Art and the Mind || Invisible Art

National Art Education Association

Invisible ArtAuthor(s): D. N. PerkinsSource: Art Education, Vol. 36, No. 2, Art and the Mind (Mar., 1983), pp. 39-41Published by: National Art Education AssociationStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/3192661 .

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Invisible Art

D. N. Perkins

A rt is something special, we all agree. But is it psychologically special, a matter of mental pro-

cesses not found in other activities? Many of us would want to say yes to that, too. Certainly, artistic activities don't "feel like" other performances that have been looked at a lot by psy- chologists, performances such as solv- ing problems in mathematics, playing chess, or making management decisions. On a less subjective plane, Nelson Goodman has argued that works of visual art have symbolic characteristics not shared by linguistic symbol sys- tems.' These characteristics could lead to differences in the mental processes in- volved. It may even be that artistic abilities depend on a certain kind of in- telligence distinct from certain other kinds, as Howard Gardner suggests in this issue.

All this notwithstanding, I want to argue that, in a way, art is very typical. Art can even help us to see clearly what makes many cognitive skills difficult to learn. To make this case, I will discuss an approach to teaching art appreciation that involves both a philosophy about what needs to be taught and an instructional strategy. Then I will suggest that the basic features of this approach are general to a whole range of complex cognitive skills.2

Art is Invisible There are several reasons why, in Ameri- can education, art appreciation tends to be neglected even more than art making. One of the most deceptive influences seems to be this: it's easy for people to think that there's not much to be taught. You look at the work and simply see what it shows. Either you find what you see engaging, or not, but that's nothing to do with education. However, this way of thinking misses the truth of my title -art is invisible.

I admit to enjoying the paradox in that phrase, "invisible art." But the slogan has a point. It's a first approx- imation to pinning down what kinds of problems novice viewers have with art:

they don't really see it. They recognize the cows and the trees, but not the style or the form. They register the anguish of a martyred saint but not the way the landscape echoes that anguish with dull oppressive colors. They see the energy of depicted action in a Delacroix, but not the equal energy in the brushstrokes of a Van Gogh. They literally do not perceive these features that carry much of the value and excitement art offers. The art in the art is invisible.

Accordingly, the first goal of instruction in art appreciation becomes simply: making art visible. Such an enterprise has a "You can lead a horse to water" quality to it, of course. There is no guarantee that any given student will like what he or she sees. But at least there is a chance. If the art is not seen, there is no chance.

What to Make Visible Making art visible is not at all a new for- mula for instruction in appreciation. University instruction in connoisseur- ship tries to make visible aspects of art that students usually miss. The students learn to see characteristics of periods, formal features, conventional sym- bolism, and whatnot.

But there are many aspects of art besides this that might be made visible. It's fair to ask whether characteristics of periods, formal features, and so on are the right things. Especially, are they the right things for youngsters who have not already chosen the arts as a special area of interest? Clearly, students who are not necessarily enthusiastic about art to start with need to be put in touch with whatever is most engaging and illuminating in art. Just as clearly, scholarly insights like identifying a painterly style or complimentary colors will not nor- mally be the highpoints of standing in front of a painting.

Aesthetic effects. Let us call those aspects of art that make art especially engaging and illuminating "aesthetic effects." Here are some likely examples of aesthetic effects. Mood: Often works of art project powerful moods, the

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moods of people or animals, or even the moods of landscapes, buildings, or ab- stract plays of color. The main business of many works of art seems to be to deliver a vivid mood. Personality: Por- traits and other pictures of people render, at their best, not only appear- ances but personalities. The viewer who misses this paradoxical capturing of character in mere paint loses much of the point of such art. Motion: Since art does not generally move, the depiction of motion is another somewhat paradoxical and often provocative aspect of art. This includes not only renderings of objects in motion - the horse race, the boxing match - but also qualities of motion in a metaphorical sense - for example, the swarming brushstrokes in a Van Gogh, or the upyearning of the elongated figures in an El Greco. Sur- prise: Artists often try to surprise us. These efforts range from subtle plays of symmetry and assymetry to visual assaults designed to startle, shock, or dismay, as in Magritte's surrealist paint- ings or Manet's Luncheon on the Grass.

It's easy to imagine a heated debate about what to add to this partial list. Obviously, "aesthetic effects" is a slop- py notion. The more engaging and illuminating aspects of art grade continu- ously into the duller aspects, and what's right for one person may not be so for another. But surely there are trends. Given that, we should face up to the problem of making such judgments thoughtfully despite the uncertainties. If we do not, if instead we uncritically follow personal habit or academic tra- dition, we risk leaving students blind to what makes art worth bothering with.

Global as well as local effects. Aesthetic effects such as those mention- ed above have their more and less obvious sides. The mood of a sad person or the motion of a racing horse are plain enough. However, novice viewers tend to miss "global" qualities. The overall bustle of a crowd is less likely to cap- ture attention than the actions of a few individuals in it. Because global qualities are less visible, students need to be encouraged to attend to them.

Suggested as well as real effects. The same problem of invisibility occurs with what might be called "suggested" effects. For example, only people can have real moods, but drooping sunflowers or beat-up shoes can have suggested moods. Novice viewers tend to notice suggested moods less than real moods.

The real/suggested distinction makes sense for personality and motion, too. We need instruction that stretches students' attention to include suggested mood, motion, and personality, and no doubt other suggested effects.

Symptoms, tricks, and reinforcers. For the novice viewer, the artist's tactics, like the artist's results, are partly invisible. The novice thinks pictures are made mostly by painting things as they are or would be. A figure looks like he is running or sad because what might be called "symptoms" of running or sad- ness are shown - bent knees or tearful eyes, for example. Novice viewers are less aware of "tricks." Tricks are tactics that intensify an effect without really having anything to do with the effect. For instance, an artist might arrange the light in a painting so that shadows fall upon the face of a sad person. Strictly speaking, shadows have nothing to do with a person's mood, but, handled well by the artist, they can make the person look all the sadder.

The use of "reinforcers" is another tactic. Reinforcers are features of the work that are not on the object being discussed, but which reinforce, by contrast or concordance, an effect of that object. For example, a bright back- ground might intensify a figure's sad-

ness by contrast, or a dark one intensify it by concordance. To see the tactics behind a work of art, students need to learn to look for tricks and reinforcers as well as symptoms.

Making Art Visible Let us take stock. We are fleshing out the notion that the art in art is invisible. We have been defining just what needs to be made visible so that novice viewers will catch on to what's most important and engaging in art. We have gotten this far: We want novice viewers to pay attention to the "aesthetic effects" in works of art, aesthetic effects such as mood, surprise, personality, and motion. Furthermore, we want them to notice global as well as local effects, and suggested as well as real effects. On top of that, we want them to become aware of the tactics artists use to get those effects - not only symptoms, but also tricks and reinforcers.

How can all that be taught? Some small-scale instructional experiments conducted over the past year shed light on the problem. It's become clear that students have no great difficulty com- ing to a rough understanding of any of the above concepts. A few examples and a brief explanation suffice. However, to use the concepts with precision, they need quite a bit of practice.

It's also become clear that consider- able familiarity with the concepts does not guarantee a greatly enriched response to art. Unless directed to, students often don't think to use the concepts, and even more often don't use them thoroughly and systematically. A partial solution is to teach a recipe that takes viewers through the concepts in a certain order. For instance, here is a recipe for looking at mood in a work of art. First, point out all examples of local real mood. Then point out all examples of local suggested mood. Then look for global real mood. Then look for global suggested mood. Then pick the three most important moods in the picture. Analyze how the artist creates each mood, noting symptoms, then tricks, and then reinforcers. Somewhat similar strategies can be taught for the other aesthetic effects. Students memorize such recipes readily and, applying them strictly, generate far more interesting points about a work of art than they would otherwise.

Here is a commentary a student wrote on the mood of Andrew Wyeth's

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Christina's World before learning the above system. The students were asked to write thoroughly on the moods in the picture and how the artist achieved them. The students were told nothing about the story behind the painting.

The mood is sad, scary, tired, and frightened. You can not really tell what the exact mood is because you can not see the girl's face. The artist did this so you will look at where the girl is looking. The girl might be frightened of who is in the house.

Here is a commentary written by the same student after several hours of group instruction emphasizing the above concepts and recipe. The painting, along with two others used for testing, had not been shown or discussed since the students wrote their initial essays. For the first part of the post-test, the students wrote out answers following the recipe. Then they wrote essays about the moods in the painting not using any of the special vocabulary. The students generally showed progress; the commentary by the student quoted above was par- ticularly sensitive:

In this picture the mood is scary. I say this because there are many things that make this statement true. One is the position of the girl as if she is tired and there is something in the house that she wants. Her hands are out on the field as if she lost something of sentimental value of hers. Her hair is not in place, as if she was in a fight for her life.

The house looks dark, dull, and scary. Just as if it is the only shelter for miles. All of the same color field makes the house stand out.

The field is just about all one color but it gets light near the house. It seems dangerous, cold, and scary.

The sky seems to look cold because it is all one color - white. White is a bare, lonely color and it fits this picture just right because you can say that the picture is bare, lonely, and scary.

Certainly one could complain about some inconsistencies and other weak- nesses in this little essay. But just as certainly, it is much more closely observed than the student's initial essay on the mood of the painting.

None of this implies that following a recipe is an ideal procedure for an experienced viewer. But that's because the

experienced viewer already has hair- trigger perceptual sensitivities that the novice lacks. What the experienced viewer spontaneously perceives, the novice needs to look for explicitly. As students practice perceiving, their re- sponses should gradually get more auto- matic and spontaneous, too. (However, this does not mean that completely spontaneous viewing is the mature ideal. Experienced viewers not only see a lot spontaneously but have learned how to look systematically. When they choose to do so, they thereby see all the more.)

Art Appreciation as a Paradigmatic Cognitive Skill As soon as one takes a cognitive view of art, it's natural to ask what cognitive psychology can teach us about artistic activities. But the reverse question also deserves attention: What can artistic activities teach us about cognition?

The question is a rich one, potential- ly answerable in many ways. Here is one. I've suggested that art is invisible; that instruction involves making art visible; that you have to think very carefully about exactly what features need to be made visible and spell them out to define instructional objectives; that al- though a sophisticated response to art is often very reflexive, instruction ought to start with recipes which, with practice, will lead to hair-trigger sensitivity. All this can be generalized. The same characteristics arguably hold for any complex human performance that involves perceiving in a broad sense, in- cluding performances that seem very nonperceptual in character.

For example, consider critical thinking. The skilled critical thinker hears or reads an argument and detects certain flaws in it. The flaws often simply appear, much as important aesthetic effects do for the experienced viewer of art. What about the novice critical thinker? For the novice, non-sequiturs, overgeneralizations from small sample sizes, telling only one side of the story, and so on, are likely to be invisible features. Instruction is a matter of making visible. Moreover, it's reasonable to say that exactly what needs to be made visible must be considered very carefully (for some suggestions in the case of critical thinking, see reference 3), and instruction ought to start with recipes.

There is nothing terribly profound about this. But it does set a standard that many instructional programs de-

signed to teach cognitive skills come no- where near meeting. Many instructional programs are not based on a close analy- sis of exactly what needs to be made visible. Many programs do not proceed with the precision and directness of recipes. And many programs do not of- fer sufficient practice to impart a reflexive repertoire of pattern recognition skills.

We can take warning about this from art. Art presents a paradigmatic case of the problem of invisibility in cognitive skills. In art appreciation, we see bla- tantly what for many cognitive activities is less obvious: the importance of the perceptual, or, to put it more generally, the pattern-recognitional dimension of skill. If art is invisible for the novice, so are most other parts of the world we must learn to read. Garden infestations, stock market trends, your lover's true feelings, and new comets often tend toward invisibility, too. Perhaps the greatest illusion of all is the illusion of seeing. Because we rarely find out how much we are missing, we think we aren't missing much. Art tells us otherwise, a point plain for most any complex skill as soon as we stop to look.4 l

David N. Perkins is co-director, Project Zero, Harvard Graduate School of Education, Harvard University, Cam- bridge, Massachusetts.

Notes

'N. Goodman, Languages of Art, In- dianapolis: Hackett, 1976.

2For a more extended argument on the typicality of cognitive processes often sup- posed to be special, see D. N. Perkins, The Mind's Best Work, Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1981.

3D. N. Perkins, R. Allen, and J. Hafner, "Difficulties in Everyday Reasoning," in W. Maxwell, ed., Thinking: An Interdisciplinary Report, Philadelphia: The Franklin Institute Press, in press.

4The work reported here was conducted at Project Zero of the Harvard Graduate School of Education in collaboration with Stanley Madeja of CEMREL, Inc., of St. Louis, and with support from the National Institute of Education through CEMREL. Special thanks go to Robert Hodgman, who has worked closely with me to develop the ideas expressed here and has borne with grace and skill the responsibility of testing them on students.

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Art and the Mind || Invisible Art