See The Third [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Rules of composition are really a study of human perception. It’s not the work of art that’s being examined, it’s the human being. Why do we consistently – universally – respond positively to visual compositions that follow the rule of thirds? Divide a composition into thirds, either vertically or horizontally, and then place focal areas of the “scene” at the meeting points of the lines. A professor in art and design school teaches the rule as a basic tenet, not because it was a concept that was invented but because someone, somewhere in time, noticed that people generally like their paintings, photographs, murals, quilts, architecture… when the focal point lands on one of the thirds. It was a discovery about the nature of people. Human nature.

Even the most abstract painters adhere to the rule of thirds. There is structure beneath seeming chaos.

There is something about humans and the number 3. The structure of a joke has three parts – the set-up, the detail, and the punchline. Most religions sport a trinity: father, son, and holy ghost. Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva. Buckminster Fuller’s Geodesic Dome is a festival of three. Pay attention and the rule of thirds pops up in everything from brain science to marketing messages. Triangulate and even the most lost hiker will be found.

When I first met Kerri I was disconcerted. Her compositional eye is infinitely better than mine. How could this musician come into my studio, snap a photo of my work-in-progress, and show me that her cropped version of my composition was infinitely better? What the heck? Her crops were never radical; simple adjustments merely. After I recognized how natural yet specific her eye sees the thirds – while I am clumsy in my seeing – in a fit of re-composing, I almost took a saw and scissors to my paintings. It was so obvious. Now, I ask her early and often to come into the studio and tell me what she sees (Imagine my horror when she stands silently for several moments and finally utters, “Well…”).

On the trail she stops often to “take a picture.” I play a game with myself. I look at where she aims her camera and then I predict where the focal point will land. Which third will claim the prize? I am almost never right but always delighted by what she shows me. “Lookit!” she says, smiling. A perfect third. Naturally.

prayer, 9″ x 24″ acrylic on hardboard

read Kerri’s blogpost about LACE AND SNOW

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buymeacoffee is not a third. It is something else.

Look For The Mountain [On DR Thursday]

A mountain morsel for this DR Thursday from studio melange.

Kerri laughed her most devious laugh when I asked, “Where does this morsel come from?” I didn’t recognize it as a slice from any of my  paintings. I usually know immediately where the morsel comes from. This one baffled me.

“Guess,” she said, laughing that laugh again. I knew I was in trouble.

Usually, when I hear this particular devious laugh, I look behind me. Or, I check to see if she is clutching cleverly concealed water balloons. DogDog knows this laugh, too. It means he will have to work very hard, go through all of his tricks, probably twice, before getting the cookie that she holds just above his reach.  He always looks to me for support and I tell him, “You are on your own, Dogga.”  I know better than to redirect her brat impulses on to me.

And so, like DogDog, I guessed. And guessed again. And again. I did tricks. I searched my folio site. With each wrong guess, her pleasure at my bewilderment increased, her laughter goading me on. I looked to DogDog for help. He dropped to the floor and pretended to be sleeping. I was on my own.

Finally, exhausted, beyond begging, she dropped a tiny hint. The painting no longer exists.

Thanks to Skip I’ve made it a practice of taking process shots which means Kerri has made it a practice of mining my process shots. Many of my paintings don’t make it to the finish line. They are either not composed well, are ill conceived from the start, or I overwork them and have to scrub them and start over. Sometimes they serve as rough drafts and i abandon them when I see the better path. This morsel comes from one of those – a painting that did not make it. It was poorly laid out. It broke the rule of thirds (and I didn’t want to cut the canvas to correct the problem).

Kerri jumped up and down with joy when I put it together. She knew that she was going to re-introduce a painting to me. She knew, given the right framing, I’d see the beauty of the unfinished piece. So, the morsel: Mountain in Yellow Sky. And, for my purposes, the beauty in the loose painting that no longer exists: Together On The Beach.

 

It is potent blow-back to help me see the old anew. When I said, “I think I need to learn to stop painting sooner, to redefine for myself what is a rough draft and what is not.” she laughed that laugh again. The trouble I am in is so much bigger than I understand.

 

 

 

 

 

MOUNTAIN IN YELLOW SKY products we’ve designed are sold at society6.com

mountain in yellow sky product box BAR jpeg copy

 

read Kerri’s blog post about MOUNTAIN IN YELLOW SKY

www.kerrianddavid.com

 

mountain in yellow sky/on the beach ©️ 2018 david robinson & kerri sherwood