so the horizontal
becomes the line of the landscape painter. Given these as the necessary
first things, the picture is made by building upon and around them. The
devices which aid the figure painter in disposing of one or many verticals
have been briefly viewed. A consideration of the horizontal will
necessarily take us out of doors to earth and sky, where nature constructs
on surfaces which follow the horizon.
The problem in composition which each of these lines presents is the same
and the principle governing the solution of each identical; balance by
equalization of forces. _Given a line which coincides with but one side of
the picture it becomes necessary for the poise of the quadrilateral to
cross it with an opposing line._ The rectangular cross, though more
positive and effective, is no more potential in securing this unity than
the crossing of lines _at a long angle._ A series of right angles will in
time arrive at the same point as the _tangent,_ but less quickly. Each
angle in such an ascent produces the parity of both horizontal and
vertical. The tangent expresses their synthesis. In Fortuny’s
_“__Connoisseurs,__”_ the right angle formed by the line of the mantel and
the statue takes the eye to the same point as the tangent of the shadow.
Again, the principle allows the modification of any arm of the cross,
maintaining only the fact of the cross itself. When a line passes through
the first or necessary line of construction it has, so to speak,
incorporated itself as a part of the picture, and what it becomes
thereafter is of no great importance. If the reader will make simple line
diagrams of but a few pictures, this point will be made clear, and it will
be found that such diagrams which represent either the actual lines of
direction or lines of suggestion from point to point or mass to mass will
comfortably fill the quadrilateral of the frame _as a linear design._
In all analyses of pictures the student should select the first or most
commanding and necessary line of the conception. Having found this thread
the whole composition will unravel and disclose a reason for each stitch.
Let a horizontal base line be assumed and verticals erected therefrom,
_without crossing it._ The reason why no picture results is because there
is no cross. Such a design would suggest many of Fra Angelico’s
decorations of saints and angels; or the plan of the better known
decoration of “The Prophets” at the Boston Library by Sargent. These
groups, it must be remembered, are not pictorial and are not compositions
from the picture point of view. Their homogeneity depends not on
interchange of line or upon other mechanics of composition, but only upon
the unity of associated ideas. In instances, however, where some of
the figures of these groups are _joined_ by horizontal lines or masses
which bisect these verticals the pictorial intention begins to be felt.
[Sketches from Landscapes by Henry Ranger; Parity of Horizonatals and
Verticals; Crossings of Horizontals by Spot Diversion]
Of the accompanying _illustrations_ that of the view on the shore with
overhanging clouds shows a most persistent lot of horizontals with nothing
but the lighthouse and the masts of the vessels to serve for reactive
lines. At their great distance they would accomplish little to relieve
this disparity of line were it not for the aid of the vertical pillar of
cloud and the pull downward which the eye received in the pool below the
shore. The most troublesome line in this picture is the shore line, but
an effort is made here to break its monotony by two accents of bushes on
either side. What, therefore, would seem to be a composition “going all
one way,” displays, after all, a strong attempt toward the recognition of
the principle of crossed lines.
The sketch shows the constructive lines of a picture by Henry Hanger, and
lacks the force of color by which these points are emphasized.
[Sketch from the Book of Truth--Claude Lorrain (Rectangle Unbalanced); The
Beautiful Gate--Raphael (Verticals Destroying Pictorial Unity)]
In the wood interior the stone wall is the damaging line. Not only does
it parallel the bottom line, always unfortunate, but it cuts the picture
in two from side to side. Above this the bottom line of the distant woods
gives another paralleling line, running the full length of the picture.
Given the verticals together with these, however, their force becomes
weakened until there ensues an almost perfect balance, the crossing lines
weighing out even. The sketch from Claude Lorraine, out of the “Book of
Truth,” shows a great left angle composition of line not very
satisfactory, owing to its lack of weight for the long arm of the
steelyard. The principle, however, which this sketch exhibits is correct,
and its balance of composition would be easily effected by the addition of
some small item of interest to the extreme left. It is not, however, a
commendable type of composition, owing to the difficulty of obtaining a
rational balance, but when this is to be had in just its right force the
plan of lines is excellent. In the matter of measures, were the whole
composition pushed to the left we would at once feel a relief in the
spaces. But the impressionist queries why not take it as it stands! So
it might be taken, and a most balanced picture _painted from it;_ but
these considerations apply to the black and white, without the alteration
which color might effect.
[Mother and Child--Orchardson (Horizontals opposed or Covered); Stream in
Winter--W. E. Schofield (Verticals and Horizontals vs. Diagonal)]
No less aggravated a case of horizontals is the charming picture of
_mother and child_ by Mr. Orchardson. The long cane sofa and the
recumbent baby are the two unaccommodating lines for which the mother’s
figure was especially posed. Howsoever unconscious may appear the
renderings of this figure, plus the fan, the underlying structure of it
conforms absolutely to the requirements of the unthinking half of the
subject. It is an instance of an unpromising start resulting with
especial success through skillful playing to its awkward leads.
The principle of the diagonal being equivalent as a space filler to the
crossed horizontal and vertical is shown by comparison of the wood
interior with the _winter landscape,_ in which the foreground has been
thus disposed of. The force of a horizontal is more cleverly weakened by
such a line because besides adding variety it accomplishes its intention
with less effort. As a warning of what may happen when these principles
are neglected or overdone one glance at the _equestrian picture by Cuyp_
is sufficient. His subject, a man on horseback, is an excellent cross of
a horizontal and vertical in itself and simply required to be let alone
and led away from. The background destroys this and, instead of being an
aid to circular observation, persists in _adding_ a line to one in the
subject which should have been parried, and thus cuts the picture in two.
Cuyp in this as in another similar picture had in mind light and shade
rather than linear composition, but even so, the composition shows little
intelligence. No amount of after manipulation could condone so vicious a
slaughter of space and line opportunities which the background, with its
reduplicating edge, accomplishes.
Study in that vast and changeful realm the sky offers a greater
opportunity for selection than any other part of nature.
The sky is but one of two elements in every landscape and in the majority
of cases it is the secondary element. If the sky is to agree with an
interesting landscape it must retire behind it. If it causes divided
interest, its interest must be sacrificed. Drawings, photographs and
color studies of skies with the intention of combining them with landscape
should be made in the range of secondary interest and with the calculation
of their fitting to the linear scheme of landscape. Skies which move away
from the horizon diagonally, suggesting the oppositional feeling, are more
useful in an artist’s portfolio than a series of clouds, the bottoms of
which parallel the horizon, especially when these float isolated in the
sky. When the formal terrace of clouds entirely fills the sky space, its
massive structure is felt rather than the horizontal lines, just as a
series of closely paralleled lines becomes a flat tint.
THE LINE OF BEAUTY.
The most elastic and variable of the fundamental forms of composition is
the line of beauty, the letter S, or, conceived more angularly, the letter
Z. This is one particularly adapted to upright arrangements and one
largely used by the old masters. We are able to trace this curvilinear
feeling through at least one-third of the great figure compositions of the
Renaissance. Note the page of sketches in the chapter on _Light and
Shade._ Though selected for this quality they show a strong feeling for
the sweeping line of the letter S. “The Descent from the Cross,” a most
marked example, can well be considered one of the world’s greatest
compositions. Over and over again Rubens has repeated this general form
and always with great effect. Whether the line is traceable upon the
vertical plane or carries the eye into the picture and forms itself into
the graceful union of one object with another, its great pictorial power
is revealed to any who will look for it.
[Hogarth’s Line of Beauty]
In Hogarth’s essay on “The Line of Beauty,” he sets forth a series of
seven curves selecting No. 4 as the most perfect. This is duplicated in
nature by the line of a woman’s back. If two be joined side by side they
produce the beautiful curve of a mouth and the cupid’s bow. Horizontally,
the line becomes a very serviceable one in landscape. As a vertical it
recalls the upward sweep of a flame which, ever moving, is symbolic of
activity and life. To express this line both in the composition of the
single figure and of many figures was the constant effort of Michael
Angelo and, through Marcus de Sciena, his pupil, it has been passed down
to us. By the master it was considered most important advice. “The
greatest grace,” he asserts, “that a picture can have is that it express
life and motion, as that of a flame of fire.” Yet in the face of such a
statement from the painter of the “Last Judgment” it is difficult to
reconcile the lack of it in this great picture.
The compound curve which this line contains is one of perfect balance,
traceable in the standing figure. As an element of grace, alone, it
affords the same delight as the interweaving curves of a dance or the
fascination of coiling and waving smoke. Classic landscape, in which many
elements are introduced, or any subject where scattered elements are to be
swept together and controlled is dependent upon this principle. An
absolute line is not of course necessary, but points of attraction, which
the eye easily follows, is an equivalent. Many simple subjects owe their
force and distinction entirely to a good introduction through a bold
sweeping curved line. Thanks to the wagon track of the seashore, which may
be given any required curve, the formality and frequent emptiness of this
subject is made to yield itself into good composition. When the subject
rejects grace and demands a rugged form, the sinuous flow of line may be
exchanged for an abrupt and forcible zigzag. In such an arrangement the
eye is pulled sharply across spaces from one object to another, the space
itself containing little of interest. In the short chapter on Getting out
of the Picture, the use of this zigzag line was emphasized.
The opportunity offered in the film-like cirrus clouds, which so
frequently lie as the background to the more positive forms of the
cumulous, for securing the oppositional feeling, is one frequently adopted
by sky painters. Besides strengthening the structure pictorially such
arrangement frequently imparts great swing and movement in the lines of a
sky, carrying the eye away from the horizon. When positive cloud motion is
desired these oppositional masses may become very suggestive of wind,
different strata showing a contrasted action of air currents.
As an adjunct to any other form of composition this line may be profitably
employed. It plays second with graceful effect in the “Path of the Surf,”
“The Lovers,” “The Stream in Winter,” “The Chant,” “1807,” and is
traceable in many of the best compositions.
THE RECTANGLE
The last of the great forms of composition is the rectangle, but this
always in connection with oppositional balance. Such a form attaches
itself to two sides of the picture and the importance of a reacting
measure is obvious. In this lies the warrant for its use, for without it
unity is impossible. Of the six fundamental forms of composition this is
the only one which is dependent, all the others containing within
themselves the element of balance.
The rectangle plus the isolated measure approaches the completeness of the
cross and in the degree it lacks this completeness it develops
opportunities for originality.
In the _landscape by Corot_ the letter L is plainly shown. In the diagram
of Fundamental Forms also, the tree-mass, cow and river bank in shadow
serve as a sombre foil for the clump of trees upon the opposite shore
which are bathed in the soft luminous haze of early morning. This is the
real attraction which, grafted upon the heavy structure of the foreground
affects us the more through the contrast. In Mr. Pettie’s picture of
_“__James II and the Duke of Monmouth,__”_ we have the opposition of the
two lines, the attraction in the open space being the line of seats along
the wall. These, in the dimly lighted interior, are scarcely assertive
enough to effect the diversion which the open structure demands.
In perspective this arrangement merges into the triangle which has already
been discussed. The _“__Sheep and Shepherd,__”_ by Jacque is constructed
upon the L reversed and is an unusually strong example of a rare
arrangement.
LINE
Structural line, or that which stands for the initial form of the picture
and conjunctive line, or that which joins itself naturally to such form
are the two phases of line which engage the scientific study of the
artist. Line for line’s sake is an opportunity offered him quite apart
from structural considerations. Line has a distinct aesthetic value no
less than one contributive to picture mechanics. Thus pictures conceived
in vertical lines bespeak dignity, solemnity, quietude; pillars, trees of
straight shaft, ascending smoke and other vertical forms all voice these
and allied emotions. With slightly less force does a series of
horizontals affect us and with a kindred emotion. But when the line
slants and ceases to support itself, or becomes curved, movement is
suggested and another set of emotions is evoked. The diagonal typifies
the quick darting lightning. The vertical curved line is emblematic of
the tongue of flame; the horizontal curve, of a gliding serpent. In the
circle and ellipse we feel the whirl and fascination of continuity. The
linear impulse in composition therefore plays a part in emotional art
independent of the subject itself.
[Aesthetics of Line; The Altar; Roman Invasion--F. Lamayer (Vertical line
in action; dignified, measured, ponderous); The Flock--P. Moran (The
horizontal, typifying quietude, repose, calm, solemnity); The curved line:
variety, movement; Man with Stone--V. Spitzer (Transitional Line,
Cohesion); The Dance--Rubens (The ellipse: line of continuity and unity);
Swallows--From the Strand (The diagonal: line of action; speed)]
[Aesthetics of Line, Continued, Where Line is the motive and Decoration is
the Impulse; Winter Landscape--After Photograph (Line of grace, variety,
facile sequence); Line Versus Space (The same impulse with angular energy,
The line more attractive than the plane); Reconciliation--Glackens
(Composition governed by the decorative exterior line); December--After
Photograph (Radial lines with strong focalization)]
Pictorial art owes a large and increasing debt to decorative art and no
small part of this is its simple beauty of line. It is rare however to
find the painter governed in his first conception by any _positive_ linear
form. The outlines of great compositions only hint of decorative
structure and give no evidence that they were planned as linear designs.
The requirement of linear design that she beautifully fill a space is met
by pictorial composition through the many correlative opportunities which
in her broader range are open to her, by which she _adds_ to the
fundamental forms of construction (which often prove bad space fillers)
such items as connect their outlines with the encasement or frame. With
some ingenuity advocates of pure design as the basis of pictorial
structure, point out the similarity of certain compositions to formal,
ornamental design or type forms of plants, flowers, etc., yet omit to
state how many of the best compositions they reject in their search for
the happy hit or to allow for the fact that in those which they cite,
cruel disturbance of the beautiful scheme could easily be wrought by
slight reconstruction, leaving the work quite as good. The author’s
contention is directly opposed to the notion that pictorial art is
dependent on the flat plan of the design, which is only contributory, but
that its essence is known by an apprehension of balance through the depth
of the picture. Pictorial art is not an art of two dimensions but of
three.