. RA , . i . 2 . . . . Mrı . . . . 7 . d'. . . . ...." . M . : : Y • v " + + A 1,186,674 - . . 2 . FINE 7430 H643 . : . : . 1 . . : : . : ... Tui. - *** AW . trgo . . . - CUAXY win . 1 LA Aan ... D BMW IWWY CAV * nfrage A VO mga TI TRA 1. TS X > AROORAL. Moot rates La PA 1 .. HOTELS . . NA -14 A Usther- nr. 122 riviLA *indian PLAA. Wrayonunda AAN NO2, YOL ALI FEN OF MIS. TERSITY GOT; AINO .. . .:.:.:.: : .: :: .. . :.: ::. :::.:.:.:.: 30 . metros ....:.: LASIH N 7430 .4643 THE PROBLEM OF FORM Alimesemad THE PROBLEM OF FORM PAINTING AND SCULPTURE BY: ADOLF HILDEBRAND TRANSLATED AND REVISED WITH THE AUTHOR'S CO-OPERATION BY MAX MEYER AND ROBERT MORRIS OGDEN (University of Missouri) University of Tennessee) WITH THIRTY ILLUSTRATIONS AND A PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR LEIPZIG G. E. STECHERT & CO. NEW YORK LONDON 1907 PARIS Fine Arts 7430 .H643 Copyright 1907 BY Max Meyer and RuBERT Morris OGDEN PRESS OF E. W. STEPHENS PUBLISHING CO. COLUMBIA, Mo. 1907 CONTENTS PAGE ADOLF HILDEBRAND-LIFE SKETCH ..................... FOREWORD TO THE THIRD EDITION. INTRODUCTION ...................................... CHAPTER 1. Vision AND Movement ............... CHAPTER II. FORM AND APPEARANCE.................. CHAPTÉR III. THE IDEA OF SPACE AND ITS VISUAL EXPRESSION..... ........... Chapter IV. IDEAS OF PLANES AND DEPTH ......... CHAPTER V. THE CONCEPTION OF Relief.... ...... CHAPTER VI. FORM AS INTERPRETATION OF LIFE....... CHAPTER VII. SCULPTURE IN STONE......... .......... IND E .... . .. ... ... ... . ... ...... ..... ... ADOLF HILDEBRAND 1 was born in Marburg, Germany, October 6, 1847. His father, the economist, Bruno Hildebrand, was forced by the revolution of 1848 to seek in Switzerland free- dom from political persecution. Having reached school age, the son attended the gymnasium of Bern, but did not show much enthusiasm for the abstract studies there offered to him. In 1861 his father was called to the University of Jena. The young man now showed such distinctive signs of artistic ability that he was sent by his father to Nuremberg, to take a course in the art school of that city. At the end of 1867 he left Germany for a prolonged stay in Italy. The influence of the masterpieces of art · accumulated in that country proved to be infinitely more beneficial to his artistic development than the school instruction which he had practically out-grown when he entered the art school. In Rome Hildebrand became acquainted with Hans von Marées, whose in- dependence of thought encouraged the younger artist to follow his own bent. After staying in Rome a year and a half Hildebrand returned to Germany and bus- ied himself for some time with sculpture in Berlin. In 1872 he went again to Italy and for many years stayed 1 1 The above biographic sketch is an abstract from the book by · A. Heilmeyer: Adolf Hildebrand, Künstler-Monographien No. 60, Velhagen & Klasing, 1902; pp. 99, 75 cts. The book contains nearly a hundred reproductions of the artist's own works. (9) 10 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. in Florence, where he still spends a part of each year, his residence being an old monastery, San Francesco di Paola. His. German home is in Munich. Whoever has visited this city in recent years cannot have faileri to see and admire there one of Hildebrand's monumen- tal works, the Wittelsbacherbrunnen on the Maximili- ansplatz. The present book appeared in print for the first time in 1893. It has been published in four German editions and has also been translated into French. FOREWORD TO THE THIRD EDITION This third and revised edition of my book affords me the opportunity of suggesting to the reader in a brief foreword the right mode of ap- The leading proach. I have, therefore, thought idea. it advisable to present here in a few words the leading idea of my work. Sculpture and painting in contrast with architec- ture are usually looked upon as imitative arts. This classification, however, expresses merely · their differences and does not take The architectonic into consideration their resem- method. blances. Sculpture and paint- ing are, indeed, imitative inas- much as they are based on a kind of study of Na- ture. And this in a way ties down the artist; for it fol- lows that the problems of form with which he has to deal when imitating emanate directly from his percep- tion of Nature. But if these problems and no others be solved, i. e., if the artist's work claims attention merely on these grounds, it can never attain a self- sufficiency apart from Nature. To gain such self-suf- ficiency the artist must raise the imitative part of his work to a higher plane, and the method by which he accomplishes this I should like to call the Architectonic Method. Of course, I do not here use the word ar- chitectonic in its ordinary special significance. As in a drama or symphony, so here our perception enables us to realize a unity of form lacking in objects them- (11) 12 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. selves as they appear in Nature. It is the quality es- sential to this realization which I wish to denote by the term architectonic. The problems of form arising from this architec- tonic structure, though they are not given us immedi- ately and self-evidently by Nature, The architectonic are yet the true problems of art.. development of Material acquired through a di- nature's material. rect study of Nature is, by the architectonic process, transformeri into an artistic unity. When we speak of the imitative aspect of art, we are referring to material which has not yet been developed in this manner. Through architectonic development, then, sculpture and paint- ing emerge from the sphere of mere naturalism into the realm of true art. Reviewing the artistic production of earlier times, we find that the architectonic structure of a work of art stands out everywhere as the par- The primacy of amount factor, whereas mere imi- the architectonic tation is a thing which has only conception and its gradually developed. It is, in fact, relation to ar- instinctive with us to combine the tistic individuality. piece-work of perception into an ideal whole. Mere imitation, on the contrary, being dependent on long experience, can only be attained through a gradual study of Nature. It is significant of our scientific times that a work of art to-day seldom rises above the level of · imitation. The architectonic feel- ing is either lacking entirely or is replaced by a purely external, more or less tasteful, arrangement of forms. It has been my aim in this treatise to force the YIT FOREWORD TO THE THIRD EDITION. 13 1 idea of the architectonic structure into the focus of attention, to develop from this point of view the prob- lems which form presents and to show their immediate dependence on our relation to Nature. Let it be noted, however, that this dependence does not exclude an ar- tist's individuality. Heart and lungs are requisite for life, yet this necessity does not preclude individual va- riations in the human body. A person's individuality does not consist in the presence or absence of particu- lar organs, but in their various degrees of development. Just as we are able to demonstrate on what the sound- ness of a body depends, so may we also demonstrate the nature of the general problems of art and their solutions without excluding the artist's individuality. For, whatever his individuality may be, his work must give a true answer to the questions which Nature puts to him. It is evident that in accordance with the artist's personal development this or that problem will domi- nate and become the main one to be The anarchists solved. In no case, however, is ar- of art. tistic ability manifest in wilfully : ignoring the requirements of the material worked in. (Those artists who deny any kind of objective demands are the anarchists of Art, and are not to be taken seriously. It is characteristic of these artists that their incapacity to develop in architectonic inanner that which they strive to achieve through imi- tation alone, should awaken in them a vague sense of inefficiency; and that they should seek to compensate for this by the addition of something suggestive or symbolic, intending thereby to raise their work to a higher poetic plane. But sculpture and painting do not 14 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. borrow their poetic force from other arts, nor do they exist merely to illustrate poetic subjects. What the artist has to grapple with is a problem of visual mani- festation solely. The subjects which he selects for rep- resentation need have neither ethical nor poetic signif- icance. What he does is to give them an esthetic sig- nificance which is distinctive and no less valuable. Let us now leave these general considerations and turn to the special consideration of architectonic struct- ure in painting and sculpture. In The two both these arts all forms, whether functions arising from imitative productivity of the eye. or from architectonic structure, are of a spatial character. Hence the principles governing the construction of such forms cannot be arbitrary, but must come from our percep- tion of space. The artist's activity consists, then, in further developing such of his faculties as provide him with spatial perception, namely his faculties of sight and touch. These two different means of perceiving the same phenomenon not only have separate exist- ence in our faculties for sight and touch, but are united in the eye. Nature having endowed our eyes so richly, these two functions of seeing and touching exist here in a far more intimate union than they do when per- formed by different sense organs.) An artistic talent consists in having these two functions precisely and harmoniously related. To set forth the consequences of this relation has been my chief object in this work. FOREWORD TO THE THIRD EDITION. 15 Since Art does not depend on a mere knowing, but on a doing which puts this knowledge into prac- tice, a treatise on artistic problems The process of can be fruitful only when it follows artistic the artistic process in its practical, creation. as well as in its theoretical aspects. We must strive to understand clearly the connection between the artist's inner men- tal process and the realization of his ideas in his work. Unless we can show this mental process, demonstrate it, so to speak, ad oculos, then all insight into Art re- mains obscure and it is left to each individual to in- terpret the process this way or that according to the refinement of his senses. Finding that most theories of Art exhibit a useless quantity of reasoning and a dearth of practical experience, I have attempted to avoid this in my work by giving prominence, not to theoretical considerations, but to the actual process of creating a work of art. Accordingly, my book culminates fit- tingly in the chapter on stone carving; for work of this nature is, as a matter of fact, only the realization of all those artistic ideas which we shall treat in the chapters leading up to the last. The idea which informs the artist's crea- tion is one thing, the process of the creation is another. The true connection between these two could scarce be understood except when placed at the end of the trea- tise. An insight into this connection seems all the more imperative since the technical progress and factory work of our day have led us to lose our appreciation of the manner in which a thing is made, and have caused us to value a product more for itself than as a result of some mental activity. 16 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. The importance which attaches to the natural growth of a work of art can hardly be overestimated. All that is good and true in Art depends on it. Art can flourish Natural growth only when the artist follows the in art. natural paths of production. Let him, then, get his result, however modest, by natural means, rather than strive to achieve something more brilliant, the outcome of a greater abil- ity than he possesses; for such a work, being one of false pretense, must inevitably be condemned to the fate of all shams. INTRODUCTION . : There is a definite relation between three-dimen- sional objective form, i. e., an object in Nature, and its appearance psychologically as a The aim. visual perception. The present work deals with this relation, and with the consequences thereof for artistic representa- tion. Since one and the same object may produce many ciifferent visual appearances according as it is viewed . from different positions and under The artist's different circumstances, there arises question. for the painter and for the sculptor this question :(are all these views of equal value or, if not, how shall their varying values be measured?) Our relation to the world of vision consists chiefly in our perception of its spatial attributes. Without this, orientation in the outer world The importance is absolutely impossible. We must, of ideas of therefore, consider our general spa- space. tial ideas and the perception of sna- tial form as the most important facts in our conception of the reality of things. If we distinguish the object from all the varying visual per- ceptions which may be obtained from it, then these visual perceptions must be taken as mere representa- tives of our ideas of space and things, and the value of any one view over all the rest will be determined only by the force with which it impresses on us these ideas of the thing in space. (17) 18 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. The variegated hues of Nature may be considered as a colored garment in which she clothes her body. But the value of these colors for artistic The value of accordance with the part which color. they take in the spatial signifi- cance of the object. We must, then, look upon Nature as affording us all possible variations in the perception of a certain object, yet without ever giving us The idea of the thing itself. For the idea of form. form which we may obtain is but one facet of the whole; one which we have abstracted from comparison of our different visual perceptions; one which, we may say, has re- sulted from a separating of necessary from chance ele- working-over of many perceptions from one definite point of view. By this I do not mean a subjective, individual point of view, but, on the contrary, the very general point of view of spatial orientation such as each of us must, in the nature of things, construct for himself in his dealings with the outer world. In every-day life we require very few visual fac- tors of spatial significance in order to feel at home in our spatial relations. We are not The significance conscious how few, indeed, these of spatial sugges- factors often are, and how much tions in nature our imagination adds to them. We and art. are so familiar with most of what is presented to us that, given a few points, wie grasp the situation at once. The artist, on the other hand, finds that his relation to visual per- FOREWORD TO THE THIRD EDITION. 19 ception is quite different. He must, or should, be quite cleaſ as to what the particular appearance actu- · ally presents and what it lacks to awaken in the spec- tator a definite idea of spatial form. At times cer- tain illuminations are to be found in Nature, such as reflected light scattered over a surface, which dis- solve every impression of form and thereby work against the possibility of gaining any clear spatial idea. So it cannot well be the artist's business to hold fast in his representation to the mere appearance of the object as such. He must learn, rather, from his visual perceptions how they come to express their form content. And this he does by learning to differ- entiate that appearance which speaks clearly to us from those others which do not. He dares not trust his repesentation to the knowledge of his spectators, but must actually present in his work all those factors on which our ideas of space rest. In doing this he must make use of the most fundamental facts of ex- perience, of the so-called self-evident. Without a suf- ficient regard for these elementary factors representa- tion becomes mere dilettantism. The requirement of a clear expression for space and form in his work, leads the artist into a certain definite sort of mental imagery. The artistic In all periods of artistic endeavor, viewpoint. therefore, there must develop one fundamental method of looking from an artistic standpoint at the wealth of varying appearances found in Nature. This method, in brief, as it has become formulated through the personal ex- perience of an artist, is the content of the following Work. 20 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. It is evident that the clear-sightedness which the artist finds essential to his work is, as with every other man who acts, not that of a knowl- The discrepancies edge mediated by words, but the re- of a written . sult, rather, of a refined instinct. communication. However, a written formulation such as this can scarcely be avoided, especially at a time when there is so much immaturity in the knowledge of artistic problems and so much uncertainty as to artistic instinct. So it be- comes necessary to present successively, and, to ar- range logically, descriptive views of things which in reality are simultaneous, each dependent on the other and without beginning or end. Therefore this work speaks in an unaccustomed language to the artist, for whom these points of view are the most familiar facts of life, and speaks of an unaccustomed process to the esthetician, for whom the mode of speech is stock in trade. But for this failure to suit either exactly there is no help. VISION AND MOVEMENT In order to understand the relation existing be- tween form in its three dimensions and our visual per- ception ,* we must first of all real- Two ways of ize that we make use of our eyes using our eyes. in two different ways, the visual and the kinesthetic. Given an object with its surroundings and back- ground; given also a line of vision on which an ob- server may take a position at vary- Pure vision. ing distances from the object. Let the observer's distance be so far re- moved that his eyes no longer make an angle of con- Fig. 1. ACCOMMODATION. LIGHT COMING FROM A DISTANT POINT, D, IS FOCUSED AT THE RETINA BY A LENSE OF LITTLE CURVATURE, IF THE LIGHT COMES FROM A NEARER POINT, THE CURVATURE OF THE LENSE MUST INCREASE. THIS ADJUSTMENT OF THE LENSE IS CALLED ACCOMMODATION. IT IS PRODUCED BY MUSCLE FIBRES WITHIN THE EYE BALL. ACTIVITY OF THESE MUSCLES GIVES RISE TO A SENSATION, WHICH MAY BE : CALLED THE SENSATION OF ACCOMMODATINO. vergence on the object, but gaze parallel into the dis- tance: thereupon the two retinal images become iden- * The reader need hardly be reminded that our actual im- pression is two-dimensional, a flat picture on the retina. Ī By kinesthetic we mean pertaining to sensations of move- ment, in this case, eye movement. (21) 22 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. tical. The idea of a three-dimensional object, which the observer continues to hold, and which, until the observer reached this distance-point, was partially pro- duced by stereoscopic vision (cf. pp. 26 ff.),—an idea, namely, that certain parts are nearer than others, is now produced by factors which have only two dimen- sions, such as differences in color, light and shade, size, distinctness, perspective, fore-shortening, etc. These characteristics have been known to us from infancy as marks for distinguishing what is distant from what is near. Let the observer now take a position along this line nearer to the object. His eyes will then require a different accommodation of lens, Vision plus and a different angle of conver- movement. gence in order to perceive the ob- ject as clearly as before. Naturally, the whole object can no longer be seen at a glance. Instead of one complete picture, he now has several which he connects together by a swift succession of eye movements. The closer the observer approaches, the more eye movements will he have to make and the more will the original complete picture be split up. into separate views. Approaching nearer and nearer . to the object, his field of vision becomes more and, more limited, until at length his eyes converge and fo- cus only on one single point at a time. The observer's perception of the spatial relation existing between such points will then be derived entirely from eye move- ments in different directions, into different distances. Our ability to receive and understand' a pure visual impression as such, illustrated by binocular-parallel and monocular vision, is now superseded by an abil- VISION AND MOVEMENT. 23 ity to receive and understand by the aid of acts of movement. The accompanying figures will demon- strate to the reader the nature and significance of ac- commodation and convergence. DU NO Fig. 2. CONVERGENCE, THE AXES OF THE EYES, TO RECEIVE THE LIGHT OF AN EXTERNAL POINT, D, AT THE FOVEA, THE POINT OF MOST PERFECT SENSIBILITY, MUST FORM A DEFI- NITE ANGLE. THE NEARER THE POINT SEEN, THE GREATER THIS ANGLE, THE ANGLE OF CONVERGENCE THIS ADJUSTMENT OF THE EYES IS PRODUCED BY THE EXTERNAL EYE MUSCLES AND GIVES RISE TO THE SENSATION OF CONVERGENCE. It must also be added that, aside from accommo- dation and convergence, movements of the head are. often made for the purpose of Parallax. bringing together successive per- bringing togel ceptions of an object from different points of view. Our eyes possess, therefore, two faculties of dis- tinct character: one consisting in visual perception : at a glance with the eye at rest, the The combination other in a number of more complex of visual and kinesthetic . perceptions made up of visual and factors. kinesthetic factors which result from a series of movements. All our knowledge concerning the plastic na- 24 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. ture of objects is derived originally from movements which we make either with eyes or with hands. And it is through a complex of such movements, or by so- called "kinesthetic ideas" of them, that we are able to imagine three-dimensional or solid form. Ordinarily in looking about we use our eyes in a manner depend- ing on the distance of the objects seen; consequently cur perception consists of visual impressions and eye 1.Jovements which follow each other in more or less rapid succession. Taking this mode of perception as a whole we must look upon it as a combination of two different elements. FIG. 3. STEREOSCOPIC Vision. How LIGHT COMING FROM A DISTANT AND A NEAR POINT IS PROJECTED UPON THE RETINA. D' and N'ARE FARTHER APART THAN D" AND N". THE FOLLOWING FIGURE SHOWS HOWTHIS RELATIVE DISPLACEMENT APPEARS TO OUR CONSCIOUSNESS AS A VISUAL IMPRESSION. There is yet another combination, the so-called "stereoscopic vision,” which is effective at not too great a distance from the object. Ster- Stereoscopic eoscopic vision is nothing else in vision. fact than a combination of two different pictures seen respectively by our two eyes at the same time. The difference- VISION AND MOVEMENT. disparity, as it is usually called-of these two pictures consists in the relative displacement of their details, caused by the two different positions of our eyes in re- gard to the object. Stereoscopic vision may, therefore, also be considered as a combination of visual impres- sion and movement. Shutting one eye, we are able to take in the visual impression from the position of the open eye, move then to the position of the other eye and take in the other visual impression. Doing this, we get each time a simple picture of the object, as we N"D" N' D LEFT EYE'S IMAGE. RIGHT EYE'S IMAGE, Fig. 4. STEREOSCOPIC VISION. How THE TWO OBJECTS N AND D of Fig. 3 APPEAR IN OUR RIGHT AND LEFT EYE'S IMAGES. IN THE RIGHT EYE's IMAGE D APPEARS DISPLACED TO THE RIGHT, WHEN COMPAR- ED WITH ITS SPATIAL RELATION TO N IN THE LEFT EYE's IMAGE, ETC., ETC. (NOTE, THAT WHAT IS PROJECTED UPON ONE SIDE OF THE RETINA, AS IN FIG. 3, ALWAYS APPEARS TO US ON THE OPPOSITE SIDE.) P do from a distance where both eyes receive the same picture of the object. The two different positions of our eyes and the two images received, which co-ope- rate in stereoscopic vision, become evident through an act of movement. Stereoscopic vision lends the strongest impression of three-dimensional existence. In painting, where we have to deal only with one pic- ture of the object, stereoscopic vision is naturally ex- cluded. If we speak, notwithstanding, of a stereoscopic impression of a painting, we mean only that a strong three-dimensional impression is given by the two-di- 26 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. mensional means which a picture has at its disposal, but we do not refer to stereoscopic vision in its special meaning: Since infancy we have associated the idea of relative farness with visible details which are relatively displaced in the right eye's image to the right, in the left eye's Stereoscopic ' image to the left. For instance, in fig. 5, vision is important the house which stands in line with the in life, but not in telegraph pole and the spectator, or any art. (Addition by one of the neighboring houses, appears to the translators.) the right eye considerably displaced to the right, relative to the pole; to the left eye displaced to the left. In such a case, as the result of the experience of our whole life, we immediately become conscious of the fact that the house is much farther away from us than the pole. On the other hand, we have associated the idea of relative nearness with details which are relatively displaced in the right eye's image to the left, in the left eye's image to the right (the pole as compared with the position of the house); and the idea of equidistance from us with details in which no displacement at all is noticeable. The latter case may be illustrated by pointing out that the distance from the house at the extreme left to the house at the extreme right is exactly the same in both pictures. But this binocular mode of perception is in art rather an obstacle than an aid; for in looking at a picture with both eyes we often become aware, through the perfect identity of both images in this case, i. e., through the absence of any displacement of details, of its being flat, its being nothing but colored spots on a plane surface. In such a case we may, by closing one eye, free ourselves from this interference with our mental reproduction of the spatial ideas in- tended by the artist. This remedy is made possible by the fact that we never see, of course, and never expect to see, any relative displacement of details while using one eye alone, there being no two images for comparison. The absence of such a disparity, therefore, no longer reminds us of a flat surface. The perception of displacements, in binocular vision, may arouse in us by association kinesthetic ideas of accommodation and convergence such as we should normally obtain by viewing points at different distances successively. But, as we have seen, VISION AND MOVEMENT. 27 114 Like Briouz, Switzerland FIG. 5. ILLUSTRATES THE RELATIVE DISPLACEMENT OF THE DETAILS IN STEREOSCOPIC VISION. 28 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF TO stereoscopic vision is for the artist's mental activity never essen- tial; for the spectator's mental attitude often positively injur- ious. The means used by the artist for calling up kinesthetic ideas in our minds are, as. we shall see, of a different kind. Neither the artist, nor the layman who merely enjoys art, depends on stereoscopic vision on the use of both eyes—for his mental relations to art. Some one has said that Raphael would have been a great artist even if he had been born without arms. It is still more true to say that no artist would be less an artist f his inability to compare the spatial suggestiveness of binocular and monocular impressions, but his world of ideas would not be ment would serve in place of kinesthetic ideas of convergence. The ability to compare the strength of binocular and monocular impressions may be of much aid to the artist whom normally-pos- sesses it; but a comparative study of mental development leads to the conclusion that this ability cannot be regarded as one of the mental traits which make up artistic genius. When we close one eye it is as though we threw the object into a greater distance, i. e., we have then only one picture instead of two dif- The visual ferent ones. The simple, two-di- mensional picture thus obtained we shall hereafter term a visual pro- jection (Fernbild=distance picture). Having classified our optical perceptions into pure visual and mixed visual-kinesthetic (cf. p. 23) we may now examine more closely Kinesthetic into the relations which exist be- ideas suggested tween them. Since our ideas of by the visual three-dimensional form are so projection. largely kinesthetic, it follows that, if the visual projection is to express a spatial content, it must contain suggestions, at least, of movements. Just as our eyes wander naturally VISION AND MOVEMENT. 29 over the form of an object which is near us, so too in the visual projection are we naturally incited to im- agine movements in accordance with such indications of form as are given. Although these movements are, purely imaginary with respect to the third dimension or depth, they may very well be carried out with re- spect to the two dimensions of the picture plane. It is clear that our eyes carry out their function of wander- ing over all unforeshortened lines and surfaces of the visual projection just as if the object were before us. With respect to lines and surfaces in perspective, how- ever, we cannot carry out the functions of accommoda- tion and convergence, although the suggestion to do so may be present. I So much for the visual projection with reference to its latent kinesthetic content. We may now pro- ceed to consider our kinesthetic Visual ideas . ideas of eye movements with refer- suggested by ... ence to the visual ideas which they kinesthetic ideas." awaken in us. Lines and simple planes are the inevitable associates of kinesthetic factors. When we present to ourselves the form of an object, such imag- inary visual associates naturally attend our kinesthetic ideas of 'eye movements, and may, therefore, be looked upon as an expression for them. Unforeshortened lines and planes are, as has already been noted, a coni- plete and satisfactory expression for certain kinesthe- tic ideas. And this is because our vision is in its very nature two-dimensional; so that by a single intuition we perceive all the flat elements of the natural scene imagined. Though we may have to let our eyes wan- der over it, the whole is still unified by this continuity 1 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. Fig. 6 (P,71), TITIAN. ILLUSTRATES THE EFFECT OF "DISTANCE AT THE PERIPHERY ** VISION AND MOVEMENT. 31 of vision from a single point of view. To perceive in visual images the third dimension, however, we must imagine ourselves as changing our point of view, and as getting merely a succession of disconnected shifting views of the object more or less in profile. Therefore in imagining a natural scene otherwise than as a vis- ual projection, the expression of kinesthetic ideas by foreshortening, light, shade, color, etc., is unsatis- factory just in so far as its unity is spoiled by its de- mands for shifting. It is only in the visual projection that these demands cease, and permit the unitary plane picture to produce its full effect unspoiled. This con- stitutes the great value of the visual projection. It affords the only possible perception of form at a glance. For it is the only perception made up of homogeneous, i; e., purely visual, elements. Since our visual impressions of an object vary ac- cording to circumstances, it is natural that we should not be able to remember them all Ordinary rep- clearly at a given time. We are, resentation and for instance, able to conceive the artistic represen three-dimensional form of a sphere, tation. but hardly a clear visual impres- sion of it. Our idea of the sphere is rather that of a two-dimensional circular line, plus an idea of movement by which this circle is repeated equally in all directions. Thus we are brought to acknowledge that, apart from individual variations in the distinctness with which men perceive forin, the power of perceiving it visually is very vague- ly connected with the power of representing it visu- ally. For the percipient, the process of seeing, in the sense of reading-off spatially the appearance before 32 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. him, goes on quite unconsciously, interpreting the vis- ual impression into a spatial idea. But in the process of representation he has to piece the object together, partly out of visual and partly out of kinesthetic ele- ments: i. e., he places before himself some general visual picture and fills it out according to what may happen to be its plastic requirements. Visual im- pression and kinesthetic idea both relate to the same object, but usually bear no distinct, essential relation to each other. This want of definite relation between visual and kinesthetic elements in our usual represen- tations need not surprise us; it is only the artist who in his representation really unifies these elements. In the artistic representation we may check and control the relation between our visual and our kinesthetic ideas, and the test, both of these our own ideas, and of the efficacy of the artist's work is-Do we react imme- diately to the impression received from this represen- tation? All other intellectual disciplines leave us to- tally ignorant on this point, and with scant power of representation. This unity which the artist makes of visual impression and kinesthetic idea, is the most fun- damental source of our esthetic enjoyment in a work of art. Let us now consider from this point of view the activity of sculptor and painter. The sculptor's specif- ic mental material consists in kin- The activity of esthetic ideas. To these he gives sculptor and expression by fashioning them out painter. with his hands in solid material. The visual projection of this rep- resentation, when made, affords the spectator a unified idea of the form of the object. To accomplish this end 1 VISION AND MOVEMENT. 33 is the sculptor's real problem. For it does not followi that forms which are expressive when perceived ster- eoscopically, or separately at close range, should con- tinue to be so when presented in the visual projection. The unity of a sculptor's work must, therefore, depend on its pictorial clearness. THE FIG. 7 (PP 72 and 83), CORREGGIO. ILLUSTRATES THE EFFECT OF DIAGONAL ARRANGEMENT" AND "THE RELIEF CONCEPTION IN PAINTING. Considering the activity of the painter, we find that his mental material consists in visual ideas which he expresses directly on a surface, creating thereby a picture in the sense of a visual projection. His prob- lem is to express the form of an object by means of mere visual impressions on a plane. To do this he 3 34 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OË FORM. must discover what, in these visual impressions, is really suggestive of the third dimension. We see, there- fore, that both sculptor and painter have to deal with chae relation existing between visual impressions and kinesthetic ideas. The painter gives on a plane a vis- ual impression of a three-dimensional form, while the sculptor forms something three-dimensional for the purpose of affording a plane visual impression. Our ideas of form, in so far as we derive them from a visual projection or a picture, depend in reality on our vast experience of the rela- The artist's tions existing between visual and problem. kinesthetic sensations. The three- dimensional form of a solid object being one of the factors which contribute to the ob- ject's appearance, is related to the latter as cause to ef- fect. Through conscious experience we acquire a knowledge of this relation, and its significance is forc- ibly present in all seeing creatures. Suppose an artist confronted with a particular object in Nature which he wishes to represent. His task is to do the work in ac- cordance with the laws governing these relations. He must, therefore, consider this particular as a general case, i. e., as a concrete example of such relations as exist between visual and kinesthetic ideas. A work of art results from an adaptation and arrangement of nat- ural objects. Such adaptation and arrangement sim- plifies our perception and conception of the objects and thus brings Nature into most intimate relation with our visual faculties. What kind of factors out of the infinite and varied stock which Nature presents the artist shall retain as those best adapted for his purpose VISION AND MOVEMENT. 35 of suggesting ideas of form is a matter for his individ- ual choice. But, at the same time, he is always bound to follow the laws which govern the relations existing between visual and kinesthetic ideas. II FORM AND APPEARANCE In order to put these problems more exactly before the painter and sculptor, we must investigate still more The problema narrowly the relation of the visual projection to kinesthetic ideas. As our kinesthetic ideas arise and develop in con- nection with the outlines of an object, we come to as- cribe a form to it which is inde- Actual and pendent of the object's changing perceptual form. appearances. Form is that factor in our perception which depends only on the object. It is obtained either through movement direct, or is inferred from the appearance, and we may term it the actual form. On the other hand, the impression of form which is aroused by the visual appearance of the object is always a product, not only of the object's actual form, but of the illumination, the environment and the changing point of view. Being a variable expression for the abstract, non-changeable, actual form, it may be termed, in contradistinction therefrom, the perceptual form. It is essentially characteristic of the perceptual form that each single factor in the perception should have its meaning only in relation The mutual to all other factors; that all sizes, relationship of all lights and shades, all colors, factors in the per- etc., have only relative values. Ev- ceptual form. erything depends on reciprocal re- lationships; everything influences the value of everything else. When we speak, there- (36) FORM AND APPEARANCE. 37 fore, of a total impression, we refer to the effect pro- duced by the co-operation of all the factors in the per- ceptual form. Since the visual projection makes pos- sible this conception of factors co-operating to form a unity, it follows that the single parts of which it is made up can have no meaning in themselves alone, but gain their significance only through that THE FIG. 8 (PP. 72 and 83), TINTORETTO. ILLUSTRATES THE EFFECT OF DIAGONAL ARRANGEMENT AND THE RELIEF CONCEPTION' IN PAINTING. peculiar connection which constitutes their total unity. Accordingly, whenever in tracing the ef- fect of a certain total appearance we are able to con- ceive the form of the object, it is because of the relationships existing between the various fac- tors of the appearance. Hence if we try to rep- resent pictorially our idea of form with the hope of producing a satisfactory total appearance we cannot 38 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. succeed by translating kinesthetic ideas, piece by piece, into visual factors and then adding them together into one total appearance. In such a process we should not be considering at all the effects of the single factors as conditioned by their relations to the whole, but should be working, rather, as though each factor were per- ceived as isolated. We do not here deny the power of the spectator or of the artist as spectator to see at a glance everything represented on one canvas. We wish, rather, to emphasize the necessity of properly relating the parts of a picture in the process of compo- sition. We may conceive the values of the actual form numerically. For, just as in algebra we abstract from the numerical values, and express The algebraic o nly possible relationships of a to conception. b, so the pictorial representation transforms all actual values to rel- ative ones which have validity only for vision. In this way the equation between the actual and perceptual forms comes to exist. When I fixate visually a finger I obtain a rela- tive impression of the shape and size of its parts. When I fixate the entire hand I The contrast of see this finger in relation to the actual and per- whole hand and obtain a new im- ceptual form. pression which expresses the rela- tion of fingers to hand. When I attend to hand and arm the impression changes again, and so on ad infinitum. The hand may have looked large when I attended to it alone; in relation to the arm it may appear delicate because of the greater stength of the arm. At first the form of the finger was FORM AND APPEARANCE. 39 considered as a total impression; later it became a rel- ative impression with other co-operating forms. Yet the actual form of the finger remained constant. It was the perceptual form which changed. As a visual FIG. 9 (P.80), ANCIENT SCULPTURE. ILLUSTRATES THE CONCEPTION OF A LAYER OF UNIFORM DEPTH. effect the object obtained a shifting accent which, when taken by itself, it did not possess. In this way the en- tire actual form resolves itself into visual relationships and values, and the idea of the object is transformed 40 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF TORM. into ideas of values for vision which have their mean- ing only in and through the given total impression. Mere grouping may thus be sufficient to accentu- ate the value of the perceptual form in different ways. We can, for instance, place equal The significance lines in such positions that they of situation. look to be of different lengths. There are well-known geometrical figures which exhibit such illusions. It is clear, there- fore, that the perceptual value of a single actual forni may be one of three things : false, as in the example noted; indifferent (neutral), i. e., without emphatic ac- centuation; or, finally, strong and effective. In all these cases the actual form remains the same; the perceptual form, however, changes markedly. Whether, therefore, the perceptual form be thus or so, depends on the total situation, and may be, like the sit- uation itself, stable or undergoing change. This is of the greatest importance in considering our impres- sions of form in nature. Since many objects are bound down to a particular situation, we know then only as certain well-defined perceptual forms. Any change in the situation seems to al- ter the actual form as well. A tower for ex- ample, which, rising free in the air above the housetops, makes such a slender, graceful impression, becomes at once short and clumsy in appearance when placed alongside a thin smokestack. Thus the relation of the object to its environment becomes a part of its characterization, and according as certain situations are associated in our minds with the idea of the object, we attribute certain characteristic accents to the actu- al form. We may speak of an exceptional accent and YT lo FORM AND APPEARANCE. a normal, a chance accent and a typical, according to the conception which we have acquired of the object. The artist enriches our intercourse with Nature so far as his individual talent enables him to bring the actual form into situations which lend it new but normal ac- cents of effectiveness. The more normal and typical these accents are in a work of art, the more real is the importance of the work. We have seen that the perceptual form is richer in content than the actual form by reason of the sub- jective relationships existing be- The perceptual tween its elements. These rela- form: its rich tionships serve to influence the vis- ness of content. al idea which involuntarily arises when we think of the object. However poor and empty this idea may be, it is, at the very least capable of conveying to us a general' notion that the object is essentially spatial. When children draw a face as a circle with two points for eyes, a vertical line for nose and a horizontal line for mouth, they represent in these few lines just the es- sential effect of our ordinary idea of perceptual form. An artistic representation, to be strong and nat- ural, must bring to bear, out of the embarrassing rich- ness which Nature affords, and in The elementary spite of it, those elementary effects effects. which correspond to our most gen- eral conception of form. In the human face, painted or chiseled, that which the child brings out by a few strokes must likewise be empha- sized by the artist, as being the essential effect. Thus we see it exemplified in antique statues in the so-call- ed: Grecian type of face. The 'Grecian nose' is the 42 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. result of such a requirement. Not that the Greeks in general had such noses; the significance of these heads rests, rather, in the fact that they have, under all conditions, a clear-cut effectiveness and thus rep- resent typical visual accents. FIG. 10 (P.83), REMBRANDT. ILLUSTRATES THE RELIEF CONCEPTION” IN PAINTING. Artistic sense consists in a clear comprehension of these values of form as opposed to a mere knowl-. edge of the actual form. The lat- Artistic ter would mean a sum of isolated sense. sensations having significance only for scientific consideration. The general perceptual form, which is developed uncon- FORM AND APPEARANCE. 43 sciously, must be distinguished from any particulai i memory image, since the former contains the essen- tial, the latter largely fortuitous elements. Art con- sists in giving shape to these ideas of spatial values, thus taking what may have been in Nature insignifi- cant and fortuitous, and rendering it expressive and inevitable. However, in order to be effective in a work of art, these elements must be so combined that each may have its full significance. Since in Nature it is entirely a matter of chance whether or not this con- dition is met in the appearance, an artistic represen- tation cannot be a mere mechanical counterfeit of Na-1 ture, but must comply with those conditions which render visual values effective. Thus an artist's single representation is, in fact, an expression for the whole world of form as he has worked it out in his mind into effective spatial values. The so-called positivistic conception of Art, which finds truth in a casual appearance or form of an ob- ject rather than in a perception Positivism as interpreted by our general ideas, in art. sees the problem of Art merely in an exact reproduction of that which is to be directly perceived. It considers any influence of our interpretative faculty to be a falsification of natural truth and, therefore, concentrates its efforts on making the representation a most exact imitation; 1 the more mechanical and automatic, the better. It strives to detach the momentary impression from our general ideas, notwithstanding the fact that, but for these, visual perception would be impossible. For we do not see mechanically; it is the contribution of 44 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. ideas which makes for us out of the retinal image a significant picture. It matters not whether this rigid adherence to the objective part of a perception be applied to its kinesthetic or to its visual terms. Its failure. There is a positivism with respect to the actual form as well as with respect to the perceptual form; and with respect to kinesthetic sensations in sculpture as well as with respect to visual sensations in painting. The height of positivism would be attained if we could perceive things with the inexperience of a new-born child. This theory would lead us to regard the sculptor's art as appealing exclusively to the tactual-kinesthetic sense of the esthetic percipient; the painter's art, on the other hand, as appealing entirely to the visual sense quite apart from all experience of form. The posi- tivist seeks a representation which shall stand for the unclear expression of the first few hours of life, when ideas are first beginning to develop. This tendency has been fostered through the discovery of photog- raphy. But the fact is overlooked that we cannot strip off our ideas at will. It is just by the aid of these ideas that we see. Our unconscious dependence upon them effectually contravenes the tendencies of posi- tivism. The inevitable result is that the spectator finds suggestions for spatial ideas pitifully scarce in such a work instead of plentiful as they should be Such pictures are, so to speak, dumb, because the capacity of appealing to our idea of form has been artificially expelled from them. FORM AND APPEARANCE. 45 In true Art the actual form has its reality only as an effect. By conceiving Nature as a relation of kinesthetic ideas to visual impres- The invalidity sions, all combined and interre- of proportions. lated in a totality, Art frees her of change and chance. Therefore it is a naive misconception to believe that the effec- FIG. II. (P.83), Titian. ILLUSTRATES PAINTING THE RELIEF CONCEPTION" IN tive value of a figure in a given work of art would remain constant if the position of the figure were changed. The identity of the person is then mistaken for an identity of effect. From this, too, it follows that all the instructions in proportion which have been HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. formulated for Art have arisen out of a fundamental misconception. The requisite proportions must be worked out each time anew with respect to the work as a whole. No work of art can result from a simple addition of invariable proportions in details. Only in such works of art as constantly repeat their parts in the total arrangement, for instance, in a Greek temple, can approximately constant proportions for the single parts be laid down. These relations are the result of a fixed total project. If this falls away, so do the proportions for the single members, and in their new connections they must be found anew. Furthermore, it is also explained by the above that in sculpture the proportions of the actual forni must sometimes be subordin- Relation ated to the effect of the main to effect. view, as is illustrated, for in- stance, in the short foot of the Faun of Praxiteles. III THE IDEA OF SPACE AND ITS VISUAL EXPRESSION In the preceding chapter we have considered the relation of visual perception to the ideas of spatial form, particularly with respect to Total space. objects. We must now do the same with respect to the total spatial form of Nature at large. By total space we mean space as extending through all three dimen- sions, or in all directions. The essential factor in this is continuity. Let us imagine total space as a body of water into which we may sink certain vessels, and thus be able to define individual volumes of the water without, however, destroying the idea of a continuous mass of water enveloping all. In an artistic repre- sentation Nature must be expressed as just such a spa- tial whole, if it is to contain that elementary impres- sion which Nature makes upon us. Since we do not conceive Nature with the eye alone nor from a single point of view, but rather as something always changing, al- The conscious ways in motion, to be taken in by ness of space. all our senses at once, we live and move with a consciousness of space surrounding us even when there are in fact scarcely any spatial suggestions in that which our eyes chance to perceive. We do not ask how this consciousness comes about, on what sort of perceptions and impres- sions it is based. Nor do we demand of the perception (47) 48 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. FIG. 12 (P. 87), ANCIENT SCULPTURE. MANY HIGH POINTS IN THE FRONT PLANE. SPACE AND ITS VISUAL EXPRESSION. 49 that it shall demonstrate to us its spatial attributes, each time anew. And yet this consciousness of the existence of space is present even when we close our eves. Pictorial representation, however, has for its pur- pose the awakening of this idea of space, and that exclusively by the factors which The idea of the artist presents. Considering space in art. the limited area of the picture, the few and circumscribed means of visual expression, effective only in a very one-sided way, it follows that the artist must possess a very clear conception of those factors in the appearance which have a capacity for arousing in the observer infallibly and forcibly this most elementary effect of Nature; viz., a feeling of space. The more emphat- ically the artist demonstrates in his picture the vol- ume of space, and the more positive the spatial sug- gestions contained in its perception, the more living and vivid is the illusion which the picture affords. If we set ourselves the problem of representing the general voluminosity of Nature as a visual im- pression, it will be best to imagine The arrangement it as a volume seen from within of objects to and filled with both solid bodies suggest space. and volumes of air having definite shapes of their own. Now, since the volume of a single object is suggested by the outlines of its form, so a certain volume of air may be indicated by several objects put together, for the boundaries of the objects also limit the volumes of air which lie between them. The problem is: so to ar- range these objects that our kinesthetic ideas aroused 50 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. by them shall not remain separate, but co-operate and lead from one to another, on and on in all direc- tions. This arrangement means that we construct and offer to our kinesthetic ideas a kind of frame work built up of different objects which are calculated to arouse our most fundamental ideas of movement. The single object becomes an architectonic element and takes its position in accordance with its capacity for awakening and directing our kinesthetic ideas. ( We must remember that this frame work is to be con- structed with reference to a visual perception; that is to say, the arrangement of objects has to be made with respect to one point of view only.) And so, what has been explained in the foregoing Chapter concern- ing the relation of actual form and visual perception of the single object is again pertinent for the arrange- ment of different objects with regard to the spatial extension of the whole. The whole, therefore, be- comes as much a compact unitary structure in space as any of its single parts. To give the simplest example, think of a plane. It is evident that a plane is more clearly perceived when something is placed upon Example. it, for instance, a tree-an upright. With something standing upon it, the horizontal portion of the surface expresses itself at once: one might almost say it becomes spatially act- ive. The tree is affected in the same way. The upright tendency of its form is enhanced by the horizontal surface from which it springs. If the tree throws a shadow on the earth's surface, then the spatial rela- tions of both are again emphasized, spatial ideas again stimulated. A few streaks of cloud on the horizon SPACE AND ITS VISUAL EXPRESSION. 51 draw our gaze, and we proceed from the vertical front plane into the background, thereby experiencing ef- fectively by the simplest of means all the dimensions of space at once. We can now understand how the position and significance of single objects work for FIG. 13 (P.87), ANCIENT SCULPTURE. MANY HIGH POINTS IN THE FRONT PLANE. the representation of total space. We see that when the single objects are properly used the spatial effec- tiveness of the whole is greatly strengthened. This proper use, on the other hand, helps them again in 52 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF TORM. their separate effectiveness, because in the picture at large they have a definite spatial function, a partic- ular spatial part to play. ... In this double role of spatial effectiveness, for the whole and for the part, we have the result of an artistic welding of parts into a Artistic coherence whole. Thus we can understand in general. the possibility of a coherence and unity in a picture quite distinct from the coherence and unity of Nature,,organic or functional. This coherence is the unique and specific possession of Art and is therefore rarely understood by the layman. Consider an imaginary landscape. Here the nat- ural organic coherence is very loose as compared with that of a human body. The trees Artistic coher- may stand here or there; the ence:-illustrated stream may follow this or that in a landscape and course; the hills may stretch thus in a figure piece. or so;—it all depends on the ar- tist's choice. And yet, in a good landscape we are conscious of a certain visual coher- ence between its parts, making it appear as though it could not be otherwise than it is. All the details of the picture are mutually conditioned as stimuli so as to produce in our minds a unified whole. Although the layman, with his interest in the subject, seeks out and pays most attention to the things which are represented in the picture, he nevertheless succumbs unconsciously to the effect which makes the whole spatially alive and unified. This internal consistency of a work of art he feels without being able to explain it. Interest and imagination are stimulated and the SPACE AND ITS VISUAL EXPRESSION. 53 attention held by the apparent reality of the impres- sion. In landscapes, then, as we have seen, the spec- tator's interest in the subject being more or less lim- ited, he surrenders himself more easily to the pure artistic effect. In pictures which represent figures, however, his interest in the figures as such, as indi- viduals, dominates him, and he may easily lose him- self in these details. Yet if he but stops.to think that here as in the landscape everything is arranged accord- ing to the subjective laws of space perception, that the figures have to contribute their share to the per- ception of space, then he may understand the coher- ence which lends an artistic necessity to the structure of the picture; then he may realize that the figures have a much more general problem to solve than the mere telling of a story. Let us summarize briefly. It has been pointed out that a work of art must consist of a complex of visual elements, which, in order to Summary. produce a vivid idea of real spatial nature, must singly as well as in their mutual relations stimulate spatial ideas in us. In this mutual dependency of the different pictorial details and in their common stimulation of a total space idea is to be found the artistic unity of percep- tion. And this is something quite apart from the biological or functional unity of Nature. We are now prepared for the definition of a term to be used henceforth, the term visual values of space. By visual values of space we mean Visual values those values of an object which of space. issue only in purely spatial percep- tions tending toward the general conception of a segment of space. By purely spatial HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. FIG. 14 (P.87), ANCIENT SCULPTURE. MANY HIGH POINTS IN THE FRONT PLANE, SPACE AND ITS VISUAL EXPRESSION. 55 1 perceptions we mean perceptions independent of the organization or functioning of the object involved. Let us take a form which is given visual expression by contrasts of light and shade. Through their partic- ular relations and respective positions, these different degrees of brightness and darkness affect the spectator as if they were actually modeling the object. As a re- sult of our earliest visual experiences they represent to us in such cases a spatial value. Since the spatial effect of Nature is a product of different factors—such as the actual form of the object, its proper coloring, the illumination with respect to direction and quality, the observer's point of view—a concerted effect is pro- duced existing only for the eye, by factors which oth- erwise are not necessarily connected. This concerted effect, or visual unity, shows the separate conditions working simultaneously, and thus enables us to grasp the spatial relations of a simultaneous exposition. Therefore, the specifically artistic force and talent of the painter rest on his ability to discover the visual values of space in Nature, and the unity of his image and its power to create in the mind an idea of space, depend upon these. Considering how totally different a thing a pic-- turę is from the natural object which it represents, the force of the illusion which it Spatial effects in produces remains a riddle unless nature and art. we understand that the picture de- pends for its spatial effect on no other subjective conditions than does Nature. Neither produces spatial ideas directly, but only indirectly, and that through the medium of the same class of mental processes. Since Nature and the picture both 56 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. stimulate our sense organ in the same manner, we arrive, in fact, at the same resultant idea. The par- allel between Nature and Art is not to be sought in the equality of their actual appearances, but rather in that both have the same capacity for producing spatial effects. The value of a picture does not depend on the success of a deception, as does the popular value of a panorama, but on the intensity of the unita- Ty spatial suggestiveness concentrated in it. The panorama, which is made up of both mere painting of flat surfaces and real objects distributed over the foreground, attempts to The panorama. convey the observer into reality. This effect it produces partly by means of the varying distances of these real objects, thus requiring him to use varying accommodations of the eye as he does when really viewing Nature. But the observer is deceived concerning the real distances which make necessary the varying accommodations. Through an artificial perspective these distances are given a false spatial value which is greatly exaggerated toward the background. The brutality of such means lies in the fact that a sensitive observer discovers the lack of harmony between his muscular sensations of accommodation and convergence and his spatial judg- ments which are based on the purely visual part of his perception. According to his accommodation he is seeing a yard's distance between certain objects; ac- cording to his visual impression he is seeing a mile. This contradiction brings forth an unpleasant feeling, a sort of dizziness, instead of the satisfaction which attends a unitary spatial impression. SPACE AND ITS VISUAL EXPRESSION. The better the panorama, i. e., the greater the illusion, the more painful becomes the contradiction The crudity of among the space-determining fac- tors, because we are less and less its means. able to analyze correctly this mix- ture of factors. The poorer the panorama, the better FIG. 15 (P.90), ANCIENT SCULPTURE. ILLUSTRATES THE EFFECT OF THE SHADOWS OF HIGH RELIEF. we feel because the illusion ceases. The sense of re- ality which the panorama is intended to call forth presupposes in the spectator a coarseness and vul- 58 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. garity of observation-a lack of delicate discrimina- tion respecting the kinesthetic sensations of the eye. The old-fashioned panorama, a mere continuous pic- ture show, is an innocent amusement for children with no intention to deceive. The artificial and refined ar- ticle of the present day, however, encourages lack of culture in perception, just as wax figures do, by means of perverse sensations and a false feeling of reality.. It is in the accumulation and concentration of the effective factors in a picture that Art rises above the dissociated spatial effects of Na- The superiority ture. The artist watches Nature of art over in her eternal change with this end nature. in view. By eliminating all the weak and ineffective aspects he comes at length into an advantageous position toward Nature and her effects. And by this process of elim- ination he is enabled to infuse into his image the force which makes it valuable in comparison with Nature. This means something quite different from a more or less skillful imitation on canvas of the visual per- ception of Nature as such. The appearance of Nature is not important to the painter because of her reality but because he finds in her the expression of his spa- tial intent, when he conceives her as providing space with furniture. It is only in the representation of the object as surrounded by the general space or volume of air, and not merely in the representation of its iso- lated actual form, that the problem of artistic appear- ance in its full meaning is solved. Whether several objects be perceived, or only one; whether the means of construction draw upon the manifoldness of Na- ture's appearance, or are confined to the form of one SPACE AND ITS VISUAL EXPRESSION. 59 object, as in the sketch of a figure; the problem re- mains the same. The difference lies only in this, that in the first case the means are more manifold and ar- bitrary, in the second they are bound to the organic nature of one object. IV IDEAS OF PLANES AND DEPTH At a certain distance our eyes begin to see par- allel, the two retinal images becoming identical. This distance image (Fernbild) is the The idea of. visual projection. Attending now depth in the to the visual projection, and com- visual projection. paring the relative clearness of different parts of this image, we . see that that which lies in the center of the field of vis- ion is most clearly perceived, while towards the periph- ery the impression fades gradually away. In like man- ner anything not in the distance plane but lying close before it-in front of the stage, so to speak-is, of course, perceived along with it, but remains rather vague. That is to say, the space of which we are clearly conscious when we attend to the distance plane lies behind it. It commences with the plane. Space is conceived of as a penetration into the distance. Now when we think of objects within this im- agined space, they seem to 'offer, as it were, a certain resistance to this penetration. As The demarkation we carry out such an imaginary of objects. movement, these objects may be pictorially indicated by plane areas, variously disposed, not receding, but holding fixed positions. By aid of the idea of a general move- ment into space which the total impression suggests, these areas, or pictures of single objects, attain the impression of being volumes. In this way, from any (60) IDEAS OF PLANES AND DEPTH. 61 5 while the total appearance will, at some point in the ị given point of view, all relations of solids and differ- Jences of solid form are read off from front to back, FIG. 16 (P.91), ATTRIBUTED TO MICHELANGELO. PeculiAR EFFECT OF THE PROTRUDING HEADS. Xpicture, sooner or later, according to the positions of the objects represented, offer resistance to this even 62 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. · as visual penetration and thus define the several volumes rep- resented. The third dimension, as movement into depth, stands in contrast to the first and second dimensions, as visual planes. Yet by means The general of this idea of a general movement movement into into depth the single impressions depth. are combined so that we grasp the whole as a spatial unity. An ade- quate stimulus for this idea must be present in the picture. All the complex and intricate movements which go to make up our ideas of the several forms presented must be so arranged in the visual pro- jection that their totality may be comprehended in the unitary act of one imaginary movement into space. To give a vivid spatial impression it is essential that this act be stimulated. There must be a potent force drawing our ideas into the distance, for the secret of a picture's unity of effect rests on the unity and force of that factor which draws us into its depth. The means for producing this attraction consist in the arrangement of the picture's spatial values. The objects represented serve this The nature of end in the following manner. The spatial values. elements of sensation which compose these spatial values are lines, light and shade, and colors. Yet it is to be noted that these constitute a spatial value and aci on our form conceptions only when regarded by us as representing an object. A line foreshortened in perspective would express no depth, a combination of lines would never indicate objects as lying one behind the other, if we did not think these lines as outlines IDEAS OF PLANES AND DEPTH. 63 of certain objects. Light and dark become modeling forces as illumination and shade only through their relative positions from which we recognize the form of the object. Contrasts of light and shade indicate to us either nearness or farness in accordance with certain known characteristics of the objects in ques- tion. In the same way coloring has a spatial signifi- cance only when we have with it the idea of a definite object. In a' carpet, where such an idea is, of course, lacking, the colors are effective only as colors. Unless the idea of a body in space is awakened in us, none of these factors mentioned expresses either nearness or farness. The awakening of an idea of an object unifies a part of the visual projection and separates it thus from the rest. This explains why a The formative number of mere spots and flecks, power of an when they happen to be associated idea. with our idea of an object, begin to take form and suggest to us an im- age of the object. Such an image possesses a high degree of unity just because this idea of the object is evolved out of these flecks, instead of our having to invent flecks to make up the pictorial idea. A purely chance effect of spots and flecks such as this may easily be the starting point of the artist's pictorial imagination. Leonardo da Vinci makes note of this fact in his "Trattato della Pittura.” T 64 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. Considering, now, a picture as a group of parts which illustrate objects in different distances, it is evi- dent that these distances and the The evolution of entire depth of the picture will be a "total space." more clearly expressed, and more easily conceived when the objects are placed in few planes, and when the distances be- tween these planes are relatively great. Each plane must be simplified as much as possible, so that our feeling for the third timension may be stimulateci through striking contrasts afforded by these planes. Looking at a figure isolated from its surroundings, we perceive certain differences of depth made appar- ent by its imodeling, which, however, are not noticeable when we consider the figure in connection with its background. This is simply because the contrast of figure and background speaks' more strongly and pri- marily than do the less striking contrasts wholly within the figure. The pictorial impression of the fig- ure gains in unity in the same degree as its contrast with its environment obtains prominence. Instead of noting the detail-modeling which the figure exhibits when viewed by itself, we now perceive its form through its relation to the surroundings. By this means a figure not only is given individual form, but also constitutes with the background a general spatial value. As the figure enters into a definite relation withi the background, the background is pushed away, so to speak, and a general depth movement aroused. The more directly the means for producing this general movement from plane to plane appeal to the eye, i. e., the more readily they are perceived, the better adapted are they to the artistic end. To attract IDEAS OF PLANES AND DEPTH. 65 the spectator's attention to the details themselves, e. g., by the technical skill exhibited in rendering their text- ure, is to distract his attention from the unitary percep- tion. FIG. 17 (P.91), CELLINI. ILLUSTRATES THE EFFECT OF PROTRUSIONS NOT UNIFIED IN A PLANE. As we have seen, objects in Nature when viewed singly at a distance appear flat as compared with the more bold and forceful modeling The transforma- of objects near at hand, i. e., stereo- tion of the actual scopically seen. With increasing form into a distance the single objects seem to visual form. Alatten out more and more; yet in the total impression they still maintain the effect of a three-dimensional existence be- 66 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. YYY cause of the force of that general sense of depth which causes us to see everything as three-dimensional in nature. On considering the relation which exists be- tween the actual form of a body and its appearance as a part of the visual projection, we may note that quite considerable distances between points of different depth are in the plane impression reduced to zero; while others retain their effectiveness or may even be- come more emphatic. For instance, the human chest with its gradually curved form appears flat when con- , trasted with the abruptly rounding shoulder muscles. Thus actual form becomes a visual form which, as such, is independent of actual dimensions. The sin- gle factors of the erstwhile actual form, group them- selves into visual values. To the possession of such visual values of space is due our pictorial idea of a real Form. While the visual projection represents with abso- lute clearness the relative sizes of things as they exist side by side in one plane it can The selection of give their relative distances behind a point of view. one another only in a general way. When we wish to gain a more ex- act and comprehensive idea of spatial magnitude, in this respect, that is, of distance in Nature, we change our point of view in order to obtain the depth meas- urement as a plane impression, in profile. We can never directly see the precise distance. We only infer it from our experiences of viewing things from va- rious points. A clear and definite idea of an object rests_primarily on its two-dimensional arrangement... Therefore in representing an object it is of great im- portance what aspect of it we select, and if it chances LE IDEAS OF PLANES AND DEPTH. 67 to be a living being, in what position or act of move- ment we may seize on it. Nature affords many situ- ations and views which, though clear and expressive when observed near by, become quite meaningless at a more distant point. To this class belong such situa- dimensional representations, where our ideas of depth must perform the main work in calling forth a com- plete notion of the object from its picture. Now if too much special attention to the various stimuli is de- manded in order that this idea of depth be aroused, or should the stimuli be imperceptible in the distance, the picture is artistically defective. Subjectively, foreshortening always means a re- trogressive movement. It may however have the effect of arousing an idea of for- The problem of ward movement when, for in- forward move- stance, the actual movement in the body represented chances to be to- . ward the observer. An example would be that of a figure which bows towards one. The foreshortening can here be read off, as it wiere, both from front to back and from back to front. If we imagine the act of bowing, we naturally feel a tendency to read off in the direction of the forward movement. Considered, however, as a fixed visual impression of something objective to us, we should read the foreshortening most naturally from front to back. This, needless to say, is the more artistic method of conception. From what has gone before, it is clear that any forward tendency must-work against and may even eliminate the general tendency of movement toward the depth in the picture. 68 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. teracted whenever it appears. In spite of its forward tendency the observer must be compelled through ar- tistic means to read off the foreshortening from front to back. In obtaining a unitary impression of depth nothing can be permitted to thrust itself toward us out of the picture. On the contrary, the dominant idea is that we should move into the picture. And this can be accomplished only when there is something behind the foreshortened lines drawing our gaze and forcibly in- citing ideas of depth—that is, some sort of a 'distance.' The foreshortened figure, if it continues forcibly back- ward, becomes included in the general sense of move- ment into depth which pervades the whole. At the same time this strong feeling of depth which the background thus stimulates aids the spatial effective- ness of the foreshortened object and lessens the de- mands put upon this object to clarify itself. A further demand on the artist in choosing the position his object shall occupy arises from the great variation in clearness which a fig- Factors necessary ure undergoes when viewed from for distinctness. different positions. It is important to note that whatever remains dis- tinct of an object when seen from a distance is the essential thing in affording one a clear and compre- hensible idea of it. For instance, in the representa- tion of a body, human or animal; things which are characteristic of the body, such as the joints, must be kept in evidence. IDEAS OF PLANES AND DEPTH. 69 Fig. 18 (P.95), ANCIENT SCULPTURE. RECTANGULAR FORM OF THE TOTAL SPACE. HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. Until now we have spoken of single objects as two-dimensional impressions or plane segments. We must next inquire how these single The combination plane segments are to be combined of single planes into groups of two-dimensional into a totality. impressions and made to work to- gether in one effective system to- wards the idea of a general movement into depth. This is accomplished either by arranging the objects in one plane, or by combining their planes by means of superposition. Superposition connects the appear- ances of objects in front with others which are be- hind. Its great value lies in this, that figures in dif- ferent planes may thus bé juxtaposed: so as to present one uniform two-dimensional effect. By means of this device the different planes seem to stretch hands to one another, so to speak, yet without ever being thought of as in actual contact. A portion of that which lies behind in the picture must be covered. The question then arises, does the object behind remain sufficiently intelligible, and where and how shall it be cut off? We may, of course, limit superposition to a minimum and avoid almost entirely the covering of things behind by others in front. Pictured objects may thus be held apart in distance, yet be united as to a two-dimensional effect. The development of this may be traced in the symmetrical figure-pictures of the early Renaissance. At first these figures were arranged entirely in one plane. But gradually the arrangement became looser as the artists learned the possibility of producing the effect of a unitary plane indirectly and in spite of the disposal of the objects through several planes of distance. IDEAS OF PLANES AND DEPTH. 171 The illumination furnishes a further means of uni- fying planes of different distances. Certain planes Illumination as may thus be held together as uni- form masses of light which act in a unifying factor. opposition to the darker areas. The direction through the picture taken by our idea of general movement into depth will depend on the arrangement of the picture as The direction of a whole. And this has its conse- movement in a quences for the artistic effect. For picture. Distance instance, if something near be at the periphery. placed in the middle of the picture, and on the sides to right and left things which are more distant, the result will be that the retrogressive movement into depth begins witli the central part as being close at hand and proceeds by stretching backwards to either side. The 'Sacred and Profane Love of Titian may serve as an example of this method of arrangement. Such a representation agrees with our normal mode of looking at Nature as it spreads out with increasing distance. Think now of a reversed arrangement, to the right and left the near objects, distance in the middle of the picture. Our ideas of move- Distance in the ment into depth, our retrogressive center. spatial judgments, begin here witli the full extension of the canvas only to traverse narrower and narrower areas as they approach the further distance. From the very start such an arrangement opposes our true and normal re- lation to Nature. Our feeling for space is curtailed rather than incited to infinite stretches. In excep- tional cases such an arrangement may be justified HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. by the particular object represented in the picture, as when we see the interior of a cave to right and left, but look through its opening in the center of tine pic- ture out upon a landscape which stretches into the dis- tance. But such exceptions only prove the rule, for they can never be particularly illustrative of Nature's extent. The unsatisfactory effect of this last method of ar- rangement may, of course, be avoided by a modifica- tion which emphasizes, for in- The diagonal stance, the near on the right edge arrangement. of the picture and the distant ori the left. For then our spatial judg- ment is led diagonally througli the picture, yet does not find a circumscribed field as it approaches the dis- tance. With respect to the particular guidance of our spatial judgment in this or that direction there are, of course, many possible variations The dependence in the arrangement of a picture. of effect on Many paths lead into the world arrangement. of space. To understand this fully a psychology of artistic effective- ness is requisite; a developed sensibility to the influ- ence which these differences exert on our general feel- ing for space. For there can be no doubt that our general sensations of space are very closely connected with our ideas of movement. Remembering what we have already discovered, that every effect depends on the arrangement and counterposing of single factors and that values and measures can be obtained only in this way, we may understand the influence which every alteration in the welding together of the visual IDEAS OF PLANES AND DEPTH. 73 Fig. 19 (P.95), ANCIENT SCULPTURE. ILLUSTRATES CLEARNESS OF TOTAL SPACE. 74 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. elements must exert on the harmony of our ideas. It is out of such experience that the fund of artistic tradition is made up. In times when art flourishes such a fund accumulates and is thereupon handed down from one generation to another in the form of principles and a certain knowledge of artistic effective- ness. We have considered the effect of two-dimensional space in relation to the impression of depth, but not yet the conception and arrange- The two ment of the two-dimensional im- fundamental pression as such. Here come into directions. consideration the two elementary directions: the vertical and the horizontal. As a result of our vertical position to the earth's surface and the horizontal arrangement of our two eyes, these two directions are naturally more fundamental than any others. All the rest we learn to comprehend, to judge and to measure in terms of the vertical and the horizontal. When we see a picture in Nature which contains these two fundament- al directions, as, for instance, a vertical tree and a horizontal sheet of water, we are at once possessed of a satisfying sense of clear spatial relations. In Nature the horizontal direction generally dominates. On the other hand, practically all that stands and grows upon the earth's surface has an upward, vertical tendency. These fundamental directions in Nature correspond to those inherent in our organism and to our natural feeling. Everything, therefore, which exists in the same horizontal or the same vertical position readily gives a unitary impression to the eye. Things which appear thuis in a work of art lend stability to the total - IDEAS OF PLANES AND DEPTH. structure. Whenever the arrangement of factors is such in the appearance as to build up a kind of frame work of vertical and horizontal directions among the various shapes of the objects depicted, it becomes, like the skeleton to an organism, everywhere felt yet no- where seen. But suppose, now, the artist finds himself con- fronted with a certain situation in Nature which c011- tains nothing to bring out the ver- Emphasis of these tical and horizontal. It may chance directions lacking. that everything tends one way or another, without emphasizing these two fundamental directions. Such a situation may be quite true to Nature, yet lacking in general. truth, since our common feeling for the proper direc- tions is not adequately aroused. No point of departure for a pure spatial feeling is given. In such a case the artist is obliged by some means to make the horizontal and the vertical felt in order to draw this particular sit- uation under the fundamental conditions of universal Nature. For, after all, such special situations are al- ways arbitrarily cut out from Nature's totality. When- ever an artist depicts a particular situation from this generalized point of view, he is at once making it an expression for our universal relation to Nature. It therefore becomes effective far beyond the narrow frame of its special meaning Thus we see how important and how effective for the attainment of repose and harmony in Art, is ad- herence to these simple funda- The natural law. mental conditions. But it is not enough that the artist should know this law. The law must live in him as a part of his 176 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. mental organization, accompanying and conditioning every idea in his perception and representation. Oni such a law, evolved out of natural requirements, de- pends all artistic discipline, all culture of the artistic imagination. So far we have been discussing drawing only. And indeed, this is the essential means for producing a unity of spatial effect-the archi-. Color contrasts tecture of the picture, we may say. as formative But we must also inention color factors. contrasts as forces which bring to- gether and separate things in the picture, forces which produce forward and backward tendencies. It is self-evident that color is specially serviceable in our perception of space. A unity of color in a picture can be spoken of only in so far as the color takes part in the great work of forming a three-dimensional unity. The important thing is not that the colors should prove attractive of themselves, as they do in a carpet, but that their values as spatial stimuli be positive. A special knowledge of color re- lationships and values in this respect is requisite, and goes to make up a particular stock of the painter's experience. But it is hardly my business here to do more than point out the fact. : A living proof of the existence of spatial Nature lies in the splendor and magnificence of her color ef- . fects. They are, indeed, most for- The true cible stimuli for spatial ideas. The function of color. hues of a picture have real meaning only when they exist in accordance with all the other space-evolving factors, and are thus turned to account as a means toward the general end. IDEAS OF PLANES AND DEPTH. Pyry True splendor of color can only be the result of a geri- eral artistic formation of the picture. It is not a thing to be directly striven after and acquired through this Fig. 20 (P.95), ANCIENT SCULPTURE. ILLUSTRATES CLEARNESS OF TOTAL SPACE. or that technical means. In such cases the effect is simply decorative and no true expression for our total idea of Nature. HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. 1 Here, too, must be remembered the coloring of architecture and sculpture. For in these, just as in painting, color contrasts are prima- Color in architecture. form. Since the effects of light and shade on a building change with the position of the sun, the proportions of forni also change in their effects. Contours of form disap- pear in shadows, the eaves of a building seem broader as the shadows lengthen. In short, light and shade become more effective than the actual form. These changes may be counteracted by the use of colors. Since color contrast is stronger than light and shade contrast, it follows that form proportions may be made apparent by the aid of colors, quite independent of the illumination and, indeed, in spite of it. It is only necessary that colors be so applied that a color con- trast is effective whenever the light and shade effect is confusing. But it must be remembered that it is the contrast effect, not the use of certain colors, which is desired. The same thing holds true with respect to figures which are distinct from the architecture as a whole, for instance, in pediments. The Color and color tone which these figures may architectural have is of itself unimportant. It figures. need only be effective as a contrast to the rest of the building, but not as a proper color for the figures themselves. One is not to get the impression that it must be a brown or a yellow race of people which is represented, when the figures happen to be so colored. The color has quite another significance. Proportions of form are ex- IDEAS OF PLANES AND DEPTH. 79 pressed by these colors without regard for the special meaning which the colors may have in Nature. With respect to an isolated piece of sculpture the conditions change in so far as the object is no longer an essential part in a total color Color and effect, playing its particular role isolated sculpture. of color in the whole appearance. The piece stands, rather, opposed to Nature as something separate and isolated. In so far as Nature always presents to us a colored environ- ment, the statue, to be harmoniously effective, should be no exception to this, but should exist also as a col- ored impression. Nature is not artificially colored; neither should the statue be. Colors are not here the means of representation. The first demand is that the figure should assert itself as a totality in contrast with its surroundings. And so its color should be as uni- form as possible. The right thing in general is to give bronze a patina and to give stone sculpture, when needed, a tint such as Nature would give it. The painting of sculpture from the view point of objective fidelity is a monstrous crudity. THE CONCEPTION OF RELIEF It was pointed out in the last chapter how the ar- tist with his problem of making a unitary picture out of his complicated ideas of the The conception three-dimensional is compelled to of volume. separate clearly the two-dimen- sional appearance of the object from the general subjective idea of depth. Thus he arrives at a simple idea of volume as a plane continu- ing into the distance. To make this manner of pre- sentation quite clear, think of two panes of glass stand- ing parallel, and between them a figure whose position is such that its outer points touch them. The figure then occupies a space of uniform depth measurement and its members are all arranged within this depth. When the figure, now, is seen from the front through the glass, it becomes unified into a unitary pictorial surface, and, furthermore, the perception of its volume, of itself quite a complicated perception, is now made uncommonly easy through the conception of so, simple a volume as the total space here presented. The fig- ure lives, we may say, in one layer of uniform depth. Each form tends to make of itself a flat picture within the visible two dimensions of this layer, and to be un- derstood as such a flat picture. Again those outer- most points which touch the panes still determine com- mon planes even when one thinks the glass removed. (80) NCIENT 2 URES ENTERING A TOMB REPRESENTED IN RELIEF FORM. ONUMENT. 81 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. By this sort of arrangement the object resolves itself into a layer of a certain uniform thickness. The total volume of a picture will then Layers of uniform consist, according to the object thickness. number of such imaginary layers arranged one behind the other, yet altogether uniting into one appearance having one uniform depth meas- urement. So the artist divides and groups his ideas of space and form, which consisted originally in a com- plex of innumerable kinesthetic ideas, until there re- sults a simple visual impression stimulating a strong idea of depth, which the resting eye is able to take in, without kinesthetic sensations, or movements pro- ducing such. This manner of presentation is a necessary pro- duct of the relation of our three-dimensional ideas to the simple visual impression. It The artistic is the only artistic conception of conception of the things three-dimensional; and this three- whether it be the representation dimensional. plicated totality of forms; whether it be the work of a sculptor or of a painter. The aim—the presentation of a general idea of space by means of a visual perception—is the same for painter and sculptor, and the work of each is di- tint Slllll different may be their means of representation. THE CONCEPTION OF RELIEF. 83 1 This common mode of artistic imagination as above developed is no other than the conception of relief so prominent in Greek art. The conception This conception of relief defines of relief. the relation of two-dimensional impressions to three-dimensional. It gives us a specific way of viewing Nature; it is a mold in which the artist casts the form of Nature. In all ages this mode of perception has resulted from the artist's insight into the unchangeable laws of art. Its absence means a deficiency in one's artistic relation to Nature, an incapacity for understanding this rela- tion and developing it consistently. The thousand- fold judgments and movements of our observation find in this mode of presentation their stability and clear- ness. It is an essential to all artistic form, be it in a landscape or in the portrayal of a head. In this way the visual content is universally arranged, bound to- gether and put in repose. Through all figurative art this idea is the same, the one guiding thought. It acts always as a general condition and requirement to which all else is subordinate, in which everything finds a place and a unity. Just as in the two-dimensional all directions are measured with respect to the vertical and the horizontal and thus become easily comprehen- sible, so the single ideas of depth obtain definite values only when they appear in relaton to a general unitary idea of depth. The harmonious effect of a picture de- pends on the artist's ability to represent every single value as a relative value in this general conception of relief. It is only thus that his work attains a uniform standard of measurement. The more clearly this is felt, the more unified and satisfactory is the impres- 84 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. sion. This unity is, indeed, the Problem of Form in Art, and the value of a work of art is determined by the degree of such unity it attains. It is this unity which gives consecration to the representation of Na- ture. That mysterious satisfaction which we obtain from a work of art rests alone on the consistent appli- cation of this conception of relief to our three-dimen- sional impressions. In connection with our theory that artistic repre- sentation is concerned with a distant view, there may arise an objection, which oughi A possible now to be answered. Since the objection. visual projection is always smaller than life size, the distant point of view may seem to some to exclude a representation in actual size with its distinctness and clearness of de- tail. The meaning and value of the visual projection rests upon the way in which it models and unifies Na- ture as a whole. Its unifying The "size" of power is its only property that the visual counts. In the first place, the dis- projection. tance at which an object' appears clear and precise depends entirely upon the acuteness of the eye. The distance necessary for the visual projection has no direct relation to the precision or vagueness of the picture; although it does affect the hardness or softness of the appearance. Neither, in the second place, is the scale of the repre- sentation dependent on the idea of distance; the fact being that perspective diminution in Nature is scarcely perceived by us at all. A man at some dis- tance appears no smaller than when near by. We re- THE CONCEPTION OF RELIEF. 85 gard things in Nature as life-sized even if they are at great distances. Indeed, we never relinquish this inciting spatial ideas. Objects are always imagined FIG. 22 (P.113), CANOVA. “FIGURES ENTERING A TOMB” REPRESENTED REALISTICALLY. in their actual sizes. The attention of the ordinary man must be especially called to the fact that the image of an object decreases in size as its distance in 86 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. L creases. This proves how very surely ideas govern visual impressions in consciousness.' Primitive pic- tures lacking perspective find their natural explana- tion in this fact. A more highly developed conscious- ness is requisite in order to observe the visual ap- pearance as a mere sense impression, separating it from its involuntary effect on ideas of form. Furthermore our impression of life size is to a large extent independ- ent of the actual size of the picture. We seem, as it were, to grow larger or smaller to fit the picture, or we may imagine the picture thrust back into the dis- tance, and thus, by explaining to ourselves its smaller appearance, restore it to life size. Whether it be the one case or the other depends on the manner of rep- resentation. If a representation on a small scale be given in broad outlines, the effect will be as if the object were seen from a distance, and accordingly it appears life-sized. But if the picture be very carefully executed in detail, it may have the effect of being life- sized in miniature; then we make ourselves small to take it in. It is the force of the stimulus, not the scale of representation, which determines the mental atti- tude. Accordingly the conception of relief is quite in- dependent of the size of the representation, and good life-sized portraits give an impression of distance quite as well as do smaller ones. Now that we have recognized in the conception of relief our general artistic relation to Nature, it is necessary to consider plastic The evolution relief more closely as a direct ex- of relief. pression for these artistic relations. The conception of relief springs from the impression of a Visual Projection. Nature D THE CONCEPTION OF RELIEF. < 1 seen from near by is not in relief. The elements of the conception of relief are, as we have seen, the unitary effect of the two-dimensional in a plane, and of the three-dimensional in a unified judgment of depth. Through these effects the representation enables the eye to develop a spatially clear idea of Nature,-a cog- nizable picture of the object in one plane, and a uni- fied judgment of depth for arousing the perception of its volume. From this has developed the conception of relief in sculpture, varying all the way from a very low or flat, to a very high, round relief in which the depth measurement is the same as the real depth of the figure in Nature. In all these stages from low relief to high-or better, from shallow to deep—the first thing of in- portance is that the effect of a plane The necessity be forcibly expressed. In other of a plane effect. words, a sufficient number of the highest points of the relief should be in one plane for this plane to impress us as such. But let an isolated point protrude noticeably, and it will appear to be before the frontal plane of the volume of space which is being repre- sented, and accordingly, he excluded fronı our retro- gressive judgment of depth. The point seems to come. towards us, separated from the rest of the representa- tion, and it is no longer read off from front to back. The effect, therefore, is thoroughly inartistic. This mistake one finds most prevalent in the art of today. HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. In order to produce a unitary judgment of depth, the effect of the whole must be that of one uniform depth measurement. This requires, The back plane therefore, a back plane running par- and the front allel to the front plane, or at least plane. seeming to do so in the impression lief serves as a common background for the figures represented. It depends entirely on the forms in front place or another. The result must be an impression of a unitary background for all these forms. The chief plane of the relief is not this back plane, but the front plane in which the high points of the figures appear. Otherwise the figures would seem to be arbitrarily stuck on before the visual projection. With respect to the depth measurement of de- tails as compared with the total depth, one often meets with the false notion that when, The unimportance for instance, the total depth of a of the actual relief chances to be one-third its depth natural measure, then the details measurement. should likewise measure each one- third its natural depth. That is to say, the relief would represent a figure the actual depth of which has been divided by three. But we have already found from our previous discussion that form relations which give the desired effects in the visual projection do not correspond exactly with the actual measurements of the object. Differences of depth may combine, producing the effect of a single plane, and this through contrast may cause others to THE CONCEPTION OF RELIEF. 89 form are not the same, and the conception of relief is attached to the visual, not to the actual form. For it is with visual effects that we are concerned. Ac- cordingly, the relief is independent of all actual depth measurements. Thus it is clear that the relief does not represent a proportional division of Nature's thick- CANOVA FIG. 23 (P.113), CANOVA. “FIGURES ENTERING A TOMB REALISTICALLY. REPRESENTED ness, but a picture independent of all this, which gains through its visual value a meaning and a claim for existence. We can see how unimportant the actual depth measurement of a figure is from the fact that when a relief is freed of its background and set up at a distance, it is very difficult to know whether it is a relief or a figure in the round. 90 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. It may be thought that every low relief could be converted into a high relief, and conversely. This, however, is not true. A low relief Conversion of which is so constructed that it may low into high express itself in the uniform illum- relief and vice ination of a relatively flat surface, versa. would acquire many shadowed parts if its figures should be cut deeper and rounder. For instance, the second leg of a profile figure in low relief is visible because it re- ceives the light as well as does the leg in front. But throw the second leg deeper, and the shadows pro- duced may cause it to vanish entirely. Whether de- tails of form shall stand in full light or not in order to express themselves properly, depends upon the conception and arrangement just as it does in painting. Nor can a high relief be converted into a low one. Its shadows are essential, and when they vanish its effectiveness is lost. We may say something here about reliet represen- tation in bronze. In all bronze representations the silhouette effect, definite outline, is Relief necessary for clearness' sake. But representation in a relief this effect is notably les- in bronze. sened by the dark background, which seems, as it were, to en- croach upon the clear outline of the figure. There- fore the internal contrasts must be strengthened. There must be greater heights and depths. The me- tallic sheen on the high parts induces the artist to conceive his work as a thing emerging out of the dark, an effect similar to that of Rembrandt's paintings. Since bronze representations are often used as decora- n11 1,111 THE CONCEPTION OF RELIEF. 91 tions or panels rather than as individual works of art, it may happen that the figures used serve their orna- mental purpose in seeming contradiction to the relief principle. As a suitable example I may mention the little bronze door attributed' to Michelangelo, on which full-formed heads protrude from figures in very low relief. But the heads are made use of as metal knobs for the door, and, since they are regularly re- peated, they come to form with one another a com- mon, though a rather loosely conceived frontal plane to the relief. This freedom, however, which is here so well understood and justified, has led others to al- low protrusions where no such ornamental require- ments are to be met, and where, in default of repeti- tion, there results no unification of the high points into a plane. In this way an artistic error is committed, as for instance in the reliefs on the pedestal of Ben- venuto Cellini's "Perseus;" and this error has again and again found imitators. The seeming and ofttimes actual contradiction be- tween the principles which underlie bronze reliefs, and those underlying stone reliefs has The derivation of led to the erroneous view that artistic principles every material demands a different from the material treatment in relief. Following this of construction. line of argument still further, some have concluded that the principles of artistic form are dictated simply by the properties of the material used, and have thus assumed the very opposite of what is true. Because the properties of the material may compel the artist to adapt himself to a different mode of treatment in order to meet artistic requirements whose origin is quite independent of the 92 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. material, these persons believe themselves justified in deriving the principles of art from the material. Sculpture, then, is nothing more to them than the result of applying various methods of carving to dif- ferent materials. This confusion of the end with the means of art should be discredited once and for all. If, now, we apply the conception of relief more particularly to the representation of a figure in the round, this conception requires The application of that the figure represented shall, the relief concep- from various aspects, satisfy the tion to sculpture : demands of relief—indeed, express in the round. itself as relief. This again means that the various aspects of the fig- uire shall each present an intelligible picture as a plane layer. Our concern is, that the figure in each of its aspects shall excite the idea of a layer of space, and at the same time describe a total space clearly pos- sessing unity of plane. In this manner the whole ma- terial content is metamorphosed into a visible form, and thus, in contrast with its real solid form-a cast, as it were, of Nature—becomes a pure perceptual form. This process, once more, we can best understand with the aid of our two glass walls. Unified, from its prin- cipal points of view, in one common plane, the figure ; gives the same feeling of repose and visibility that we obtain in the case of a clear impression received at a distance. That which in Nature is unified to the view by means of distance, enters into the representation by means of the arrangement of the figure and appears equally unified, whatever the spectator's distance, so that, even from near by, the appearance is that of a plane picture. The same clearness which characterizes THE CONCEPTION OF RELIEF. 93 SAMO FIG. 24 (P.113), TOMB OF MICHELANGELU. ILLUSTRATES THE RELATION BETWEEN ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE. HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. the form of the whole figure is necessarily to be found also in the structure of any of its parts. If a figure in a representation must be arranged so as to appear unified in a plane layer, then the spec- tator must choose his point of view The various with reference to such a plane. The aspects of a point of view is determined by the figure. arrangement of the figure. If the figure offers more than one plane ! picture, there will, of course, be more than one posi- i tion from which to view it. The number of satisfactory aspects a work may have depends on the artist's con- ception; it may be two, front and rear, as in statues of a relief-like character; it may be three, or four, etc. It is the energy with which the work emphasizes these certain points of view, not their number, which inter- ests us here. But among all the possible aspects there will always be one that dominates. This one is repre-, sentative of the total plastic nature of the object, and, like a picture or relief, expresses it all in a single two- dimensional impression. It stands for the virtual visual idea underlying the plastic representation which dominated the artist's mind when he created the work. All other aspects of a statue are subordinate to this one, are, indeed, mere physical consequences of its bodily existence. The problem in a plastic ensemble consists in arranging a solid figure so that it can afford uis such a picture. Y THE CONCEPTION OF RELIEF. 95 All details of form must unite in a more compre- hensive form. Ali separate judgments of depth must enter into a unitary, all-inclusive The total form judgment of depth. So that ulti- and the details mately the entire richness of a fig- of form ure's form stands before us as â backward continuation of one sim- ple plane. The better this unification into one plane succeeds, the more satisfactorily does the form speak in the appearance. If we are to obtain clear pictures of the statue from all points of view, a unifying plane With figures which are worked out to express themselves clearly in the appearance, the total space in which they are conceived The total space speaks with great clearness and and the picture force. The planes into which the effect. natural solidity of the figure re- duces, make up an imaginary space having a clear cut form—a rectangle of greater or tary pictorial effect of the figure is lost. A tendency is then felt to clarify what we cannot perceive from Thus we are driven all around the figure without ever being able to grasp it once in its entirety. Not a hairbreadth's advance has been made through repre- senting the object in a work of art: it might as well have been left a piece of Nature. The purpose of sculp- ture is not to put the spectator in a hap-hazard and troubled state regarding the three dimensional or cubic aspect of things, leaving him to do the best HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. he may in forming his visual ideas. The real aim is to give him instantly a perfectly clear visual idea and thus remove the disturbing problem of cubic form. So long as the chief effect of any plastic figure is its real- ity as a solid, it is imperfect as a work of art. It is only when the figure, though in reality a solid, gains its effect as a plane picture, that it attains artistic form, that is to say, perfection for our sense of vision. The clearness required of a representation neces- sitates a somewhat different treatment of the work according as it is to be placed in Statuary in the open air or indoors. In the the open. open, clearness is obtained by means of a characteristic outline, a silhouette. This is necessary whenever sculpture is to be effective at a distance, because the inner vis- ual details gradually disappear as the figure recedes. A clear and expressive silhouette carries farther than any other characterization of an object. The Greeks made great use of silhouette in order that their sculp- ture might appear clear and effective at a distance. For bronze it is a general exigency, since the internal form, owing to the dark color, never speaks strongly enough. Indoors the case is different. The point of view is nearer and allows the internal form to express itself. Since the field of vision, always Statuary in vague and indistinct at the edges, closed space. becomes less comprehensive as the distance from the object decreases, its effective portions contract more and more, and lie nearer to the center. Consequently, whatever gives meaning to the object must find its place in the central THE CONCEPTION OF RELIEF. 97 portion of the field of vision where it can be readily comprehended. Representation by means of a sil- houette requires a point of view sufficiently removed to allow the whole work to be seen. Near at hand, when the figure encroaches on the entire field of vis- ion, or even exceeds it, we can not depend on any in- telligence that the outline may offer, but must, on the contrary, manage to do without it. In such cases, the outline which encloses the total mass is made as unob- trusive as possible, and the figure may become a unit in itself quite separate from the background. This method of arrangement, for sculpture intended to be placed indoors, was especially developed during the Renaissance. For an example one has only to think of Michelangelo's compact figures. With bronze, where the internal form never speaks so clearly that the silhouette effect may be neg- lected, the artistic instinct prompts The reduction of the sculptor to reduce the scale so size in bronze that the entire silhouette falls representation within the field of distinct vision. Thus, for a nearby point of view, a bronze, which relies on its silhouette effect, must be made on a smaller scale than a marble figure. Since the essence of the conception of relief is to be found in the transformation of the cubic into a sim- ple visual impression, this concep- The conception tion must necessarily be promi- of relief in nent whenever anything solid is architecture, to be constructed artistically; i.e., furniture, etc. not alone in sculpture, but also in architecture, furniture, etc. It is requisite in all these arts that we should 98 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. BINTI SCULPTURE FROM DRAWING. THE CONCEPTION OF RELIEF. 99 have a definite idea of a frontal plane and that we should read off the details of form as depth .values from front to back. Take for an ex- ample the Greek temple. Here is a unitary spatial mass. The columns are placed so close to one another that they form the first layer, as in any work of sculp- ture—the chief, though a perforated, plane to the whole body. What we perceive is not a spatial mass in front of which are found columns tending towards us. On the contrary, our general judgment of space proceeds backward from these columns, between them into the depth. The Romanesque style of architect- ure exhibits the conception of relief in a special way. Each opening is conceived as a fracture of a wall con- sisting of several successive layers, rendered visible in the profile of the opening. In all the many dif- fering styles of architecture this problem remains the same: the problem of unifying forms into relief effects. Only in this manner can a structure attain artistic uni- ty. So long as we can conceive a building merely as a composition of various forms of a certain style, it is comparable only to an object in Nature. Its artistic unity has yet to be obtained through conforming to the conception of relief. I must confine myself here to this brief intima- tion, only drawing the one general conclusion in pass- ing that, architecture as art possesses the same forma- tive principle as do sculpture and painting. D VI exp? W FORM AS INTERPRETATION OF LIFE In the previous chapters we have had occasion to consider appearance with regard to its capacity for expressing our ideas of space in The mental pro- Nature, cess of “seeing.” We started out from the human ability to grasp the spatial charac- ter of Nature from the optical image. This combina- tion of the optical function and the mental act of un- derstanding, we characterized simply as seeing, just as we say that a child can read only when the concep- tion of the living word is called forth in his mind by the sight of the letters. The work of art represents that appearance of a thing or group which is recog- nized as of all possible appearances the one most read- able. The spatial content of the work of art is ar- ranged with this end in view. Space and form are the first things that we deci- pher from the appearance of Nature, and I have there- fore treated the ideas of space and Form expressing form first and together because a cause. they are the most elementary and necessary factors. Ideas suggest- ed by form, as expressive not of space, but of organi- zation, function, or movement, take their place as fac- tors in art only after the spatial ideas are established. First among such non-spatial ideas may be mentioned those concerning the material substance in its influ- (100) TI FORM AS INTERPRETATION OF LIFE. 101 ence on form in Nature, Form becomes an expres- sion of internal structure or of forms lying under the surface, as in the case of any organic body at rest or in action. We may also have the idea of a motive, a purposive action, or a process causing an alteration or movement of the form. Both are ideas of form as movement of the form. Both are ideas of form as the expression and result of conditions either perma- nent or transitory. Whenever we think of the cause of a certain ap- pearance and consider this appearance as the result of either mental, organic, or me- Temporal chanical processes, we add at once implications. a past and a future to the momen- tary presentation, i. e., we grasp it as continuous. Ideas of such a past and such a fu- ture are aroused in our minds, and included, as it were, in the appearance. This means, of course, only that certain associated ideas belonging to the factors pre- sented by the appearance are immediately aroused. Putting aside, as of minor importance, the infl11- ence of the material substance on form, we turn now to form as expression of a natural process. Nature, as she moves, produces alterations in her appearance, upon the most comprehensible of which we seize as characteristics and in- Interpretation dices of her process. The percep- of movements. tion of these indices suggests to us the idea of the whole process, and in imagination we perform the process and thus comprehend this inner action as the cause of the ex- ternal appearance. The mimetic play of laughter and of weeping in . HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. others is comprehended by the child only through . imitating it and then comparing it Mimetic activity. with his own muscular acts which accompany his pleasures and pains. Indeed, it is in this way that we all come to under- stand the mimetic activity of others and to translate their movements as we perceive them into the compre- hensible expression of certain mental processes. We even go so far as to interpret a novel bodily expres- sion by imitating it and thus comparing it with cer- tain more or less similar expressions with which we are familiar, and which signify to us certain definite feelings. In this way a fund of indices to processes is accumulated, the value of each index being propor- tional to its clearness. If we expand this conception to cover all bodily form, we find it applicable everywhere in Nature. Our The expression vitalizing agents, and thus, for of function as both spectator and artist determine a vitalizing the form of the representation. agent. What we call, off-hand, the life of Nature is, in reality, the anima- tion of Nature through our ideas. The expression of function is to be taken here in its widest sense; not merely for a direct momentary process or act but al- so for the state of repose. Such states of repose may require of the spectator more in the way of subjective Nature does not always present the vivid mimetic play which tends so strongly to arouse our sympathet- ic action. In such cases, as we have observed, our ideas of the action are gained from within, from the to- FORM AS INTERPRETATION OF LIFE. 103 FIG. 26 (1.125), ANCIENT SCULPTURE. ILLUSTRATES THE EVOLUTION OF SCULPTURE FROM DRAWINGS CARVED INTO A BLOCK. 104 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. tality of our past experience of bodily feeling. It is in this way that the actor gives expression to his role. In the same way the artist, wishing to command the minds of his spectators, is not bound down to Nature's actual appearances as presented to him. He rather develops for himself a language in accordance with his own subjective ability, and in this language he speaks through his representation, using types of ex- pression, not reproducing exactly any special phenom- enon. It is evident that this vitalizing force of our ideas is in no way restricted to living things, but extends over the whole of Nature. It is The universality thus that we are able to bring of the vitalizing ourselves into relation with every- force. thing and to saturate each object with our bodily feelings. The signs of function which have become estab- lished in our ideas are effective even though the ob- ject be in repose. For instance, Signs of function a long-fingered, sinewy hand, in repose, though quite at rest, reminds us so forcibly of the appearance of a hand stretching and grasping that of itself it seems to express this act, together with those bodily sensa- tions which are usually connected with it. It carries, as it were, in its latent state, the impress of action. In a similar way a strongly developed jaw gives the impression of force and energy, since when we exert our will power strongly we are apt to shut our jaws tightly, so that the muscles become prominent. And, because in this case the muscles are conspicuous, we accept any jaw which of itself chances to appear 11 FORM AS INTERPRETATION OF LIFE. 105 KT strong, as a symbol of the exertion of will. Accord- ingly we perceive in it an expression of strength. Again, since the muscles of the forehead contract dur- ing anger or effort, we take this effect for an expres- sion of anger or effort, and whenever we find such prominent muscles, even though they be in repose, and merely the result of a peculiar skull formation, we recognize in them a determined character. In this way certain more or less stereotypes forms, just because they remind us of form in motion, become expressions for mental The development processes, although the forms need of stereotyped not be thought of as moving. The forms. artist thus develops certain types of form, which have definite mean- ings and arouse in the observer definite bodily and mental actions. By steadily attending to any partic- ular function we gather, from observation, numerous expressions of it from which evolves a general type of bodily form expressing this particular functional character. And this holds as well with regard to our receptive relation to Nature as it does with re- gard to our productive activity in art. The body as a .whole affects us as a unit having this typical sig- nificance when the same degree of tension or relax- ation is expressed throughout its entirety. It makes no difference whether this type is to be found in Nature or is a mere creation of the artist. In either case it has the saine reality to our imagination. 106 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. . As we study the requirements of our mental or- ganization for building ideas we note that what the form says need not always be true The form language to Nature. It may be that the fel- independent of ob- low with a strong jaw is at heart a jective truth. coward, while the sinewy, long- fingered hand may be stiff and unused to grasping. Thus the actual relation of re- ality to type would each time require a separate in- terpretation; but the esthetic effectiveness of form based on these signs of function is not concerned with 1 chance to exist. For instance, a voice which chances to be pathetic in tone moves me even though I am certain that its possessor is not sad. It may be well to observe that such interpreta- tion of forms varies not only with persons but with times. An attitude of scientifiq Scientific observa- observation, of strict adherence: to tion as inimical the actual relations which obtain; to art. may stand to such an extent in the foreground of interest that the force of mere visual suggestions such as those men- tioned gradually declines. The spontaneous activity of the mind, when opposed by scientific demands, by an interest in positive content and demonstrable facts, feels unjustified and loses confidence. Thus dies the sense for the expressiveness of Nature and with it the stuff of which art is made. FORM AS INTERPRETATION OF LIFE. We have now seen how our ideas accompany changes in Nature; how even that which is fixed and unchangeable in Nature may still Summary. stimulate ideas of definite process- es, and how these ideas develop into distinct types for expressing certain properties. The difference, then, between Nature in motion and in repose seems quite wiped away. In either case form is conceived as an ever-flowing source of ideas of motion. This explains why in an artistic repre- sentation we do not at all miss the complete per- formance of an action as it would occur in Nature. This fact is referable alone to the capacity of Nature at rest for expressing movement. The life of a hand is felt, when it is in repose, in quite the same way as if it were in motion. There is no difference be- tween the two mental processes. The moving hand is but a stronger expression for functional ideas. The 1 come in the ideas of purpose as expressed by form. In the resting form we can already divine its mode of functioning. The organic body we conceive as a complex of forms bearing the impress of certain func- tional possibilities. The feeling for organic life de- pends on our ability to imagine all these forms in action; the perception of organic unity depends on our ability to put our bodily feelings entirely into the body pictured before us. 108 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. FIG. 27 (P.127), MICHELANGELO. ILLUSTRATES THE ARTIST'S PROCEDURE: SCULPTURE IN THE ROUND BEGINS AS A RELIEF. FORM AS INTERPRETATION OF LIFE. 109 How completely the representation of a move- ment depends on adherence to the source of the idea rather than to the appearance as Representation of actually perceived in Nature, is the idea rather demonstrated, for instance, in the than of the picture of a rapidly running dog. percept. In life we actually see the dog's legs only as swiftly moving streaks or shadows. Their form is vague and indefinite, al- though the head and trunk inay remain quite clear. Were the representation dependent on fixing one moment or a few combined moments of action, these legs would always be depicted as indistinct. Such is not the case, however, and here as everywhere it is the idea, not the percept, which is represented. The idea holds to the picture of the dog's legs in repose, merely bringing them into certain positions in which they might be found when running. The result is a clear and satisfactory picture of the dog as well as of his act of running. But this is different from the picture a camera ordinarily gives when it records the percept of a body in motion. We perceive the spokes in a revolving wheel as a blur. Yet the representa- tion overlooks this fact and gives us instead a wheel in the full clearness of repose; and this simply be- cause the image of a wheel at rest which exists in our mind, is stronger than the, real enough, but fleeting image of a wheel in motion. The former we hold to as being the more important for our imagination. We · sacrifice the picture of the perception of movement because it is unclear and destructive to our idea of the form of the object. In mere illustration the fleeting image suffices; in an earnest work of art it is a serious 110 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM.:: 7 distraction. The artists tact- must always, decide how far he may be justified in making use of such fleeting impressions in preference to clear ideas of form. We can now understand how a quick movement may be represented even in sculpture, where the form must always be clearly defined. The plastic repre- The plastic representation is not sentation aims at intended to present a picture of the ideational an isolated perception, but it must content, not at contain those signs of the percep- the mere tion which are necessary for excit- percept. : ing our ideas of the movement. The impression during the mo- mentary act is not given. We are not instantaneous cameras for observing Nature, but beings who com- bine ideas and who use isolated perceptions only for the purpose of weaving them into an ideational con- tent: : Glancing back over this chapter we may under- stand how, by means of functional ideas, Nature in .. . motion and at rest becomes for The relation of us a living, acting body; and how the functional to this life is enabled to express it- the spatial value. self in the appearance by means . .of functional indices. Before this we considered appearance as an expression for space, and treated of its properties as spatial values; here we have considered it purely as an expression of func- tion, and from this point of view we 'may speak of its functional values. We have recognized the most elemental and essential character of an appear- ance as consisting in its spatial valụe. The functional value of which we now speak absolutely presupposes 1 . FORM AS INTERPRETATION OF LIFE. 111 the spatial; taken apart from this spatial value, it ap- peals only to a mental process of the observer, fail- ing utterly to present him with Nature's real appear- ance. But a complete and true Art is manifest only when both these factors are duly regarded, or, more correctly, when the unity of the functional values is conceived as a unity of spatial values. This law has a mighty significance for Art. It is quite possible, for. instance, that an artist's sense of life with respect to functional values may lead him to compose a work giving a perfectly true expression of vital function- ing and yet, as a spatial unity, being perfectly form- . less. Putting himself in the position of an actor, he asks; Would I move thus .or so in this case? Yet he never asks, How will, this movement look to the ob- server?' He presents the movement in question to himself as carried out, but not as seen; as an expres- sion, not as an impression. Now, the visual impression, as we have seen, is the ultimate goal of the artist; and in attaining it quite other than mere kinesthetic factors are operative. Properly speaking the artistic effect begins only when the expression of movement has been made ' conformable to the exigencies of the visual impression. Con- sequently a great number of expressive movements or gestures are quite unavailable to art because as impressions they are unrecognizable. And again oth- ers there are which must first be re-arranged to meet the requirements of what we have called the concep- tion of relief. 112 The crudity of so-called realism in art rests in the fact that this necessary artistic metamorphosis of functional into spatial values has The crudity of not taken place; the artist has giv- “realism." en thought to the truth of his gestures as expressions only. Much that to-day stands for modernity and originality actually signifies no more than an absence of the ar- tistic reconstruction of reality. For example, let us consider here somewhat in detail Canova's novel combination of architecture with sculpture,—a device the use of which appears to have de- veloped since his introduction of it. Canova constructed tombs consisting of a piece of re- lief architecture attached to a wall. Before this stood a group of figures in the round, which appeared to approach the architectural background as though about to enter the portal of the tomb. The main idea is a picture: certain figures with an archi- tectural background. Such a pictorial idea can be plastically represented only in a relief. The plane of unity should of course lie in front, even though the figures be treated in such high relief as to be full- formed like the figures of a pediment. The architectural background acts, then, as a part of the same relief. To gain this end the whole should, if possible, be given an architectural frame, so that the relief may appear as gradually receding into the depth, and not as a thing merely stuck on a wall. Had the work been so constructed the idea would have attained its right ar- tistic expression, though as a species of art we should have had nothing new. FORM AS INTERPRETATION OF LIFE. 113 But Canova entirely separated his architecture from his figures, with the result that the architectural part has in itself the effect of a Lack of unity in monument, while the figures ap- Canova's inno pear to be set up in front without vation. regard to any total spatial impres- sion. The figures, indeed, belong more to the public than they do to the tomb; it seems as though they had just climbed up into their positions. The single bond of unity between the ar- chitecture and the figures lies in the suggested act of their entering the tomb. What is here constructed is not a picture seen, but a drama acted out:—the fig- ures are real men and women turned to stone. One finds such realism as this spread broadcast in modern monuments. One has but to recall the numerous statue monuments at the Its bad effect. bases of which crouch figures in stone or bronze, perchance to in- scribe a name, or deposit a laurel wreath. These fig- ures are a direct transition to the observer and reality. There is no definite line drawn between the monument and the public;—as well bring a few stone spectators on the scene! What is new in such a departure as this can well be ranked in the same category with such artistic crudities as wax figures and panoramas. The relation of architecture to sculpture can nev- er be other than of an architectural nature. Either the sculpture serves as a modified The solution of structural element of the architec- the problem. ture: in a panel, for instance; or the architecture serves as a kind of support for the sculpture: for example, as a ped- 114 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. FIG. 28 (P.I29), MICHELANGELO. ILLUSTRATES THE PROGRESSIVE WORK IN STONE. TORM AS INTERPRETATION OF LIFE. 115 estal. Architecture and sculpture can never be op- posed as factors of equal value in an act or process. If it is desired to oppose them in one representation, unitary space which contains them both. Sculptur- ally this can be represented only in a relief. A mistake leading to a similar realistic effect is to be found in the antique group known as the Far- nese Bull at Naples. Here again it The Farnese Bull. is the action, the event, which holds together the various sculptural parts, and not, as it should be, the impression of close spatial unity. Such a content should have been cast in relief form in order to produce the highest artistic formed figures together with the volumes of air lying between them into factors of a unitary, ideal space. Instead we find real air spaces holding the various figures apart until these appear like so many ston.. men and animals, grouped, it would seem, quite ac- cidentally. The artistic unity of a group never de- pends on a relationship of parts resting solely on the functional or dramatic motive of the piece.* What holds it together is rather its assertion of an ideal spatial unity in contrast with the surrounding space. * In contrast with the primacy given in literature to the 116 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. 11 D This barbarous mode of rendering an idea of ac- tion through figures in the round rather than express- ing it naturally in a relief is often The poverty of met with nowadays. A partial rea- sculptural art s on for this deplorable fact is that to-day. almost no opportunity is afforded representation in relief. We have but to think of the many ancient monuments let into the walls of churches and other edifices, the many tem- ples, arches of triumph, etc., which required relief sculpture, to realize how infinitely richer was sculptur- al art in the olden days than in our own. For to-day the relief form of art scarcely exists. Sculpture to the modern man signifies some figure in the round, destined to stand in the center of a public square. And these sad monuments remain almost the only means by which the sculptor may give expression to his artistic ideas. Unless he chooses to sacrifice his ideas entirely, he must bring himself to an impossible mode of treatment. This present-day evil is largely due to the conditions governing the general features of the artist's task. When a monument is to be erected, the artistic form is usually prescribed by lay- men, so-called committees, whereas this of all things should be left to the artist. For him it is an impossi- ble situation. The effect upon sculptural art as ex- hibited in the monuments of to-day is unspeakable pov- erty of ideas, and eternal repetition of motives. Sup- pose a poet allowed but one form of composition, or a composer permitted to set to music only certain pre- scribed scenes of an opera! If all the statues made in Europe during the last forty years were placed side by side, what a show they would make! All of them striv- - 1 11 FORM AS INTERPRETATION OF LIFE. 117 l¢ ing after something new, all of them pitifully restrain- ed in the bonds of a single form of sculpture, all of them cut off from all connection with architecture or any definite environment. Can such work rank higher than convict labor? What injects life and variety into art is the new situation. A situation as presented by Nature, when developed into an artistic struct- The statue in ure, always leads to new discov- the open square. eries within the limits set by the natural laws of Art. If the starting point in Nature is lacking, the worker is inclined to seek for novelties which he justifies by what he terms new laws of Art, where two and two make five. But how can one speak of a variety of possible situations for a figure which is condemned to stand forth in empty space-in the middle of a square“just where no figure should be made to stand because of the fact that all aspects of it are given equal value? There is neither front nor rear, and the situation counteracts the pic- torial effect of the figure. As the spectator circles about the statue he has at least four views to take in, and this can be to the advantage of only a very few works and of pleasure, in general, only with figures in the nude. When we ask the source of this supersti- tious regard for the center of a square, we can find only one answer. It is due to the uncultured mind which fancies an open square to be a sort of organic unity with which is associated a feeling of organic symme- try. Accordingly the open space is conceived as some- thing which exists for its own sake, instead of being regarded as a thing seen, of which the artistic right of existence depends entirely on its being seen, and of 118 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. 1 T which the artistic properties can be treated only from this point of view. Another misconception which plays a large part in the Art of to-day insists on finding truth in form as the expression of functional val- A false conception ues only. From what has been of truth. said it is quite clear that this false conception of truth does not relate to the process of artistic representation, but only to Nature as a represented object. The evolution of Art did not begin with any such conception, but rather with the development of form as regards its spatial values. Only gradually has the functional value of form been developed in Art, has, as it were, grown into it. All stages of its development fall within the field of ar- tistic construction and have validity only as a factor thereof. This truth to Nature, cannot rightly be dis- cussed independently of, and apart from, the process of artistic construction. Reverse the evolutionary pro- cess, require first correctness of form as a functional value, before the specifically artistic construction be- gins: the result will be a conception of Nature attended with ideas all perfectly worthless for artistic produc- tion; and this, simply because the spatial conception of art was not operative from the beginning. Sad to relate, the training of an artist to-day generally takes this course. And thus is explained the oft-heard com- plaint that the artist must first unlearn all that he has acquired in the academies before he can produce a work of Art. FORM AS INTERPRETATION OF LIFE. 119 The conception of appearance as spatial and func- tional value also throws’light upon the conception of architectural structure. Our rela- The functional tion to space finds in architecture value in its direct expression. Architecture architecture. arouses in us not merely the idea of a possibility of movement, but a definite feeling of space; instead of having to orient ourselves, as we do when confronted with Nature, we are saved that effort by having before us a space that has already been definitely articulated. Furthermore, just as, in sculpture, ideas of movement are stimulated and attain unity of effect through visual impression, so, in architecture, space itself, in the sense of actual form, is converted into a visual impression. To be sure, certain ideas of functional relation, such as those of support and weight supported, develop to give the structure the effect of an acting and living body. These ideas of function are, however, bound up with the demands of the total visual form, and get their val- ues only through definite relations to it. Here too, representations of function do not by themselves pro- duce any artistic form, but merely offer a content still to be formed. The really artistic activity—the activity that presents space—is here, as everywhere, not de- pendent upon representations of function. On the contrary, indeed, it is only within a certain total effect of space that the functional representation can develop, and can take shape in specific architectural forms like the column and the cornice. 11 LI 120 FIG. 29 (P.132), MICHELANGELO. THE ARTIST'S IDEA IS COMPREHENSIBLE IN THE BIG MASSES, IRRESPECTIVE OF DETAILS. FORM AS INTERPRETATION OF LIFE. 121 In view of the foregoing, a comparison of the Art of earlier times with that of to-day must reveal the un- doubted fact that the logic of visual The artistic ideas representation was far more highly of earlier times. developed then than it is now; and upon this fact is founded the siipe- riority of earlier Art over ours. In times when Art is enjoying freedom of growth, the natural drift of ideas will follow the regular course of mental organizationi. Of this dependency on the laws of mental organization the artist is conscious only in so far as he may desire to be logical, and to give true expression to his nat: ural impulses. No influence sways him in his work save that of the natural laws of Art embodied in the artistic Problem of Form. There is as yet no discord between his mental representation and his actual ob- servation. The natural unity of idea and perception still reigns. Other periods may be termed inartistic for the reason that this naiveté no longer exists, and that in its stead false interests and abnor- The inimical mal points of view confuse the nat- effects of ural artistic tendency and deflect it education. from its course. If we but con- sider that the artistic idea is in es- sence nothing more than a further evolution in the natural process of learning to seema process which each one of us begins to perform in childhood; and if we remember that in childhood visual imagery is most vivid; then we may gain some idea of the sudden end to all this play of fancy which must follow the child's entrance into school. For school turns the much prized hours of youth to activities and disci- 122 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. plines inimical to Art. Deflected thus from his natural course, the child develops his artificial rather than his natural resources, and it is only when he reaches full maturity that the artist learns to think again in terms of the natural forces and ideas which in his childhood were his happiest possession. How many of us have preserved our inborn desire for expression? In most cases only physical ability has survived, and we are ignorant even as to the means and ends of using it. Into what devious by-ways does will lead when only instinct should direct! To free art from these inimical influences of edu- cation, to preserve her from becoming a play-thing of chance and circumstance, one way The remedy. only is open: To make conscious again the natural purport of the artistic impulse. The historic point of view from which art is gen- erally considered, has not produced this consciousness of the universal laws of Art. In- The failure stead, it has tended to emphasize of the historic the differences manifest in artistic point of view. production. Consequently Art is treated either as an emanation of personal qualities in various individuals, or as a pro- duct of temporal conditions and national traits. This gives rise directly to a false conception of Art as pri- marily a manifestation of personality, of Art as a pro- duct of what in truth is the absolutely non-artistic side of man. The result is simple: no universal measure of artistic value is left. The greatest emphasis is laid on accessory relations, while the real artistic content, obeying its internal laws unaffected b.y the alterations TORM AS INTERPRETATION OF LIFE. 123 of time, is ignored. It is as though a gardener were to let his plants grow under glass vases of different shapes and then ask our attention wholly to the strange forms thus produced, expecting us to forget entirely that the really important thing is the plant itself and its inner mode of life, concerning which these artificial effects of shape and size can give us no true information what- soever. In times when Art flourishes all artists are inspired with one desire: to clarify a natural form that it may adequately express a living con- The true artistic tent. It is an impersonal but at impulse. the same time a comprehensive picture of Nature which the true artist strives after. The personal element plays a part only in so far as it possesses an artistically objective Nature expressing itself according to a general law of Art. That is to say, such individual conceptions of Nature as may seem to give Art a new content have artistic value only when they conform to the natural laws of Art in so far as they present a new variation of the fundamental theme. Such things as personal caprice, subjective arbitrariness, the putting on of in- tellectual airs, are but signs which demonstrate that the artist's work has lost its natural sound purport. If one would speak, then, of a mission of Art, it can be no other than this: in spite of all temporal eccen- tricities, to reestablish and The mission of art. make felt the sound and nat- ural relations between our thought and sense activities. . pand VII SCULPTURE IN STONE Le It is evident that the material which the artist uses in his representation must influence his technical method. It 'therefore becomes of The influence primary importance to note of the material whether the material favors a on sculpture. method of execution parallel to that of conception. If not, the mechan- ical work will be striving in other directions than the pictorial conception, and the hindrance thus offered must be overcome, or else the natural conception of the artist will suffer and degenerate. On the other hand when the material is of such a nature that the artist can develop his representation directly in accordance with the requirements of his conception, i. e., when the material conditions correspond to those attending the growth of the conception, then the technical proced- ure will be making directly for a unitary conception. The very process then strengthens and gives life to the idea, and, as a mere matter of course, the elemen- tary artistic problems become immediately apparent. Such a salutary process is afforded by direct cutting in stone. It will accordingly be worth our while to go into this matter more closely. (124) SCULPTURE IN STONE. 125 Sculpture has undoubtedly evolved from drawing; by giving depth to'a drawing we make of it a relief, and this relief may be regarded as The evolution the animation of a surface. Like- of sculpture. wise primitive sculpture in the round may be easily looked upon as a result of surface drawings carved into a block. Thus the ancient Egyptians carved crouching figures out of blocks of stone, maintaining in the process the original bounding surfaces of the stone, yet converting it into members of a crouching figure. The stone was first roughly cut into a simple general form, and this form was then modified according to the figure intended. The block is thus changed into a human figure; and, indeed, from a certain distance we might readily take such a block for such a figure. In the statue the stone is no longer a stone, but continues to exist, nevertheless, as the total form of the figure. This unity of form is perceived by the eye in the same way as is the unitary field of vision in a drawing. The original block gave the illusion of a crouching fig- ure; the crouching figure irresistibly suggests the orig- inal block. Architecture creates simple geometrical solids and makes of them elements of construction. The sculptor, in animating these according to the The wholesome process above explained, must re- influence of spect their primitive form. Sculp- architecture ture of this sort is not only archi- on sculpture. tecturally significant, but is also important from a purely sculptural point of view. The plastic representation remains en- closed in a simple, comprehensible total form-a fact 2 . 126 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. YTT which insures to the eye unity and repose. In this way architecture has had a very wholesome influence on plastic representation. Still it is easy to understand that in time sculpture should have emancipated itself from this architectural . bond, and that the necessity of a The problem regular and compact total form which arises when should have ceased to exist. In the sculpture is freed absence of total forms which had of architectural objective architectural significance significance. with outlines thereby determined, there arose a new problem. Even though a free moving figure in the round may be con- sidered as contained within a certain total form, still it is no longer possible, as it was in the case of archi- tectural sculpture, to judge beforehand just how the figure is to be placed within the stone. The three dimensional relations of the different aspects of the figure can scarcely be decided beforehand. Therefore, a preparatory roughing out of the total form is impos- sible. One way alone stands open: to start with one view in mind and let the others arrange themselves as necessary consequences of this main aspect. The sculptor is accordingly forced to base his three-dimen- sional conception on a visual or pictorial conception and to lay out his work with this only in view. First of all, the design must be drawn upon the main surface of the stone. It is well to select this sur- face as flat as possible so that the The process of effect may be that of an ideal plane work in stone. rather than of something already existing as form. The artist, then, is able to fill this plane at will with form. With the SCULPTURE IN STONE. 127 depth measurements of the stone he need concern him- self only so far as to assure himself that his figure will find adequate space within the block. The nature of the conditions requires that the design should be de- fined at once, instead of delaying a clear exposition un- til a later stage of the work. Thenceforward the ar- tist's procedure is the same as in beginning a relief. A figure forms in his fancy which, through its prin- cipal masses, already expresses itself distinctly in this first plane. If the design is clearly comprehensible at this stage a firm basis is laid for the entire process of work, and for all succeeding points of view. It fol- lows that the artist is forced to conceive at the start what is to lie in the first layer and what in the next. In order to represent the prominent masses of the first layer at once in clear pictorial or two-dimensional re- lations, the design should be so arranged that several of the prominent parts of the figure fall there; for in- stance: the head, a hand, a knee, etc., selected in ac- cordance with the pose of the figure. As the artist hews his design into the stone, re- moving that which lies outside its contours, and, at the same time working out the inner The work begins forms which are thus revealed, he as a relief. begins to consider the actual depth relations of the figure in the round. This is possible only when the judgment based on a direct front view of the figure is assisted by observing it also from the sides. In this way measurements of the third dimension are controlled by converting them into measurements in the plane of the retinal image. But, since at first this is only to a slight degree possi- ble, the work naturally tends to assume the character 128 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. of a relief and to proceed at the beginning rather in accordance with the eye's sensitivity for depth as based on light and shade. Actual depth relations, which are controlled always with difficulty, come only gradually into existence. It can therefore be said that all depth relations of the actual form tend to exist at first only in relief. The exposure of the image in the stone is con- trolled by the eye; i. e., the imagination which assists in this exposure constructs an appearance such as might be seen from a distance. It is evident that this image will at every stage be unitary, especially in the sense that an interdependence of planes and a pictorial unity from the main aspect are maintained, although the actual form, when viewed from any other point, has, as yet, no such unity. The experience and skill of the artist will, in the first phase of his work, decide for him whether he should proceed by many or few Methods of stages to reach the three-dimen- proceeding into sional proportions of the actual the stone. form. In the one case the advance is gradual, from plane to plane as the planes succeed each other. His imagination thus stimulated, the artist grasps more and more clearly the further development of the forms which he is rep- resenting. In the other case the actual relations of the three-dimensional proportions are approached at the beginning. From the outset the artist applies a larger scale to his kinesthetic ideas of the figure. It is important for the process, and a thing not to SCULPTURE IN STONE, 129 Y1 be neglected, that the artist should' at once conceive and hew out of the stone all that Further appears to the eye at one time in a considerations certain plane. Only after the first with respect to plane has been perfectly exposed planes. may he enter into the next. The nature of the technical process de- mands that the design be freed of its stone surround- ings uniformly with respect to the main aspect before the work can proceed into greater depths. If the artist proceeds irregularly into the depth, holes appear in the block which confuse the image; while the super- fluous stone interferes with the chisel. Michelangelo has significantly described the progressive work in stone thus: One must imagine the figure as though it were lying under a body of water which is allowed gradually to run off, thus permitting the figure to come little by little above the surface, until at length it lies completely exposed. A form thus appears be- fore our eyes, limited by the manner of conception, yet characterized by the fact that its detail forms are thought of as parts of related planes. In this way these details acquire an inner relationship which exists only for the eye and is in no way dependent on organic causes. This inner relationship is of the greatest sig- nificance for the natural process of perception. Stage by stage the image is brought to the eye in a definite arrangement of large and simple masses. This inner relationship, as we already know, constitutes the sculp- tural conception of form"; through it the figure pos- sesses a form adapted to, and rhythmically arranged for, perception by the eye. How the technical process influences the develop- 130 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. 1 TTT :ment of the conception, will appear still more clearly when we contrast direct work in Contrast of stone stone with clay modeling. In mod- cutting and clay eling, an armature is first con- modeling structed, and covered with clay un- til it corresponds approximately with the image which the artist is projecting. The artist sets out, then, from an existing object and de- velops it gradually outward and toward himself. No ready-formed total space exists previous to his work. All spatial form must be created from the beginning. Accordingly the procedure is not one from a general conception of volume, as it is in stone work, but in- stead starts with an actual presentation of an object. Furthermore, since the clay must be laid up all about the armature, the artist in his imagination must fol- low around the figure and consider every possible view., So far as the technical process is concerned, a main aspect is not given, much less imposed. On the con- trary, the mode of work eliminates the necessity for such a thing. The shaping imagination which accom- panies the process of modeling, is based upon, and abides by, the actual form of the object as it is dis- played on all sides. There does not result any sug- gestion of a space enclosing the object-of what we have called its total space. When we consider that the imagination is actually being formed during the very act of representation, we can readily understand how dif- Disadvantages of ferently the artist must be in- modeling fluenced by direct cutting in stone and by modeling in clay. Of course, it must be understood that we speak only of SCULPTURE IN STONE. 131 FIG. 30 (P.138), MICHELANGELO. THREE-DIMENSIONAL CONTENT TRANS- LATED INTO A PICTORIAL PRESENTATION. 132 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. the constraint which the process puts upon us. The formation of a general conception of volume by means of an illusion is never impossible. In modeling, how- ever, such an illusion is indispensable, whereas in stone work the block before us represents a general volume which is real. In stone carving the laying out of the big masses in various planes must precede the working up of details. This forces the artist to Modes of make his idea comprehensible in conception in these masses. He seeks, there- carving and fore, a design that may be exhibited modeling. clearly and expressively from the beginning. He has an image in large features, within which the details may lie hidden, contained always in a positive volume, as though parts of a general element or shrouded in darkness. In this way the existence of form not yet carved out is con- stantly suggested to the imagination. The conception then remains naturalmas in Nature herself a portion of a figure is sometimes illuminated while the rest re- mains indiscernible in darkness. In clay modeling this is all different; that which is not modeled is entirely lacking as volume. No gen- eral element of clay exists beyond that which is mod- eled. On the contrary, the actual air space which sur- rounds the work contrasts with it so as to lend it the quasi-appearance of a finished form. To the imagina- tion the unfinished is offered as though it were finish- ed. In stone work, the unfinished image is contrasted only with unhewn stone, an as yet unformed element out of which the partially completed form seems to evolve as something growing, thereby constantly sug- SCULPTURE IN STONE. 133 gesting a natural development. As it continues to thrust itself further out of the volume, the image still appears but relatively complete against its stone back- ground; and it is wise to preserve this background as long as possible in order that this same imaginative attitude may be maintained. The more masterful the development of the pro- cess of carving in stone, the more definite and purpose- ful will be all the forms that appear in the stone. A natural impulse demands that out of the general chaos positive form shall present itself as fast as possible, thus clearing the way for succeeding forms. Conse- quently the artist very soon brings his image to the light of full comprehensibility. Herein lies the neces- sity for a clear and positive conception of the actual form from the very beginning of the work. The general forms which are first given to the stone must, as we have observed, be so represented that they will contain all detail Treatment of forms which may later appear. At detail forms. the beginning these details come to the surface only in so far as they may influence the general form. In a given position of the figure, there exist certain detail forms which act only as an enrichment of the general form; others, on the contrary, play very expressive parts in the whole. That is to say, at a distance the former fuse into the general masses while the latter maintain their import- ance as form contrasts. The parts to be played by the details must be decided in the imagination when the arrangement of the general form is first considered and, indeed, must be decided with reference to their effects as seen from a distance. In this sense the three- 134 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. dimensional presentation of the image is always re- ferred to the pictorial conception, since it is evident that we must set out from relatively simple factors and we cannot represent all at once. The more de- veloped the artist's power, the more precise will be the three-dimensional ideas which he converts into sim- ple or related pictorial conceptions. If this power is great, the image unfolds itself from the very start in quite simple but precise forms. The image of the rep- resentation then consists in nothing other than simple, exact pictorial conceptions. As the figure proceeds in this manner from a pictorial impression into the depths of the stone, the side views, and, at length, the back view develop as necessary consequences. From this it appears that the sculptor in stone, starting from a pictorial, i. e., visual idea, proceeds to realize it as a kinesthetic idea, an modeling in clay. On the contrary, it is the kinesthetic idea which is first represented. Only after this has been done can the effect as a pic- torial impression be judged. The pictorial impression then plays the critic's part: it has not been a factor in the conception. Furthermore, whenever there is act- ually present a real something, its reality is inimical to an unrealized conception. It is far more difficult to alter the clay when it has once assumed a definite form than it is to make a fresh start in the representation of a complete conception. Modeling in clay has its value as a method of study from Nature to increase one's conception of actual forms, or to develop detailed knowledge of form in general. But the process is not adapted to the development of a work of art which will SCULPTURE IN STONE. 135 be harmonious as a pictorial representation. A pro- cess favorable to such harmony must take an opposite course, and must lead to the actual form from the pictorial conception which the artist desires the spec- tator to receive. The more perfectly developed the pictorial, or visual, conception, the easier and simpler becomes the work of representation. A sound Advantages of a artistic development clears up the clear-cut pictorial conception so much that the work- conception. ing process and its material diffi- culties are more and more dimin- ished. The conception strives to reduce the image to its simplest factors in order that the representation need give only these. A clear, simple method is an evidence of long previous practical experience. Yiet, such a method once established, the beginner is forced to form and simplify his conception in accordance with it, and to reduce his mode of representation to those simple means which are naturally required. His abil- ity of artistic conception develops, then, as a result of his mastery over the process of representation. His imagination undergoes an artistic metamorphosis. This constitutes the great significance of direct cut- ting in stone. Skill in handling the chisel, mere tech- nical ability to execute in stone, is not referred to in speaking of this intrinsic value of the direct cutting. We have repeatedly noted that this hewing out of the stone frees the figure froin the block in such a manner that, although the block The general law disappears materially, it remains, of unity in space. nevertheless, as a unity in our per- ception because of the fact that prominent parts of the figure combine to form outer 136 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. planes which still represent the simple block. Thus, in the most intimate manner, the process is welded to- gether with the pictorial metamorphosis attending the presentation of the actual form. The general law and immutable condition of the artistic conception is unity in space. The actual presentation of the object is the variable factor. The wealth of such actual presenta- tions offered to the artist by Nature is unlimited. His choice among them will depend upon their adaptability as spatial units. Works of art will always be com- bined of these two elements : objective reality and sub- jective unity; and the manner of their combination is what characterizes artistic individuality. The artist who, aside from the Greeks, has most consistently developed his mode of artistic conception in direct relation with his process The example of of representation is Michelangelo. Michelangelo. With him conception and represen- tation are one. His work is char- acterized by the greatest possible employment of the stone volume, together with an extraordinarily en- closed total appearance. His presentation of an object fills its space unit as compactly as possible, avoiding all unoccupied space. The less the stone volume cut away, the more concentrated, rich, one might say nour- ishing to the imagination, becomes the process of rep- resentation. Outreaching gestures and far-extending limbs are banished as diffuse; while, within his con- centrating imagination, bodily movements originate, which, without loss of space or energy, occupy as lit- tle space as possible. Pressed close to the torso, they fill out the block compactly, involving everywhere a turning and bending of joints. D SOULPTURE IN STONE. 137 11 Thus his strong feeling for spatial unity carried him far from all ordinary gestures, because he could not make these the shortest expres- Michelangelo's sion for his needs. Instead, he artistic impulse. reached a conception of form which is explained only by refer- ence to his artistic impulse. With passionate consist- ency his imagination of bodily form was subjected to this impulse and so created a new world of bodily form. He brought to light from out Nature a wealth of move- ments which, hitherto, had been little if at all ob- served. In this sense he developed an infinite feeling for life and, consequently, his movements display the greatest variety within the smallest possible space. This we must consider a lasting enrichment to the world of conceptions, together with a permanent sim- This artistic point of view is so exclusively the stand- ard of his figures that his world of movement is in- comprehensible from any other. The isolation and sol- itude of his manner of conception place his figures .far from all ordinary human associations and give them unapproachable grandeur; yet, paradoxically, at the same time, by the incredible directness of the process of their creation, they are brought infinitely close to us. . The effect of the artistic coherence of his figures was so strong that the movements represented ceased After-effects of the outgrowth of some mental pro- cess on the part of the person rep- innovations. resented, or as expressing that per- son's action. The functional value disappeared in the spatial. Thus the sense for natural 138 HILDEBRAND: PROBLEM OF FORM. gesture declined, and Michelangelo's successors, when they attempted to make dramatically expressive the new range of motions that he had revealed, fell into affected and exaggerated gestures. That Michelangelo and his predecessors could pursue this new principle of compactness so far with a certain onesidedness is explained Contrasting the by the fact that their sculpture was work of Michel- not intended for the open air, but angelo and the for the interior of buildings. Mich- Greeks. elangelo's figures were not to be contrasted with the open sky, nor were they to be viewed from any great distance. Con- sequently the clearness of his figures was not depend- ent upon the clearness of their outlines. With the Greeks the open air condition was of greater import- ance, and this forced them to adopt a freer and looser arrangement of limbs in their figures. Although their sculpture is likewise conceived in clear spatial units, still, by reason of the looser arrangement, spatial unity is not felt as a material quality, as the total space oc- cupied by the stone block, but merely as a harmony in the act of perception. Turning again to a work like Michelangelo's Madonna in the Medici Chapel, we find there, too, unity obtained through different, but equally universal means, the total three-dimensional content having been completely translated into a pic- torial presentation. Thus all differences of time, cir- cumstance, or individuality are effaced before the gen- eral and eternal laws which govern and always will govern artistic creation. INDEX Academies, 118. Accommodation, 21ff. Actual form, 36ff. Algebraic conception, 38. Anarchists of art, 13. Appearance, 36ff. Architectonic method, 11. Architectural sculpture, 125. Architecture, 78, 97f, 119. Arrangement in space, 49. Art and Nature, 55, 58. Artistic coherence, 52. Artistic creation, 15. Artistic discipline, 76. Artistic individuality, 13. Artistic sense, 42.. Artistic tradition, 74. Aspects of a figure, 66, 94. Associated ideas, '101. Attention to details, 65. Bronze relief, 90. Canova, 85, 89, 112f. Cellini, 65, 91. Characteristic feature, 68. Clay modeling, 130ff, 134. Clearness at a distance, 67. Color, 18, 63. Color contrasts, 76f. Color in architecture, 78. Color in sculpture, 78f. Column, 119. Committees, 116. Contrast of light, 71.. Convergence, 21ff. Correggio, 33. Depth, 62. Detail forms, 133. Diagonal arrangement, 72. Distance at the periphery, 71. Distance in the center, 71.' Distinctness at a distance, 67. Education, 121. Egyptians, 125. Environment, 40. Evolution of sculpture, 125. Expression and impression, 111. Expression of function, 102. Eye, 14, 21. Eye movements, 22. Farnese Bull, 115. Figure pictures, 52. Forward movement, 67. Functional values, 110. Functions of the eye, 14. Furniture, 97. General ideas, 43. Grecian nose, 41. Greek Art, 83. Greek temple, 46, 99. Harmony in Art, 75. High relief, 90. Historic theory, 122. Horizontal, 74. Ideas of objects, 60ff. Illumination, 71. Imagination, artistic, 76. Impression and expression, 111. Individuality, 13, 122. (139) 140 INDEX. o 138. Projection, visual, 28, 60. Interpretation, 102. Proportions, 45. · Joints of human body, 68. Public square, 117. Kinesthetic sensations, 21, 23, | Reading off the distances, 62, 28f, 34. 64, 67f. Knowledge of form, 42. Realism, 112. Landscape, 52. Relief, 80. Laymen, 52, 116. Rembrandt, 42, 90. Leonardo da Vinci, 63. Renaissance, 70, 97.. Life size, 84ff. Repose in Art, 75. Low relief, 90. Romanesque style, 99. . Material of construction, 97. Scientific knowledge, 42. Method, architectonic, 11. Scientific observation, 106. Michelangelo, 61, 91, 93, 97, Sculptor and painter, 32ff. 108, 114, 120, 131, 136ff, Sculpture in the round, 92ff, 116. Mimetic activity, 102. Situation, 40, 117. Miniature, 86. Skill, 135. Mission of Art, 123. Space, 17. Monuments, 113ff. Spatial suggestiveness, 18. Motion represented, 109. Spatial unity, 52. Naples, 115. Spatial values, 39, 53, 62. Nationality, 122. Nature and Art, 55, 58. Statuary indoors, 96. Statuary out of doors, 96. Objects, 60ff. Statue monuments, 113ff. Painter and sculptor, 32ff. Stereoscopic vision, 24ff. Panorama, 56. Stone work, 126. Parallax, 23. Story told, 53. Study from Nature, 134. Perceptual form, 36ff, 41, 65. Subjects of Art, 52f. Perseus, 65, 91. Superposition, 70. Personality, 122. Tintoretto, 36. Photography, 44. Titian, 30, 45, 71.. Pictorial conception, 06, 134f. Total space, 47. Planes, 64, 70, 80, 82, 87f. Tradition, 74. Positivism, 43. Truth, 106, 118. Praxiteles, 46. INDEX. 141 Unity, 52. Values, functional, 110. Values, spatial, 110. | Visual form, 36ff, 41, 65. Visual projection, 28. Visual values of space, 39, 53, 62. Volume, 80. Wheel in motion, 109. Vertical, 74. Vinci, 63. 1 THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN . . . .... ..... . . .. DATE DUE .. . . . . JUL 17 1999 . . MAY 01 2000 AUG 01 2000 MAR 1 3:2003 . . * . ! . s ! . . . . . 3 TE * . ... ! . . . .. . . ATAT - . JUL 1986 91 1049 4907 BR4 04/10 02-013-01 Ohio Hi Group MONOER LIITUNUT UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN 1 III UIT 11 MINI TIL UD1 PUU ITUD 11 11 IN IU 11 TI IN 11 II LUI TI III 3 9015 01667 1516 ه ت ا اعلام , مجانا م راه همتناعمهبمممامعه دیده به سم... ملامی اتحاد برد عتی مهمت ته ونت منی و لا به جم دهد ۴ الغرام 1 مج مز ند , و اج اج و کم دتا + H بیننده * بنات : مم مممعممت جنابت می ک ند الا * ادم * * ها . د و بیم و ادامه دهند * منذ نه ب جستجو ه من توهم تنبسسسسسسین - د : : : : : :.:مه الي .. من " . ، و من . . . - T ) :و - - - ای دور کر دیا , ۔ انترنتون مام