Creating Composition: A Critical Necessity
- Admin
- Sep 19
- 6 min read
By Timothy Rees
Human beings are very complex animals. In our everyday lives, as well as the arts (painting, music, literature, etc.), we demand that which is new as well as familiar to keep us engaged. The new is exciting, and the familiar helps us feel like everything is right. To neglect these elements typically means losing the interest of an audience.
The familiarity in a work is derived from our biology and the environment in which we have been raised. Our biology draws us to patterns. In fact, our very survival has depended on recognizing them (configurations of animals, other people, movement of the stars, etc). Our environment is a function of our history as a species. In the case of art, it is represented by the history of art/architecture/interior design, as well as any additional local art cultural development.
Because of our innate complexity, well-developed composition doesn’t just make a painting better; it’s a critical necessity.
Fortunately, good composition is not just an esoteric or theoretical idea, but one that can be studied and implemented into any work. Books have been written, studies have been performed, and a whole history of work has been filtered through our species to help us categorize, analyze, and implement its various facets. Thanks to the great accessibility of online sources, we even have access to obscure composition sketches by past artists. These unlock an important doorway into the process of conceptualizing and developing the most influential paintings of our culture. By reading books and articles of the past, studying works in the same way as prior artists, and building on this foundation with our contemporary ideas, it becomes easy to not only say something new, but also in a way that has familiar resonance. Historically, there were subject-oriented compositional choices that were made to impart meaning or deal with the complexity of various topics (such as figure or still life), but there are fundamental elements of composition that can transcend subjects and styles, even down to the bare bones of minimalism. These are undoubtedly the best places to begin one’s journey of design study, so consider the following.
Mathematics. Formal composition began long ago with the alignment of architecture, sculpture, and painting to the idea of mathematics. Divisions were made that were analogous to those found in a musical scale (an octave), applying a filter of order to nature. Most art students are taught these divisions early on as an easy way to place elements within their composition: divide a canvas into thirds, quarters, and halves. Whether this mathematical arrangement is truly better or merely our preference from 2500 years of exposure may be debatable, but most would agree that a work feels slightly “out of tune” if the elements or divisions of the canvas don’t quite fall along these guidelines. Artists of the past, such as Velazquez, were known to study and implement this mathematics, and while there may not be documented proof from every painter of the Renaissance through the Academies, measuring out their paintings usually reveals at very least an intuitive implementation.
Fortunately, there’s no need to pull out a calculator to determine these divisions. Three steps can create a series of lines that intersect at harmonic ratios, as well as allow one to determine the overall canvas divisions (of halves, quarters, and thirds). 1. (GREEN LINES) Draw two diagonal lines from corner to corner, creating an X. The intersection reveals a 1/2 division of the canvas. 2. (RED LINES) With the halfway points determined, draw 4 diagonal lines connecting the (outside) halfway divisions, creating a diamond. Where these lines cross the initial Xshaped diagonals represent the 1/4 divisions. 3. (BLUE LINES) Draw a set of lines connecting the outside half points with the corners of the canvas (creating an octagram). Where these lines cross the initial X-shaped diagonals represents the 1/3 divisions. The remarkable thing about this linear creation of divisions (as opposed to measuring a canvas and pulling out a calculator), is that the same set of lines can divide any size rectangle to describe the harmonic divisions, even if they measure to be irrational decimal point measurements. Traditionally, these divisions are used to divide the compositions into sections (typically more complex designs), to place horizons or eye levels, and to set important elements of the design. Interestingly enough, it’s not just the intersections of these diagonals that become useful, but the diagonals themselves. Elements placed along these diagonals tend to feel more comfortably placed than those outside. This is not to say that every shape in the design must conform to the harmonic line construct but having a few elements in tune will set the viewer at greater ease.
Patterns. Patterns can create balance, eye flow, and shape variety in a painting. Though they had not been systematically categorized in the Academies of the past, there is documented evidence that artists have used them for hundreds of years (Michelangelo admitted to using them in his designs in the Sistine Chapel). American artist Edgar Payne wrote a book in 1941 describing and categorizing some of the most common patterns that have continually popped up in paintings, applying them to landscapes and providing small composition sketches to instruct the reader on rearranging designs. These patterns, or composition stems as they are referred to in the book, include S curve, steelyard (weight/counterweight), circle, diagonal, and more. Even when implemented into a simple subject, like a portrait sketch, a painting can go from a boring blob in the middle of the canvas to a dynamic and aesthetically pleasing picture. While it can sometimes be difficult to detect the composition stem in a painting, stepping very far away (until the painting is the size of a thumbnail) will often reveal if one has been used. Typically, similar values will group together to reveal a value pattern, or strong suggested lines become even more apparent.
Movement. An essential element in the excitement of a painting is a composition that encourages the viewer’s eye to flow across the canvas. The human eye has a natural propensity to follow any line before it. Fabric, rivers, or even an outstretched arm are great ways to direct. Faces and hands create spots of interest for the eye to rest in figurative works, while a cluster of detail is successful in any genre. In the past, vibrant colors tended to be costly, and paintings were kept primarily neutral save for key elements, creating natural spots of interest. Conveniently, this effect is consistent with our optic system: when we focus on something, the cones and rods of our eyes tend to interpret stronger colors and values. As such, utilizing greater spots of contrast or intense color works to pull the viewer’s attention from section to section, while detail can hold interest there. Using these principles, the artist can direct the viewer around a painting in the same way a magician leads his audience. The study of composition can get very involved, but these subjects represent an imperative foundation. And while we could go into greater depth on each, it is at least worth noting how artists of the past put this all together to both study other artists and formulate their own design. Each artist had their primary composition interests in their body of work (anatomy for Michelangelo, light/dark pattern for Rembrandt, etc.), but there are striking similarities among them all. The design was typically formulated from a small sketch (sometimes called a croquis), which often described the essential linear elements, placement of important detail, and the light and dark pattern; usually with pen or pencil followed by an ink wash. This small notation, if done properly, gave the artist a strong understanding of how a finished painting had been designed, or how to sort out the composition of a work to be painted. Fortunately for us, many of these croquis still exist, and they show us that skill in realism had little to do with planning a design.
So, start to study design. There’s no need to reinvent the wheel - study the way the masters did. Look at other paintings and sketch. Fill a book with your own designs. Utilize the principles to engage your viewers. If you’ve done it well, you won’t just reach your contemporaries, but you’ll achieve the goal of all great artists of the past: a timeless connection to all humanity.
