“Perceptually, a mature work reflects a highly differentiated sense of form, capable of organizing the various components of the image in a comprehensive compositional order. But the intelligence of the artist is apparent not only in the structure of the formal pattern but equally in the depth of meaning conveyed by this pattern.” Arnheim, R. (1997). Visual Thinking. Berkeley: University of California Press; pg. 269 Along with basic shapes, there are other elemental principles in art that can add volumes to the expressionistic potential and perception of pictorial depiction. I label them under the term composition for the sake of emphasizing their cooperation and hermeneutic propensities. POSITION (Part 1) Position in a picture determines the state and importance of any given element in question. Thus, an object in the center of picture draws our attention the most, acting like a celestial star that has a gravitational pull on other elements, particularly when it is the largest. We get the central position through the application of symmetry (intersection of a dividing horizontal and vertical axis). The importance or at least validity of this central position may be in a manner of saying more a theoretical than a practical point. To clarify, I am referring to asymmetrical depiction, the so called rule of thirds (dividing both the horizontal and the vertical into thirds). By placing points of interest in the intersections of these lines, the artist creates a greater balance and enables a more natural depiction than the standard central shot. (Photographers use this technique in droves as well.) In other words, our eyes seem to be more adapt to viewing elements horizontally; stressing the peacefulness and stability of horizontals as opposed to verticals in general. (Frank Miller’s graphic novel 300 and especially his reasoning behind using this untypical horizontal position of panels and the book itself is the perfect example in this context.) The reason why we are even able to comprehend a single image from basically two distinct ones which each of our eyes generates is stereopsis or depth perception, accounting for the disparity between the two respective retina images. If centrality has greater pictorial weight, the outskirts of the image are the outskirts of our perception as well. Arguably, a general rectangular image can only represent one’s field of vision (a simulacrum of sorts); both in terms of its two-dimensionality and the viewing angle of the eyes, which covers a 60-degre angle. As the eye moves from the focal points of the image (and points of inherent interest of the reader) to the marginal elements, this consequently also affects their respective importance. However, this also allows the artist to skillfully “hide” specific visual elements in the outskirts, if s/he so chooses. In comics, this can be quite prevalent, because the reader is generally accustomed to fast-pace absorption of pictorial material. Think of it this way: it’s like speed reading, where you get the gist of the information fast, but the details can readily remain in the shadows of comprehension. In connection to the principle of attraction, we should differentiate between the fixation on a particular element and a composition that pulls the eyes into the picture and guides them around it, in a sense creating a pattern that consists of natural framing and entry and exit points. This theory may be more prevalent in paintings and great works of visual art per se; however, in comics it can be (and is) equally applied, in the process creating a better and more connecting visual narration. Thus, by guiding the reader through the panels more indirectly, the reading becomes more natural and the reader becomes more immersed into the story. For example even the balloons and tails can act as framing devices in themselves, thus guiding, connecting, enclosing or separating the pictorial base from the text. Arguably, framing is primarily pictorial, so it is harder to attain in a medium that depends on the interaction of pictures and words. Words can in this case hinder the natural flow of the picture, since for the most part they are visual add-ons, which by their symbolic nature that requires detailed decipherment demand greater involvement from the reader. In other words, they are natural elements of attraction. Attraction as such is actually twofold: while the picture creates the visual base and attracts the reader by its immediately recognizable presence, we have learned to attribute greater importance to words, since they can reflect (more) complex subject matter through an equally complex translation of its symbolic nature. Consequently, we are drawn to words because they take longer to digest amidst the pictorial backdrop, which, nevertheless, lingers in the background, gaining “subliminal” transference through even mere glances towards it. NEXT: PROXIMITY
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THE CURVED LINE The curved line is a more natural line. And coincidentally curves are sexy. As much as the Earth is literally nowhere near a perfect sphere, so are strict lines and ordered geometrical shapes predominantly of human invention. Again, this perhaps reflects the pleasure and vice of humanity’s intrinsic formalistic nature to label and organize the world around us amidst the seemingly beautiful kerfuffle of celestial chaos. While groupings of any king pragmatically make perfect sense to us, the universe extends beyond organization per se, since the notions of action/reaction and gravity are the principles in play. Arguably, Earth’s perceived shape is indeed spherical, which is a three-dimensional gravitationally-influenced expansion of a single point; however, Earth’s natural surface is predominantly comprised of curvatures (gravitational forces play a key role in their shape). This might be a natural reason why curved shapes feel more natural and endearing than straight lines. While perfect curvature can be technically and digitally reproduced million times over, in nature, however, it does not appear as such. Curved shapes appear unique every time, which everyone can experience for example just by trying to create two perfect circles with a pencil. And they say no two snowflakes are alike, equally as no two people are. As perfectly sustainable as nature seems (with or without us in it), perfect regularity nevertheless does not exist in nature. As part of either the straight or curved line, we can create convex and concave elements, those that expand outwards and those that turn inwards, respectively (Mathematically, the internal angle of a non-curved convex shape is less or equal to 180 degrees, while the internal angle of the concave shape is always more than 180 degrees.). A speech balloon in comics is thus for the most part convex. Its curved lines expand outwards, becoming more “airy” and cloud-lie. When the curves face inwards, they resemble a hole, facing inwards and become more restricted. Visually, the balloon shape has (apart from the pleasing appearance) also a pragmatic function of offering a greater use of the space within for the text … as coincidentally does the emptiness of a jar for example in Daoist terms. Convexity, though, tends to have precedence over concavity. In other words, expanding shapes have a bigger visual value because of their inherently bigger size. The differentiation is more or less arbitrary, since the same lines can depict opposite notions purely by their position and which direction they are facing (a similar notion can be observed in letter M and W for example). As with any basic notions, compound meanings – in this case structures – can be applied. Consequently, a vertical line can for example extend into an upright parallelogram, similarly compounding the original emotional meaning of the simple line; reflecting strength like a standing pillar or imply encapsulation or enclosement like in a coffin or the character’s own state of mind.
COMPOSITE LINES Composite lines represent numerous other possibilities of line rendering. Whether a zigzag line (expressing tension), a circle (unity), triangle (stability) or any other more or less geometrical and natural shape, the artist’s repository of knowledge is build from these very basic shapes. As much as the writer combines words into established phrases, (s)he incorporates, joins and creates unique expressions as well, instituting a unique repertoire and personal style of writing. Similarly, all pictorial art stems from the basic shapes and is given life through personal styles and techniques. The artists, who are influenced by the world, mimic it through their artistic approach, inspired and molded through their interests, enabling the perfect interplay of the personal and the social. These types of examples are even more context-dependent, so combinations of either intricate patterns or misleadingly simplistic basic shapes can work hand in hand to enhance the reading experience. But more specifically, a base-heavy triangle ▲ points upwards, its base line creates a stable structure, while its enclosed sides offer further stability (i.e. mountain, especially a pyramidal peak); especially if the triangle is equilateral, where its three equal angles enhance this notion. Turned upside-down ▼, however, the nature of the triangle changes drastically. Due to the one-point base, the stability is replaced by unease. The down-pointing shape resembles a sharp object that we associate with danger (i.e. blade, icicle or tooth). Our awareness of a knife or a dagger in real life is clearly and sublimely transferred into this visually-piercing object. The characteristics of a circle ● are quite different, since it does not have the same geometrical constraints (and advantages) as the triangle embodies. Its smooth curved surface is visually more pleasing and does not pose a threat (of course for the most part depending on size, mass, direction or movement). The uniform shape has been a long-standing standard for perfection, circularly reflecting both the Sun and the Moon, as the two most influential stellar bodies for the Earth. (Deemed so both because they are so easily observable and because of their geological, astronomical effects and reciprocity with our planet.). The natural simplicity of the circle, however, has an underlined depth which alludes to the notion of simplification for amplification and attribution of seemingly universal meaning to generally arbitrary depictions. Symbolically, the circle is the extension of the point, in other words the singularity of all complex visual expression being fundamentally in a more visibly palpable and beautiful circle … or the sphere, if we extended this notion through “dimensional magic”. We can relate these observations to comics as well. The caption has a traditional rectangular form ■ (which is even more sturdy and uniform than a triangle). The straight nature of its sides not only offers stability and an easier outlet for the text (which traditionally follows a straight, linear path), but can reflect either the more serious tones or formalistic, factual descriptions in captions. On the other hand, the bubbly thought balloon visually follows the lightness and smoothness of curved shapes and circles, reflecting the inner dialogue of a character. Not to imply that the stream of consciousness approach means that the characters are lightheaded, even though that can often be the case, especially when an extensive action scene, meant to be read fast, is accompanied with an elaborate longwinded inner monologue, where these linguistic elements balance the pictorially dominant portrayal, only to distract the narrative flow and break the suspension of disbelief. (In other words: there’s nothing wrong this “flying” through the pages of a comic, because not every scene has to be linguistically challenging. Sorry, Alan Moore.). Equally, the jagged shape of zigzag balloons, used to indicate mechanical voices or speech heard from television or radio for example, is visually more tense and tenuous; reflecting the electrical current necessary for the signals to be transferred to the satellites and back or to the transmitters directly. The visual tension becomes psychological as well, since this digital transference of talking on the phone and especially listening or watching a program (both passive approaches, where the communication is one-sided) is much more impersonal. Obviously, similar arguments can be made for every object we can find both in art or nature. Arguably, specific rules apply; as much as gravity is a force that shapes life in the universe, Abstract art and Cubism follow their own distinctive pattern. Nonetheless, the very shape and color used in the latter cases are still a reflection of the prevailing natural order imprinted in humanity (even if negating these standards). In such a way every “unorthodox” art form is both unique as well as unilaterally formalistic, just as every subculture is “special” and yet quite ordinary at that. De Saussurian duads are constantly in play. The world as we know it is our vary nature and we are but a product of it. Consequently, our “imprint” of it is both intrinsically and extrinsically based (mutability and immutability in full effect) on the natural shapes and colors. Nevertheless, distinction becomes the crucial factor which (like a trickster) stirs this pot of standards by implementing diversity of life. We can see this both in cultural distinctions of all kinds and the very evolution that brought about the complexity of life (while retaining its roots in nature). END of PART 2 (of 2) “When no preconceived ideas keep us from looking and we take all the time we need to really ‘feel’ what we see […] the universe opens up and we catch our breath in awe at the incredible complexity of design in the humblest things It is only when this happens that we regain our sense of wonder.” (Bothwell, D., and Mayfield, M. (1991). Notan: The Dark-Light Principle of Design. New York: Dover Publications; pg. 75) As much as the world may seem to be a disorganized, random amalgamation of elements, especially since we are bombarded by visual stimuli at every corner on a daily basis, there is in fact a pattern to be observed. This may be obvious in language – where specific and fixed symbols are used – but that is also the case in the pictorial world, even though it may quite ironically be less obvious. Part of this may be because we generally take the visual world around us for granted. We have internalized the fixed images that we observe on a daily basis, so for the most part we know exactly what to expect when we step outside our house and even more so when we return home … but if someone asks you to describe the intricate pattern on your carpet or the design of your coffee table, most of us would be surprisingly “blind”. The shapes (and colors) make up the visual language of the world that we see around us and consequently immediately interpret, yet we don’t see it per se, because it’s either too obvious or we and our eyes deem the details too bothersome to invest all our precious attention to them, when it’s needed elsewhere. So, let’s clear the air. It’s try to describe the basic elements of visual composition that apply to both visual storytelling as well as plain visual awareness of ourselves and the world around us. We begin with rudimentary geometric elements (and their spatial relations) that like atoms through evolutionary process and arduous work make up the larger, greater and artistically awe-inspiring imagery. The four elements are the point, the straight line, the curved line and composite lines. THE POINT • The point is the one and only essential element from which every other shape is brought to life. Well, obviously. Like the atom (I know there are smaller elements still) or the pixel in the digital environment, the point is the building block of complexity and the starting point of this examination as well (let’s exclude negative space for the time being). While it can be said that every picture is an amalgamation of lines on paper, every line is constructed of points in a sequence. As such, the power of this singularity (like atoms creating higher units, morphemes creating words and further semantic sequences) is more evident in the general shapes that stem from this starting point. We can draw parallels to mythology, where the point symbolizes the center, which in turn is the source of life (the beginning and end). This is the axis mundi that connects the profane world (of basic shapes) with the sacred space (of artistic complexity). Further, this concept can be applied to the cosmos as well, because the Big Bang (whether theoretical or actual) is essentially just that singularity brought into complexity. Also, one other thing as far as mythology goes, there are more or less subtle connections between basic shapes and basic archetypes … of course referring not to their “basic” simplicity, but the foundation for though-provoking complexity. In such a way, were the devil archetype for example vied as negative space, both concepts carry a plethora of meanings and philosophical/transcended imagery. Not “bad”, but essential (in true Daoist sense, if not Jungian as well). Since I’m generally ad-libbing with most of these oblique analogies, it could be fun to imagine the prototypical archetypes as rudimentary shapes and imagery, but at this point I’m just gonna shoot straight to the next element on the list. THE STRAIGHT LINE The basic geometrical shape that reflects stability has to be straight, right? Depending on its position, length, thickness etc., the straight line creates a number of responses. Albeit, in mathematic terms, the length is irrelevant in the sense that a line is just a visual representation and it extends beyond its starting or end point into infinity, but for the most part that is just our required formalistic simplification. Either way, the straight lines are as followed: The horizontal line (–) expresses stability and exemplifies the horizon of the world that creates a down-to-earth effect and can be calming (like the horizon of a sunset) or overbearing and vast on the other hand. The vertical line (׀) stresses upward movement, rejection of (earthly) gravity through its symbolic rising (towards the heavens) and obviously all-ensuing phallic symbolism. Schwing! Excellent, indeed. The diagonal line implies dynamic movement, either upward (/) or downward (\).Therefore, it implies motion and creates tension. As an extension of this fact, uneven and steep terrain is harder to traverse, while angles and triangles have a visually less calming effect. Similarly, knives are dangerous because their edges can quite easily pierce our skin (even though this “sharpness” is less obvious on a molecular level). Taking into account left-to-right reading pattern in the West, the diagonals “read” in this direction as well. In such a way, the peaks of diagonals /and \ are at the far right, stressing the aspects of progression and regression, respectively. Interestingly, such a left-to-right reading scheme is globally employing in graphs for example. Arguably, this usage can be a matter of worldwide agreement for the sake of comprehension – similarly as the English language has been forced … I mean adopted as the world language (taking into account global expansion and insemination of English-based culture, of course). Not that I’m complaining, but still, let’s call a spade a spade. END of PART 1 (of 2) I’m not click-baiting, stereotypes really are essential in comics comprehension. This refers to (over)emphasis of specific character traits, which is to an extent quite evident in caricatures, where exaggeration is inherent, apparent and in for the most part instantaneously recognizable. This notion may seem in conflict with previous examples of visual art (staying true to human anatomy and keeping exceptional moments to a minimum); however, stereotypical depiction in comics equates neither cliché nor absurdity. There is an obvious distinction between a cliché used as an escape route, a mere narrative element, weak plotline or even an offensive characterization of a particular class, gender or belief for example. However, stereotypes as comprehensive storytelling devices are not used to offend neither the conservative nor liberal types. Stereotypes don’t hinder the work, but enhance it because of the strong, deliberate characterization. They pictorially stress specific features for them to be immediately recognizable. In such a way clarity is achieved through the use of recognizable character traits. We can correlate this even to pantomime, professional wrestling, drama, and film as well, where you often have to exaggerate and go over the top in order to get the desired effect (again, context matters). In comics, the artist for example has to stress the visuals of a character or a scene in general for that very matter, so the linguistic elements are free to carry their part of the narrative without having to describe the character’s features in great detail. Writing in comics is specific, since the writer is restrained by the amount of text that goes into each panel, so they have to be more precise, distinct, clear and resourceful in their phrasing. Speaking from many years of experience, this process can to a large extend be compared to translating … subtitling in particular. The translator like the comics writer “suffers” from the visual constraints of either the subtitle or the balloon, so their respective inventiveness, adaptability and creativity are constantly tested in order to be able to express an idea sometimes in more than one way (especially those writers in the limited 24-page comic books of the mainstream publications). The principle of stereotypical depictions per se is predominantly used (and abused) in cartoons, where the hero has for example been traditionally portrayed as handsome and broad-shouldered, while the villain’s visuals are sharper and s/he is typically clad in dark clothes. Eisner offers an excellent old-school take on this notion, which stays evergreen (still applied to wrestling as previously mentioned). Running can for further example be overemphasized to the degree where the character may have legs extended beyond the capabilities of even the best ballerinas, gymnasts or contortionists, while the expression of shock on the face can be drawn with mouth and eyes open to a realistically absurd degree. Comics have to adhere to similar principles, even if the approach is more “realistic” or the theme of the work more “mature”. An argument can be made that the most realistic portrays manage to step outside of the principle of stereotypes, since the material mimics the natural world to the extent that exaggerations are not possible. Especially with stylistic photorealism and with the xerographic technique for example, where actual photos are used and manipulated into creating a story. As the comic seems and feel more real, the stereotypical representation (if deemed necessary) transfers to either the ideological or the metaphoric level. So it helps to look at it as stressing the essentials and choosing the appropriate panel, in which the artist “stressed” a specific posture or scenery as opposed to another, because you want the reader to get your work and feel it without overthinking and overanalyzing every picture. Unless that’s the point of the comic … but that’s very rare. Suspension of disbelief is always the crucial element that enables the reader to for example take Spiegelman’s anthropomorphic animal creatures in MAUS as humans (which coincidentally creates even greater shock). The language of comicana is the perfect example of such “stereotypes”. The signs on paper or on the screen reflect senses (such as smell and hearing) that cannot be achieved otherwise. Stereotypes, referring to the previously discussed aspect of simplification, reflect the basic human nature of labeling and organizing elements into a more or less coherent whole; the discipline whose roots are surely the most entangled with this principle is history proper. The Hellenistic age and Renaissance are arbitrary labels that modern thinkers have placed on specific traditions that were realistically neither restricted to their respective time-spans nor can objectively be viewed only through what they imply. Consequently, this is as arbitrary as setting the birth of Jesus as the starting point for counting years. Hellenistic age semantically implies the rise of Greek – Hellenic – culture, yet it actually marked its final demise through the Macedonian (Greek) and later Roman dominance. Renaissance on the other hand literally means renewal, yet for rebirth to occur the tradition of Greco-Roman-inspired art would had to have been completely forgotten (an ideologically semantic dispute, I know), which was and still is hardly the case, since the whole model of Western civilization consistently remains the remnant of Ancient Greece. Last but not least, stereotypes in comics can be seen as mythological archetypes, images that reflect the basic human nature. In a medium suffering from economy of use and density of information they can thus be easily recognizable. Humanity has a tendency to understand and simplify matters so they can be easily understood, yet their true nature is far from straightforward (Jung be proud). Comics (and even more so myth) is an exemplar of this notion: while it is fairly easy to explain the medium, its complex nature and beauty reach far beyond the oversimplistically obvious word-picture interplay. Either way, this concludes the four-part series on the comics-related essentials of visual art. If another principle worth stressing pops up, I’ll include it in future posts, but for now I’ll continue slogging along with some more basics about shapes (and color) and probably a review or two, because there’s plenty of comics that beckon analytical attention. I know the last post about minimalism (and maybe this one as well) went a bit all over the place and away from artistry proper, but the fun and beauty of art in general is its pervasiveness in making itself the conduit of comprehension and perception of our very being. The thing is that I tend to see connections between let’s say certain philosophical notions and natural phenomena that are often not necessarily thought about together. When I try to make sense of this, I far too often connect them way better in my head than it ends up on (digital) paper. I dunno, it’s a gut feeling as much as it is research-based. I like to consider these allusions and connections of different subject matter (that I’m sure a lot of you find ridiculous or nonsensical … not because you wouldn’t be able to get it, but because I fail to convey them optimally) an attempt to understand my own mind and comprehend the larger reality that has invariably shaped this noggin of mine. If at least one person gets it, I’ll be more than happy, because that will mean I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass, but am in fact trying to put in perspective things I’ve come across in my research and life in general. Cheers! |
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