In the matter of the choice of low or high relief according to the distance from the eye, the frieze of the Parthenon is often adduced as canonical, because, being only visible from near, it is in very low relief. It is forgotten however that the nearly contemporary friezes on the Theseum and from the interior of the temple at Bassae, though they were correspondingly placed and actually nearer to the eye, are both in high relief. On the Roman triumphal arches, of which Vasari writes, there are similar anomalies. Thus the well-known panels within the passage way of the Arch of Titus, that must have been calculated for very near stand-points, are in boldest projection.
The magnificent decorative sculpture on the French Gothic cathedrals shows little trace of the sort of calculation here spoken of. It is true that the figures of Kings in the ‘Galeries des Rois’ across the west fronts are as a rule rudely carved, but this is because they are so purely formal and give the artist little opportunity. At Reims some of the finest and most finished work is to be found in the effigies of Kings, the Angels, and other figures, on the upper stages of the building, while the ‘Church Triumphant’ up above on the southern transept façade is every whit as delicately beautiful as the ‘Mary of the Visitation,’ in the western porch.
Enough has been said to show that on this subject literary statements are not to be trusted and practice is very uncertain. It remains to be seen what light can be thrown upon it, first, from the side of aesthetic principle; and, second, from that of the actual procedure and expert judgement of sculptors of to-day.
The principle will hardly be controverted that anything abnormal, either in the proportions of a figure or even in its treatment, will tend to defeat its own object by confusing our regular and highly effective visual process. The organs which co-operate in this are so educated that we interpret by an unconscious act of intelligence what we actually see, and make due allowance for distance and position. It is often said that objects look larger through a mist. This is not the case. They do not look larger but they look further off, and the equation between apparent size and apparent distance which we unconsciously establish is vitiated, so that the impression is produced that the particular object is abnormally large. Now in the same way we allow for the distance and the perspective angle at which a work of sculpture is seen and interpret accurately the actual forms and effects of texture and light and shade the image of which falls on the retina. If the sculptor have altered his proportions there is a danger that we shall derive the impression of a distorted figure, because we have made our allowances on the supposition that the proportions are normal. If he have forced the effect by emphasizing the modelling, he will make the parts where this is done appear too near the eye, and this will involve a false impression of the height and dimensions of the structure on which the sculpture is displayed. There is this forcing of effect in the case of the column of Marcus Aurelius, but it is of no artistic advantage, and would tend to make the column itself look lower than it really is. In the column of Trajan the spiral lines have a certain artistic waviness, so that the band of sculpture varies in width in different parts, but the treatment is the same throughout, and as the reliefs were not only to be seen from below but also from the lofty neighbouring structures of the Trajanic Forum, this was not only in accordance with principle but with common sense. It is obvious indeed that works of monumental sculpture are practically always visible from other points than the one for which their effect is chiefly calculated; and hence if proportions be modified so as to suit one special standpoint, the work may look right in this one aspect, but in all others may appear painfully distorted.
As regards the second point, we have asked Mr Pittendrigh Macgillivray, R.S.A., a question on this subject, and he has kindly given us his opinion in the following note.
‘The question as to whether or not sculptors deliberately alter the normal proportions of the human figure in order to adapt their works to special circumstances is one which is frequently asked, and which I have never found reason to answer otherwise than in the negative. The rule in the classic examples of all periods, as far as I have observed, is normal proportion and execution, irrespective of site and circumstances, and, to anyone familiar with the art and practice of sculpture, the difficulties and uncertainties consequent upon a lawless method of dealing with the normal quantities of the figure, are a sufficient deterrent against vagaries in scale and proportion. To change the proportions of the figure in order to meet the peculiarities and limitations of some special site, seems on the surface so reasonable that one is not greatly surprised at the persistence of the idea in literary circles, where it has not been possible to balance it against that technical knowledge which is the outcome of actual practice and experience in handling the métier of the art. To adapt statuary by fanciful proportions to unfortunate conditions and circumstances, for which truer artistic taste and understanding, on the part of architects, would never propose it, seems such a ’cute notion that it has occasionally attracted the clever ones of the profession as a way out of the difficulty, but one which has led only to ultimate discomfiture.
‘The fact is, I imagine, that the normal proportions of the human figure are so deeply printed on the inherited memory of the race that, except within very narrow limitations, they cannot be modified and yet at the same time convey lastingly any high order of serious emotion or effect. The great men doing serious work in sculpture will never find it necessary to go beyond the law of nature for the architectonic basis of their expression. Faulty or arbitrary proportion in handling the human figure is unnecessary; it is of no real help to the artist, and no more desired by him than is the liberty of 16 lines and ballad measure, by the sonneteer expert in the Petrarchan form and rhyme of 14 pentameter verses. The real matter to be dealt with in respect of peculiarities of site and circumstances lies within the sphere of the artistic capacity, and is at once more easy and more difficult than any wooden process of mis-handling the proportions of the figure. It is at issue in the legend of the Byzantine writer, Tzetzes, to which reference is made, wherein it is said that Pheidias and Alcamenes competed on one occasion with rival figures of Athene, but the explanation given of the reason why the work of Pheidias was admired and preferred at the site, is, I venture to say, the wrong one, in as far as it presupposes abnormal proportions in the successful statue. To the author’s mind, no doubt, something profound and abstruse was necessary in order to explain such a triumph, and the idea that Pheidias was deeply versed in what must then have been the occult mysteries of optics and geometry, fitted the need and was pleasant to the love of the marvellous.
‘In such a case, Pheidias would certainly, with the intuitive artistic sense and experience of a master, handle the style, composition, lights and shadows, mass, line and silhouette of his work in relation to its size, and the average height and distance from which it was to be viewed. It might be finished highly in respect of surface, or left moderately rough, a condition of little consequence compared with the factors enumerated above. It would be made readable and expressive, but there would be no modification of the sacred proportions of the figure; no trace of allowance in order that “the upper part which is further off from the eye should appear to be in proportion when compared with the lower, which is nearer.” That artists should appear to give up natural truth in their images for considerations of abstract beauty, was grateful to the mind of Plato, but is only another proof of the soaring qualities of the White Horse in the Human Chariot!
‘Outside of a somewhat conscious effort towards the decorative in form and towards the effective articulation of parts, I find little in the work of Donatello to justify his being specially singled out as illustrating those principles of the modification of true proportions for sculpture in relation to the exigencies of site. The statues on the Campanile need not, I imagine, be taken too seriously as exhibitions of Donatello’s most careful judgement. Compared with such works of his as we may feel at liberty to believe personal, they are rude and ill-considered in design and execution. There is in the bones, mass, and arrangement of the work very probably something of Donatello, but in the detail and execution there is little or nothing of the hand that did the Christ of S. Antonio of Padua, the bronze David of the Bargello, or the bust of Niccolo da Uzzano.’