The moment we touch upon line-form we are already, in strictness,
beyond the elements. For with form enters the motor factor,
which cannot be separated from the motor innervations of the
whole body. It is possible, however, to abstract for the moment
from the form as a unit, and to consider here only what may be
called the quality of line. A line may be straight or broken,
and if curved, curving continuously or brokenly, etc. That
this quality of line is distinct from form may be shown by the
simple experiment of turning a spiral--a logarithmic spiral,
let us say--in different ways about its focus. The aesthetic
effect of the figure is absolutely different in the different
positions, and yet the feeling about the character of the line
itself seems to remain the same. In what sense, and for what
reasons, does this curved line satisfy the demands of the eye?
The discussion of this question precipitates us at once into
one of the burning controversies of aesthetics, which may
perhaps best be dealt with at this point.
An early answer to the question would have been, that the eye
is so hung in its muscles as to move most easily in curved
lines, and this easy action in following the curve is felt as
favorable stimulation. But recent experiment<1> has shown
that the eye in fact moves by most irregular, angular leaps
from point to point of the figure. The theory is therefore
remodeled by substituting for the movement sensations of the
eye, the tendencies corresponding to those early movements of
touching imitative of the form, by which we learned to know a
form for what it is, and the reproduction of feeling-tones
belonging to the character of such movement. The movements
of touching and feeling for a smooth continuous curved object
are themselves pleasant. This complex of psychical factors
makes a pleasurably stimulating experience. The greater the
tendency to complete reproduction of these movements, that is,
the stronger the "bodily resonance," the more vivid the pleasure.
Whether we (with Groos) designate this as sympathetic reproduction,
or (with Lipps) attribute to the figure the movements and the
feelings which resound in us after this fashion, or even (with
Witasek) insist on the purely ideal character of the reproduction,
seems to me not essential to the explanation of the pleasing
character of the experience, and hence of the beauty of the
object. Not THAT we sympathetically reproduce ("Miterleben"),
or "feel ourselves into" a form ("Einfuhlen"), but HOW we do so,
is the question.
<1> G.M. Stratton, _Philos. Studies_, xx.
All that Hogarth says of the beauty of the serpentine line, as
"leading the eye a kind of chase," is fully in harmony with this
view, if we add to the exploiting movements of the eyes those
other more important motor innervations of the body. But we
should still have to ask, WHAT kind of chase? Sharp, broken,
starting lines might be the basis of a much more vivid experience,
--but it would be aesthetically negative. "The complete sensuous
experience of the spatial" is not enough, unless that experience
is positively, that is, favorably toned. Clear or vivid seeing
made possible by the form of the object is not enough. Only as
FAVORABLY stimulating, that is, only as calling up ideal
reproductions, or physical imitations, of movements which in
themselves were suited to the functions of the organs involved,
can forms be found positively aesthetic, that is, beautiful.
Moreover, we have to note here, and to emphasize, that the
organs involved are more than the eye, as has already been made
plain. We cannot separate eye innvervations from bodily
innervations in general. And therefore "the demands of the eye"
can never alone decide the question of the beauty of visual
form. If it were not so, the favorable stimulation combined
with repose of the eye would alone make the conditions of
beauty. The "demands of the eye" must be interpreted as the
demands of the eye plus the demands of the motor system,--the
whole psychophysical personality, in short.
It is in these two principles,--"bodily resonance," and favorable
as opposed to energetic functioning,--and these alone, that we
have a complete refutation of the claim made by many artists
to-day, that the phrase "demands of the eye" embodies a complete
aesthetic theory. The sculptor Adolph Hildebrand, in his
"Problem of Form in the Plastic Art" first set it forth as the
task of the artist "to find a form which appears to have arisen
only from the demands of the eye;"<1> and this doctrine is
to-day so widely held, that it must here be considered at some
length.
<1> _Das Proablem der form in d. bildenden Kunst_, 1897.
It is the space-form, all that is seen, and not the object itself,
that is the object of vision. Now in viewing a plastic object
near at hand, the focus of the eye must be constantly changed
between the nearer and further points. In a more distant view,
on the other hand (Hildebrand's "Fernbild"), the contour is
denoted by differences of light and shadow, but it is nevertheless
perceived in a single act of accommodation. Moreover, being
distant, the muscles of accommodation are relaxed; the eye acts
at rest. The "Fernbild" thus gives the only unified picture of
the three-dimensional complex, and hence the only unity of space-
values. In the perception of this unity, the author holds,
consists the essential pleasure which the work of art gives us.
Hildebrand's treatment is difficult, and lends itself to varying
interpretations, which have laid stress now on unity as the
essential of art,<1> now on "the joy in the complete sensuous
experience of the spatial."<2> The latter seems in harmony with
the passage in which Hildebrand says "all pleasure in Form is
pleasure in our not being obliged to create this clearness for
ourselves, in its being created for us, nay, even forced upon
us, by the form itself."
<1> A. Riehl, _Vierteljahrschr. f. wissenensch. Philos._, xxi,
xxii.
<2> K. Groos, _Der Aesthetische Genuss_, 1902, p. 17.
But supposing the first interpretation correct: supposing
space-unity, conditioned by the unified and reposeful act of
seeing, to be the beauty we seek--it is at once clear that the
reduction of three dimensions to two does not constitute unity
even for the eye alone; how much less for the motor system of
the whole body, which we have seen must be involved. Hildebrand's
"demands of the eye" resolves itself into the stimulation plus
repose of the ciliary muscle,--the organ of accommodation. A
real unity even for the eye alone would have to include not
only space relations in the third dimension, but relations of
line and mass and color in the flat. As for the "complete
sensuous experience of the spatial" (which would seem to be
equivalent to Berenson's "tactile values"), the "clearness" of
Hildebrand's sentence above quoted, it is evident that
completeness of the experience does not necessarily involve
the positive or pleasurable toning of the experience. The
distinction is that between a beautiful and a completely
realistic picture.
A further extension or restatement of this theory, in a recent
article,<1> seems to me to express it in the most favorable
way. Beauty is again connected with the functioning of our
organs of perception (Auffassungorgane). "We wish to be put
into a fresh, lively, energetic and yet at the same time
effortless activity.... The pleasure in form is a pleasure
in this, that the conformation of the object makes possible
or rather compels a natural purposeful functioning of our
apprehending organs." But purposeful for what? For visual
form, evidently to the end of seeing clearly. The element of
repose, of unity, hinted at in the "effortless" of the first
sentence, disappears in the second. The organs of apprehension
are evidently limited to the eye alone. It is not the perfect
moment of stimulation and repose for the whole organism which
is aimed at, but the complete sensuous experience of the
spatial, again.
<1> Th. A. Meyer, "Das Formprinzip des Schouen," _Archiv. f.
Phil._, Bd. x.
Hildebrand, to return to the more famous theorist, was writing
primarily of sculpture, and would naturally confine himself to
consideration of the plastic, which is an additional reason
against making this interesting brochure, as some have done,
the foundation of an aesthetics. It is rather the foundation
of the sculptor's, perhaps even of the painter's technique,
with reference to plastic elements alone. What it contains
of universal significance, the demand for space-unity, based
on the state of the eye in a union of rest and action, ignores
all but one of the possible sources of rest and action for
the eye, that of accommodation, and all the allied activities
completely.
On the basis of the favorable stimulations of all these
activities taken together, must we judge as pleasing the so-
called quality of line. But it is clear that we cannot really
separate the question of quality of line from that of form,
figure, and arrangement in space. The motor innervations
enter with the first, and the moment we have form at all, we
have space-composition also. But space-composition means
unity, and unity is the objective quality which must be
translated, in our investigations, into aesthetic repose. It
is thus with the study of composition that we pass from the
study of the elements as favorably stimulating, to the study
of the beauty of visual form.
V
We may begin by asking what, as a matter of fact, has been the
arrangement of spaces to give aesthetic pleasure. The primitive
art of all nations shows that it has taken the direction of
symmetry about a vertical line. It might be said that this is
the result of non-aesthetic influences, such as convenience of
construction, technique, etc. <1>It is clear that much of the
symmetry appearing in primitive art is due (1) to the conditions
of construction, as in the form of dwellings, binding patterns,
weaving and textile patterns generally; (2) to convenience in
use, as in the shapes of spears, arrows, knives, two-handled
baskets or jars; (3) to the imitation of animal forms, as in
the shapes of pottery, etc. On the other hand, (1) a very
great deal of symmetrical ornament maintains itself AGAINST the
suggestions of the shape to which it is applied, as the
ornaments of baskets, pottery, and all rounded objects; and
(2) all distortion, disintegration, degradation of pattern-
motives, often so marked as all but to destroy their meaning,
is in the direction of geometrical symmetry. The early art of
all civilized nations shows the same characteristic. Now it
might be said that, as there exists an instinctive tendency to
imitate visual forms by motor impulses, the impulses suggested
by the symmetrical form are in harmony with the system of
energies of our bilateral organism, which is a system of double
motor innervations, and thus fulfill our demand for a set of
reactions corresponding to the organism as a whole. But we
should then expect that all space arrangements which deviate
from complete symmetry, and thus suggest motor impulses which
do not correspond to the natural bilateral type, would fail to
give aesthetic pleasure. Such, however, is not the case. Non-symmetrical arrangements of space are often extremely pleasing.
<1> The following is adapted from the author's _Studies in
Symmetry, Harvard Psych. Studies_, vol i, 1902.
This contradiction disappears if we are able to show that the
apparently non-symmetrical arrangement contains a hidden
symmetry, and that all the elements of that arrangement
contribute to bring about just that bilateral type of motor
impulses which is characteristic of geometrical symmetry.
A series of experiments was arranged, in which one of two
unequal lines of white on a black background being fixed in
an upright position a certain distance from the centre, the
other was shifted until the arrangement was felt to be pleasing.
It was found that when two lines of different sizes were opposed,
their relative positions corresponded to the relation of the
arms of a balance, that is, a small line far from the centre
was opposed by a large one near the centre. A line pointing
out from the centre fitted this formula if taken as "heavy,"
and pointing in, if taken as "light." Similarly, objects of
intrinsic interest and objects suggesting depth in the third
dimension were "heavy" in the same interpretation. All this,
however, did not go beyond the proof that all pleasing space-
arrangements can be described in terms of mechanical balance.
But what was this mechanical balance? A metaphor explains
nothing, and no one will maintain that the visual representation
of a long line weights more than a short one. Moreover, the
elements in the balance were so far heterogeneous. The
movement suggested by an idea had been treated as if equivalent
to the movement actually made by the eye in following a long
line; the intrinsic interest--that is, the ideal interest--of
an object insignificant in form was equated to the attractive
power of a perspective, which has, presumably, a merely
physiological effect on the visual mechanism.
I believe, however, that the justification of this apparent
heterogeneity, and the basis for explanation, is given in the
reduction of all elements to their lowest term,--as objects
for the expenditure of attention. A large object and an
"interesting" object are "heavy" for the same reason, because
they call out the attention. And expenditure of effort is
expenditure of attention; thus, if an object on the outskirts
of the field of vision requires a wide sweep of the eye to take
it in, it demands the expenditure of attention, and so is felt
as "heavy." But what is "the expenditure of attention" in
physiological terms? It is nothing more than the measure of
the motor impulses directed to the object of attention. And
whether the motor impulse appears as the tendency to follow
out the suggestions of motion in the object, all reduces to
the same physiological basis.
It may here be objected that our motor impulses are, nevertheless,
still heterogeneous, inasmuch as some are toward the object of
interest, and some along the line of movement. But it must be
said, first, that these are not felt in the body, but transferred
as values of weight to points in the picture,--it is the amount
and not the direction of excitement that is counted; and secondly,
that even if it were not so, the suggested movement along a line
is felt as "weight" at a particular point.
From this point of view the justification of the metaphor of
mechanical balance is quite clear. Given two lines, the most
pleasing arrangement makes the larger nearer the centre, and
the smaller far from it. This is balanced because the spontaneous
impulse of attention to the near, large line equals in amount
the involuntary expenditure to apprehend the small, farther one.
We may thus think of a space to be composed as a kind of target,
in which certain spots or territories count more or less, both
according to their distance from the centre and according to what
fills them. Every element of a picture, in whatever way it gains
power to excite motor impulses, is felt as expressing that power
in the flat pattern. A noble vista is understood and enjoyed as
a vista, but it is COUNTED in the motor equation, our "balance,"
as a spot of so much intrinsic value at such and such a distance
from the centre. The skillful artist will fill his target in the
way to give the maximum of motor impulses with the perfection of
balance between them.
It is thus in a kind of substitutional symmetry, or balance, that
we have the objective condition or counterpart of aesthetic
repose, or unity. From this point of view it is clearly seen in
what respect the unity of Hildebrand fails. He demands in the
statue, especially, but also in the picture, the flat surface as
a unity for the three dimensions. But it is only with the flat
space, won, if you will, by Hildebrand's method, that the problem
begins. Every point in the third dimension counts, as has been
said, in the flat. The Fernbild is the beginning of beauty, but
within the Fernbild favorable stimulation and repose must still
be sought. And repose or unity is given by symmetry, subjectively
the balance of attention, inasmuch as this balance is a tension
of antagonistic impulses, an equilibrium, and thus an inhibition
of movement.
From this point of view, we are in a position to refute Souriau's
interesting analysis<1> of form as the condition for the
appreciation of content. He says that form, in a picture for
instance, has its value in its power to produce (through its
fixation and concentration of the eye) a mild hypnosis, in which,
as is well known, all suggestions come to us with bewildering
vividness. This is, then, just the state in which the contents
of the picture can most vividly impress themselves. Form, then,
as the means to content, by giving the conditions for suggestion,
is Sourieau's account of it. In so far as form--in the sense
of unity--gives, through balance and equilibrium of impulses,
the arrest of the personality, it may indeed be compared with
hypnotism. But this arrest is not only a means, but an end in
itself; that aesthetic repose, which, as the unity of the
personality, is an essential element of the aesthetic emotion
as we have described it.
<1> _La Suggestion en l'Art_.