STUDIES IN ÆSTHETIC PROCESSES. — часть 8

A. It is of especial value for our conclusions that that division in which the constant elements are least balanced (V.) is far the most numerous. Comparison of this with III. shows that the principal element, direction of movement of head or body, is balanced by the larger mass of the body or accessories. Very significant, also, is the great increase in the use of V. in this most irregular class (15 per cent. as against 1 per cent. in III.). Three cases (214, 1087, 154, all A.V.,) fail to show substitutional symmetry.

B. With the head on one side of Cn., of course the greatest interest is removed to one side, and the element of direction is brought in to balance. Again, with this decrease in symmetry, we see the significant increase in the use of the especially effective elements, V. and L. (Cf. B. I., II., III., IV., and especially V.) In fact, the use of the small deep vista is almost confined to the class with heads not in the middle. The direction of the glance also plays an important part. It is to be noted that in B. I. and II., I. appears as the most frequently used element, exclusive of the general equation, which is, of course, between the mass of the body and interest of the face, on one side, and the direction of suggested movement on the other. This means that very often the direction of movement alone is not sufficient to balance the powerful Ms. + I. of the other side, and that the eye has to be attracted by a definite object of interest. This is usually the hand, with or without an implement—like the palette, etc., of our first examples—or a jewel, vase, or bit of embroidery. This is very characteristic of the portraits of Rembrandt and Van Dyck.

In general, it may be said that (1) portraits with the head in the center of the frame show a balance between the direction of suggested movement on one side, and mass or direction of attention, or both together, on the other; while (2) portraits with the head not in the center show a balance between mass and interest on one side, and direction of attention, or of line, or vista, or combinations of these, on the other. The hypothesis of substitutional symmetry is thus completely confirmed.

Genre.

Still more unsymmetrical in their framework than portraits, in fact the most unfettered type of all, are the genre pictures. Being so irregular, they admit of no complete classification based on constant elements in the framework, such as was possible for the types already dealt with. A grouping, based on types of composition, is indeed possible, as of triangles, diagonals, etc., but as this begs the question of the relative importance of line and direction of attention, and assumes that the shape is all-important, it will not be made use of here. The broad divisions and the relative use of the elements are given as follows:

S.C. 63. Most frequent form (I. = or I. + D. =). Most used element, I., 89 per cent.; least used, L., 44 per cent.; D., 57 per cent.; Ms., 57 per cent.; V., 46 per cent.

D.C. 19. Most frequent form (I. + D. = I. + D.) Most used element, I. (all cases); least used, L., 31 per cent.; V., 47 per cent.; Ms., 63 per cent.; D., 42 per cent.

S.&S. 11. Most frequent form (I. or I. + Ms. = V. or V. +). Most used element, I., 100 per cent.; least used, L., 20 per cent.; V., 82 per cent.; Ms., 72 per cent.; D., 27 per cent.

As these are pictures with a human interest, and, therefore full of action and particular points of interest, it was to be expected that I. would be in all forms the element most frequently appearing. In compositions showing great variations from geometrical symmetry, it was also to be expected that V. and L., elements which have been little used up to this point, should suddenly appear in very high percentages; for, as being the most strikingly 'heavy' of the elements, they serve to compensate for other variations combined. In general, however, the balance is between the interesting side, which is also often the most occupied (I. + Ms.), and the direction of suggestion to the other side.

For the first time in this investigation the S. & S. and D.C. types appear in appreciable numbers. It is of some significance that the most irregular type of all, S. & S., in which the weight of interest and of mass is overwhelmingly on one side, should be invariably balanced by the third dimension (V.). As these somewhat infrequent cases are especially enlightening for the theory of substitutional symmetry, it is worth while to analyze one in detail.

286. Pieter de Hooch, The Card-players, in Buckingham Palace, portrays a group completely on the Right of Cn., all facing in to the table between them. Directly behind them is a high light window, screened, and high on the wall to the extreme Right are a picture and hanging cloaks. All goes to emphasize the height, mass and interest of the Right side. On the Left, which is otherwise empty, is a door half the height of the window, giving on a brightly lighted courtyard, from which is entering a woman, also in light clothing. The light streams in diagonally across the floor. Thus, with all the 'weight' on the Right, the effect of this deep vista on the Left and of its brightness is to give a complete balance, while the suggestion of line from doorway and light makes, together with the central figure, a roughly outlined V, which serves to bind together all the elements. This matter of binding together of elements is reserved for further discussion—the purpose of this detailed description is only to show the extraordinary power of a single element, vista, to balance a whole composition of others, and its significance in the tables as an increasing accompaniment of increasing variations from symmetry.

The D.C. cases, inasmuch as they always present a balance of interest at least, are less valuable for our theory; among the variations the larger side, Ms., is often balanced by a vista, or, combining with the usual equation for genre pictures, Ms. + I. + D. = V. + I. + D. There is only one picture which cannot be schematized (263).

Landscape.

The landscape is another type of unfettered composition. As it represents no action or single object or group of objects, its parts are naturally more or less unconnected. It should, therefore, be said that no picture was taken as D.C. unless there was a distinct separation of the two sides. The typical examples are analyzed in detail.

S.C. 912. J. van Ruysdael, Forest Landscape, in the London National Gallery. In the Cn. is a stagnant pool, backed on the Right by thick woods. A dead tree, white, very prominent in the Right foreground, another at its foot sloping down to Cn. On the Left a bank sloping down to Cn., a tree at its foot; behind both, and seen also between the two central trees, bright sky and clouds. Thus, there is on the Right, Mass and Direction to Cn.; on the Left, Vista and Direction to Cn.; Ms. + D. = V. + D.

D.C. 642. Hobbema, The Watermill, in Buckingham Palace. On the Right, a bank sloping upward, a large cluster of trees, a path leading down to Right lower corner. On the Left, somewhat lower, the mill, and water in front of it, flowing down to Left; clearest sky between mill and trees. Thus Mass and Direction out are placed over against Interest (in mill) and Direction out, plus possibly a hint of Vista, or Ms. + D. = I. + D + V.

S.C. 65. Most frequent form, Ms. + I. = V. + L. Most used element, V., 98 per cent.; least used, D., 22 per cent. I. 73 per cent.; Ms. 66 per cent.; L. 31 per cent.

S. & S. One case. Ms. + I. + V. = V.

D.C. 22. Most frequent form, Ms. + I. or Ms. = V. or V. + (almost invariable). Most used element, V., 100 per cent.; least used, D., 0 per cent. Ms. 82 per cent.; I. 73 per cent.; L. 23 per cent.

It was, of course, to be expected that in pictures without action there should be little suggestion of attention or of direction of movement. What is less evident is the reason for the high percentage of I. Of course, figures do appear in many examples, and in most pictures some inanimate object is emphasized—as, for instance, the mill in our second example. But the most remarkable point of difference in these tables from the preceding is the presence of V. in practically every example. It is, of course, natural that somewhere in almost every picture there should be a break to show the horizon line, for the sake of variety, if for nothing else—but what is significant is the part played by this break in the balancing of the picture. In about two thirds of the examples the vista is enclosed by lines, or masses, and when near the center, as being at the same time the 'heaviest' part of the picture, serves as a fulcrum or center to bind the parts—always harder to bring together than in the other types of pictures—into a close unity. The most frequent form of this arrangement, as seen by the table, is a diagonal, which just saves itself by turning up at its far end. Thus the mass, and hence usually the special interest of the picture, is on the one side, on the other the vista and the sloping line of the diagonal. In very few cases is the vista behind an attractive or noticeable part of the picture, the fact showing that it acts in opposition to the latter, leading the eye away from it, and thus serving at once the variety and richness of the picture, and its unity. A pure diagonal would have line and vista both working at the extreme outer edge of the picture, and thus too strongly—unless, indeed, balanced by very striking elements near the other edge.

This function of the vista as a unifying element is of interest in connection with the theory of Hildebrand,16 that the landscape should have a narrow foreground and wide background, since that is most in conformity with our experience. He adduces Titian's Sacred and Profane Love as an example. But of the general principle it may be said that not the reproduction of nature, but the production of a unified complex of motor impulses, is the aim of composition, and that this aim is best reached by focusing the eye by a narrow background—i.e., vista. No matter how much it wanders, it returns to that central spot and is held there, keeping hold on all the other elements. Of Hildebrand's example it may be said that the pyramidal composition with the dark and tall tree in the center effectually accomplishes the binding together of the two figures, so that a vista is not needed. A wide background without that tree would leave them rather disjointed.

Another interesting observation concerns the use of water in landscapes. In nearly all appears an expanse of water, and in four fifths of the cases it is either on the same side as the vista, or in the same line with it. This is no doubt partly due to the light-effects which can be got on the water, but it also greatly reinforces the peculiar effect of the vista. That effect, as has been repeatedly said, is to concentrate, to hold, to fixate vision. The same thing is true of the horizontal line, as was shown by some preliminary experiments not here reported. The contrast to the ordinary trend of lines—particularly in a landscape—together with the strong suggestion of quiet and repose, serve to give the same concentrating effect to the horizontal lines as to the vista.

In general, it may be said that balance in landscape is effected between Mass and Interest on one side and Vista and Line on the other; and that unity is given especially by the use of Vista and the horizontal lines of water.

A survey of the subject-types remaining on the list of page 514 shows that they may quite well be grouped together with those already examined; that is, the Holy Families, Adorations, Crucifixions, and Annunciations are very symmetrical in type, and present the same characteristics as the Altarpieces. The Miscellaneous (mostly religious) pictures, the Descents, and the Allegorical are, for the most part, freely composed, irregular, full of action, and resemble the genre pictures. The Single Figure pictures, Religious, Allegorical and Genre, and the Portrait Groups, resemble the portraits. Therefore, it may be considered that the existence of a perfect substitutional symmetry has been established, inasmuch as it has been shown to be almost invariably present in the types examined.

The experimental treatment of the isolated elements determined the particular function of each in distributing attention in the field of view. The object of large size claims attention, but does not rivet it nor draw it out powerfully; the intrinsically interesting object does excite it, but limits it to a comparatively small field; the suggestion of movement or of attention on the part of pictured objects carries the attention through the field of its operation; the vista rivets the attention without powerfully exciting it, and the line extending in a certain direction carries the attention in the same way as does the suggestion of movement. But the preceding statistical analysis has shown that while all are possibly operative in a given picture, some are given much more importance than others, and that in pictures of different types different elements predominate.

The following table gives the distribution of the elements in the single-center pictures already examined. The numbers represent the per cent. of the whole number of balanced pictures in which the given element appears once or more.

It is seen that in those classes with a general symmetrical framework, the altar and Madonna pictures, the elements of interest and direction of attention are overwhelmingly predominant—which is the more to be expected as they appear, of course, as variations in a symmetry which has already, so to speak, disposed of mass and line. They give what action there is, and when they are very strongly operative, we see by page 516, (8) and (9) and note, that they are opposed by salient lines and deep vistas, which act more strongly on the attention than mass; compare further Mad., V. 27 per cent., L. 64 per cent., as against Alt., V. 13 per cent., L. 19 per cent., as confirming the view that they are used in the more irregular and active pictures. But I. keeps its predominance throughout the types, except in the portraits, where, indeed, we should not expect it to be so powerful, since the principal object of interest must always be the portrait head, and that is in most cases in the Cn., and therefore not counted. Yet I. has a respectable representation even in the portrait table, showing that such objects as jewels, embroideries, beautiful hands, etc., count largely too in composition. Its greatest is in the genre table, where, of course, human interests constitute the subject matter.

It is among the portraits that the direction of suggestion is most operative. Since these pictures represent no action, it must be given by those elements which move and distribute the attention; in accordance with which we see that line also is unusually influential. As remarked above, the altarpieces and Madonna pictures, also largely without action, depend largely for it on D., in the form of direction of attention (D. 91 per cent.).

The vista, as said above, rivets and confines the attention. We can, therefore, understand how it is that in the genre table it suddenly appears very numerous. The active character of these pictures naturally requires to be modified, and the vista introduces a powerful balancing element, which is yet quiet; or, it might be said, inasmuch as energy is certainly expended in plunging down the third dimension, the vista introduces an element of action of counterbalancing character. In the landscape it introduces the principal element of variety. It is always to be found in those parts of the picture which are opposed to other powerful elements, and the 'heavier' the other side, the deeper the vista. This is especially to be noted in all pictures of the S. & S. type, where the one side is very 'heavy' and the deep vista practically invariable on the other. Also in D.C. pictures it serves as a kind of fulcrum, or unifying element, inasmuch as it rivets the attention between the two detached sides. (Cf. D.C. among Alt. and Mad.)

The direction of suggestion by means of the indication of a line (L.), quite naturally is more frequent in the Madonna-picture and Portrait classes. Both these types are of large simple outline, so that L. would be expected to tell, but more or less irregular, so that it would not appear on both sides, thus neutralizing its action, as often in the symmetrical altarpieces. This neutralizing explains why it has a comparatively small per cent. in the landscape table, it having appeared in minor form all over the field, but less often in large salient outline. It is worth noticing that for the D.C. of both genre and landscape, the per cent. drops appreciably. As it is, in a decided majority of cases, combined with V.—the shape being more or less a diagonal slope—it is clear that it acts as a kind of bond between the two sides, carrying the attention without a break from one to the other.

The element of mass requires less comment. It appears in greatest number in those pictures which have little action, portraits and landscapes, and which are yet not symmetrical—in which last case mass is, of course, already balanced. In fact, it must of necessity exert a certain influence in every unsymmetrical picture, and so its percentage, even for genre pictures, is large.

Thus we may regard the elements as both attracting attention to a certain spot and dispersing it over a field. Those types which are of a static character abound in elements which disperse the attention; those which are of a dynamic character, in those which make it stable. The ideal composition seems to combine the dynamic and static elements—to animate, in short, the whole field of view, but in a generally bilateral fashion. The elements, in substitutional symmetry, are then simply means of introducing variety and action. As a dance in which there are complicated steps gives the actor and beholder a varied and thus vivified 'balance,' and is thus more beautiful than the simple walk, so a picture composed in substitutional symmetry is more rich in its suggestions of motor impulse, and thus more beautiful, than an example of geometrical symmetry.

B. Principles of Composition.

The particular function of the elements which are substituted for geometrical symmetry has been made clear; their presence lends variety and richness to the balance of motor impulses. But the natural motor response to stimulation has another characteristic which belongs to us as individuals. The motor response must be balanced, but also unified. In a picture, therefore, there must be a large outline in which all the elements are held together, corresponding to this requirement of unity. Now this way of holding together, this manner of combination, may vary; and I hope to show that it not only varies with the subject and purpose of the picture, but bears a very close relation thereto—that, in short, it is what determines the whole character of the picture. Just what this relation is will appear in the study of our material.

Examples of these types of composition may best be found by analyzing a few very well-known pictures. We may begin with the class first studied, the Altarpiece, choosing a picture by Botticelli, in the Florence Academy (746). Under an arch is draped a canopy held up by angels; under this, again, sits the M. with the C. on her lap, on a throne, at the foot of which, on each side, stand three saints. The outline of the whole is markedly pyramidal—in fact, there are, broadly speaking, three pyramids; of the arch, the canopy, and the grouping. A second, much less symmetrical example of this type, is given by another Botticelli in the Academy—Spring (140). Here the central female figure, topped by the floating Cupid, is slightly raised above the others, which, however, bend slightly inward, so that a triangle, or pyramid with very obtuse angle at the apex, is suggested; and the whole, which at first glance seems a little scattered, is at once felt, when this is grasped, as closely bound together.

Closely allied to this is the type of the Madonna of Burgomaster Meyer, Holbein (725), in the Grand-Ducal Castle, Darmstadt. It is true that the same pyramid is given by the head of the M. against the shell-like background, and her spreading cloak which envelops the kneeling donors. But still more salient is the diamond form given by the descending rows of these worshipping figures, especially against the dark background of the M.'s dress. A second example, without the pyramid backing, is found in Rubens' Rape of the Daughters of Leucippus (88), in the Alte Pinakothek at Munich. Here the diamond shape formed by the horses and struggling figures is most remarkable—an effect of lightness which will be discussed later in interpreting the types.

The famous Bull of Paul Potter (149), in the Royal Museum at the Hague, furnishes a third type, the diagonal. High on one side are grouped the herdsman, leaning on a tree which fills up the sky on that side, and his three sheep and cow. The head of the bull is turned toward this side, and his back and hind leg slope down to the other side, as the ground slopes away to a low distant meadow. The picture is thus divided by an irregular diagonal. Somewhat more regular is the diagonal of the Evening Landscape, by Cuyp (348), in the Buckingham Palace, London. High trees and cliffs, horsemen and others, occupy one side, and the mountains in the background, the ground and the clouds, all slope gradually down to the other side.

It is a natural transition from this type to the V-shape of the landscapes by Aart van der Neer, Dutch Villages, 245 and 420, in the London National Gallery and in the Rudolphinum at Prague, respectively. Here are trees and houses on each side, gradually sloping to the center to show an open sky and deep vista. Other examples, of course, show the opening not exactly in the center.

In the Concert by Giorgione (758), in the Pitti Gallery, Florence, is seen the less frequent type of the square. The three figures turned toward each other with heads on the same level make almost a square space-shape, although it might be said that the central player gives a pyramidal foundation. This last may also be said of Verrocchio's Tobias and the Archangels in the Florence Academy, for the square, or rather rectangle, is again lengthened by the pyramidal shape of the two central figures. The unrelieved square, it may here be interpolated, is not often found except in somewhat primitive examples. Still less often observed is the oval type of Samson's Wedding feast, Rembrandt (295), in the Royal Gallery, Dresden. Here one might, by pressing the interpretation, see an obtuse-angled double-pyramid with the figure of Delilah for an apex, but a few very irregular pictures seem to fall best under the given classification.

Last of all it must be remarked that the great majority of pictures show a combination of two or even three types; but these are usually subordinated to one dominant type. Such, for instance, is the case with many portraits, which are markedly pyramidal, with the double-pyramid suggested by the position of the arms, and the inverted pyramid, or V, in the landscape background. The diagonal sometimes just passes over into the V, or into the pyramid; or the square is combined with both.

It is, of course, not necessary at this point to show how it is that such an apparently unsymmetrical shape as the diagonal, alone or in combination with other forms, nevertheless produces an effect of balance. In all these cases of the diagonal type the mass or interest of the one side, or the direction of subordinate lines backward to it, balances the impulse of the line descending to the other side. The presence of balance or substitutional symmetry is taken for granted in this treatment, having been previously established, and only the modifications of this symmetry are under consideration.

Now, in order to deal properly with the question of the relation of the type of composition to the subject of the picture, complete statistical information will be necessary. A table of the pictures, classified by subjects and distributed under the heads of the six major types, is accordingly subjoined.

What types are characteristic of the different kinds of pictures? In order to answer this question we must ask first, What are the different kinds of pictures? One answer, at least, is at once suggested to the student on a comparison of the pictures with their groupings according to subjects. All those which represent the Madonna enthroned, with all variations, with or without saints, shepherds or Holy Family, are very quiet in their action; that is, it is not really an action at all which they represent, but an attitude—the attitude of contemplation. This is no less true of the pictures I have called 'Adorations,' in which, indeed, the contemplative attitude is still more marked. On the other hand, such pictures as the 'Descents,' the 'Annunciations,' and very many of the 'miscellaneous religious,' allegorical and genre pictures, portray a definite action or event. Taking together, for instance, in two groups of five each, the first ten classes in the table, we find that they fall to the six types in the following proportion:

Inasmuch as II. contains also many 'contemplative' pictures, while I. contains no 'active' ones, the contrast between the proportions of the groups would really be sharper than the figures indicate. But as it is, we see that the pyramid type is characteristic of the 'contemplative' pictures in a much higher degree. If the closely allied double-pyramid type is taken with it, we have 79 per cent of the 'contemplative' to 50 per cent, of the 'active' ones. This view is confirmed by contrasting the 'Adoration,' the most complete example of one group, with the genre pictures, the most complete example of the other—and here we see that in the first all are pyramidal, and in the second only 26 per cent. A class which might be supposed to suggest the same treatment in composition is that of the portraits—absolute lack of action being the rule. And we find, indeed, that no single type is represented within it except the pyramid and double-pyramid, with 86 per cent. of the former. Thus it is evident that for the type of picture which expresses the highest degree of quietude, contemplation, concentration, the pyramid is the characteristic type of composition.

But is it not also characteristic of the 'active' pictures, since, as we see, it has the largest representation in that class too? Perhaps it might be said that, inasmuch as all pictures are really more 'quiet' than they are 'active,' so the type par excellence is the pyramidal—a suggestion which is certainly borne out by the table as a whole. But setting aside for the moment the pyramid and its sub-variety, we see that the diagonal V-shaped and square types are much more numerous in the roughly outlined 'active' class. Taking, again, the genre class as especially representative, we find 23 per cent. of the diagonal type, and 25 per cent. of the V-shaped. We have seen how closely allied are these two types, and how gradually one passes over into the other, so that we may for the nonce take them together as making up 47 per cent. of the whole. The type of picture which expresses the highest degree of activity, which aims to tell a story, has, then, for its characteristic type the V and its varieties.

The landscape picture presents a somewhat different problem. It cannot be described as either 'active' or 'passive,' inasmuch as it does not express either an attitude or an event. There is no definite idea to be set forth, no point of concentration, as with the altarpieces and the portraits, for instance; and yet a unity is demanded. An examination of the proportions of the types shows at once the characteristic type.

It is now necessary to ask what must be the interpretation of the use of these types of composition. Must we consider the pyramid the expression of passivity, the diagonal or V, of activity? But the greatly predominating use of the second for landscapes would remain unexplained, for at least nothing can be more reposeful than the latter. It may aid the solution of the problem to remember that the composition taken as a whole has to meet the demand for unity, at the same time that it allows free play to the natural expression of the subject. The altarpiece has to bring about a concentration of attention to express or induce a feeling of reverence. This is evidently brought about by the suggestion of the converging lines to the fixation of the high point in the picture—the small area occupied by the Madonna and Child—and by the subordination of the free play of other elements. The contrast between the broad base and the apex gives a feeling of solidity, of repose; and it seems not unreasonable to suppose that the tendency to rest the eyes above the center of the picture directly induces the associated mood of reverence or worship. Thus the pyramidal form serves two ends; primarily that of giving unity; and secondarily, by the peculiarity of its mass, that of inducing the feeling-tone appropriate to the subject of the picture.

Applying this principle to the so-called 'active' pictures, we see that the natural movement of attention between the different 'actors' in the picture must be allowed for, while yet unity is secured. And it is clear that the diagonal type is just fitted for this. The attention sweeps down from the high side to the low, from which it returns through some backward suggestion of lines or interest in the objects of the high side. Action and reaction—movement and return of attention—is inevitable under the conditions of this type; and this it is which allows the free play—which, indeed, constitutes and expresses the activity belonging to the subject, just as the fixation of the pyramid constitutes the quietude of the religious picture. Thus it is that the diagonal composition is particularly suited to portray scenes of grandeur, and to induce a feeling of awe in the spectator, because only here can the eye rove in one large sweep from side to side of the picture, recalled by the mass and interest of the side from which it moves. The swing of the pendulum is here widest, so to speak, and all the feeling-tones which belong to wide, free movement are called into play. If, at the same time, the element of the deep vista is introduced, we have the extreme of concentration combined with the extreme of movement; and the result is a picture in the 'grand style'—comparable to high tragedy—in which all the feeling-tones which wait on motor impulses are, as it were, while yet in the same reciprocal relation, tuned to the highest pitch. Such a picture is the Finding of the Ring, Paris Bordone (1048), in the Venice Academy. All the mass and the interest and the suggestion of attention is toward the right—the sweep of the downward lines and of the magnificent perspective toward the left—and the effect of the whole space-composition is of superb largeness of life and feeling. With it may be compared Titian's Presentation of the Virgin (107), also in the Academy, Venice. The composition, from the figure moving upward to one high on the right, to the downward lines, waiting groups and deep vista on the left, is almost identical with that of the Bordone. Neither is pure diagonal—that is, it saves itself at last by an upward movement. Compare also the two great compositions by Veronese, Martyrdom of St. Mark, etc. (1091), in the Doge's Palace, Venice, and Esther before Ahasuerus (566), in the Uffizi, Florence. In both, the mass, direction of interest, movement and attention are toward the left, while all the lines tend diagonally to the right, where a vista is also suggested—the diagonal making a V just at the end. Here, too, the effect is of magnificence and vigor.

If, then, the pyramid belongs to contemplation, the diagonal to action, what can be said of the type of landscape? It is without action, it is true, and yet does not express that positive quality, that will not to act, of the rapt contemplation. The landscape uncomposed is negative; and it demands unity. Its type of composition, then, must give it something positive besides unity. It lacks both concentration and action; but it can gain them both from a space composition which shall combine unity with a tendency to movement. And this is given by the diagonal and V-shaped type. This type merely allows free play to the natural tendency of the 'active' picture; but it constrains the neutral, inanimate landscape. The shape itself imparts motion to the picture: the sweep of line, the concentration of the vista, the unifying power of the inverted triangle between two masses, act, as it were, externally to the suggestion of the object itself. There is always enough quiet in a landscape—the overwhelming suggestion of the horizontal suffices for that; it is movement that is needed for richness of effect; and, as I have shown, no type imparts the feeling of movement so strongly as the diagonal and V-shaped type of composition. It is worth remarking that the perfect V, which is of course more regular, concentrated, quiet, than the diagonal, is more frequent than the diagonal among the 'Miscellaneous Religious' pictures (that is, it is more needed), since after all, as has been said, the final aim of all space composition is just the attainment of repose. But the landscapes need energy, not repression; and so the diagonal type is proportionately more numerous.

The square and oval types, as is seen from the table, are far less often used. The oval, most infrequent of all, appears only among the 'active' pictures, with the exception of landscape. It usually serves to unite a group of people among whom there is no one especially striking—or the object of whose attention is in the center of the picture, as in the case of the Descent from the Cross. It imparts a certain amount of movement, but an equable and regular one, as the eye returns in an even sweep from one side to the other.

The square type, although only three per cent. of the whole number of pictures, suggests a point of view which has already been touched on in the section on Primitive Art. The examples fall into two classes: in the first, the straight lines across the picture are unrelieved by the suggestion of any other type; in the second, the pyramid or V is suggested in the background with more or less clearness by means of architecture or landscape. In the first class are found, almost exclusively, early examples of Italian, Dutch and German art; in the second, pictures of a later period. The rigid square, in short, is found only at an early stage in the development of composition. Moreover, all the examples are 'story' pictures, for the most part scenes from the lives of the saints, etc. Many of them are double-center—square, that is, with a slight break in the middle, the grouping purely logical, to bring out the relations of the characters. Thus, in the Dream of Saint Martin, Simone Martini (325), a fresco at Assisi, the saint lies straight across the picture with his head in one corner. Behind him on one side, stand the Christ and angels, grouped closely together, their heads on the same level. Compare also the Finding of the Cross, Piero della Francesca (1088), a serial picture in two parts, with their respective backgrounds all on the same level; and most of the frescoes by Giotto at Assisi—in particular St. Francis before the Sultan (1057), in which the actors are divided into parties, so to speak.

These are all, of course, in one sense symmetrical—in the weight of interest, at least—but they are completely amorphous from an æsthetic point of view. The forms, that is, do not count at all—only the meanings. The story is told by a clear separation of the parts, and as, in most stories, there are two principal actors, it merely happens that they fall into the two sides of the picture. Interesting in connection with this is the observation that, although the more anecdotal the picture the more likely it is to be 'double-centered,' the later the picture the less likely it is to be double-centered. Thus the square and the double-center composition seem often to be found in the same picture and to be, both, characteristic of early composition. On the other hand, a rigid geometrical symmetry is also characteristic, and these two facts seem to contradict each other. But it is to be noted, first, that the rigid geometrical symmetry belongs only to the Madonna Enthroned, and general Adoration pieces; and secondly, that this very rigidity of symmetry in details can coexist with variations which destroy balance. Thus, in the Madonna Enthroned, Giotto (715), where absolute symmetry in detail is kept, the Child sits far out on the right knee of the Madonna. Compare also Madonna, Vitale di Bologna (157), in which the C. is almost falling off M.'s arms to the right, her head is bent to the right, and a monk is kneeling at the right lower corner; also Madonna, Ottaviano Nelli (175)—all very early pictures. Hence, it would seem that the symmetry of these early pictures was not dictated by a conscious demand for symmetrical arrangement, or rather for real balance, else such failures would hardly occur. The presence of geometrical symmetry is more easily explained as the product, in large part, of technical conditions: of the fact that these pictures were painted as altarpieces to fill a space definitely symmetrical in character—often, indeed, with architectural elements intruding into it. We may even venture to connect the Madonna pictures with the temple images of the classic period, to explain why it was natural to paint the object of worship seated exactly facing the worshipper. Thus we may separate the two classes of pictures, the one giving an object of worship, and thus taking naturally, as has been said, the pyramidal, symmetrical shape, and being moulded to symmetry by all other suggestions o technique; the other aiming at nothing except logical clearness. This antithesis of the symbol and the story has a most interesting parallel in the two great classes of primitive art—the one symbolic, merely suggestive, shaped by the space it had to fill, and so degenerating into the slavishly symmetrical, the other descriptive, 'story-telling' and without a trace of space composition. On neither side is there evidence of direct æsthetic feeling. Only in the course of artistic development do we find the rigid, yet often unbalanced, symmetry relaxing into a free substitutional symmetry, and the formless narrative crystallizing into a really unified and balanced space form. The two antitheses approach each other in the 'balance' of the masterpieces of civilized art—in which, for the first time, a real feeling for space composition makes itself felt.

FOOTNOTES.

1 SOURCES OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

Fig. 1 was copied from Reiss u. Stübel, 'Todtenfeld v. Ancou,' Berlin, 1880-1887.

Figs. 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 and 11 were copied from the publications of the American Bureau of Ethnology by the kind permission of the Direction.

Fig. 9. was copied from A.C. Haddon, 'The Decorative Art of British New Guinea,' Cunningham Memoir, N., Royal Irish Academy, 1894.

Fig. 10 was copied from Franz Boas, 'The Decorative Art of the Indians of the North Pacific Coast,' Bulletin of the Am. Mus. of Nat. Hist., Vol. IX.

2 Cushing, F.H.: 'Pueblo Pottery and Zuñi Culture-growth,' Rep. of Bur. of Ethnol., 1882-3, p. 473.

3 Haddon, A.C.: 'Evolution in Art,' London, 1895, pp. 84 ff.

4 Holmes, W.H.: 'Textile Art in its Relation to the Development of Form and Ornament,' Rep. of Bur. of Ethnol., 1884-5, p. 195.

5 Reiss, W., und Stubel, A.: 'Todtenfeld von Ancon,' Berlin, 1880-7, Bd. II.

6 Hein, W.: 'Die Verwendung der Menschen-Gestalt in Flechtwerken,' Mitteil. d. Anthrop. Gesellsch. in Wien, Bd. XXI.

7 Cushing, F.H.: op. cit.; Holmes, W.H.: three articles on pottery, Rep. of Bur. of Ethnol., 1882-83, p. 265, p. 367, and p. 443.

8 Mallery, Garrick: 'Pictographs of the North American Indians,' Rep. of Bur. of Ethnol., 1882-3, p. 13.

9 Von den Steinen, Karl: 'Unter den Naturvôlkern Zentral-Brasiliens,' Berlin, 1894.

10 Internal. Archiv s. Ethnog., Bd. IX.

11 Cf. Andrée, Richard: 'Ethnographische Parallelen,' Neue Folge, Leipzig, 1889, S. 59.

12 Haddon, op. cit.; Frazer, J.G.: 'Totemism,' 1887; Grosse, Ernst: Anfänge der Kunst,' Freiburg i. B. u. Leipzig, 1894.

13 Boas, Franz: 'Decorative Art of the Indians of the North Pacific Coast,' Bulletin of Am. Mus. of Nat. Hist., Vol. IX.

14 Mallery, G.: op. cit.; Haddon, A.C.: op. cit., p. 257; 'Decorative Art of British New Guinea,' Cunningham Memoir X., Royal Irish Acad., 1894, p. 26.

15 Pierce E.: PSYCH. REV., 1894, I., p. 483; 1896, III., p. 270.

16 A. Hildebrand, 'Das Problem der Form in der Bildenden Kunst,' Strassburg, 1897.

THE ÆSTHETICS OF UNEQUAL DIVISION.

BY ROSWELL PARKER ANGIER.

PART I.

The present paper reports the beginnings of an investigation designed to throw light on the psychological basis of our æsthetic pleasure in unequal division. It is confined to horizontal division. Owing to the prestige of the golden section, that is, of that division of the simple line which gives a short part bearing the same ratio to the long part that the latter bears to the whole line, experimentation of this sort has been fettered. Investigators have confined their efforts to statistical records of approximations to, or deviations from, the golden section. This exalts it into a possible æsthetic norm. But such a gratuitous supposition, by limiting the inquiry to the verification of this norm, distorts the results, tempting one to forget the provisional nature of the assumption, and to consider divergence from the golden section as an error, instead of another example, merely, of unequal division. We have, as a matter of fact, on one hand, investigations that do not verify the golden section, and, on the other hand, a series of attempts to account for our pleasure in it, as if it were, beyond dispute, the norm. In this way the statistical inquiries have been narrowed in scope, and interpretation retarded and misdirected. Statistically our aim should be to ascertain within how wide limits æsthetically pleasing unequal divisions fall; and an interpretative principle must be flexible enough to include persistent variations from any hypothetical norm, unless they can be otherwise accounted for. If it is not forced on us, we have, in either case, nothing to do with the golden section.

Since Fechner, the chief investigation in the æsthetics of simple forms is that of Witmer, in 1893.1 Only a small part of his work relates to horizontal division, but enough to show what seems to me a radical defect in statistical method, namely, that of accepting a general average of the average judgments of the several subjects, as 'the most pleasing relation' or 'the most pleasing proportion.'2 Such a total average may fall wholly without the range of judgments of every subject concerned, and tells us nothing certain about the specific judgments of any one. Even in the case of the individual subject, if he shows in the course of long experimentation that he has two distinct sets of judgments, it is not valid to say that his real norm lies between the two; much less when several subjects are concerned. If averages are data to be psychophysically explained, they must fall well within actual individual ranges of judgment, else they correspond to no empirically determinable psychophysical processes. Each individual is a locus of possible æsthetic satisfactions. Since such a locus is our ultimate basis for interpretation, it is inept to choose, as 'the most pleasing proportion,' one that may have no correspondent empirical reference. The normal or ideal individual, which such a norm implies, is not a psychophysical entity which may serve as a basis of explanation, but a mathematical construction.

This criticism would apply to judgments of unequal division on either side the center of a horizontal line. It would apply all the more to any general average of judgments including both sides, for, as we shall soon see, the judgments of individuals differ materially on the two sides, and this difference itself may demand its explanation. And if we should include within this average, judgments above and below the center of a vertical line, we should have under one heading four distinct sets of averages, each of which, in the individual cases, might show important variations from the others, and therefore require some variation of explanation. And yet that great leveller, the general average, has obliterated these vital differences, and is recorded as indicating the 'most pleasing proportion.'3 That such an average falls near the golden section is immaterial. Witmer himself, as we shall see,4 does not set much store by this coincidence as a starting point for explanation, since he is averse to any mathematical interpretation, but he does consider the average in question representative of the most pleasing division.

I shall now, before proceeding to the details of the experiment to be recorded, review, very briefly, former interpretative tendencies. Zeising found that the golden section satisfied his demand for unity and infinity in the same beautiful object.5 In the golden section, says Wundt,6 there is a unity involving the whole; it is therefore more beautiful than symmetry, according to the æsthetic principle that that unification of spatial forms which occurs without marked effort, which, however, embraces the greater manifold, is the more pleasing. But to me this manifold, to be æsthetic, must be a sensible manifold, and it is still a question whether the golden section set of relations has an actual correlate in sensations. Witmer,7 however, wrote, at the conclusion of his careful researches, that scientific æsthetics allows no more exact statement, in interpretation of the golden section, than that it forms 'die rechte Mitte' between a too great and a too small variety. Nine years later, in 1902, he says8 that the preference for proportion over symmetry is not a demand for an equality of ratios, but merely for greater variety, and that 'the amount of unlikeness or variety that is pleasing will depend upon the general character of the object, and upon the individual's grade of intelligence and æsthetic taste.' Külpe9 sees in the golden section 'a special case of the constancy of the relative sensible discrimination, or of Weber's law.' The division of a line at the golden section produces 'apparently equal differences' between minor and major, and major and whole. It is 'the pleasingness of apparently equal differences.'

These citations show, in brief form, the history of the interpretation of our pleasure in unequal division. Zeising and Wundt were alike in error in taking the golden section as the norm. Zeising used it to support a philosophical theory of the beautiful. Wundt and others too hastily conclude that the mathematical ratios, intellectually discriminated, are also sensibly discriminated, and form thus the basis of our æsthetic pleasure. An extension of this principle would make our pleasure in any arrangement of forms depend on the mathematical relations of their parts. We should, of course, have no special reason for choosing one set of relationships rather than another, nor for halting at any intricacy of formulæ. But we cannot make experimental æsthetics a branch of applied mathematics. A theory, if we are to have psychological explanation at all, must be pertinent to actual psychic experience. Witmer, while avoiding and condemning mathematical explanation, does not attempt to push interpretation beyond the honored category of unity in variety, which is applicable to anything, and, in principle, is akin to Zeising's unity and infinity. We wish to know what actual psychophysical functionings correspond to this unity in variety. Külpe's interpretation is such an attempt, but it seems clear that Weber's law cannot be applied to the division at the golden section. It would require of us to estimate the difference between the long side and the short side to be equal to that of the long side and the whole. A glance at the division shows that such complex estimation would compare incomparable facts, since the short and the long parts are separated, while the long part is inclosed in the whole. Besides, such an interpretation could not apply to divisions widely variant from the golden section.

This paper, as I said, reports but the beginnings of an investigation into unequal division, confined as it is to results obtained from the division of a simple horizontal line, and to variations introduced as hints towards interpretation. The tests were made in a partially darkened room. The apparatus rested on a table of ordinary height, the part exposed to the subject consisting of an upright screen, 45 cm. high by 61 cm. broad, covered with black cardboard, approximately in the center of which was a horizontal opening of considerable size, backed by opal glass. Between the glass and the cardboard, flush with the edges of the opening so that no stray light could get through, a cardboard slide was inserted from behind, into which was cut the exposed figure. A covered electric light illuminated the figure with a yellowish-white light, so that all the subject saw, besides a dim outline of the apparatus and the walls of the room, was the illuminated figure. An upright strip of steel, 1½ mm. wide, movable in either direction horizontally by means of strings, and controlled by the subject, who sat about four feet in front of the table, divided the horizontal line at any point. On the line, of course, this appeared as a movable dot. The line itself was arbitrarily made 160 mm. long, and 1½ mm. wide. The subject was asked to divide the line unequally at the most pleasing place, moving the divider from one end slowly to the other, far enough to pass outside any pleasing range, or, perhaps, quite off the line; then, having seen the divider at all points of the line, he moved it back to that position which appealed to him as most pleasing. Record having been made of this, by means of a millimeter scale, the subject, without again going off the line, moved to the pleasing position on the other side of the center. He then moved the divider wholly off the line, and made two more judgments, beginning his movement from the other end of the line. These four judgments usually sufficed for the simple line for one experiment. In the course of the experimentation each of nine subjects gave thirty-six such judgments on either side the center, or seventy-two in all.

In Fig. 1, I have represented graphically the results of these judgments. The letters at the left, with the exception of X, mark the subjects. Beginning with the most extreme judgments on either side the center, I have erected modes to represent the number of judgments made within each ensuing five millimeters, the number in each case being denoted by the figure at the top of the mode. The two vertical dot-and-dash lines represent the means of the several averages of all the subjects, or the total averages. The short lines, dropped from each of the horizontals, mark the individual averages of the divisions either side the center, and at X these have been concentrated into one line. Subject E obviously shows two pretty distinct fields of choice, so that it would have been inaccurate to condense them all into one average. I have therefore given two on each side the center, in each case subsuming the judgments represented by the four end modes under one average. In all, sixty judgments were made by E on each half the line. Letter E¹ represents the first thirty-six; E² the full number. A comparison of the two shows how easily averages shift; how suddenly judgments may concentrate in one region after having been for months fairly uniformly distributed. The introduction of one more subject might have varied the total averages by several points. Table I. shows the various averages and mean variations in tabular form.

TABLE I.

¹These are E's general averages on 36 judgments. Fig. 1, however, represents two averages on each side the center, for which the figures are, on the left, 43 with M.V. 3.6; and 66 with M.V. 5.3. On the right, 49, M.V. 3.1; and 67, M.V. 2.7. For the full sixty judgments, his total average was 63 on the left, and 65 on the right, with mean variations of 9.8 and 7.1 respectively. The four that E² in Fig. 1 shows graphically were, for the left, 43 with M.V. 3.6; and 68, M.V. 5.1. On the right, 49, M.V. 3.1; and 69, M.V. 3.4.

Fig. 1.

Results such as are given in Fig. 1, appear to warrant the criticism of former experimentation. Starting with the golden section, we find the two lines representing the total averages running surprisingly close to it. This line, however, out of a possible eighteen chances, only twice (subjects D and G) falls wholly within the mode representing the maximum number of judgments of any single subject. In six cases (C twice, F, H, J twice) it falls wholly without any mode whatever; and in seven (A, B twice, E, F, G, H) within modes very near the minimum. Glancing for a moment at the individual averages, we see that none coincides with the total (although D is very near), and that out of eighteen, only four (D twice, G twice) come within five millimeters of the general average, while eight (B, C, J twice each, F, H) lie between ten and fifteen millimeters away. The two total averages (although near the golden section), are thus chiefly conspicuous in showing those regions of the line that were avoided as not beautiful. Within a range of ninety millimeters, divided into eighteen sections of five millimeters each, there are ten such sections (50 mm.) each of which represents the maximum of some one subject. The range of maximum judgments is thus about one third the whole line. From such wide limits it is, I think, a methodological error to pick out some single point, and maintain that any explanation whatever of the divisions there made interprets adequately our pleasure in unequal division. Can, above all, the golden section, which in only two cases (D, G) falls within the maximum mode; in five (A, C, F, J twice) entirely outside all modes, and in no single instance within the maximum on both sides the center—can this seriously play the role of æsthetic norm?

I may state here, briefly, the results of several sets of judgments on lines of the same length as the first but wider, and on other lines of the same width but shorter. There were not enough judgments in either case to make an exact comparison of averages valuable, but in three successively shorter lines, only one subject out of eight varied in a constant direction, making his divisions, as the line grew shorter, absolutely nearer the ends. He himself felt, in fact, that he kept about the same absolute position on the line, regardless of the successive shortenings, made by covering up the ends. This I found to be practically true, and it accounts for the increasing variation toward the ends. Further, with all the subjects but one, two out of three pairs of averages (one pair for each length of line) bore the same relative positions to the center as in the normal line. That is, if the average was nearer the center on the left than on the right, then the same held true for the smaller lines. Not only this. With one exception, the positions of the averages of the various subjects, when considered relatively to one another, stood the same in the shorter lines, in two cases out of three. In short, not only did the pair of averages of each subject on each of the shorter lines retain the same relative positions as in the normal line, but the zone of preference of any subject bore the same relation to that of any other. Such approximations are near enough, perhaps, to warrant the statement that the absolute length of line makes no appreciable difference in the æsthetic judgment. In the wider lines the agreement of the judgments with those of the normal line was, as might be expected, still closer. In these tests only six subjects were used. As in the former case, however, E was here the exception, his averages being appreciably nearer the center than in the original line. But his judgments of this line, taken during the same period, were so much on the central tack that a comparison of them with those of the wider lines shows very close similarity. The following table will show how E's judgments varied constantly towards the center:

The measurements are always from the ends of the line. It looks as if the judgments in (3) were pushed further to the center by being immediately preceded by those on the shorter and the wider lines, but those in (1) and (2) differ markedly, and yet were under no such influences.

From the work on the simple line, with its variations in width and length, these conclusions seem to me of interest. (1) The records offer no one division that can be validly taken to represent 'the most pleasing proportion' and from which interpretation may issue. (2) With one exception (E) the subjects, while differing widely from one another in elasticity of judgment, confined themselves severally to pretty constant regions of choice, which hold, relatively, for different lengths and widths of line. (3) Towards the extremities judgments seldom stray beyond a point that would divide the line into fourths, but they approach the center very closely. Most of the subjects, however, found a slight remove from the center disagreeable. (4) Introspectively the subjects were ordinarily aware of a range within which judgments might give equal pleasure, although a slight disturbance of any particular judgment would usually be recognized as a departure from the point of maximum pleasingness. This feeling of potential elasticity of judgment, combined with that of certainty in regard to any particular instance, demands—when the other results are also kept in mind—an interpretative theory to take account of every judgment, and forbids it to seize on an average as the basis of explanation for judgments that persist in maintaining their æsthetic autonomy.