Composition: Invisible Lines

“In short: there are no rules. And here they are.”

Scott McCloud, Making Comics

That pretty much sums up my view of art instruction. I will tell you right now that when it comes to teaching art, I have very little idea what I’m doing. I love it, I can talk endlessly about it, and I hope that somewhere in my jumble of thoughts is something that benefits another artist.

After looking at photos from a family getaway, I was struck by how two pictures, of the same subjects, in the same setting, taken only moments apart, conveyed a very different feeling to me.

 

Lake pic 1

Lake pic 2 

I considered their composition.

Composition basically means ‘what it’s made of and how you put it all together’. It’s a subject as broad as an ancient map of the world, with plenty of beasties rearing out of the ocean, and lots of blank spaces at the edges where unwary explorers venture at their own peril.

After looking at the pictures, I decided that their differences came down to lines.

I vaguely remember, as a curious young artistic child, asking, “Mommy, if you look really closely at things, do they have little lines around them, like in a drawing?”

In some ways, there really are invisible lines throughout the visual world, and like long-ago astronomers playing connect-the-dots with the stars, an artist can learn to see them.

A straight line on a page can become anything: the first letter of a word, the first note of a symphony, the first blade of grass in a field. But once you add a bend or a second line, you create a relationship…you create meaning.

Invisible lines fill the spaces between forms. They are the relationships of direction and angle that set the mood, guide the eye, and communicate a message.

Visible lines show the forms. Invisible lines guide the relationships between the forms.

There are two basic kinds of line relationships, as far as I see: Static, and Dynamic. These apply to both the visible and invisible lines.

Static is composed of vertical and horizontal lines placed at right angles to each other.

A composition featuring a lot of these well-behaved lines is likely to appear peaceful, relaxing, thoughtful, ordered, vast, epic, distant.

Dynamic lets it all hang loose.

When you visualize the invisible lines in a dynamic composition, they look like a game of pick-up-sticks. A dynamic composition can convey motion, action, excitement, frenzy, chaos, disorder, confusion, exhaustion, casualness.

I think most compositions are a combination of these two types. Throw in some unpredictable curved lines, and things get really interesting.

Breaking the two lakeside pictures down into basic lines and shapes helps show what’s going on. The half-white, half-black circle indicates the focal point—the place where there is the highest contrast, and therefore where the eye will be drawn. (My thanks to Beth Verheyden for introducing me to this concept, and many other helpful points on composition.) The circled brown dot is the vanishing point, where the invisible lines of perspective lead. The red lines indicate the invisible line relationships.

Composition 1

Composition 2

In both compositions, the massive triangle formed by the tree-covered hill in the background—and its reflection—forcefully draws the eye to the mountain, but then the eye bounces back to the girl, with her combination of pale skin and black shadow.

In composition 1, the invisible triangle formed by the three people perfectly mirrors the visible hill and reflection, making a dynamic partnership of direction. The tilting horizon line, while unnatural, enhances the dynamic feeling. Note that the invisible lines on the girl—especially on her torso—point toward the vanishing point, further enhancing the dynamic motion.

In composition 2, I adjusted the picture so it had a natural, static horizon line. Note that I had trouble determining the vanishing point—I think the far right is correct. The ripples from the boy dominate the water surface, creating interest that competes with the girl (not to mention his in-motion posture) to be the focal point. The lines of the girl’s torso angle away from the vanishing point, creating further conflict.

And see how the outline of the man forms a near-perfect square? It doesn’t get much more static than that.

All this comes down to: what are you trying to say?

To me, composition 2 says: “This day at the lake is quiet and restful. Rather boring. In fact, we’re losing interest in our surroundings. Is it time to leave yet?”

And composition 1 says: “This day at the lake is wonderful! We are exploring, interested, moving in motion with the wind and water.” It seems to invite me in for an adventure.

Whether I’m using a photo reference for my artwork, or just my own imagination, I try to be aware of the line relationships, how they’re directing the eye, and what they’re saying. I refine compositions by removing elements that distract from the movement and message, and enhancing the ones that carry it.

For example, I might strengthen composition 1 by removing the submerged rock in the foreground and the boat in the background—distractions. I might change the positions of the girl’s legs so one is thrusting straight forward, and the other straight back—clarity of motion. And, because her downturned head could indicate the wrong emotions, I think I would tilt her face upward to the light.

As I engage in the art of following invisible lines and studying their relationships, as I listen to the stories they tell, I sometimes feel like I’m joining in the rhythm of a dance.

Am I nuts? Possibly. But there were probably a few good points in there. May God bless you with flowing inspiration!