Learning to Look

Learning to Look – an introduction:

This section of your book is a guide to looking at and describing art and an introduction to the study of Art History.  You’ll probably want to return to this section over the course of the semester to revisit terminology and ideas as your knowledge and experience grows.

Why Art Matters (why look at art?)

URL: https://youtu.be/0OloYD_kSbU

Source: Dr. Steven Zucker and Dr. Beth Harris, “Why art matters (why look at art?),” in Smarthistory, November 25, 2015, accessed November 8, 2024, https://smarthistory.org/why-look-at-art/.

Elements of Art and Architecture

Line, Shape and Form, Color, Space, Texture, Surface and Depth, Architectural Plans – scroll to the bottom of this article to see a terminology list.    

Line

Albrecht Dürer, The Four Horsemen, from The Apocalypse,1498, woodcut, 38.7 x 27.9 cm (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)

Albrecht Dürer, The Four Horsemen, from The Apocalypse,1498, woodcut, 38.7 x 27.9 cm (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)

Line is the most basic visual element. Lines can be used to define shapes and figures, but also to indicate motion, emotion, and other elements.

 

Detail, Albrecht Dürer, The Four Horsemen, from The Apocalypse,1498, woodcut, 38.7 x 27.9 cm (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)

Detail, Albrecht Dürer, The Four Horsemen, from The Apocalypse,1498, woodcut, 38.7 x 27.9 cm (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)

Contour lines and hatching

In a woodblock print of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by Albrecht Dürer, contour lines — lines that define shapes — are used to mark the outside of all of the elements of the image.

The outline of the hat on one of the horsemen, for example, is clearly made by a few black contour lines. This simple device is so effective that it is hard to remember that there is no hat here, only a few black marks on a white page.

Note, though, that lines are also used to show shading – the shadows caused when light hits one side of an object, leaving the other in shadow. On the hat, for example, the closely spaced lines, called hatching, show that the left side of his hat is in a shadow. This also helps the hat to look more three-dimensional, giving it a sense of form.

 

Roy Lichtenstein, In the Car, 1963, oil and magna on canvas, 172.00 x 203.50 cm (National Galleries, Scotland, © Estate of Roy Lichtenstein/DACS 2018)

Roy Lichtenstein, In the Car, 1963, oil and magna on canvas, 172.00 x 203.50 cm (National Galleries, Scotland, © Estate of Roy Lichtenstein/DACS 2018)

Contour lines outline all the figures and forms in the image, creating the illusion of shading and form. In addition, there are horizontal lines in the background. While these create shading, they also help create the sense that the riders are moving rapidly from left to right. Motion lines may be familiar to you from comic strips, but they appear in all sorts of work.

Organic and inorganic (geometric) lines

In the Dürer print, we can also divide the lines into organic and inorganic (or geometric) lines (see the section on shape for more on organic and inorganic). Organic lines are loose, curving lines like those found in nature. In the Dürer print, the lines of the horses’ manes and tails, the figures’ hair, and the ruffled clouds are all organic. Inorganic lines are generally straight or perfectly curving lines, like those found in geometry. In this image, most of the lines are organic, but the horizontal lines in the background are inorganic.

Leonardo da Vinci, The Virgin of the Rocks, c. 1483-86, oil on panel, 199 x 122 cm (Louvre, Paris)

Leonardo da Vinci, The Virgin of the Rocks, c. 1483-86, oil on panel, 199 x 122 cm (Louvre, Paris)

Implied lines

We can also look for implied lines. These are not actually drawn, but we can connect the dots (literally or figuratively) to create the lines in our minds. Leonardo da Vinci’s Virgin of the Rocks contains wonderful examples of implied lines.

Here, the implied lines are sight lines, which guide us throughout the image. These help us know where to look, and show us what is important in the painting. Follow the gazes of the figures as they look and point at one another. The angel in the red cape to the right looks out at us, and then points at the infant John the Baptist, at the left. He looks at the infant Jesus, who in turn looks back again at him. Above, Mary looks down at Jesus, and also gestures toward him with her hand.

Detail with implied lines, Leonardo da Vinci, The Virgin of the Rocks, c. 1483-86, oil on panel, 199 x 122 cm (Louvre, Paris)

Basically, once we make it into the space of the painting by meeting the gaze of the angel, we become locked in a cycle of movement between the holy figures, guided by their sight lines.

Shape and Form

Geometric shapes

Piet Mondrian is an excellent example of an artist who used geometric shapes almost exclusively. In his Composition with Yellow, Blue and Red (1937-42), Mondrian, uses straight vertical and horizontal black lines to divide his canvas into rectangles of primary colors.

Piet Mondrian, Composition with Yellow, Blue and Red, 1937–42, oil on canvas, 72.7 x 69.2 cm (Tate)

Piet Mondrian, Composition with Yellow, Blue and Red, 1937–42, oil on canvas, 72.7 x 69.2 cm (Tate, CC-BY-NC-ND 3.0)

Nothing here gives the impression of the natural world.

Organic Shapes

On the other hand, Maori facial tattooing, known as moko, uses primarily organic shapes. They are still, like Mondrian’s shapes, generally abstract — they do not depict any clear images — but the shapes are like those found in nature, curving, twisting, and spiraling across their wearers’ faces. The edges of the lines and shapes are crisp, but the forms are curving and sensuous.

Moko(photo: James Heremaia, license information)

Moko (photo: James Heremaia, license information)

"Ancestor
Korwar), late 19th–early 20th century, Indonesia, Papua Province (Irian Jaya), Cenderawasih Bay region, in northwest New Guinea, wood and glass beads, 26 cm high (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)

Form

Form is actual, three-dimensional shape, though it is often used to describe the illusion of three-dimensionality, as well. Like shape, form can be geometric or organic.

A small korwar — a representation of an ancestor — from Irian Jaya, New Guinea, mixes these form types well. While the figure is predominantly geometric, with the head shaped like a cube and the nose an arrow pointing downward, the curving organic lines around the eyes soften this effect a bit.

Color

Colours of the visible light spectrum

Colors of the visible light spectrum (image: Meganbeckett27, CC BY-SA 3.0)

Artists can use colors for many reasons other than to simply duplicate reality including setting moods and highlighting importance.

The colors of the world can be divided in different ways. When we use the term “color” casually, what we usually mean is hue. Hues appear on the visible spectrum. On the spectrum, we see the pure hues. These can be divided into primary, secondary and tertiary colors, as on this color wheel.

Color wheel (image: public domain)

Color wheel (image: public domain)

Primary, secondary and tertiary colors

Primary colors are, for most art media, red, yellow and blue (the exception is the additive color system, which is used in computer screens, theater lighting and the like, and has red, green, and blue as its primary colors). All the rest of the colors can be made from these.

Secondary colors are made by mixing two primary colors: Red and yellow make orange, and so on.

Tertiary colors are made by mixing a primary color with a secondary color.

Complementary and analogous colors

The colors opposite one another (like red and green or blue and orange) are complementary colors, which tend to stand out boldly next to one another. These are therefore often used for university colors and sport team logos. Colors next to one another (like red and orange or blue and green) are analogous colors, and these tend to blend together more smoothly.

Warm and cool colors

The colors on the left of this wheel are called cool colors and those to the right are warm colors. Using cool or warm colors in an image can create moods. Pierre Auguste Renoir used warm colors for his Mother and Child, 1886, creating a warm, cheerful, inviting scene. The oranges, pinks and yellows dominate the image.

Left: Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Mother and Child, 1886, pastel, 79.1 x 63.5 cm, (Cleveland Museum of Art); right: David Alfaro Siqueiros, Peasant Mother, 1962, oil on burlap, 249 x 180 cm (Museum of Modern Art, Mexico City) © David Alfaro Siqueiros

Diego Alfaro Siqueiros presents a similar subject in his Peasant Mother (1929), but through the use of cool colors, instead creates a sad, cold scene dominated by figures of blues and greens. Neither of these artists was worried about portraying the world as it really looked. Instead, they used color to inspire feelings in the viewer.

Value (tint and shade)

Color can also be considered in terms of value, which is the degree of lightness or darkness of a color. If we add white to a hue, we get a tint. If we add black, we get a shade. As we might expect, tints tend to be more cheerful — pastel colors are all tints. Shades tend to be gloomier. Indeed, our terms for moods are based on these properties, so that we say that we are lighthearted, or in a dark temper. There are many tints in the Renoir’s Mother and Child, and many shades in Siqueiros’ Peasant Mother.

Henri Matisse, Red Room (Harmony in Red), 1908, oil on canvas, 180.5 x 221 cm (The State Hermitage Museum)

Zhou Chen. Peach Blossom Spring, 102.5 X 161.5 cm (Suzhou Museum)

Zhou Chen, Peach Blossom Spring, 102.5 X 161.5 cm (Suzhou Museum)

 

 

Saturation

Finally, intensity or saturation is how bright or dull a color is. Henri Matisse tended to use very saturated colors, as in Red Room (Harmony in Red) (1908), whereas in Peach Blossom Spring (1533), Zhou Chen relied on a much more muted palette with very little saturation of colors.

The landscape is almost entirely in shades of brown and beige. The grey-green of the trees is low in saturation, leaving the single splash of red on the child’s clothes the only moment of high saturation in the image. Therefore, we notice this tiny detail within this large painting. The Matisse painting, on the other hand, is a blaze of colors. The vibrant red of the wall and tablecloth dominates the image, in sharp contrast with the green grass showing through the window and the blues and purples curving throughout the image.

Contrast

Contrast is the amount of variation between the highest and lowest values in a work. This is perhaps most commonly used to talk about photography, but can be applied to any work. Hiroshi Sugimoto’s Cliffs of Moher (1989) has very low contrast. There are no dark blacks, no stark whites; everything is in very similar shades of gray.

Left: Hiroshi Sugimoto, Atlantic Ocean, Cliffs of Moher, 1989, offset lithograph, 24 x 31 cm (Art Institute of Chicago) © Hiroshi Sugimoto; right: Robert Mapplethorpe, Calla Lily, 1987, gelatin silver print, 17.94 × 17.78 cm (Minneapolis Institute of Art) © Robert Mapplethorpe / The Robert Mapplethorpe Foundation

Left: Hiroshi Sugimoto, Atlantic Ocean, Cliffs of Moher, 1989, offset lithograph, 24 x 31 cm (Art Institute of Chicago) © Hiroshi Sugimoto; right: Robert Mapplethorpe, Calla Lily, 1987, gelatin silver print, 17.94 × 17.78 cm (Minneapolis Institute of Art) © Robert Mapplethorpe / The Robert Mapplethorpe Foundation

The low contrast conveys the soft and gentle feeling of a heavy mist over quiet water. On the other hand, Robert Mapplethorpe photograph, Calla Lily (1987) has much higher contrast, meaning that the difference in the whites and blacks is much greater. The effect is much sharper and crisper, making this simple flower appear grand and impressive.

Moving yet further, in Kara Walker’s silhouette image, Untitled (from Testimony), the contrast is absolute. We see only black and white (and here, some red).

In this case, the artist is using the power of this contrast to draw the viewer’s attention to some of the problems in American race relations, and their origins in the institution of chattel slavery. Therefore, while visual elements produce visual effects, their implications can extend well beyond the purely visual.

Kara Walker, Untitled (from Testimony), 2004, cut black paper with pencil, pressure-sensitive tape, metal fasteners, and synthetic polymer film on paperboard, 52.7 x 38.1 cm (The Museum of Modern Art)

Kara Walker, Untitled (from Testimony), 2004, cut black paper with pencil, pressure-sensitive tape, metal fasteners, and synthetic polymer film on paperboard, 52.7 x 38.1 cm (The Museum of Modern Art)

Additional resources:

Art terms in action: tint, shade and tone (video from MoMA)

Making purple: the science of art (video from The National Gallery)

Making Green: Tempera versus Oil (video from The National Gallery)

Space

Left: Raphael, La Donna velata, 1514-15, oil on canvas, 82 x 60.5 cm (Palazzi Pitti, Florence); right: St John the Evangelist in the Lindisfarne Gospels (London, British Library, MS Cotton Nero D IV, f. 209v).

Left: Raphael, La Donna Velata, 1514-15, oil on canvas, 82 x 60.5 cm (Palazzi Pitti, Florence); right: St John the Evangelist in the Lindisfarne Gospels (London, British Library, MS Cotton Nero D IV, f. 209v).

A convincing illusion of space

Space is used to refer both to depth—real or represented—and also to the general surface area within a work of art. Some periods of art history show a great deal of interest in creating convincing illusions of three-dimensional space in two-dimensional media. Perhaps the most iconic (though certainly not the only) example of this is the Italian Renaissance (c. 1400-1600), when artists very deliberately worked to created convincing illusions of depth.

Look at how Raphael creates an illusion of three-dimensional form in La Donna Velata. Through careful variations in value, particularly in shading — the use of darker colors to create the illusion of shadows — Raphael convinces us that the woman in the painting is really there in three dimensions.

Light seems to strike her from her left, casting her right side in shadow. The folds of her voluminous sleeve are a particularly splendid example of the illusion of space. Even examining a small detail of it, it is hard to believe that there is no depth, at all, just thin layers of paint on flat canvas.

Details of the sleeve. left: Raphael, La Donna velata, 1514-15, oil on canvas, 82 x 60.5 cm (Palazzi Pitti, Florence); right: St John the Evangelist in the Lindisfarne Gospels (London, British Library, MS Cotton Nero D IV, f. 209v).

Details of the sleeve, left: Raphael, La Donna velata, 1514-15, oil on canvas, 82 x 60.5 cm (Palazzi Pitti, Florence); right: St John the Evangelist in the Lindisfarne Gospels (London, British Library, MS Cotton Nero D IV, f. 209v).

For sharp contrast, we can examine a detail of a page of the Lindisfarne Gospels. Both images show a person in voluminous robes, looking out at us, but here, the similarities end. Raphael’s figure is lit softly, creating highlights and shadows that create a sense of roundness and weight to her body and clothes. The figure of John the Evangelist from the Lindisfarne Gospels, on the other hand, is almost totally flat. There is virtually no shading to his body and the folds on his clothes are purely schematic patterns.

If we isolate a small detail of John’s sleeve, as we did with La Donna Velata’s, it is difficult to even recall that this series of lines and colors is intended to be seen as a three-dimensional form, at all.

Perugino, Christ Giving the Keys of the Kingdom to St. Peter, Sistine Chapel, 1481-83, fresco, 10 feet 10 inches x 18 feet (Vatican, Rome)

Perugino, Christ Giving the Keys of the Kingdom to St. Peter, Sistine Chapel, 1481-83, fresco, 10 feet 10 inches x 18 feet (Vatican, Rome)

 

Wolf Vostell, No: Life as a Picture—A Picture as Life series, photograph, 1963

 

Linear and atmospheric perspective

There are various methods used by artists to create the illusion that their figures exist in three-dimensional space. Among the more effective are linear and atmospheric perspective. Another work from the Italian Renaissance will serve to demonstrate both. Pietro Perugino’s Christ Handing the Keys to St. Peter, uses both linear and atmospheric perspective to create a very convincing illusion of depth.

Linear perspective is based on the optical illusion that parallel lines seem to converge as they recede into the distance. Railroad tracks are the classic example, as in, Wolf Vostell’s photograph from his No: Life as a Picture—A Picture as Life series from 1963. If we overlay the lines used on Perugino’s painting, we can see how he used this effect. The lines are called orthogonal lines or orthogonals and they meet on the horizon line, at the vanishing point. Note that as all the orthogonals converge, the forms also get smaller.

Perspective diagram, Perugino, Christ Giving the Keys of the Kingdom to St. Peter, Sistine Chapel, 1481-83, fresco, 10 feet 10 inches x 18 feet (Vatican, Rome)

Perspective diagram, Perugino, Christ Giving the Keys of the Kingdom to St. Peter, Sistine Chapel, 1481-83, fresco, 10 feet 10 inches x 18 feet (Vatican, Rome)

Tobias Verhaecht, The Clivus Scauri in Rome, chalk, graphite and ink on paper, 22 x 17.1 cm (Rijksmuseum)

Tobias Verhaecht, The Clivus Scauri in Rome, chalk, graphite and ink on paper, 22 x 17.1 cm (Rijksmuseum)

The tool of one-point linear perspective is very simple, and artists can use it to create a convincing illusion of depth with only a few pencil strokes and without the careful measuring and use of a straightedge, as in Tobias Verhaecht’s sketch of a Roman ruin. Two- and three-point linear perspective are slightly more complicated, but operate on the same general principles and produce similar results.

Perugino also uses Atmospheric perspective. This is based on the optical effect that makes objects in the distance appear paler, bluer, and less detailed that objects that are close to us. Returning to Perugino’s painting, we can see that he has replicated this effect, carefully making the figures in the foreground (the portion of the image that appears to be closest to the viewer) bolder in color, the smaller figures in the middle ground paler, and the hills in the background (the portion of the image that appears to be in the far distance) fading off into pale blues.

An important note

It is important to note, though, that the use of various techniques to create a convincing illusion of depth does not make Raphael or Perugino “better” artists than the anonymous medieval monk who painted the page of the Lindisfarne Gospels, nor does it make their works any “better” or more sophisticated. The illusion of depth is one of the many tools in the artist’s toolbox, and it is serves some purposes very well, but it is not always the most powerful or effective way to convey an idea and, indeed, can sometimes be in direct conflict with the intentions of an artist.

Additional resources:

Drawing techniques from the V&A

Texture

Jeff Koons, Balloon Dog, 1994-2001, transparent color coating, stainless steel, 320 x 380 x 120 cm (photo: Kim, © Jeff Koons)

Surface texture

Jeff Koons’ Balloon Dog has a perfectly smooth, mirrored surface it is difficult to resist touching (though we must). It is this surface texture that turns these replicas of commonplace, short-lived and disposable items (balloon animals) into precious objects.

In contrast, the coarse, bristly surface of an ancient Shang Dynasty Fang-Ding — a ritual vessel used in worshipping dead ancestors — grants the work a vibrant energy, but does not invite our touch.

'Fangding' Ritual Food Vessel with Abstract Decor, 14th-11th century B.C.E., China, Shang dynasty, cast bronze, 21.7 x 17.1 x 15.2 cm (Harvard Art Museums)

Fangding Ritual Food Vessel with Abstract Decor, 14th-11th century B.C.E., China, Shang dynasty, cast bronze, 21.7 x 17.1 x 15.2 cm (Harvard Art Museums)

The illusion of texture

The illusion of texture is no less important to our experience of works of art.

Dutch still life paintings are justly famous for their careful, illusionistic replication of objects. The smooth silver plates and glass goblet of Pieter Claesz’s Still Life seem to tease us, as do the rougher cookies and breads, and the crumbly pie. The knife handle, pointing out of the image toward us, seems just beyond our grasp, and therefore makes this magnificent spread all the more tantalizing.

Pieter Claesz, Still Life, c. 1625, oil on panel, 48 × 76.9 cm (Art Institute of Chicago)

Pieter Claesz, Still Life, c. 1625, oil on panel, 48 × 76.9 cm (Art Institute of Chicago)

Source: Information on Line, Shape and Form, Color, Space, and Texture is from Asa Mittman, Smarthistory, 2019

Surface and Depth

This video is part of the Art Institute of Chicago’s Art Explainer series.  URL: https://youtu.be/WZKqr1Wy45w

Using three artworks from the Art Institute’s collection, this video unpacks a central theme and uses innovative visual storytelling to highlight the choices artists made to shape form and meaning in their works. Ultimately, it shows that each of us already possesses a powerful tool for making sense of art: looking closely. Art Explainer videos empower you to look at and understand art from any historical period or culture. Designed for students as well as adults, this video series is produced for the web and usable in a wide range of learning environments, from mobile devices to formal school classrooms.

The following works from the Art Institute of Chicago appear in this video:

Poussin, Landscape with St. John on Patmos
Harnett, For Sunday’s Dinner
Mondrian, Lozenge Composition with Yellow, Black, Blue, Red, and Gray

Source: Art Institute of Chicago, “Surface and Depth,” in Smarthistory, January 26, 2018, accessed October 13, 2023, https://smarthistory.org/surface-depth/.

Light and shadow

This video is part of the Art Institute of Chicago’s Art Explainer series.   URL: https://youtu.be/PnQv8Di8Ark

How does an artist use light to help keep us out of the dark?  Using three artworks from the Art Institute’s collection, this video unpacks a central theme and uses innovative visual storytelling to highlight the choices artists made to create light and shadow in their works. Art Explainer videos empower you to look at and understand art from any historical period or culture. Designed for students as well as adults, this video series is produced for the web and usable in a wide range of learning environments, from mobile devices to formal school classrooms.

The following works from the Art Institute of Chicago appear in this video:

Tanner, The Two Disciples at the Tomb
Kollwitz, Battlefield
Flavin, “monument” for V. Tatlin

Cite this page as: Art Institute of Chicago, “Light and shadow,” in Smarthistory, February 7, 2018, accessed October 13, 2023, https://smarthistory.org/light-and-shadow/.

Architecture: What’s the Difference Between a Plan, an Elevation and a Section?

URL:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3REqM7wGrXA

Transcript

TRANSCRIPT:

This video is designed to help you tell the difference between the different views used to show an interior space. These are planselevations and sections. To help demonstrate this visually we have used an orange.

A perspective drawing is used to create a realistic drawing of an object, showing this object in 3 dimensions. The further away the objects in the drawing the smaller they will become.

Plans, elevations and sections are 2D visuals that represent a 3D object. Combining different 2D visuals allows you to create an accurate representation of a design. Or in the instance of interior design, a space.

This is a plan view. In basic terms, a plan is a birds-eye view of a space. When drawing a floor plan, the roof would be removed so the interior space can be seen.

This is an elevation view. An elevation is a view from the side of an object, when drawing interior elevations, this would represent one of the walls. This would include any windows or doors as well as any built-in furniture that is in direct contact with the wall.

This is a section view. A section is a cut through of a space which will show more of the room’s features. It also allows you to show some structural detail. A section line can be cut from any part of the space, depending on what you would like to show.

 

Key terminology introduced in this section:

Contour line

Hatching

Shading

Organic lines and shapes

Geometric (or inorganic) lines and shapes

Implied lines

Form

Colors: primary, secondary and tertiary

Hue

Complementary and analogous colors

Value (tint and shade)

Saturation

Contrast

Space – real or represented

Linear perspective – horizon line, vanishing point, orthogonals

Atmospheric perspective

Texture

Plan

Elevation

Section

Principles of Composition

Balance, symmetry, and emphasis

Perugino, Christ Giving the Keys of the Kingdom to St. Peter, Sistine Chapel, 1481-83, fresco, 10 feet 10 inches x 18 feet (Vatican, Rome)

Perugino, Christ Giving the Keys of the Kingdom to St. Peter, Sistine Chapel, 1481-83, fresco, 10 feet 10 inches x 18 feet (Vatican, Rome)

Balance and symmetry

Balance is an even use of elements throughout a work of art. Symmetry is a very formal type of balance consisting of a mirroring of portions of an image. Bilateral symmetry, that is, two- sided symmetry, is the most common, in which two halves of a work of art mirror each other, as in Perugino’s painting, Christ Giving the Keys of the Kingdom to St. Peter. In this painting, the symmetry gives the painting not only a sense of balance, but also a sense of calm, stability, and formality. Notice in particular the way that the building and arches in the background are painted to make the work symmetrical.

Just as the structures, themselves, are symmetrical in Perugino’s painting, symmetry is also common in major works of architecture, where it lends buildings a tone of stability and power. Classical Greek temples like the Temple of Artemis at Corfu are rigidly symmetrical.

Temple of Artemis, Corfu, Greece, ca. 600-580 BCE

Temple of Artemis, Corfu, Greece, c. 600-580 B.C.E.

In this diagram (the temple is now a ruin), even the sculpture on the façade — the front of a building — is nearly perfectly symmetrical. At the outer corners are a mirrored pair of fallen warriors, then two pairs (one now fragmentary) of fighting figures, then two mirrored panthers, and then, in the center, Medusa, with two of her children beside her (Pegasus and Chrysaor).

Pediment detail, Temple of Artemis, Corfu, Greece, c. 600-580 B.C.E.

Pediment detail, Temple of Artemis, Corfu, Greece, c. 600-580 B.C.E.

Even the fearsome Gorgon in the center is presented facing directly outward at us, so that her face can be presented in hideous symmetry, with her great, bulging eyes, grimacing mouth, plaited hair, and even the snakes that emerge from the back of her head carved in perfect symmetry. This work should serve to counter the frequently made statement that symmetry makes works beautiful. While many cultures associate symmetry with beauty, and this temple as a whole might be described as such, a grotesque figure remains grotesque even when perfectly symmetrical.

Radial symmetry

Radial symmetry is created when an image is symmetrical around a central point or axis, like a sunflower viewed head-on. Radial symmetry creates a strong sense of unity in a work of art, and is common in sacred images.

Garbhadhatu (Taizokai) Mandala (Womb World), mandala of Innate Reason and Original Enlightenment, Japan, Heian period (Tantric Buddhism), late 9th century, colors on silk (public domain)

Garbhadhatu (Taizokai) Mandala (Womb World), mandala of Innate Reason and Original Enlightenment, Japan, Heian period (Tantric Buddhism), late 9th century, colors on silk (public domain)

In a Shingon Tantric Buddhist World Womb Mandala, all points seem to radiate outward from the central figure of the Buddha. The numerous figures around him are bodhisattvas, individuals who have chosen out of compassion to delay their entry into Nirvana in order to help others who are suffering. It is fitting that they are shown as if emanating out of the Buddha, himself, as his enlightenment and compassion are the source and model for theirs. The image also gives a sense that the universe itself is highly ordered.

Polykleitos, Doryphoros (Spear-Bearer), c. 450-40 B.C.E., ancient Roman marble copy found in Pompeii of the lost bronze original, 211 cm (Archaeological Museum, Naples)

Polykleitos, Doryphoros (Spear-Bearer), c. 450-40 B.C.E., ancient Roman marble copy found in Pompeii of the lost bronze original, 211 cm (Archaeological Museum, Naples)

Asymmetrical balance

However, perfect symmetry is not necessary to create a sense of balance in an image. Asymmetrical balance is created when two sides of an image do not mirror each other, but still have approximately the same visual weight, the same amount of detail or shapes or color, and so on. The Classical Greek sculpture Doryphoros (The Spearbearer) by Polykleitos provides a clear example of asymmetrical balance. The figure does not stand in a symmetrical way, but overall, seems even, calm, balanced. In this case, the figure has his weight on his right leg, so this leg is tensed. The left leg is relaxed and bent. Balancing this out, the right arm hangs loosely, but the left arm is tensed. In this way, the body — which itself is symmetrical, or would be if he were posed with his feet side by side, looking straight ahead, with his arms hanging down — is balanced. This pose is called contrapposto, and is often used to give standing human figures a sense of life and animation.

Emphasis

Emphasis consists of drawing attention to one or more points in a work. This can be accomplished through any of the visual elements. In the World Womb Mandala, the Buddha is emphasized through location (he is centered in the image), color (the vivid red petals around him draw the eye), line (all of the rows of figures essentially guide the eye inward to the center through implied lines, and the lines dividing the red petals direct us inward, as well), symmetry (the radial symmetry focuses us inward to the center), and so on. In essence, we cannot help but return, again and again, to the Buddha, the focus of the image and also the focus of Buddhist devotion.

Movement

Akbar on horseback, hunting animals within an enclosure, illustration from the Akbarnama, c. 1590-95, Mughal Empire, India, opaque watercolor and gold on paper, 32.1 x 18.8 cm (Victoria and Albert Museum, London)

Akbar on horseback, hunting animals within an enclosure, illustration from the Akbarnama, c. 1590-95, Mughal Empire, India, opaque watercolor and gold on paper, 32.1 x 18.8 cm (Victoria and Albert Museum, London)

Movement refers to a sense of motion as the eye is guided through a work of art. This can be accomplished by showing figures in motion, or simply through the visual elements.

An Indian illumination — that is, a painting in a hand-made book — from the Akbarnama showing Akbar hunting in an enclosure demonstrates both types. As with the Dürer woodcut, Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, the rider on his horse charges rapidly from left to right across the image. The smaller animals scatter, darting in all directions and also hunting one another. Their movements create a strong sense of movement throughout the image. However, there are formal elements that intensify this.

Akbar on horseback, hunting animals within an enclosure, illustration from the Akbarnama, c. 1590-95, Mughal Empire, India, opaque watercolor and gold on paper, 32.1 x 18.8 cm (Victoria and Albert Museum, London)

Akbar on horseback, hunting animals within an enclosure, illustration from the Akbarnama, c. 1590-95, Mughal Empire, India, opaque watercolor and gold on paper, 32.1 x 18.8 cm (Victoria and Albert Museum, London)

Diagonals

Just as the horizontal lines behind the riders in the Dürer woodcut suggested their movement forward, so here, lines and colors help convey the motion of people and animals. There is a strong zigzag that brings us from top to bottom, or bottom to top.

Starting at the top-right corner, the fences form a strong diagonal, accompanied by the slash of green representing a stream. These meet at the left edge, where the momentum then follows Akbar on his large white horse, also emphasized by the line of darker earth that moves in a downward diagonal from the horse’s mouth. This motion then again reverses direction, in a downward diagonal, back to the left edge, which in turn bounces back to the bottom right edge.

Our eyes therefore move throughout the image not only because the figures in it are depicted in motion, but also because of the manipulation of the visual elements.

Proportion and scale

Polykleitos, Doryphoros (Spear-Bearer), c. 450-40 B.C.E., ancient Roman marble copy found in Pompeii of the lost bronze original, 211 cm (Archaeological Museum, Naples)

Polykleitos, Doryphoros (Spear-Bearer), c. 450-40 B.C.E., ancient Roman marble copy found in Pompeii of the lost bronze original, 211 cm (Archaeological Museum, Naples)

Proportion

Proportion refers to the relationship of parts of a body or form to one another and of the parts to the whole, for example, the size of the head of a figure in relation to the entire body.

Scale

Scale is the relationship of parts of an image to the image as a whole, or to something in the world outside of the image, for example, the size of the figure of a king in an image as compared to the size of the figure of his servant in the same image, or the size of a statue of the king as compared to the size of an actual person. Beginning with proportion, we can look again at Doryphoros. We will compare his proportions to those of an Altar Group from Benin with Oba (King) Akenzua I and Two Attendants.

Doryphoros’ proportions were laid out according to mathematical formulas in order to create an image that the sculptor believed presented the “ideal man.”

Doryphoros is about seven “heads” tall, so to speak, whereas the Akenzua is approximately two and a half “heads” tall. Doryphoros’  limbs fit within the range of average human proportion, whereas Akenzua’s legs are considerably shorter than his torso.

Altar group with Oba Akenzura I, Benin, Nigeria, eighteenth century, brass, 63 cm. (Ethnological Museum, Berlin)

Altar group with Oba Akenzua I, Benin, Nigeria, eighteenth century, brass, 63 cm. (Ethnological Museum, Berlin)

While their proportions are quite different, both present figures considered to be ideal by their cultures. Doryphoros embodies quite literally the focus on external beauty — according to the tastes of the day — that was prevalent in Classical Greece, whereas the image of Akenzua shows, with the intentional enlargement of the head, the greater importance of the intellect in the culture.

Perugino, Christ Giving the Keys of the Kingdom to St. Peter, Sistine Chapel, 1481-83, fresco, 10 feet 10 inches x 18 feet (Vatican, Rome)

Perugino, Christ Giving the Keys of the Kingdom to St. Peter, Sistine Chapel, 1481-83, fresco, 10 feet 10 inches x 18 feet (Vatican, Rome)

Hieratic scale

Scale can refer to any relationship of parts to the whole, but one particular type is of great significance in many periods: Hieratic scale is scale based on relative importance. That is, the more important a figure, the larger he or she is in relation to the figures around him or her. This is quite different from the naturalistic scale found in works organized by linear perspective, like Perugino’s painting.

Akenzua, for example, is considerably larger than the figures that flank him. These are not children, but adult male attendants. We are not supposed to therefore assume that Akenzua is a giant, but rather, that he is far more important than the other two men. Also note that the other two have rather different proportions: their heads are much smaller in relation to their bodies, and their arms and legs longer. This reminds us that Akenzua’s proportions are absolutely deliberate, not the result of incompetence but of a conscious effort to convey a cultural meaning.

Before leaving this work, though, two more details should be mentioned. At their feet are small cats, but these are leopards — traditional symbols of the king — and so even the attendants are comparatively giant. And below the cats are fallen men, bound with their hands behind them, decapitated. The symbolism of decapitation as the ultimate, dehumanizing death highlights the importance of the scale of the head of the king who towers over them.

Pattern, repetition and rhythm, variety and unity

Garbhadhatu (Taizokai) Mandala (Womb World), mandala of Innate Reason and Original Enlightenment, Japan, Heian period (Tantric Buddhism), late 9th century, colors on silk (public domain)

Garbhadhatu (Taizokai) Mandala (Womb World), mandala of Innate Reason and Original Enlightenment, Japan, Heian period (Tantric Buddhism), late 9th century, colors on silk

Vairocana Buddha, 16th-17th century, China, bronze, 99 cm (Cantor Arts Center)

Vairocana Buddha, 16th-17th century, China, bronze, 99 cm (Cantor Arts Center)

When an image or object is repeated throughout a work of art, or a part of a work, this is called either pattern or repetition.

Repetition and pattern

Repetition can be less structured than pattern, which is more regular. Both can work to create a sense of rhythm, as discussed below. The large base of a Ming Dynasty Chinese Bronze statue of Vairochana Buddha is composed of literally thousands of tiny bodhisattvas (Bodhisattvas are enlightened beings who have chosen to stay on earth to help others achieve enlightenment), which therefore seem to serve to support Buddha figuratively, as well as visually. Their repetition is very regular, establishing a clear pattern. This is also the case in the Buddhist mandala from the 9th century. The pattern in both cases emphasizes the unity of purpose shared by these thousands of figures, each an embodiment of the ideal of compassion.

Rhythm

Rhythm is the visual tempo set by repeating elements in a work of art or architecture. The arches and columns of the Great Mosque of Cordoba provide a good example. They are spaced very evenly, setting up an even tone to the building. This is then enlivened by the rhythm created by the striped pattern on the arches.

Hypostyle hall, Great Mosque at Cordoba, Spain, begun 786 and enlarged during the 9th and 10th centuriesc(photo: wsifrancis, CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)

Hypostyle hall, Great Mosque at Cordoba, Spain, begun 786 and enlarged during the 9th and 10th centuries (photo: wsifrancis, CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)

For contrast, we could look at Jackson Pollock’s Autumn Rhythm (# 30). Pollock was a fan of jazz music, and tried to capture something of its loose, syncopated rhythms. The resulting drip-paintings (they were made with the large canvases lain on the floor of his studio) have similarly loose, improvisational compositions. Despite its lack of formal structure, there is a clear rhythm running horizontally across the painting, and Pollock uses the title of the work to draw our attention to it.

Jackson Pollock, Autumn Rhythm (Number 30), 1950, enamel on canvas, 266.7 x 525.8 cm (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)

Jackson Pollock, Autumn Rhythm (Number 30), 1950, enamel on canvas, 266.7 x 525.8 cm (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)

Detail, Garbhadhatu (Taizokai) Mandala (Womb World), mandala of Innate Reason and Original Enlightenment, Japan, Heian period (Tantric Buddhism), late 9th century, colors on silk (public domain)

Detail, Garbhadhatu (Taizokai) Mandala (Womb World), mandala of Innate Reason and Original Enlightenment, Japan, Heian period (Tantric Buddhism), late 9th century, colors on silk

Variety and Unity

Variety is the use of different visual elements throughout a work, whereas unity is a feeling that all the parts of a work fit together well. These do not have to be opposites, as a work filled with variety might also have unity.

The World Womb Mandala is an excellent example. Unlike the Ming Dynasty Bronze statue of Buddha, where all of the bodhisattvas are more or less identical, the many bodhisattvas on the World Womb Mandala are each individualized. At a distance, they all become one, expressing great unity, but taken one at a time, each as an object of devotional contemplation, they contain more variety than it would at first appear.

The information on the Principles of Composition were written by Dr. Asa Mittman and published in Smarthistory, 2029

Describing What You See – Art History and Visual Analysis

Introduction to art historical analysis

Seated Figure, terracotta, 13th century, Mali, Inland Niger Delta region, Djenné peoples, 25/4 x 29.9 cm (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)

Seated Figure, terracotta, 13th century, Mali, Inland Niger Delta region, Djenné peoples, 25/4 x 29.9 cm (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)

Why does a work of art look the way it does? Who made it and why? What does it mean? These questions and others like them lie at the heart of art historical inquiry. Art historians use various types of analysis to provide answers. These have varied over time and continue to evolve, but in general, three categories can be distinguished. In the essays and videos on Smarthistory, different types of analysis are used, often without identifying them explicitly. If you become familiar with the three categories below, you will be able to recognize them.

Left: Woman with wax tablets and stylus, c. 50 C.E., fresco (National Archaeological Museum, Naples; photo: Meidosensei, CC BY-SA 2.0); center: Justinian (detail), Justinian and Attendants, mosaic, north wall of the apse, San Vitale, Ravenna, Italy, c. 547 (photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0); right: Circle of Peter Hemmel von Andlau (Strassburger Werkstattgemeinschaft), Adoration of the Magi (detail), 1507, Munich, Germany, pot metal and colorless glass, vitreous paint, and silver stain, 72.4 x 45.7 cm (Cloisters, The Metropolitan Museum of Art; photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Left: Woman with wax tablets and stylus, c. 50 C.E., fresco (National Archaeological Museum, Naples; photo: Meidosensei, CC BY-SA 2.0); center: Justinian (detail), Justinian and Attendants, mosaic, north wall of the apse, San Vitale, Ravenna, Italy, c. 547 (photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0); right: Circle of Peter Hemmel von Andlau (Strassburger Werkstattgemeinschaft), Adoration of the Magi (detail), 1507, Munich, Germany, pot metal and colorless glass, vitreous paint, and silver stain, 72.4 x 45.7 cm (Cloisters, The Metropolitan Museum of Art; photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Art as physical object

Oil and pigments on canvas, carved marble, woven fibers, a concrete dome—most works of art and architecture are physical things. As such, a fundamental determinant of the way they look is the material of which they are made. In architecture, the word used for this is simply materials. In art, the term medium (plural: media) is also used.

Materials have specific properties that dictate the ways they can be manipulated and the effects they can produce. For example, marble will crack under its own weight if not properly balanced and supported, which imposes limits on the sculptural forms or architectural designs that can be created with it. Fresco painting, stained glass, and mosaic are all capable of creating breathtaking images, but their visual qualities differ significantly due to the distinct physical properties and working methods of each medium. This latter aspect—the way a medium is worked or used—is called technique. Together, materials and technique determine basic visual features and the parameters within which an artist or architect must work.

Learning to recognize specific media and techniques and how they have been used historically are fundamental art historical skills. Not only do they allow you to understand the logic behind specific visual qualities, but they may also help identify when and where a work was made since certain media and techniques are characteristic of specific periods and places.

Conservation

Technological advances have led to new methods of analyzing materials and techniques. Today this research is carried out primarily by art conservators. Because art and architecture, like all physical things, are subject to the corrosive effects of time and environment, conservation science is a crucial field. Training in art conservation typically involves coursework in chemistry as well as the practice and history of art.

While the main job of conservators is preservation, their investigative techniques can also benefit art historians. Technologies such as X-radiography, ultraviolet illumination, and infrared reflectography can reveal features of an object invisible to the human eye, such as the inside of a bronze statue, changes made to a painting, or drawing under a painted surface. X-ray fluorescence can identify the pigments in paint or the composition of metals by their chemical profiles. Dendrochronology can establish the earliest date a wooden object could have been made based on tree ring growth patterns. Analysis of materials and techniques using methods such as these can help art historians answer questions about when, where, how, or by whom, a work was made.

Egon Schiele, Portrait of Wally Neuzil, 1912, oil on panel, 32 x 39.8 cm (Leopold Museum, Vienna; photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Egon Schiele, Portrait of Wally Neuzil, 1912, oil on panel, 32 x 39.8 cm (Leopold Museum, Vienna; photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Art as visual experience

Most art is visually compelling. While materials and technique determine the range of what is possible, the final appearance of a work is the product of numerous additional choices made by the artist. An artist painting a portrait of a woman in oil on canvas must decide on the size and shape of the canvas, the scale of the woman and where to place her, and the types of forms, lines, colors, and brushstrokes to use in representing the sitter and her surroundings. In a compelling work of art, myriad variables such as these and others come together to create an engaging visual experience.

Visual (formal) analysis

Art historians use visual analysis to describe and understand this experience. Often called formal analysis because it focuses on form rather than subject matter or historical context, this typically consists of two parts: description of the visual features of a work and analysis of their effects. To describe visual properties systematically, art historians rely on an established set of terms and concepts. These include characteristics such as format, scale, composition, and viewpoint; treatment of the human figure and space; and the use of form, line, color, light, and texture.

In describing visual qualities, formal analysis usually identifies certain features as contributing to the overall impression of the work. For example, a prominent linear form might suggest strength if straight and vertical, grace or sensuality if sinuous, or stability and calm if long and horizontal. Sharp contrasts in light and dark may make an image feel bold and dramatic whereas subdued lighting might suggest gentleness or intimacy. In the past, formal analysis assumed there was some elementary level of universality in the human response to visual form and tried to describe these effects. Today, the method is understood as more subjective, but still valued as a critical exercise and means of analyzing visual experience, especially in introductory art history courses.

Jacques-Louis David, Oath of the Horatii , 1784, oil on canvas, 3.3 x 4.25 m, painted in Rome, exhibited at the salon of 1785 (Musée du Louvre; photo: Steven Zucker , CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Jacques-Louis David, Oath of the Horatii, 1784, oil on canvas, 3.3 x 4.25 m, painted in Rome, exhibited at the salon of 1785 (Musée du Louvre; photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Style

Formal analysis is a powerful tool for appreciating art. Armed with it, you can analyze any work based simply on the experience of looking at it. But the method is also important for understanding art in its historical context. This is because the visual properties of works made by an individual artist or, more generally, by artists working in the same time and place, typically have common features. Art historians call these shared characteristics style. As art historian James Elkins elegantly phrased it, style is “a coherence of qualities in periods or people.” [1] This may include consistency in things like medium, function, and subject matter, but when art historians use the term style, they primarily mean formal characteristics.

Style varies by time and place, so like medium and technique, it can be used to determine the origin of a work of art. Because of its complexity, style is a far more specific indicator than materials and technique alone. Early art historians used stylistic analysis to categorize the vast legacy of undocumented art, assigning works to cultures, artistic circles, or individual artists based on their formal qualities. Today, stylistic analysis continues to be used to establish origins when unknown works are discovered or previous attributions revised.

In addition to helping categorize individual works, style has shaped the narratives told by art historians in fundamental ways. Until the mid-20th century, most histories of art focused on tracing stylistic development and change. As a result, many of the period divisions traditionally used for Western art are based on style. Some examples are Geometric, Orientalizing, Archaic, and Classical in ancient Greece, Romanesque and Gothic in Medieval Europe, and the Early, High, and Late Renaissance. Today style is only one of many aspects of art that interest art historians, but the power of tradition has ensured that style-based period divisions and labels remain widely used. Likewise, familiarity with the style of specific periods, places, and artists is still considered fundamental art historical knowledge and often remains the focus of introductory art history textbooks and courses.

Art as cultural artifact

While understanding the physical properties and visual experience of art is important, today most art historical research focuses on the significance of works as cultural artifacts. This category of analysis is characterized by a variety of approaches, but all share the basic objective of examining art in relation to its historical context. Most often, this is the time and place in which a work was created—typically we want to know why and by whom it was made and how it originally functioned. But since works of art and architecture often survive for centuries, art historians may also study a work’s cultural significance at later historical moments.

Buddha Shakyamuni or Akshobhya, the Buddha of the East, 11th–12th century, Tibet, gilt copper, 58 cm high (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)

Buddha Shakyamuni or Akshobhya, the Buddha of the East, 11th–12th century, Tibet, gilt copper, 58 cm high (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)

Subject matter / iconography

One of the most basic types of contextual analysis is the interpretation of subject matter. Much art is representational (i.e., it creates a likeness of something), and naturally we want to understand what is shown and why. Art historians call the subject matter of images iconography. Iconographic analysis is the interpretation of its meaning. In many cases, such as an image of the crucified Christ or seated Buddha, identifying the subject presents few problems. When the iconography is obscure or treated in an unusual way, art historians try to understand it by studying the historical context in which the image was made, typically through comparison with texts and other imagery from the time. With challenging images, scholars may disagree on which contextual materials are relevant, resulting in conflicting interpretations. For many complex or enigmatic works, the meanings of the subject matter continue to be debated and reinterpreted today.

Function

Another common aspect of art investigated through contextual analysis is function. Historically, many works of art and nearly all architecture were intended to serve some purpose beyond the aesthetic. Understanding function is crucial because it usually plays a role in determining many features, including iconography, materials, format, and aspects of style. At the most basic level, art historians analyze function by identifying types—an altarpiece, portrait, Book of Hours, tomb, palace, etc. Studying the history and use of a given type provides a context for understanding specific examples.

Analysis of function becomes more complex when the personal motivations of the people responsible for making a work are considered. For much of history, this includes not only artists but also the patrons who commissioned works and in some cases, advisors acting on the patron’s behalf. When such agents can be identified, definitively or hypothetically, their motivations become potential contexts for understanding purpose and appearance.

Michelangelo, Ceiling of the Sistine Chapel (detail), 1508–12, Vatican, Rome (photo: Kent G Becker, CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)

Michelangelo, Ceiling of the Sistine Chapel (detail), 1508–12, Vatican, Rome (photo: Kent G Becker, CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)

With complex works, this can soon raise interpretive quandaries. Take, for example, Michelangelo’s famous frescos on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Are these highly original paintings best understood in relation to the function of the chapel (a key ritual site in the Vatican palace), or the concerns of the painter, Michelangelo, or of the patron, Pope Julius II, or of one or more of the Julius’s advisors at the papal court? The answer is likely some combination of these, but the contextual materials relevant to each are so vast and diverse that there is no one way to interpret them.

Thinking critically

This raises a final point about analyzing the meaning of art and architecture as cultural artifacts. While art historians rely on facts as much as possible and seek to interpret works in ways that are historically plausible, we recognize that subjectivity is inescapable. As discussed in “What is art history?,” we interpret the past in ways that make sense in the present. Today, art historians continue to ask traditional questions like those noted above, but they also ask new ones inspired by social developments such as feminism, globalism, multiculturalism, and identity politics.

So, as you read, watch, and listen, try to recognize the approaches being used and to think critically about them. Is the speaker or writer talking about the work as a physical object, visual experience, or cultural artifact? (Often it will be some combination.) What contexts are being used to explain meaning? Which contexts are not considered? This may leave you with as many questions as answers, but that is good. You are here not only to gain knowledge, but also to develop a curiosity about the world and the ability to think critically about it.

Notes:

[1] James Elkins, “Style,” Grove Art Online, Oxford Art Online (Oxford University Press, accessed August 15, 2017).

Additional resources

Read a chapter in our textbook, Reframing Art History, about learning to look and think critically.

Read a chapter in our textbook, Reframing Art History, about close looking and approaches to art.

Cite this page as: Dr. Robert Glass, “Introduction to art historical analysis,” in Smarthistory, October 28, 2017, accessed December 27, 2023, https://smarthistory.org/introduction-to-art-historical-analysis/.

How to do visual (formal) analysis

With Giovanni Bellini, Madonna of the Meadow, c. 1500, oil and egg on synthetic panel, transferred from wood, 67.3 x 86.4 cm (The National Gallery). Speakers: Dr. Steven Zucker and Dr. Beth Harris.  URL:  https://youtu.be/sM2MOyonDsY
Cite this page as: Dr. Beth Harris and Dr. Steven Zucker, “How to do visual (formal) analysis,” in Smarthistory, September 18, 2017, accessed December 27, 2023, https://smarthistory.org/visual-analysis/.

Art historical analysis with Goya’s Third of May, 1808

Francisco de Goya, Third of May, 1808, 1814, oil on canvas, 266 x 345.1 cm (Museo del Prado. Madrid)   URL: https://youtu.be/_QM-DfhrNv8

Cite this page as: Dr. Steven Zucker and Dr. Beth Harris, “Art historical analysis with Goya’s Third of May, 1808,” in Smarthistory, August 9, 2015, accessed December 27, 2023, https://smarthistory.org/art-historical-analysis/.

Describing what you see: sculpture

Describing what you see: Sculpture, Henry Moore’s Reclining Figure, 1951, plaster and string, 105.4 x 227.3 x 89.2 cm (Tate Britain) © The Henry Moore Foundation.   URL: https://youtu.be/Mbvaz0EPK_g

Additional resources
This sculpture at Tate Britain

Cite this page as: Dr. Beth Harris and Dr. Steven Zucker, “Describing what you see: sculpture,” in Smarthistory, April 6, 2019, accessed December 27, 2023, https://smarthistory.org/describing-sculpture/.

 

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