There is a certain magical time of day, for me most often experienced in the early morning before sunrise, when the light is of such a quality that everything is black and white. It's like watching an old TV program. There is no color - it's all washed out. It reminds me also of some winter scenes I've seen - cold, austere, and beautiful.
As the light activates our eyes fully, the entire palate of colors becomes available for our view and inspection. Clarity comes not in stark contrasts of black and white, or even in shades of gray, but in understanding the rich tapestry and canvas of the world around us. Assessment may be made of the entire lovely and desirable world around us. Judgments can be made in the full light of day that are otherwise impossible. And we understand, and in understanding we find freedom, power, and strength. There is also an incredible satisfaction from truly KNOWING something for what it is.
One should never assume that one has all of the information. Exploration should be made to ensure complete comprehension. Yet scenes such as the one above hint at something delicate, delightful, and complex. Real satisfaction comes in understanding the artist's intentions - why is the train/factory included in this pastoral scene, for example. In fact, it is the central feature of the scene. The juxtaposition of elements hint at a depth of intention and interest that the initial cursory view would miss.
One should also take care to avoid extremes. The Monet uses almost no black or white and his compositions become muddled and unclear. They are evocative and impressive, but they do not offer clarity. Piranesi, on the other hand, uses no color at all. His work becomes a symphony of black and white. It is hyper-clear, but it is also cold and uninviting. I love both of these, but there's something missing. Perhaps that was the intent, too...
Here is where my preference lies. I love Hopper. I love that he painted his wife. I love that he uses - and to such a great effect! - all of the palate of colors that are available. The colors are rich, warm, and intentional. The black and white contrasts provide dynamics that are otherwise unattainable. Hopper, of course, is of the "realist" school. And while not providing what we would now refer to as photorealism, this scene, and many others of Hopper's work, offer a great deal of information and clarity into what Hopper intended us to see. There is enough here to be guessed at, enough hinted at to keep people interested. But it is not so loose and abstract that all that is available is an emotion. Nor is it so stark and contrasted that we are left with a harsh view of the world. There is a story here, one that is complex and interesting - one that pulls you in and makes you wonder... Who is this girl? Who is she waiting for? Her lover? Has he just arrived? Was she waiting at the open window, hoping to hear his footsteps coming up the walk? Her pose is one of motion in pause. The wind in the curtains, on her dress, and in her hair is almost palpable. The look of haughtiness is tempered by her pose - she is eager to see someone, but she wants to appear aloof and disinterested... a very coquettish attitude! All of these things generate interest in and about the picture.
It's no mystery why this is the case. The light is not sufficiently bright enough to activate the color receptors in our eyes. Our eyes have two kinds of light receptors - cones and rods. The cones are what allow us to see color, while the rods allow us to see black and white. We have many more cones than rods, and our eyes are attuned to see color. But at lower light levels, there is insufficient energy to activate the color receptors. So all we see is black and white.
But that's not entirely accurate, either. The world is not a chiaroscuro of extreme black and white contrasts. Even in the lower light levels, there are shades of gray which offer additional information and insight into the world around us.
Evolution folks would tell us that it was necessary for us to retain black and white vision in order to be able to see in darkened places and avoid trouble at night. The biology folks tell us further that the black and white contrasts we see allow us sharper vision and clarity. Artists will tell us that removing extraneous information from an image allows us to focus on what is important and gives the work a feel that is unattainable in other ways.
As the light grows brighter, however, colors become apparent. Like a Mondrian, the colors which most readily activate our receptors are the bright and vivid primary colors. We are still very much in a black and white world, but the colors begin to hint at something that underlies the hues we see. Black is not just black - it is a darking blue, or with just a blush of red.
As the light activates our eyes fully, the entire palate of colors becomes available for our view and inspection. Clarity comes not in stark contrasts of black and white, or even in shades of gray, but in understanding the rich tapestry and canvas of the world around us. Assessment may be made of the entire lovely and desirable world around us. Judgments can be made in the full light of day that are otherwise impossible. And we understand, and in understanding we find freedom, power, and strength. There is also an incredible satisfaction from truly KNOWING something for what it is.
One should never assume that one has all of the information. Exploration should be made to ensure complete comprehension. Yet scenes such as the one above hint at something delicate, delightful, and complex. Real satisfaction comes in understanding the artist's intentions - why is the train/factory included in this pastoral scene, for example. In fact, it is the central feature of the scene. The juxtaposition of elements hint at a depth of intention and interest that the initial cursory view would miss.
One should also take care to avoid extremes. The Monet uses almost no black or white and his compositions become muddled and unclear. They are evocative and impressive, but they do not offer clarity. Piranesi, on the other hand, uses no color at all. His work becomes a symphony of black and white. It is hyper-clear, but it is also cold and uninviting. I love both of these, but there's something missing. Perhaps that was the intent, too...
This is also true of life. There are some who view things in terms of stark contrasts - either bad or good, right or wrong. This is not always the case. The world is a rich tapestry of colors, shades, and hues, all of which create a beautiful and desirable effect that scintillates the brain and the understanding. It provides interest and texture to our lives. There needs to be some bright-line standards which are absolute, lest we become Monet-like in our clarity. Yet even then, there are usually exceptions and questions that allow for some leeway in expression. Those who advocate too strongly one way or the other usually miss the bulk of the beauty and intricacy that the world can provide.
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