bright spot ou un peu de Gestalt Theorie dans le bois
. (Even if a form does not have an explicit frame—imagine a sculpture in the middle of a vast plain—it is still implicitly framed by our field of vision.) Moreover, with the act of framing, something rather magical happens, something we refer to as frame magnetism. When a dot is closer to one side of a frame, that side seems to pull the dot towards it. Notice the diagram below: the dot is being pulled upwards in Figure One. In Figure Two the dot is being pulled to the right. The result, not surprisingly, is a bit of agitation, or at least interest. Place the dot in the absolute center of the frame (Figure 3) and it becomes inert—all four sides of the image are equally pulling at the dot, making for a rather boring composition.
Or, we can do the opposite, framing figures so they are not pulled by the sides of a picture, and comfortably balanced within the frame. TV producers usually strive to achieve this kind of balance: they routinely make talk show hosts and their guests sit uncomfortably close to each other (for them) so that they aren'tpulled apart by the sides of the video frame. The result is to have them fake their comfort in order to make us comfortable: as viewers we feel as if these individuals like each other and are having a pleasant conversation, not pulling away from each other. As we can also see in the Nazi salute photograph, the two dominant shapes (in this case, each soccer team) are cohesively clumped without being pulled to one side of the frame or another, creating a sense of pictorial balance.
The realities of frame magnetism have led to certain framing conventions. One is head room: framing an image so an individual has a bit of space over her head to convey that she is not cramped by the frame or pulled upward by frame magnetism. Headroom creates the illusion that the figure is in a larger setting rather than a box. Another is “rule of thirds,” a well-known principle of photographic and image composition. By breaking an image down into thirds (both horizontally and vertically), and by placing elements on the points of intersection, we can avoid both the uncomfortable pulling when the form is too close to the frame, and the boring inertia when the form is too central.
Knowing the rule of thirds is to create images that are balanced yet interesting. However, knowing when to break the rule—to add tension—is also an essential part of the artistic vocabulary and a means for conveying narrative.
Shape is tied to form. The most basic shapes—square, circle and triangle—are often connected to the three basic (primary) colors, red, blue and yellow. Each shape in turn has an expressive quality. Squares convey stability, solidity, support, confidence, strength, but also boredom. They carry a heavier weight in the frame than circles or triangles, and tend to be imposing, dominating an image. Rectangles—part of the square family—usually feel slightly less stable and slightly more interesting than squares. In contrast, circles are fluid instead of solid, expressing wholeness, completion, happiness, unity, and motion. Circles are more interesting than squares, but nowhere near as interesting as triangles, our most dynamic shape. Triangles are stimulating because they point, leading one’s eyes to various areas within the frame, adding tension with diagonal lines, and energy to the entire visual composition. Like the color red, triangles are useful in isolating ideas and identifying the significance of an element within the frame. For example, a photograph of two basketball players jumping up towards a ball completes the shape of a triangle and dramatizes the ball’s significance. A photograph of a bird landing on a gutter—the bird’s wings outstretched—shows two triangles: each one pointing in a different direction and asking the viewer to follow the direction of both invisible lines. In the Nazi salute photograph, the flags in the stadium point upwards, lifting our eyes out of the narrative. As designer and theorist Johannes Itten commented about shapes, “The square is resting matter, the triangle is thought, and the circle is spirit in eternal motion.”
Line
A line embodies a narrative significance of its own. Horizontal lines evoke calm and stability; vertical lines convey energy and upward thrust. Diagonal lines, like triangles, are dynamic, exciting, somewhat unstable, and for these reasons are advantageous towards visually communicating complicated ideas. It’s an important strength, when creating an image, to be aware of how lines divide a frame. For example, telephone lines can slice a frame into numerous boxes and rectangles against the sky, or dramatically slice a frame at a diagonal, directing viewers to various points of interest. Photographers can also intentionally create diagonals by cocking the camera—making what we call a Dutch angle— and destabilizing an otherwise sturdy image to make a visual point. In advertising, Dutch angles are used constantly to add excitement, or to juxtapose instability (e.g., discomfort in the doctor’s office) with stability (e.g., relief after taking a certain pill).
. Thus, diagonal lines both offer directional force and convey depth. Lines, whether visible or invisible, help us understand spatial arrangements and the corresponding relationships within the visual narrative.
The angle from which the image is taken offers more invisible lines and another means for communicating depth—the more extreme the angle, the more intense the feeling of depth. The invisible lines that angles create are also infused with meaning. A very low angle intensifies the stature of a figure or inanimate object. A child portrayed from below can look like a giant, a monster can appear even more scary and powerful, and an armed tank all the more menacing. When shooting Citizen Kane, for example, Orson Welles was so intent on portraying Kane with as much grandeur as possible in certain scenes that he dug holes in the floor of sets and shot from below the floorboards, creating extreme low angles for maximum effect.
bright spot ou un peu de Gestalt Theorie dans le bois
. (Even if a form does not have an explicit frame—imagine a sculpture in the middle of a vast plain—it is still implicitly framed by our field of vision.) Moreover, with the act of framing, something rather magical happens, something we refer to as frame magnetism. When a dot is closer to one side of a frame, that side seems to pull the dot towards it. Notice the diagram below: the dot is being pulled upwards in Figure One. In Figure Two the dot is being pulled to the right. The result, not surprisingly, is a bit of agitation, or at least interest. Place the dot in the absolute center of the frame (Figure 3) and it becomes inert—all four sides of the image are equally pulling at the dot, making for a rather boring composition.
Or, we can do the opposite, framing figures so they are not pulled by the sides of a picture, and comfortably balanced within the frame. TV producers usually strive to achieve this kind of balance: they routinely make talk show hosts and their guests sit uncomfortably close to each other (for them) so that they aren'tpulled apart by the sides of the video frame. The result is to have them fake their comfort in order to make us comfortable: as viewers we feel as if these individuals like each other and are having a pleasant conversation, not pulling away from each other. As we can also see in the Nazi salute photograph, the two dominant shapes (in this case, each soccer team) are cohesively clumped without being pulled to one side of the frame or another, creating a sense of pictorial balance.
The realities of frame magnetism have led to certain framing conventions. One is head room: framing an image so an individual has a bit of space over her head to convey that she is not cramped by the frame or pulled upward by frame magnetism. Headroom creates the illusion that the figure is in a larger setting rather than a box. Another is “rule of thirds,” a well-known principle of photographic and image composition. By breaking an image down into thirds (both horizontally and vertically), and by placing elements on the points of intersection, we can avoid both the uncomfortable pulling when the form is too close to the frame, and the boring inertia when the form is too central.
Knowing the rule of thirds is to create images that are balanced yet interesting. However, knowing when to break the rule—to add tension—is also an essential part of the artistic vocabulary and a means for conveying narrative.
Shape is tied to form. The most basic shapes—square, circle and triangle—are often connected to the three basic (primary) colors, red, blue and yellow. Each shape in turn has an expressive quality. Squares convey stability, solidity, support, confidence, strength, but also boredom. They carry a heavier weight in the frame than circles or triangles, and tend to be imposing, dominating an image. Rectangles—part of the square family—usually feel slightly less stable and slightly more interesting than squares. In contrast, circles are fluid instead of solid, expressing wholeness, completion, happiness, unity, and motion. Circles are more interesting than squares, but nowhere near as interesting as triangles, our most dynamic shape. Triangles are stimulating because they point, leading one’s eyes to various areas within the frame, adding tension with diagonal lines, and energy to the entire visual composition. Like the color red, triangles are useful in isolating ideas and identifying the significance of an element within the frame. For example, a photograph of two basketball players jumping up towards a ball completes the shape of a triangle and dramatizes the ball’s significance. A photograph of a bird landing on a gutter—the bird’s wings outstretched—shows two triangles: each one pointing in a different direction and asking the viewer to follow the direction of both invisible lines. In the Nazi salute photograph, the flags in the stadium point upwards, lifting our eyes out of the narrative. As designer and theorist Johannes Itten commented about shapes, “The square is resting matter, the triangle is thought, and the circle is spirit in eternal motion.”
Line
A line embodies a narrative significance of its own. Horizontal lines evoke calm and stability; vertical lines convey energy and upward thrust. Diagonal lines, like triangles, are dynamic, exciting, somewhat unstable, and for these reasons are advantageous towards visually communicating complicated ideas. It’s an important strength, when creating an image, to be aware of how lines divide a frame. For example, telephone lines can slice a frame into numerous boxes and rectangles against the sky, or dramatically slice a frame at a diagonal, directing viewers to various points of interest. Photographers can also intentionally create diagonals by cocking the camera—making what we call a Dutch angle— and destabilizing an otherwise sturdy image to make a visual point. In advertising, Dutch angles are used constantly to add excitement, or to juxtapose instability (e.g., discomfort in the doctor’s office) with stability (e.g., relief after taking a certain pill).
. Thus, diagonal lines both offer directional force and convey depth. Lines, whether visible or invisible, help us understand spatial arrangements and the corresponding relationships within the visual narrative.
The angle from which the image is taken offers more invisible lines and another means for communicating depth—the more extreme the angle, the more intense the feeling of depth. The invisible lines that angles create are also infused with meaning. A very low angle intensifies the stature of a figure or inanimate object. A child portrayed from below can look like a giant, a monster can appear even more scary and powerful, and an armed tank all the more menacing. When shooting Citizen Kane, for example, Orson Welles was so intent on portraying Kane with as much grandeur as possible in certain scenes that he dug holes in the floor of sets and shot from below the floorboards, creating extreme low angles for maximum effect.