the structure of vision (ii)

 
This page concludes our survey of the structure of vision, from texture and surface analysis to the more complex levels of depth perception, object recognition and the overall structure of the visual field.

This section is technical, but includes background relevant to basic design principles.

 
depth & volume perception
 
xxxxx
 
color
vision

depth & volume
perception

object & scene
recognition

the visual field

Textures are separated into discrete areas.  

Visual Completion. Edges are so fundamental to visual experience, in fact, that the mind will construct (perceive) a form even where there is none, as the following example demonstrates.

 

visual closure in an underdetermined pattern (Kanizsa illusion)

 
In this case the mind is simply presented with three dark, incomplete circles. Yet the appearance of a white triangle standing in front of or on top of the circles is so dramatic that some people will even perceive the triangular area as whiter than the area outside it (the Ehrenstein illusion)! A "literal eye" would simply see what is there.

Benary cross: pattern as form.

Benussi illusion in contrasted patterns.

DeValois checkerboard illusion

 

pattern contrast

 
The whole thing with pattern contrast.  

Foreground/Background Contrasts. One of the principal tasks necessary for depth perception is to set the separate regions defined in the primal sketch at different distances from the viewer. In effect, the regions are cut out as separate units, then mentally located as near or far from the view in a third dimension, much as planes are separated in the continuous flat surface of a bas-relief carving. This representation has been called the 2.5 dimensional sketch (at right), because it shows depth without being truly three dimensional: it does not define the volume and mass of objects, only their relative distance from the viewer.

As part of this representation, color shifts can be induced by a "foreground vs. background" pattern of the geometrical areas or color shapes in an image (this is called White's effect). The following example shows this clearly.

 

color shifts in a simple pattern

 
The two clusters of identical dull blue squares (top) or red orange squares (bottom) are placed against a regular pattern of alternating stripes. The edge contrasts for all the blue squares are identical — two sides of each square border on green, and two on violet. The only difference is in the overall pattern: the blue squares interrupt either the green or violet stripes, which causes the other color to appear as continuous stripes.
 

The effect is enhanced if the space between the stripes is narrowed (right). The spreading effect begins to take over and the squares shift toward the color of the stripes on either side rather than the stripes that form the "background".

The astonishing result is that hue shifts emerge from the pattern alone: the squares that interrupt the violet stripes appear lighter and less saturated than the squares that interrupt the green stripes. Visual completion causes the squares to appear as horizontal blue bands, which means the eye interprets the pattern as blue stripes behind the uninterrupted colored bands and in front of the interrupted color, which acts as a simultaneous contrast background. The squares that interrupt (are "in front of") the green background (left) shift toward a violet hue and a darker value, while the squares that interrupt the purple stripes (right) shift toward a green hue and a lighter value.

 

lightness shifts induced by visual completion

 
You may suspect that somehow these shifts are related to the center/surround contrasts of edge and region detection, but this is not the case. In the above example, visual completion causes us to perceive the gray cross in the center as a circle, which induces the perception that the circle is "behind" the four squares and "in front" of the contrasting background. Even though the edges around the circle are almost entirely with the four squares, the lightness shift is toward the value of the squares and away from the contrasting background.
 

enhancement of simultaneous contrast in narrow patterns

The 2.5 Dimensional Sketch. One of the principal tasks necessary for depth perception is to set the separate regions defined in the primal sketch at different distances from the viewer. In effect, the regions are cut out as separate units, then mentally located as near or far from the view in a third dimension, much as planes are separated in the continuous flat surface of a bas-relief carving. This representation has been called the 2.5 dimensional sketch (at right), because it shows the depth, slant and tilt of surfaces without being truly three dimensional (it does not define the hidden sides, volume and mass of objects).

A standard method for showing this surface layout is a circular disk skewered by a short rod and placed on a surface; the length and orientation of the rod shows the tilt and slant of the surface, the size of the disk its distance from the viewer.

This would be fussy and cluttered to use in a drawing, but artists have used a variety of other line conventions to indicate surface orientation and distance. Typically line thickness represents the distance of the edge or object from the viewer (distant objects are more lightly drawn), or the approach of the line to either a dark terminator or shadowed area. A variety of patterned lines, such as the bracelet drawing used by etchers, convey contour by the path of the line across the surface. The spacing of lines in relief drawings shows the orientation of the surface in the spacing of the lines: imitating foreshortening, the more slanted the surface, the more closely the lines are spaced. Finally, in imitation of perspective gradients, lines across the same surface are drawn closer together as they recede from the viewer.  

Light and Shadow. Because saturation and value are easy to confuse with each other, and tend to be disguised or shifted by the hue we are looking at, it's important to observe the distinction between the two when modeling three dimensional forms.  

Translucency Effects. Color shifts can also be induced by a pattern or "foreground vs. background" interpretation of the geometrical areas or color shapes in an image (White's effect). The following example shows this clearly, as it does not rely on color gradation and therefore is quite effective as a web browser image.
 

a 2.5 dimensional sketch
each point in the visual field is assigned three values: a slant (in relation to the direction of view), a tilt (in relation to horizontal or vertical), and a distance (in relation to the viewer)

The eye seems adapted to segregate image regions using transparency or occlusion as a guiding principle. The illustration at right presents an especially startling example.

(a) To begin, we arrange two rows of identical gray bars so that they slightly overlap in their spaces. Note that they appear to be exactly the same lightness — because they are.

(b) Light and dark squares can be added to the ends of these bars, but the apparent lightness of the bars remains largely unchanged. (I see a very slight shift to make the upper bars appear darker than the lower, corresponding to the Craik-O'Brian effect.)

(c) Or, a lighter gray field can be added around the lower bars, but this again does not alter the apparent uniform value of the bars.

(d) However, when the two elements are combined, the mind interprets the continuous horizontal edge created by the small squares and the large gray field to mean there is a coherent spatial relationship among all the color areas: the overall pattern resembles two rows of bars partially obscured at the bottom by a shadow or a translucent filter. This spatial interpretation causes the mind to infer color appearances that can "explain" the value contrasts in the apparent lightness relationships — the upper bars appear much darker than the lower ones.

These effects are not limited to value (lightness) alone. The section on saturation and value demonstrates similar and large shifts in apparent chroma and hue, simply by changing the location of the colors within an apparently three dimensional figure.

We can conclude from these and many other specific demonstrations that the mind is continually adjusting our visual experience to clarify the world's spatial structure — specifically, the effects of illumination on three dimensional surfaces. That is, color shifts do not arise "bottom up" through the local contrasts of different color areas, as "color theory" assumes. They are imposed "top down" by the mind, which first generates a three dimensional model of the world and the illumination within it using lightness information alone, then adjusts or "paints over" this three dimensional framework with color appearances appropriate to show the inferred forms and contours.

The contrast effects described in this section can only suggest the important effects of edge, pattern and spatial relationships on apparent color. They confirm that (1) edge contrast, (2) the visual frequency or spacing of a pattern, (3) the unity of colors in the representation of a single object or surface, (4) the spatial illusion created by a design, (5) simultaneous color contrast, and (6) visual contrast around a visual "average" are all significant factors in modifying or enhancing the apparent colors in a painting or image.
 

lightness shifts in a transparency illusion

The significance a viewer assigns to local color information is dependent on his or her interpretation of the entire visual context in which the color appears: the artist must build the unified effect of a design in the choice of all its parts.
 
translucency effects on patterns of different lightness, saturation and hue

more about transparency.
 
Importance of light and shadow in form perception and disambiguation of space.

 
object & scene recognition
 
The simplistic "square in a square" presentation of color contrasts suggests that the effects are pretty much the same in any visual setting. But that is incorrect. It is surprising how contextually dependent the contrast shifts in color can be.

Perhaps the major shortcoming of "color theory" prescriptions has been the assumption that color effects arise only through the visual proximity of two differently colored surface areas. In the suggestive and very influential color demonstrations of Josef Albers, for example, suitable choices of different values or hues can produce effects of transparency, translucency, spatial ordering, and so on.

Artists were until recently unaware that more powerful contrast effects or color illusions actually work the other way: the three dimensional or spatial interpretation of an image can strongly influence the apparent colors of the image. This is a very complex topic, but a few examples will illustrate the basic processes.
 

More about objects and scenes.  

Canonical Views. One of the canons of American design theory is an emphasis on the rule of good shapes, which Edgar Whitney stated as "a shape having variety in its length and breadth dimensions, its directional thrust being a dynamic oblique, and with incident at its edges interlocking with negative areas." What exactly that means in a specific painting is not always clear, but one answer may be that a good shape is most informative about the three dimensional form of the object represented.

A relatively unexpected but artistically important aspect of visual recognition is the role of "best" or canonical views of an object. The figure below illustrates these viewpoints for some common objects.

 

canonical views of six common objects

 
These canonical views were identified by asking experimental subjects to rate several photographs of a single object, each taken from a different point of view, in terms of "how much it looked like the object." Unusual views were downgraded in comparison to more familiar views, and these canonical views rated highest of all. The canonical views turned out to be recognized (named) most quickly when presented to different subjects.

Although it seems obvious that some views are more recognizable or pleasing than others, we'd like to find the rules that define a canonical view for a specific object. It seems the basic rule is, "it depends." Some points of view, such as the clock or telephone, seem determined primarily by the view during function or common use of the object — how it appears when we use it. Others, such as the chair or teapot, seem to provide the best three dimensional information about the object. In most cases, however, because the object is familiar from many different points of view, the canonical view seems to be a three quarters profile viewed slightly from above (the camera and shoe). Interestingly, this viewpoint also seems to create the dynamic oblique directional thrust and incident at edges valued by Whitney.

I suggest that the design requirements for good shape can be thought of as a balance between six competing viewpoints and design goals: (1) the habitual or functional view; (2) the view providing the best information about the object's proportions in three dimensions; (3) the view providing the most informative visual separation among the major parts of a single object; (4) the view producing the most complex edges or outline against a background; (5) the view producing the most dramatic perspective effects of height, recession or profile; and (6) the view producing the most emphatic two dimensional shape within entire image and its format. Balancing these competing criteria allows considerable scope for esthetic and design judgments.  

Behavior Episodes. An equally important aspect of canonical views that artists are rarely taught only emerges across time, in the behavior episodes studied by University of Virginia psychologist Darren Newtson. Think of any common physical activity, such as baking a cake, doing gymnastics or assembling an Ikea bookshelf, as captured on film. Each frame of the film would present a snapshot view of the activity unfolding over time. The unexpected result of Newtson's research is that some frames of this film are far more "canonical" or informative about the activity than others, because they show the key steps or processes of the activity in context. The frames that show the egg dropping from its shell into the mixing bowl, or the batter being poured into the baking pan, are immediately comprehensible; the frames that show the cook looking for a mixing spoon or wiping batter from her chin seem ambiguous and uninformative. Just as objects have canonical views in space, activities have canonical views across time.

It turns out that nearly all human activities, from conversations to team sports, show the same pattern of highly informative views separated by ambiguous intervals of rest, distraction or transition. The artistic challenge is to find the most informative snapshot to represent an entire activity or sequence of events as a single image. Photographers have the luxury of choosing from among many negatives: painters must determine the view through judgment and careful observation.

In athletic images or historical paintings, these canonical views of action can represent a climactic point (as in David's Oath of the Horatii) or can collapse several events in a single view (as in Caravaggio's marvelous The Betrayal of Christ, which shows the traitor kiss, the fleeing disciples and the arresting soldiers as a single moment). But the same principles apply in quiet images: John Singer Sargent was a master at disclosing the vitality and personality of his subjects through a gesturally expressive pose and a subtle displacement of the artist's point of view.

It is also very instructive to study sports or wildlife photographs, paparazzi celebrity shots, the photojournalism of Weegee (Arthur Fellig) or Henri Cartier-Bresson, advertising images, and in particular the fabulous collections of time series photographs by Eadweard Muybridge.

 

muybridge photos of a trotting horse

 
Although these twelve photos show different aspects of the same animal activity, clearly some of the snapshots are more informative or interpretable as "a trotting horse" than others. Image 4 seems to show the horse lurching to a halt, while image 12 suggests the wooden mount on a merry go round. Image 11 conveys a greater sense of speed than image 2; image 7 is monumental and static where image 9 is dainty and flowing. Careful comparisons such as these, using different kinds of photodocumentation, can help you understand why some images are more representative or characteristic than others, and to design figures and groups with a greater feeling for moment and gesture.

One caveat: science can clarify, but it can't prescribe. "Canonical" images are hardly the only view of the world. One of the main attributes of Diane Arbus' photographs is her preference for catching her subjects within transition moments, inside the detritus of action, creating an illusion of spiritual disconnectedness, imbalance, and a lack of human warmth. Her contact sheets show her decisions clearly.

Photographs structure the world in specific ways. They can help you study more effectively the motionless form of water ripples or running horses, but they cannot suggest the best way to represent water or horses in a painting. I discuss this issue in the page on aids to drawing, but the main point is simple: don't let dogmas dictate your representations.

Beliefs and Details. This is perhaps the hardest problem in perception. We cannot see the total individuality of everything in the world, or rather we see it but believe it does not matter to the general beliefs we hold about the world. So we float in a realm largely structured of ideas, interspersed with gleams and pools of direct experience.

Speech is a classic and insightful example. Our speech perception is entirely categorical, which means we can be confused by even small variations from the sound patterns we have been habituated to believe are important in speech production. Our perception focuses on specific sound details and discards the rest, and this constitutes our "normal" perception of speech. It is thrown into slight disarray by speech impediments, dialectics, or foreign accents, but at the borderline we are completely deaf to what is said. All of us have had the experience of asking someone to repeat something we don't understand, then once we "get" the misheard word reacting with embarrassed recognition. "Oh, Irene, I thought you said I seen."

Embarrassment is an emotion of misplaced categories. When we paint or draw we have similar difficulties finding the right graphical equivalent for a mental state, we are trying to write down the communications of the world without complete knowledge of the means to do so.

Attention during painting must be placed on the good fit of the new marks, given what came before.

 
the visual field
 
The many aspects of color psychology discussed in this page share a remarkable limitation: they are not put in the context of the visual field — the total visual panorama that our eyes present to us.

In fact, our visual sense of the world is largely based on a psychological reconstruction of the world, rather than a cameralike documentation of optical events. Visual effects such as complementary color contrasts are demonstrated with color stimuli that affect a very small part of the total visual field. Yet this larger visual experience is usually involved when viewing a painting, and always when viewing a landscape or figure, so its structure is important to understand.

Let's start with a simple illustration of the optical facts presented to us by our eyes. The image below was made by superimposing two separate images taken about 4" apart, to simulate the binocular view created by both eyes.

 

binocular parallax and depth of field in a visual field

 
In this situation the viewer is focusing on the roll of paper towels standing on the bathroom counter, because at that point there is no disparity between the binocular edges. The eyes report a combined image that is misaligned for edges in front of or behind the focal object (the door jambs and the glass shower doors).
 

Our visual system handles these problems in two ways. First, it simply edits out the confusing visual facts: if we stare fixedly at the center of the paper towel in the image, we don't really notice the misaligned or out of focus details around it. We do if we look at them directly in the image — but this is something that we cannot do in the real world.

Second, our mind replaces peripheral optical facts with concepts — of a doorway, a shower stall, a window reflection. These ideas cohere in our sense of being in a hallway before a bathroom, and the distances between our view and the objects around us. These ideas shift toward detailed perception only when we shift our direction of view — which we do frequently and continuously — to explore the details of a new object.

The basic difference between optical facts and visual experience is easiest to illustrate through the problem of parallax, but other optical constraints contribute as well: the lens of the eye cannot focus as efficiently along the sides of the curved retina, and light falling on this part of the eye strikes at an oblique angle, rather than head on, blurring the response across neighboring cones.

To cope with all these visual problems, the visual field is divided into three zones, as shown in the figure (looking downward on a viewer looking forward).

 

geometry of the visual field
hypothetical viewer seen from above; limits of parafoveal and peripheral vision are approximate

 
Foveal vision occupies an area about 2° wide in the field of view. (A US quarter, or a circle 2.5cm in diameter, viewed at arm's length or 28" from your eyes, is about 2° wide.) The fovea is a small depression in the retina, with a flattened basin called the foveola where blood vessels are absent; at its center is the central island, where the visual receptors consist entirely of densely packed R and G cones. The fovea has the most sensitive color discrimination capabilities and represents the visual center of attention: whatever point we look at directly is within the foveal field. In linear perspective the center of attention is sometimes called the principal point, principal ray or axis of vision.

Parafoveal vision occupies an area about 20° wide (or 10° on all sides of the foveal field). Surrounding the parafoveal field is the perifoveal field (not labeled in the diagram) which is approximately 50° wide (25° on all sides of the direction of view). An object 2 feet wide at arm's length, such as a large art book held open in both hands, is about 40° wide. The parafoveal field provides the context for our attention, and typically frames in coarse detail the point we are looking at — the book we read, a person, a TV screen. Color discrimination poor in the parafoveal area and extremely poor in the perifoveal area.

Peripheral vision is the rest of the visual field, which in most people extends to approximately 80° on either side of the center of attention (vision is limited above and below, because our eyes are set far behind our eyebrows and cheeks). Hold your arms out on both sides of your head and wiggle your fingers. Move your hands forward or back until you lose sight of movement: now your hands mark the width of your visual field. This peripheral field is primarily sensitive to movement or change in environment, and contributes almost nothing to our perception of object color, location or form.

Not really a zone within the visual field, conceptual vision is the smoothing, enriching and seamless merging of visual sensations with hearing, short and long term memory regarding our immediate environment, and unconscious concepts about the world. It is the binding element between the visual stimulus, the movement of our bodies, and the phyiscal world. In parafoveal and especially peripheral vision, it creates the static assumption of specific objects located by outlines or forms we barely see; this "concept world" remains constant until we hear or see movement, or change our direction of view.

Conceptual vision acts in a number of ways to suppress visible (or noticeable) but nuisance elements in the visual field. For example, it provides closure over the blind spots in each eye, deletes retinal "floaters" and our always visible nose from awareness, and links the jerky movements of the eye (for example, when reading a book) into an experience of uninterrupted flow.

If you want actually to experience conceptual vision, do this: stand at night in a darkened hallway with the door to a lighted room behind you. Begin to step gradually backwards into the lighted room, keeping your back turned to the light and your eyes fixed straight ahead. At some point you will be able to see the brightly lit door jambs on both sides and above you in your periperal vision. Keep looking straight ahead, and continue to step slowly backwards into the room. When you feel certain that you can see the jambs above and on both sides, stop and look directly at them without moving your head. The jambs on either side are actually visible — but the jamb over your head is not. You only saw it conceptually — where you thought it was.

Color vision is not structured equally within the visual field. Foveal vision shows a warm color bias, because the fovea contains no rods and few or no B cones — only R and G cones. It turns out, however, that these foveal R and G cells are optimized to perceive edges and contrasts, which define our "center of attention" and the visual acuity necessary to read text or use precise tools. Yet there are no recognizable effects on perceived color. For example, demonstrations of color contrast are typically larger than the foveal field: one part of the visual display is typically in the foveal field, the other in the parafoveal field. We see the simultaneous contrast of colors, but also the simultaneous contrast of two different parts of the visual field. Yet when these images are reduced to fit entirely within the foveal field, both the colors and the color contrasts remain unchanged.

 

contrast effects viewed entirely within the foveal field
view at a distance of two feet or more

 
Although the foveal field contains no B cones, the color sensations for blues and violets also remain subjectively the same as in the parafoveal field. However, careful observation reveals that colors do shift somewhat toward blue because of the very high concentration of B cones and rods in the parafovea, and this bias increases towards the peripheral limits of view. (If you look directly at the righthand square in this chroma contrast diagram, it will appear a bright red violet; move the eye gradually to the far right side, and it will appear to shift toward blue, sometimes in flashes of alternating color.) This effect is usually muted because colors also become less intense in the outer areas of vision.

We rarely notice differences in detail, contrast or color between the parafoveal and foveal fields in part because our concept of the surrounding environment fleshes out what we don't directly look at. But we also seem to function just fine within the fuzzy detail that the parafoveal field provides. For example, during dark adapted scotopic vision, the fovea completely ceases to function because it contains no rods. The functional "center of attention" then becomes the parafoveal field, yet most people perceive objects in a moonlight night as in focus.  

The eye also builds an image through specific kinds of movement. The most common is the saccade, which is a rapid, unconscious "jump and hold" of both eyes in tandem that causes specific areas of the visual world to fall onto the fovea or selective visual attention. Because of saccadic suppression we do not visually experience these eye movements; that is, we don't experience a blur (as we do if we shake our head) but a seamless flow of "snapshots" of the world. The "jump" is quite fast, traversing up to 15° of the visual field in 10 milliseconds, and the "hold" or fixation between saccades is usually 150-300 milliseconds — never less than that, to permit the eye to register a distinct image, but sometimes longer depending on the viewer's goal and level of attention. Saccades are preprogrammed (ballistic) movements, computed from information in the foveal and parafoveal areas of the visual field; a large saccade is often followed by one or more smaller, "corrective" jumps.
 

The "hold" of a saccade is refined by physiological nystagmus, tiny tremors, flicks or drifts of the eye that constantly shift the image over the fovea so that it is continuously stimulated by changing patterns. (If this did not happen, the image would fade within a few seconds.) Sometimes these are corrective movements, adjusting for an inaccurate saccadic jump or a drift in eye direction.

In contrast to saccades, pursuit eye movements are voluntary, tandem eye movements that smoothly track a moving object in the visual field. They primarily function to stabilize moving objects on the retina, which allows us to see the object in better detail. However, they typically require a moving object to elicit, and are not under voluntary control. So they do not affect our view of a painting.

 

eye saccades within a painting
points show focus of eye saccades for 17 different viewers

 
It's common in painting tutorials to find misleading design statements such as, "the strong diagonals lead the eye." As the example shows, viewers do not roll their eyes along geometric guides in the image, they leap from one point to the next to explore the picture in a sequence of detailed views. In this painting, which shows the execution of Lady Gray, the saccades target image areas that help the viewer interpret what is going on: the faces of the figures, the chopping block, the executioner's axe. If the viewer were asked to examine the color mixtures, or inspect the costumes, the pattern of saccades would be different. The interest a viewer brings to a picture, not abstract principles of design, determines the movements of the eye around the picture.

 

eye saccades within a painting
points show focus of eye saccades for 17 different viewers

 
Peripheral vision emphasizes movement rather than form. As we walk, objects in our direction of motion seem to expand slowly from the center of view, but objects beside us, in the peripheral field, shear past us quickly. This shearing movement is difficult for a precise visual system to track accurately. (To see what shearing movement does to foveal vision, shake your head back and forth violently ... but sit down first!) So the distribution of peripheral cones is sparser and the cones are physically much larger than at the fovea, to reduce visual resolution. The peripheral field makes sense of this rapidly moving, coarsely defined information primarily by looking for differences in movement (those wiggling fingers, or our tennis partner) at the edges of vision. Communication among peripheral cells is more integrated — cones and rods are interconnected, for example — which gives "resolution" in peripheral vision an entirely different meaning: we cannot see forms or color at all, but notice movement quite well.

The overall structure of the visual field (if we could see the whole field with foveal clarity) might appear something like this:

 

structure of the visual field

 
I'm looking into the right eye of this endearing infant, at arm's length, and her eye almost fills my foveal field, which emphasizes contrast somewhat at the expense of color. The parafoveal field is somewhat fuzzier but also slightly more brightly colored; these chunks of color render the main forms. The peripheral vision is so vague that distinct forms are almost lost, and colors shift toward a simple light/dark contrast with loss in both luminosity and chroma.

This illustration makes clear that a large part of the apparent visual field is not visual but conceptual. We don't experience the world as a fuzzy tunnel. Instead, the mind creates a unified visual experience that replaces the fuzzy objects in the parafoveal and peripheral fields with clear concepts or memories of what we would see — if we chose to look directly in that direction. So we can talk about a conceptal field laid over the visual field, pulling it all together into a seamless, sufficiently detailed whole. We don't perceive an image on the retina, but the world.

Our visual structure affects the way we interact with works of art. We naturally approach a painting, photograph or sculpture until the foveal field can examine specific passages of the work in detail, yet also move back to bracket most or all of it within the parafoveal field. Our preferred "viewing distance" is the balance between these two requirements. If an artist knows the intended setting for a work, he or she can choose the level of detail — in the drawing, brushwork, visual mixing and so on — that the viewer is likely to be able to see at the viewing distance appropriate for the setting. Most drawings and etchings, for example, assume a "portfolio distance" of only two or three feet.

When artists paint an image, they implicitly choose to emphasize one or another aspect of the visual field. Drawings from the 18th century, and modern "photorealist" paintings, where everything is in focus, there is no parafoveal fuzzing, and colors are rather drab, emphasize the foveal and conceptual fields. Impressionist and postimpressionist paintings are parafoveal in their coarse detail, visual color mixing, and intense color contrasts. Painters that try to capture variations in visual structure often keep highly chromatic colors out of the peripheral area of the painting and paint objects there indistinctly or in shadow; the "center of attention" in a picture is often finely detailed and strongly contrasted, with the area immediately around it more brightly colored.

The story gets even more complicated when we try to describe how eye movements assemble our visual experience — shifting the foveal center of attention and the limits of the parafoveal and peripheral fields, and continually refreshing and updating the conceptual field. Even this process has design implications. When artists talk about how "the eye is led around" an image, they often are describing the overall pattern of detail, color and contrast within the image that would result from alternating parafoveal and foveal views in the physical environment of the image. They make design choices that imitate the variations in visual information that eye movements create — or they use nonrepresentational forms and colors to mimic these variations abstractly. In particular, critical commentary on the works of Pierre Bonnard emphasizes the ways in which his color and drawing imitate the effects of multiple foveal and parafoveal views.

N E X T :   color in the world

 

Last revised 01.12.2004 • © 2004 Bruce MacEvoy

physiological nystagmus
stare at the black dot for 30 seconds,
then shift your gaze to the white dot