Rational discussion of art


Michael Stuart Kelly

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Here's a discussion of the "pointillés" in Vermeer's work. (I don't know how to do the accent over the e.) [Hm. They seem to have shown up without my doing anything to tell them to. Fancy that.]

http://essentialvermeer.20m.com/camera_obscura/co_one.htm

pointillés

The enchanting ocular effects produced by the apparatus (camera obscura) no doubt stimulated his aesthetic interest to such an extent that he often replicated them in his art. Yet at the same time Vermeer modified these effects to suit his artistic vision, often, surprisingly, exaggerating them. This is especially true of Vermeer's famous pointillés, little dots of impasto (thick lumps of paint) applied to the surfaces of his pictures in order to imitate the halations inherent to the peripheries, of gleaming objects projected by the camera obscura. Although Vermeer likely used pointillés initially to duplicate what commonly could be seen through the camera obscura, he soon realized their independent aesthetic potential. For  instance, he could not have observed them on the bread depicted in The Milkmaid because the camera obscura will, as we have seen, only cause halations on projected objects that reflect light (such as metal or polished wood). Likewise, in the View of Delft Vermeer applied pointillés to the shadowy hulls of the boats moored in the water in an effort to suggest flickering reflections. Had these boats been viewed through a camera obscura, reflections would not have been present, as they were only visible in direct sunlight. It would thus be reductive to consider the View of Delft -or, for that matter, any painting by Vermeer - a simple transcription of the projected image seen by the artist through the camera obscura.

Vermeer's signature pointillés became a prominent feature of his art during his middle period and, in fact, would continue to be present, in a much modified form, in his late works. In The Milkmaid, for example, pointillés are used to impart an extraordinary tactile quality to such objects as the chunks of bread. In fact, the chunks are encrusted with so many pointillés that these dots of paint seem to exist independently of the forms they describe. An imposing tactility is also detected in other works of this phase: the carpets on the tables of the Girl Reading a Letter at an Open Window and The Glass of Wine , for example, have a palpable nubby quality that is completely different from the broad, general planes of the carpet in the early Christ in the Home of Mary and Martha.

from:

Wayne Franits, "Johannes Vermeer: An Overview of His Life and Stylistic Evolution,"  in The Cambridge Companion to Vermeer, edited by Wayne Franits , Cambridge, 2001, pp.15-16

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A couple details. These comments show as pop-up inserts if you move the cursor over the respective paintings

(1) Re A GIRL READING A LETTER BY AN OPEN WINDOW

http://essentialvermeer.20m.com/catalogue/...open_window.htm

Perhaps the most straightforward example of trompe l'oeil (French; fool the eye) in Vermeer's oeuvre is this green satin curtain. The curtain does not in fact seem to belong to the same implied three-dimensional space of the painting. Rather, it appears in front of the painting's surface. In reality, in Dutch households this kind of curtain was often used to protect precious paintings from dust or for covering nudes. It was a favorite trompe l'oeil device among Dutch genre painters of the Delft School. See Gerard Houckgeest's church interior above [see the site]. The curtain was not a part of Vermeer's original composition. It covers a "roemer", a kind of large decorative drinking glass, on the far right-hand side of the table. Roemers had raspberry style prunts to help keep a good grip and are often seen in 17th century Dutch genre paintings containing white wine.

(2) Re THE MILKMAID

http://essentialvermeer.20m.com/catalogue/milkmaid.htm

Dragonfly commented in post #47 about the table in the painting not being rectilinear.

 

Although it cannot be observed in many reproductions, the table covered with a simple green tablecloth is not rectangular in shape. It is no[t] known if Vermeer faithfully painted some sort of table that in reality had this particular non-regular form or if he changed altered its form in his painting to suit pictorial ends. The curious green, which literally glows in the original, mediates between the lustrous blue of the maid's wrap and the yellow warmth of the basket and bread.

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A quote I like describing the mood of Vermeer's figures:

http://essentialvermeer.20m.com/catalogue/...open_window.htm

A GIRL READING A LETTER BY AN OPEN WINDOW

(Brieflezend Meisje bij het Venster)

c. 1657-1659

oil on canvas

32 3/4 x 25 3/8 in. (83 x 64.5 cm.)

Staatliche Kunstsammlungen, Gemäldegalerie, Dresden

"Vermeer's genius was in probing those moments in life when one feels alone and immersed in one's thoughts. His are essentially private works, invitations to pause and partake of the quiet intimacy of the scene. Almost as in poetry, he suggests moods and attitudes in his figures that are recognizable yet not precisely defined. In this painting a girl stands in a corner of a room before an open window, her thoughts are totally absorbed in the letter she is reading. The walls, curtains, and table define the physical limits of her space; the reflection of her image in the glass emphasizes the inner nature of her thoughts. Her world is still."

Arthur K. Wheelock, Jr., Jan Vermeer, 1981

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Dragonfly wrote:

It has often been suggested that Vermeer used a camera obscura for his work. However, it seems very unlikely to me that at least for this painting such a device was used, because then the perspective of the window would have been correct.

Not necessarily. The incorrect perspective might be evidence that a camera obscura was used. If something, perhaps a light breeze, had moved the window slightly while it was being traced, it might have gone unnoticed by Vermeer.

From the exerpts Ellen posted in post #49:

They both glimmer with the so called disks of confusion or pointillè as they are also called.

I think that should probably be disks of diffusion, not confusion.

J

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From the exerpts Ellen posted in post #49:
They both glimmer with the so called disks of confusion or pointillè as they are also called.

I think that should probably be disks of diffusion, not confusion.

J

Well, I figure the correct word isn't "confusion." "Diffusion" sounds plausible to me. Dragonfly? (Larry isn't here to ask; he's away from home for a few days.)

As I said in my introductory note, there are loads of copyeditorial sorts of errors on the site. But I was kind of "blown away" all the same -- I was talking with Larry about this at dinner a couple nights ago -- at how fantastic the entire gestalt is, the way it permits a detailed commentary on paintings with the pop-up screens, and comparing paintings in a way which isn't possible with a book as the source. Plus the amount of historical and cultural and scientific interconnected material it provides. It's a "very good" in what the web can do, IMO.

Ellen

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Not necessarily. The incorrect perspective might be evidence that a camera obscura was used. If something, perhaps a light breeze, had moved the window slightly while it was being traced, it might have gone unnoticed by Vermeer.

If the window had been moved slightly, the effect wouldn't have been as strong as it is now. If we try to explain the inconsistent perspective of the window by displacement of the window the difference must have been conspicuous to Vermeer as the lines he had already drawn would no longer coincide with the image of the CO, they would clearly deviate. And the differences are large: some of the lines (e.g. the lines of the two lowest lead strips) suggest a window that is almost parallel to the plane of the painting, while other lines (e.g. the upper and lower part of the frame) suggest a window at an angle of some 45°, this can't be explained by some slight displacement of the window.

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Well, I figure the correct word isn't "confusion." "Diffusion" sounds plausible to me. Dragonfly? (Larry isn't here to ask; he's away from home for a few days.)

Circle of confusion is the correct term.

I'll take your word for it, but I don't understand it (why "confusion"?).

Ellen

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Not necessarily. The incorrect perspective might be evidence that a camera obscura was used. If something, perhaps a light breeze, had moved the window slightly while it was being traced, it might have gone unnoticed by Vermeer.

If the window had been moved slightly, the effect wouldn't have been as strong as it is now. If we try to explain the inconsistent perspective of the window by displacement of the window the difference must have been conspicuous to Vermeer as the lines he had already drawn would no longer coincide with the image of the CO, they would clearly deviate. And the differences are large: some of the lines (e.g. the lines of the two lowest lead strips) suggest a window that is almost parallel to the plane of the painting, while other lines (e.g. the upper and lower part of the frame) suggest a window at an angle of some 45°, this can't be explained by some slight displacement of the window.

So do you have a theory as to the incorrect perspective? Seems to me "fledgling attempt" would do the job. According to X-ray analysis (see the website pop-ups), he made at least two changes to the painting, one in the position of the girl and the other in adding the curtain to cover up a "roemer," originally in the painting. Maybe he just goofed.

Ellen

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A note to MSK:

Michael,

I've had in the back of mind for the last few days the desire to correct a comment re Jung wich you made in your post #40. That post is long and complicated, and you described it yourself as being thoughts in process. I have a yes/no feeling about it. I think you're aware of Rand's views not doing the job on many fronts pertaining to psychological issues (and others) but that you're still more inclined to want to use her wording or an approximation thereto than I am. I haven't the stamina for an attempt at detailed reply. However, I want to correct something you said about Jungian theory. You wrote:

I know you like Jung and I think some of his work is pertinent to my view. He presents the idea of innate subconscious symbols that exist in the mind irrespective of volition.

No, not specific symbols. That's Freud, who thought in terms of a universal translation scheme of symbol production. Jung's idea of "archetypes" is related to Freud's idea of dream symbolism but has important differences. Jung never came to any final view as to what he was talking about with the term "archetype." There are several stages, in the earliest of which -- before he even read Freud's Interpretation of Dreams -- he used the term "feeling-toned complexes." What he was getting at was the idea that there are innate organizing principles such that certain types of constellated symbols appear in response to certain types of life experience, for example symbols pertaining to a theme of "wholeness" or of "mother/mothering" (and "father/fathering"), basic themes such as "earth"/"sky" polarities, etc. He disagreed with Freud as to any symbol inherently meaning "X" -- and even Freud acknowledged that "sometimes a cigar is just a cigar." The differences between the two of them went deep, both theoretic and personal-attitude, with the result that there was a split as significant to the history of depth psychology as the Objectivist Original Split.

I consider Jung's theories of much more importance in regard to issues of consciousness and evolution than has thus far been understood by the academic world. But the subject is more enormous than I'm up to writing about in a discussion-list format. I just wanted to correct the idea that Jung believed in some sort of symbol code such that Symbol X means Y universally.

Ellen

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So do you have a theory as to the incorrect perspective? Seems to me "fledgling attempt" would do the job. According to X-ray analysis (see the website pop-ups), he made at least two changes to the painting, one in the position of the girl and the other in adding the curtain to cover up a "roemer," originally in the painting. Maybe he just goofed.

I think so. You can see how the mastery of using perspective in painting gradually increased over the centuries (RCR will probably come up with some examples), and although people like Vermeer and Rembrandt were already quite good at it they weren't always as perfect as we'd now expect, with our experience, for example of seeing many thousands of photos. Even now, how many people would have seen the inconsistency of the perspective if it hadn't been pointed out to them?

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pointillés

The enchanting ocular effects produced by the apparatus (camera obscura) no doubt stimulated his aesthetic interest to such an extent that he often replicated them in his art. Yet at the same time Vermeer modified these effects to suit his artistic vision, often, surprisingly, exaggerating them. This is especially true of Vermeer's famous pointillés, little dots of impasto (thick lumps of paint) applied to the surfaces of his pictures in order to imitate the halations inherent to the peripheries, of gleaming objects projected by the camera obscura. Although Vermeer likely used pointillés initially to duplicate what commonly could be seen through the camera obscura, he soon realized their independent aesthetic potential. For  instance, he could not have observed them on the bread depicted in The Milkmaid because the camera obscura will, as we have seen, only cause halations on projected objects that reflect light (such as metal or polished wood). Likewise, in the View of Delft Vermeer applied pointillés to the shadowy hulls of the boats moored in the water in an effort to suggest flickering reflections. Had these boats been viewed through a camera obscura, reflections would not have been present, as they were only visible in direct sunlight. It would thus be reductive to consider the View of Delft -or, for that matter, any painting by Vermeer - a simple transcription of the projected image seen by the artist through the camera obscura.

This rather undermines the often heard argument that Vermeer muast have used a camera obscura while he painted such dots, copying them from the image of the CO, as he painted also such dots when the CO wouldn't have shown them at all. The writer tries to circumvent this by suggesting that Vermeer originally copied them from the CO image, and later used them independently. That's quite a lot of speculation and I think other possibilities shouldn't be ignored. The use of small circles for highlights can also be explained by the relatively low contrast on a painting compared to reality. The impression of a tiny bright spot in reality is much stronger than a white spot of the correct size on the painting would give, so the only possibility to increase its effect is to make it larger and thicker (as I know from my own experience, it is a technique that almost automatically suggests itself.)

Now I won't deny the possibility that Vermeer used a camera obscura, but I think that the evidence that has been presented is not as strong as often is suggested and that evidence to the contrary is often ignored or too easily dismissed. What makes me also skeptical is that the proponents of that theory are in my opinion often a bit too eager to prove their hypothesis, ignoring the possibility of confirmation bias.

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pointillés

[....] Likewise, in the View of Delft Vermeer applied pointillés to the shadowy hulls of the boats moored in the water in an effort to suggest flickering reflections. Had these boats been viewed through a camera obscura, reflections would not have been present, as they were only visible in direct sunlight. It would thus be reductive to consider the View of Delft -or, for that matter, any painting by Vermeer - a simple transcription of the projected image seen by the artist through the camera obscura.

This rather undermines the often heard argument that Vermeer muast have used a camera obscura while he painted such dots, copying them from the image of the CO, as he painted also such dots when the CO wouldn't have shown them at all. The writer tries to circumvent this by suggesting that Vermeer originally copied them from the CO image, and later used them independently. That's quite a lot of speculation and I think other possibilities shouldn't be ignored. The use of small circles for highlights can also be explained by the relatively low contrast on a painting compared to reality. The impression of a tiny bright spot in reality is much stronger than a white spot of the correct size on the painting would give, so the only possibility to increase its effect is to make it larger and thicker (as I know from my own experience, it is a technique that almost automatically suggests itself.)

Now I won't deny the possibility that Vermeer used a camera obscura, but I think that the evidence that has been presented is not as strong as often is suggested and that evidence to the contrary is often ignored or too easily dismissed. What makes me also skeptical is that the proponents of that theory are in my opinion often a bit too eager to prove their hypothesis, ignoring the possibility of confirmation bias.

Entertaining that I find this comment from you when I sign on, since I signed on specifically because I was thinking, wait a minute, there's something wrong with the optical picture in the idea that he used a camera obscura for "A Girl Reading a Letter...." Am I correct that if he were looking at the depicted scene using a camera obscura, the reflection in the pane of glass wouldn't show in the image he saw? (Similarly to, see the quote from the website above: "Had these boats been viewed through a camera obscura, reflections would not have been present [...].")

Ellen

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Even now, how many people would have seen the inconsistency of the perspective if it hadn't been pointed out to them?

I wouldn't have, although I do feel that the whole gestalt of the girl in relationship to the window looks "just not quite right." Partly what was bothering me in the reproduction Christian linked was because of missing shadow. The scene looks more correct to me in the reproduction you posted. But it still looks "vaguely wrong." You've been teaching me to start noticing what vanishing points are doing when I get that "this is off somehow" feeling. ;-)

Ellen

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Entertaining that I find this comment from you when I sign on, since I signed on specifically because I was thinking, wait a minute, there's something wrong with the optical picture in the idea that he used a camera obscura for "A Girl Reading a Letter...." Am I correct that if he were looking at the depicted scene using a camera obscura, the reflection in the pane of glass wouldn't show in the image he saw? (Similarly to, see the quote from the website above: "Had these boats been viewed through a camera obscura, reflections would not have been present [...].")

I think the reflection in the glass would have shown in the CO image with that angle and the brightness of the face, but that's just a feeling, I don't have enough data to be sure. For example, how bright was the image? The CO was supposed to have a lens, but what was the diameter of the lens and what was its focal length?

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I think the reflection in the glass would have shown in the CO image with that angle and the brightness of the face, but that's just a feeling, I don't have enough data to be sure. For example, how bright was the image? The CO was supposed to have a lens, but what was the diameter of the lens and what was its focal length?

I don't know the details of the sort of lens(es) used. The material on the Vermeer website just gives a general description:

http://essentialvermeer.20m.com/camera_obscura/co_two.htm

(The page has drawings of the apparatus, but I can't pick up the drawings.)

"The principle of the camera obscura is as simple as it seems magical even today. The windowless box or chamber has a small hole in one site and a white side of wall opposite the side with the hole. Light entering the camera obscura through the hole projects onto the screen wall, and (following the laws of optics) produces and upside-down and reversed image. Most camera obscuras were fitted with a lens in the hole to focus the image. In portable form, the camera obscura became popular for recording landscape and city views. Using a system of lenses and mirrors that allowed  the image to appear on a translucent screen, draftsmen could trace the views to produce early versions of tourist snapshots. The rooms-sized version of the camera obscura was useful to scientists interested in the behavior of light." 1 A few camera obscuras of this sort can still be found near popular tourist resorts.

[....]

The image of the camera obscura had  two particular properties which made them quite different from reality. The image was projected upside down and  the luminosity was in general rather weak. This was due to the small aperture, usually no wider than a finger, which emitted only the minimum of light.  This could be remedied by a larger aperture but the image was more blurred, unless a lens was mounted in the aperture as was the case in the sixteenth-century.

 

There were probably two kinds of camera obscuras available to Vermeer. The booth type (right) is a sort of closed box fitted with some arrangement of len(es) and/or mirrors large enough for an observer to be seated  inside. The principle advantage is that, because the space is enclosed securely, only the light which is filtered through the lens aperture enters the booth. Thus, the image is particularly clean and brilliant. The second portable kind can be seen in the illustration above. Obviously, such a device can be carried comfortably under one's arm, and such mobility permits exploration of a variety of environments. However, the image tends to smaller and no matter how well constructed, the surrounding light always interferes, creating a "washed out" effect  to some degree.

While each type of camera has limitations, each has its strengths. For example, if a painter places the portable camera on a table in the proximity of his easel, he can comfortably consult the image without interrupting the painting process. Inside the booth type, every nuance of the projected image can be examined and even traced in great detail but there is very little light by which the painter could actually see to work on his canvas, not to mention finding room in the small area even to fit the equipment necessary to paint.

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Edited by Ellen Stuttle
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Entertaining that I find this comment from you when I sign on, since I signed on specifically because I was thinking, wait a minute, there's something wrong with the optical picture in the idea that he used a camera obscura for "A Girl Reading a Letter...." Am I correct that if he were looking at the depicted scene using a camera obscura, the reflection in the pane of glass wouldn't show in the image he saw? (Similarly to, see the quote from the website above: "Had these boats been viewed through a camera obscura, reflections would not have been present [...].")

I think the reflection in the glass would have shown in the CO image with that angle and the brightness of the face, but that's just a feeling, I don't have enough data to be sure. For example, how bright was the image? The CO was supposed to have a lens, but what was the diameter of the lens and what was its focal length?

I have thought all week about the ongoing discussion about Vermeer and, between periods of work in the studio, have jotted down some notes on it and other topics on this forum.

Vermeer isn't one of my favorite artists. I didn't see the retrospective at the National Gallery, but have seen in person 6 or so of his paintings, including Girl Reading a Letter at an Open Window. Knowing the enthusiasm his paintings create in millions of admirers worldwide, I have stood before them and looked and looked, but never really "gotten" them in the delightful and fulfilling way so many people enjoy. I can see the wonderful light, the stillness, the great thought and mind-boggling technique that went into their creation, the values of Dutch mercantile society, the general, although not complete, lack of religious content, and so on, but Caravaggio's Basket of Fruit gets my blood going more passionately than a Vermeer portrait. For paintings with real people I suggest either of his portraits of Knights Templar he did on Malta. There is seldom barely anyone at home in Vermeer's figures, even in his portraits of women. His people neither breath, nor sweat, nor make love. They rarely experience strong emotions, and when they do, the artist stifles them. Seldom more than compositional devices, they exist as mannequins, like those in a tableax by di Chirico.

I also have wondered how to explain to some of you what I wrote a cople of weeks ago about what I get from a Mondrian. When I spoke of his abstractions conveying some recklessness, it's as both a generalist and an artist. At some level he is projecting philosophic values that I love. I wish I could be more specific than that, and have no idea if that is among his goals as a painter. It is more easy to explain some of the recklessness when I look through my painter's eyes. As a comparison; in a Sumi-e brush painting one of the very admirable qualities one may see is the ability of the artist to get it right in one shot on one piece of paper. To me, that often shows some recklessness and great courage, and appreciating those qualities is one of the joys of viewing Sumi-e. When I see Mondrian put lines together so wonderfully and with such uneasy and yet perfect harmony, and when I see the process he went through to get what he realized, I see some of the same recklessness. I also see an absolutely great reductive intellect at work. And the paintings radiate grace, more so to me than Degas' wonderful paintings of young dancers. The difference in this example is, of course, between how the thing was done and the subject matter.

I can't stand the little signs next to work in museums trying to tell you what the artists' meanings and messages are, according to some curator. These days they are all along the lines of Marxist political correctness, telling us how the artist is conveying a subtle, but devastating, critique of capitalism or commenting on the nauseatilng hegemony of Rembrandt and other dead white males. Roger Kimball does a great job of eviscerating the pc within the art world in his book, The Rape of the Masters. Most of the junk written on the cards next to paintings today is repulsive social engineering.

The lineage of Vermeer is discussed by Hilton Kramer in The Triumph of Modernism. He talks about how the line that extended back through the Renaissance and, in his words, included Giorgione, Watteau, Gauguin and Matisse, among many artists, was derailed in the 20th Century. He wonders how the century would have been different in general and art-wise if Matisse had won the struggle for leadership of the avant-garde in Paris in 1907 and 1908 and prevailed for decades, rather than Picasso.

Kramer writes, discussing Matisse's Le Bonheur de Vivre and Picasso's Les Desmoiselles de Avignon, that Matisse "drew upon a long tradition of European painting", while Picasso "turned to the alien traditions of primitive art to create a netherworld of strange gods and violent emotions." He goes on to talk about how Picasso "unleashed a vein of feeling that was to have immense consequences for the art and culture of the modern area", while "Matisse's ambitions were more in the realm of aesthetic pleasure."

He says, "there was opened up, in the very first decade of the century and in the work of its two greatest masters, the chasm that has continued to divide the art of the modern era down to our own time." Matisse was aligned with the great western tradition, and Picasso with African art. For some of the connections between Vermeer and Matisse, check out Matisse's figures within rooms. How different things might have been had his spirit prevailed.

Here is something amazing that Kramer writes about another subject of this forum, the great Kazimir Malevich. He says the artist compared Lenin to Christ and recommended "that his body be placed 'in a cube, as if in eternity,'" and that every worker should have a cube at home as a constant reminder of the lessons of Leninism. Get this: he believed that the cube in paintings would create patterns that would help build a new Soviet society! Kramer writes that the combining of Communism and the Russian avant-garde created "one of the most bizarre intellectual alliances in the annals of the modern era: an art movement that owed much to the irrationalist, anti-materialist doctrines of the occult [P.D. Ouspensky], and was empowered by the Leninist leaders of the Revolution to create a new culture in the name of dialectical materialism." Kramer says he doesn't know whether to laugh or cry, and that Malevich "had a certain nuttiness." No kidding!

It's fascinating to think that a beautiful art of triangles, circles and rectangles which, believe it or not, was meant, in part, by its creator to help spread communism, may well have been the art admired by the young Ayn Rand. Perhaps her later vitriolic denunciations of abstract art came after she became aware of the so-called ideological basis of Supremetism. And the early abstract expressionists in New York City were lefties, which she probably knew. Thus, the evils of abstaction!

I am glad to have found this forum. I don't have a lot of time for it, but greatly enjoy reading the contents and commenting on them when I can.

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Jim,

I'm glad that you've been thinking about the Vermeer discussion and writing down "some notes on it and other topics on this forum." I like reading your remarks when you have time to post.

I don't know much about art history, and I'm learning a lot from various links provided and comments made. I hope you'll be able to figure out how to post links to pictures. I'd like to see selections of the paintings you refer to.

Caravaggio I believe you've mentioned before as a painter you particularly like. I don't have visual images in mind of his work, though I expect I'd recognize some of his paintings if I saw them. I gather that he was earlier than Vermeer (though maybe overlapping Vermeer) from this comment which shows up as a pop-up when the cursor is positioned on the curtain over the window in "A Girl Reading a Letter...":

http://essentialvermeer.20m.com/catalogue/...open_window.htm

The dramatic lighting, crude subject matter and bold arrangements of Caravaggio's paintings had a profound impact on many European painters. The Italian artist's influence was also felt in Netherlands and in particular on the school of Utrecht with whom Vermeer seems to have shared some artistic interests. One critic believes that Vermeer's crimson curtain with its sinuous folding would be very hard to find outside the paintings of Caravaggio (see the detail above of Caravaggio's Death of Saint Ann). Vermeer's mother-in-law Maria Thins had family ties with a noted Utrecht artist Bloemaert and possessed a discreet collection paintings by Utrecht artists which appear on the background wall of some of his paintings.

You wrote of Vermeer's figures:

There is seldom barely anyone at home in Vermeer's figures, even in his portraits of women. His people neither breath, nor sweat, nor make love. They rarely experience strong emotions, and when they do, the artist stifles them. Seldom more than compositional devices, they exist as mannequins, like those in a tableax by di Chirico.

I don't have the feeling that there's no one home in his figures; instead I have a feeling of persons in an absorbed inner state. It's a state in which I spend a fair amount of time myself. I think this is part of why I like Vermeer. I do tend to like paintings in which there's a sense of significant quietude. But there are certainly other types of paintings I like as well, including ones that convey a lot of motion. For instance Turner paintings. Or another which comes to mind is one called "Horse Fair." I can't think who that's by. It has both strong compositional features, with the elliptical arrangement, and a powerful sense of vitality and movement.

Re Mondrian, I'm intrigued by your description of his abstractions as "conveying some recklessness" and by your comparison to "Sumi-e brush painting." I feel that I understand what you're talking about in regard to the Sumi-e brush painting. And from the few Mondrians which have been posted on this website, I can see how his work might give that feeling. Unfortunately, I don't recall if I've seen others of his paintings.

You quote Hilton Kramer as writing:

He says, "there was opened up, in the very first decade of the century and in the work of its two greatest masters, the chasm that has continued to divide the art of the modern era down to our own time." Matisse was aligned with the great western tradition, and Picasso with African art.

And yet, wasn't it Matisse with whom Picasso had a special artistic back-and-forth relationship in which some of their work dialogued, reflecting each other's? We had a Jung Assoc. lecture about Picasso's artistic interface with...I'm just about sure it was Matisse. Whoever it was, Picasso said upon that person's death that the one person who could fully understand what he, Picasso, was doing was gone.

Kramer writes that the combining of Communism and the Russian avant-garde created "one of the most bizarre intellectual alliances in the annals of the modern era: an art movement that owed much to the irrationalist, anti-materialist doctrines of the occult [P.D. Ouspensky], and was empowered by the Leninist leaders of the Revolution to create a new culture in the name of dialectical materialism."

That connects to something which -- ever since I returned from a sojourn in Budapest (and briefly in Vienna) last August -- I've been periodically mulling over with the sense of having glimpsed hints of a mystery. We were in Budapest for an international symmetry conference. A number of Hungarians, surprise, surprise, given the convenient locale, were attending. Also a number of Russians. There are all these undercurrents between the Hungarians and the Russians, echoes of the post-WWII political situation with the Communists as rulers of Hungary. A certain amount of resentments still exist, although the Russian symmetrists were underground anti-Communists, as were their Hungarian colleagues.

The person who was prime organizer of the symmetry conference is a Hungarian physicist who's also a passionate lover of art (and of literature). He has a great deal of knowledge about the various art movements of 20th-century Europe, and he's long had connections within the art world. Near the end of the conference, one afternoon there was a lecture/art display he'd arranged featuring the work of a Hungarian and his disciples. This Hungarian, an old man now, had learned originally from someone in Russia -- and I think the someone might have been Malevich.

The Hungarian -- I've forgotten his name -- had formed an art...well, what to call it: school/community -- "temporary commune"; the students would live there for the summer. Each would have a "theme," a project pertaining to a prime shape and/or color. There was a lot of mystique of the shapes and/or colors. There was an intense absorption and commitment; devoted disciples. And I got this feeling of some sort of underground currents such that although the surface rhetoric sounded ok in Communist terms, beneath was a code language of dissent.

Naturally, not understanding Hungarian (or Russian), I don't know what was being said in conversations around and on the sidelines of the formal presentation which was being translated into English (English being the official language of the conference). But I felt that I was glimpsing a world which Americans could barely understand which the Hungarians and Russians knew the secrets of. And that in some strange way the art mystique was recognized by them as connected to those secrets.

Ellen

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Notes on "Disks and circles-of-confusion"

These terms are generally used in within the context of mathematical theories of optics (and by extension, theories of perspective). A quick google search revealed discussions in relation to electron microscopy, photography, and Vermeer.

Disks and circles-of-confusion are areas (respective to objects or images) of diffuse focus (out of focus), and when points of light are seen out of focus they become star-like in appearance (try squinting at a lamp-post to experience the effect directly). The concepts are further refined in optical theory by mathematical descriptions of the relationships between light, lenses, objects, and flat, image rendering surfaces (e.g. film, or canvas).

Technically, I think, when talking about Vermeer's paintings themselves (images), it is more accurate to say the "circles-of-confusion", while using "disks" to describe the optical theory which accounts for why he saw the distortion in the first place. In other words, disks-of-confusion (a relative area in geometric space) result in circles-of-confusion (a discrete, resultant area of an image).

For a more in-depth explanation see below:

http://www.trenholm.org/hmmerk/TIAOOFe.pdf

Another concept needed in our study is a measure of how much an image is blurred by being out of focus. The standard, traditional notion is the circle-of-confusion. Figure 5 helps to explain. If the object is a tiny point source of light—a light shining through a pin-hole, for example—the cone of light falling on the lens will be focused on the image behind (or in front of) the film. If the film is not exactly where the image is—if there is a focus error e—the image at the film itself will be a small disk of light, not a point. The small disk-shaped image is called the circle-of-confusion.

fig5.jpg

[snip]

The Disk-of-Confusion

Suppose that we have a camera with a lens of focal length f and that the working diameter of the lens is d. The working diameter is the apparent diameter of the lens opening as seen looking into the front of the lens. If the lens has an automatic diaphragm, we assume that it is closed down to its working aperture. The working f-number, N, is thus about f/d.

We focus the lens at distance D measured from the front of the lens to whatever object is to be in perfect focus. In essence our lens "sees" the world through cones of rays where the base of a ray cone is the opening of the lens diaphragm, and the apex of the cone is at some point which is in the plane of perfect focus. Beyond the plane of perfect focus, the ray cone expands again. At any distance other than D, the lens "sees" the world as if it were made up of disks having a diameter equal to the diameter of the cone at that distance. At a distance X, where X lies between the lens and the apex of the cone, the diameter of the disk is d(D-X)/D. At another distance Y, beyond the apex of the cone, the diameter of the disk becomes d(Y-D)/D. The size of the disk is directly proportional to the distance either side of the point of exact focus, and to the working diameter of our lens. Any object smaller than the disk will not be resolved. If a small object is bright enough, it may appear as a spot the same size as the disk. If the small object is dark, it may be missed altogether. Any subject larger than the disk will be imaged as though it were made up of a family of disks all of about the same size.

Let's think of it another way. Suppose we have in our camera, located on the film, a very tiny but bright source of light: a very tiny "star". That star will project its light through our camera lens (acting now as a projector). Wherever that starlight falls on a flat surface we will see a disk of light. The size of that disk of light will depend upon where the surface is relative to where the lens is and where it is focused. If the surface happens to be right where the lens is focused, we will see only a tiny bright point of light. A little ways in front of or behind where the lens is focused, we would see a small disk of light. The size of that disk of light obeys the formulae of the previous paragraph. We'll call this disk the disk-of-confusion. This disk-of-confusion is an exact analog of the circle-of-confusion used in the previous chapter to describe depth-of-field. The disk lies in the object field; the circle-of-confusion lies on the film—that is, in the image field.

RCR

Edited by R. Christian Ross
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Interesting. I've never heard the term "disks of confusion," and I've worked with countless professional photographers and technicians using some very advanced pre-digital special effects techniques. The effect seen in Vermeer's paintings was generally called focal blur or diffusion, and was often used as a soft-edge masking or shading technique. Thanks for the info, Christian.

I have no time at present, but I'm hoping to geek out sometime soon on "A Girl Reading a Letter at an Open Window" by building a simple 3D simulation to see if Dragonfly is right that Vermeer's errors in perspective can't be explained by slight movements of the window.

J

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I know that mostly visual considerations are going on here, but I just made a post on the Shmurak thread in the "Psychology" section that has bearing on the meaning of art. I think there is something here.

Although discussion on this topic is slow, this particular seed is deep and its roots are growing in my own mind. I had an insight at Blockbuster the other day and I want to register it here as a placemark for further development. I believe that the work on affects presented here will ultimately result in whole new approach to defining art. I noticed this on passing the horror film section. I though, "Why do horror films appeal so much to people?" Here was Rand's view ("What is Romanticism?" from The Romantic Manifesto, p. 113):
The Horror Story, in either variant, represents the metaphysical projection of a single human emotion: blind, stark, primitive terror. Those who live in such terror seem to find a momentary sense of relief or control in the process of reproducing that which they fear—as savages find a sense of mastery over their enemies by reproducing them in the form of dolls. Strictly speaking, this is not a metaphysical, but a purely psychological projection; such writers are not presenting their view of life; they are not looking at life; what they are saying is that they feel as if life consisted of werewolves, Draculas and Frankenstein monsters. In its basic motivation, this school belongs to psychopathology more than to esthetics.

Sorry. I can't go there. I just can't imagine that a consensual multi-billion dollar entertainment industry was built on people exercising their right to be psychos.

Here are the affects from Steve's article in JARS:

Interest-Excitement

Enjoyment-Joy

Surprise-Startle

Distress-Anguish

Anger-Rage

Fear-Terror

Shame (Deflation)

Disgust

Dissmell (getting away from something rejected)

Here are the film genres according to a Wikipedia article:

The following are some examples of well-established genres in film. They are often further defined to form subgenres, and can also be combined to form hybrid genres.

Setting

  • Crime - places its character within realm of criminal activity
  • Film noir - portrays its principal characters in a nihilistic and existentialist realm or manner
  • Historical - taking place in the past
  • Science fiction - placement of characters in an alternative reality, typically in the future or in space
  • Sports - sporting events and locations pertaining to a given sport
  • War - battlefields and locations pertaining to a time of war
  • Westerns - colonial period to modern era of the western United States

Mood

  • Action - generally involves a moral interplay between "good" and "bad" played out through violence or physical force
  • Adventure - involving danger, risk, and/or chance, often with a high degree of fantasy.
  • Comedy - intended to provoke laughter
  • Drama - mainly focuses on character development
  • Fantasy - speculative fiction outside reality (i.e. myth, legend)
  • Horror - intended to provoke fear in audience
  • Mystery - the progression from the unknown to the known by discovering and solving a series of clues
  • Romance - dwelling on the elements of romantic love
  • Thrillers - intended to provoke excitement and/or nervous tension into audience

Format

  • Animation - the rapid display of a sequence of 2-D artwork or model positions in order to create an illusion of movement.

Target audience

  • Children's film — films for young children; as opposed to a family film, no special effort is made to make the film attractive for other audiences.
  • Family film — intended to be attractive for people of all ages and suitable for viewing by a young audience. Examples of this are Disney films.
  • Adult film — intended to be viewed only by an adult audience, content may include violence, disturbing themes, obscene language, or explicit sexual behavior. Adult film may also be used as a synonym for pornographic film.

This discussion actually belongs to aesthetics, but I want to register it here. Some of the mood genres like horror and thrillers seem to be much more geared toward prompting the audience to experience affects on a very primitive level than in presenting a view of life. Even Rand noticed this in the quote above.

Michael

Ah, Michael, it gives me great joy to see how deeply this seed has been planted within you!

This discussion actually belongs to aesthetics, but I want to register it here. Some of the mood genres like horror and thrillers seem to be much more geared toward prompting the audience to experience affects on a very primitive level than in presenting a view of life.">>

It was Tomkins's position that affect and cognition are equally important to a well-lived life. And affect serves many functions -- it is the force that brings material to consciousness, it is the basic experience of "good for me" or "bad for me" (and therefore the innate valuing system).

If we define art as that aspect of human experience the purpose of which is to highlight aspects of existence and how they make us feel -- affect is a necessary component of art.

Tomkins identified four innate goals all humans have in the realm of affect --

to maximize the positive affects

to minimize the negative affects,

to maximize the experience of affect

to gain knowledge that will allow for the attainment of the first three goals.

It is the third one that is most salient in art -- art has the aim and ability to move us to feel certain ways about certain things.

I believe, as I think you do, that affect provides a big piece of the answer to the question of how art works.

Steve

I think art does not necessarily make us minimize the negative affects with films like horror movies, but it does allow us to bring out those negative affects in a controlled and safe environment.

It would be interesting to do an analysis of Atlas Shrugged from the point of view of the affects she portrays and the different emotions she presents. One of the powers of Rand's fiction is her focus on affects and emotions, regardless of what she says in the speeches.

Michael

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I know you like Jung and I think some of his work is pertinent to my view. He presents the idea of innate subconscious symbols that exist in the mind irrespective of volition.

No, not specific symbols. That's Freud, who thought in terms of a universal translation scheme of symbol production. Jung's idea of "archetypes" is related to Freud's idea of dream symbolism but has important differences. Jung never came to any final view as to what he was talking about with the term "archetype." There are several stages, in the earliest of which -- before he even read Freud's Interpretation of Dreams -- he used the term "feeling-toned complexes." What he was getting at was the idea that there are innate organizing principles such that certain types of constellated symbols appear in response to certain types of life experience, for example symbols pertaining to a theme of "wholeness" or of "mother/mothering" (and "father/fathering"), basic themes such as "earth"/"sky" polarities, etc. He disagreed with Freud as to any symbol inherently meaning "X" -- and even Freud acknowledged that "sometimes a cigar is just a cigar." The differences between the two of them went deep, both theoretic and personal-attitude, with the result that there was a split as significant to the history of depth psychology as the Objectivist Original Split.

Ellen,

I have read, and read and reread and reread this and I still can't get my mind around one thing. If an archetype is not a symbol, what is it?

My observation was not as specific as proposing a Freudian interpretation versus a Jungian one. I am more of a layman on those two than that. (The only book by Jung I have ever read was years ago, and that was partially. It was Man and His Symbols, and even then, only one chapter is by Jung. The other chapters are by people connected with him, Henderson, Franz, Jaffé and Jacobi. I have read nothing by Freud except excerpts now and then.)

My observation was within the context of the tabula-rasa stance of traditional Objectivism. Regardless of whether a specific image exists/develops with growth innately in the mind (Freud, if I understood correctly), or if it is a general organizing principle that automatically generates an image (Jung, if I understood correctly), the point was that these things occur without volition and they can be found in art. Part of the idea I was trying to convey is that art validly covers both volitional and non-volitional mental activities as part of its message and/or reason for being.

Michael

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Ellen,

I have read, and read and reread and reread [the passage by me quoted in the post above] and I still can't get my mind around one thing. If an archetype is not a symbol, what is it?

That which the symbol is a symbol of. A symbol refers to something other than itself. Jung thought of the "archetypes" as organizing principles of the psychic life which produce symbols as means of expressing those principles. E.g., suppose one was trying to express "wholeness." The circle is a common way in which a feeling of "wholeness" is expressed. But the circle isn't itself that feeling; it's employed (in this context; we aren't talking mathematics here) as a symbolic means of expressing the feeling.

Possibly it will help if you analogize to Chomsky's theories of deep linguistics, although this analogy is problematic if carried too far; I'm raising it just to indicate the difference between organizing principle and specific symbol. Chomsky wasn't saying that people are born knowing specific languages, but instead that there are innate organizing principles in accordance with which particular languages are produced.

My observation was not as specific as proposing a Freudian interpretation versus a Jungian one. I am more of a layman on those two than that. (The only book by Jung I have ever read was years ago, and that was partially. It was Man and His Symbols, and even then, only one chapter is by Jung. The other chapters are by people connected with him, Henderson, Franz, Jaffé and Jacobi. I have read nothing by Freud except excerpts now and then.)

My observation was within the context of the tabula-rasa stance of traditional Objectivism. Regardless of whether a specific image exists/develops with growth innately in the mind (Freud, if I understood correctly), or if it is a general organizing principle that automatically generates an image (Jung, if I understood correctly), the point was that these things occur without volition and they can be found in art. Part of the idea I was trying to convey is that art validly covers both volitional and non-volitional mental activities as part of its message and/or reason for being.

I agree with the point about these things occurring without volition and being operative in art.

Ellen

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Edited by Ellen Stuttle
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Addendum: Rand herself abundantly used symbols of a type Jung would have called "archetypal": the whole Prometheus theme, the chain, Wyatt's torch... The Fountainhead...

She didn't invent the meanings she played on in using those symbols, the reasons why they reach deep in their evocational power. She was tapped into levels she was making use of -- and not fully consciously. No one could be fully conscious of the depth roots of such symbols.

Ellen

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