The chapter firstly points
out that 'reality' in fine art is an illusion, then explores Gombrich's theory
that the illusion of reality is communicated by a series of learned conventions
and artistic devices.
H&N use the examples of
da Vinci's The Virgin and the Child with St Anne and
St John the Baptist, Vermeer's The
Kitchen Maid, and Monet's The
Gare St Lazare as three examples of paintings that we can all
identify as 'realistic' in the sense that we can identify with because it
reflects the way we see things ourselves, rather than being absolute
photographic style likenesses.
On the one hand, if
everyone drew or painted 'realistically', the work of all of them should look
pretty much the same. But if we accept, on the other hand, that everyone sees
the world differently, then we should be unable to identify 'styles' of groups
of artists.
There must, therefore, be a
middle way - a recognition that 'reality' as a goal is a purpose of painting on
the one hand, but that the skill of a painter must to a degree be learned and
copied.
Early artists were unable
to draw with reality - e.g. the Egyptians who drew two dimensional images with
feet sticking sideways, hence the parody of the 'Sand Dance'.
This continued into Middle
Ages in European paintings such as The Road to
Cavalry by Martini.
The twin problem of why
early artists got reality 'wrong' and why they got it worn 'together' in a
unitary style was tackled by Gombrich in Art and
Illusion: 'the riddle of style' as he called it.
Gombrich theorized that
Egyptians and Middle Ages artists were clouded by what they knew as
opposed to what they saw. It was only when
the concentration was reversed and artists started to paint what they saw that
art became more real.
He argued further that this
was a process of evolving artistic conventions or 'schemata' by which the
illusion of reality could be achieved. 'Knowing and seeing' is replaced by
'making and matching'. All paintings, according to Gombrich, 'owe more to other
paintings than they owe to direct observation'.
Painting cannot simply be
learning to see otherwise we would not need to learn to paint (or to take a
photograph but you can see here how photography does become more about the
seeing because the technological part is so much more accessible than
artistry).
Painting was originally
taught on a rigid system of master and apprentices - Durer for example - but
then some of the apprentices would further themselves by self-teaching. Not
easy in Middle Ages when there was no way of spreading practice widely.
Alberti's book Della Pittura
was the first that expounded a theory of perspective.
Once you realise how
important the theory was, you can see its influence in Italian Renaissance
works, many of which contained tiles.
Durer used a simple method
of embracing the schemata developed by the Italians: he went there and later
wrote and printed his own books in German, thus imparting much of the valuable
acrrued knowledge of the Italians to north Europeans.
Art developed into
education under Joshua Reynolds in late eighteenth century Britain. he saw
artistic talent as being acquired by 'long application and training', and idea
more recently enunciated as the 10,000 hours rule for almost anything. One is
reminded of Arnold Palmer's famous dictum on his success in golf. When asked if
there was an element of luck in the sport, he replied: "The harder I
practise, the luckier I become."
The problem with Gombrich's
approach is that it remains Eurocentric and presupposes an historical
trajectory towards the ultimate goal of the illusion of reality . It does not
help to understand the Post Impressionists who eschewed reality in the
photographic sense. Further afield, the illusion of reality has never been
important. Art in other societies - native Americans, Polynesians, Incas to
quote just three examples - is symbolic.
Take photography. Because
the medium guarantees reproduction of reality, there could be no style if the
goal was simply that. But we can discern style so there must be more to it.
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