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Look !
T h e Fundamental s o f Ar t Histor y
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ising, 1984 4.5 Deutschen Archaologischen
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Office, ise 5.1 © British Museum, London
5.2® Araldo De Luca, Rome 5.3 Alinari, Florence
chapter!
T h e fundamentals of interpretation:
formal an d contextual analysis
Looking isn't as easy as it looks
Ad Reinhardt (1913-1967), artist
In our culture, w e are so constandy bombarde d by
visual images in television, movies, billboards, books,
a n d magazines , that it's easy to develop habits o f lazy
looking. We're often o n such visual overload that w e
don't take the time to examin e image s carefully an d
analyze wha t we're seeing. This chapter explains tw o
basic art-historical methods , formal analysis an d contextual analysis, that will help yo u look carefully an d
fram e goo d questions as yo u interpret work s o f art.
T w o sides of a coin: formal and contextual analysis
when first starting out in art history, it may be helpful to
group the different approaches to interpreting works of
art under the categories "formal analysis" and "contextual analysis." These two approaches are dependent on
each other, and, in fact, it's hard to separate them out
completely. Often, art-historical analysis requires us to
do both at the same time.
Formal analysis includes those methods and questions that mostly concern the visual and physical
aspects of the work of art. In formal analysis, you
seelTlhe answers to your questions in the work of
art itself usually without referring extensively to
outside sources. You're exploring the visual effect of
23 /CHAPTER 2 THE FUNDAMENTALS OF INTERPRETATION: FORMAL AND CONTEXTUAL ANALYSIS
the work of art on the viewer, what the artist is trying
to accomplish through visual means.
In contrast, contextual analysis often requires you to
go outside the work of art for your answers. What you're
trying to do in contextual analysis is understand ho w a
work of art expresses or shapes the experiences, idea^.
and values of the individuals and groups that make, use,
view, or ow n it. You might look at documents, other
images, books from the period, the artist's writings, histories, etc., to develop a contextual analysis.
As you advance in the study of art history, it probably
won't be useful for you to maintain the idea of formal
analysis/contextual analysis as an interpretive framework. You'll learn to use theoretical models (psychoanalysis, feminism, semiotics, etc.) that approach the
process of interpretation in specialized ways. But for
now, thinking in terms of formal and contextual analysis
m ay help you ask a full range of questions when you're
interpreting works of art.
Everyday art history: looking at advertising
Although these terms may be unfamiliar, you already
know the basics of formal and contextual analysis—you
use them when you take the time to look closely at an
advertisement. Responding to an advertisement engages
many of the same processes as art-history analysis. You
interpret a visual image (and often an accompanying
text) to decipher its message and evaluate this message
in context. The context is usually a targeted consumer
group, people wh o exhibit certain desirable characteristics: the ad is trying to persuade these consumers to purchase a product or, in the case of public announcements,
to inform them of something or persuade them to act in
a particular way.
Let's take an example from a successful ad campaign
for Dior handbags, which ran in fashion magazines in
January 2000 (Figure 2.1). O n a visual basis, the ad is
sumptuous (a double-page color spread), elegant, and
understated. The text is simple and confined to the
lower part of the left page—n o screaming headlines
24 / CHAPTER 2 THE FUNDAMENTALS OF INTERPRETATION: FORMAL AND CONTEXTUAL ANALYSIS
2.1 Advertisement for Dior handbags, January 2000.
promoting sales and discounts here. A beautiful young
woma n on the right holds a handbag perched on the
balustrade of a large building overlooking a park. She's
elegandy dressed in an understated black sheath. The
predominant colors in the ad are subdued whites, grays,
and beiges, with the rich green swath of the park setting
off the white bag. The handbag too is understated—a
simple rectangle of smooth leather with rounded handles and geometric metal hinges.
The visual message is enhanced by contextual knowledge. Ne w Yorkers will recognize the park as Manhattan's
Central Park, which is ringed by expensive apartment
buildings and several major cultural institutions. The
setting signals refinement, luxury, and good taste. As any
reader of fashion magazines would know, the woma n in
the ad is the actress Gwyneth Paltrow (b. 1972), wh o is
famous for her personal style. Considering that Dior is a
luxury company that has suffered from a somewhat
stodgy image, this ad reinvents the brand to appeal to
hip young consumers wh o admire Paltrow and her style.
Paltrow's dress and hair, and the handbag itself, are
reminiscent of early sixties fashion, particularly as worn
by the actress Audrey Hepburn (1929-1993), wh o was
25 / CHAPTER 2 EVERYDAY ART HISTORY: LOOKING AT ADVERTISING
herself celebrated for a great sense of personal style.
The message here is: Dior's not outdated, it's retro cool.
Now , those of you wh o don't follow fashion and the
Hollywood scene may be left unconvinced by all this,
but you can take any advertisement and interpret its
visual and contextual elements in a similar way. In the
first paragraph, I analyzed the visual elements of the ad,
focusing on design, color, and the interaction of image
and text to decipher the ad's message. In the second
paragraph, I pursued a contextual analysis, relying on
outside knowledge to try to understand the ad. You ma y
not stop to work through all the elements of interpretation systematically as you're browsing through a magazine, but the process of interpretation you do undertake
is related in man y ways to art-historical methods.
Formal analysis
Formal analysis doesn't mean simply describing what
you see in a work of art, although description is part of it.
It means looking at the work of art to try to understand
what the artist wants to convey visually. In a sense, there's
no such thing as pure formal analysis, totally divorced
from contextual analysis. This is because you, the viewer,
do provide a kind of context. The way that you interpret
things is based on wh o you are— a person living in your
place and time with your education and experiences—
and that inevitably shapes your interpretation.
There are certain basic characteristics of works of art
that you will focus on in formal analysis, such as colorline, space and mass, and scale. Often, these visual or
physical qualities of the work are most effectively
discussed in terms of a sliding scale between pairs of
opposite qualities, such as linearity vs. painterliness,
flatness vs. three-dimensionality, or dark vs. light.
Color
The first, basic step to undertake in analyzing color is to
identify the different hues (red, blue, green, etc.) that an
artist uses and see whether she is using a particular
range of colocs (e.g., primary colors, secondary colors).
26 /CHAPTER 2 THE FUNDAMENTALS OF INTERPRETATION: FORMAL AND CONTEXTUAL ANALYSIS
You would also look at the characteristics of each color
used. If it appears to be a representation of the color in
its most vivid form, as it is represented on the color
chart, it is highly saturated. If the hue can hardly be distinguished, then it is of low saturation. VpIup is a term
that describes the relative lightness of a colorT:-whether
it tends more toward white or more toward black.
Line
Although the concept of line may seem to belong most
obviously to painting and graphic arts, it's also a useflil
term in thinking about three-dimensional media such as
sculpture and architecture. In discussing two-dimensional
media, art historians often talk about linearity vs. painterliness, distinguishing between works that emphasize line
and linear contours as compared with those that emphasize the play of light and dark. You might ask whether the
line is strong and continuous, or broken up into many
small hatches or pieces. For a building or sculpture, ask
whether there is a strong sense of silhouette (the oudine
of the exterior contours) or whether the oudine is broken
' up so that the viewer has litde sense of it.
Space and mas s
T he term "space" indicates whether an image conveys a
sense of*three-dimensional space. The term "mass"
describes the space created by an artwork, indicating
whether the artwork*! conveys a sense of substantial
form—a s if it had weight or volume^ These are actual
characteristics of sculpture, architecture, and installations, but projected or illusory characteristics of twodimensional media such as painting, drawing,
printmaking, and photography. The use of linear perspecrive or atmospheric perspective, for example, can
establish a sense of spatial recession in a painting.
Scale
As part of a formal analysis, you'll want to consider
scale, or relative size, both within the work and in relation to the viewer. Determine if there's a consistent scale
27/CHAPTER 2 FORMAL ANALYSIS
used within the work, or whether different scales are
used to emphasize or deemphasize certain elements in
the image.. Figures of gods, for example, are sometimes
represented larger than other figures to indicate their
divinity. Consider whether the image is monumental,
life-size, or miniature in relation to the viewer.
T he term composition is used to describe ho w an ardst
puts together all these elements in the work of art. In a
formal analysis, you will ask ho w these elements—line. .
color, space and mas';, sralp—rnr^tribute to the work's
overall composition and its visual effect. Initially, you'll
be trying to answer som e very basic questions:
• What does the ardst emphasize visually? What first attracts
the viewer's attention?
• Hovi' does the ardst emphasize this feature/these features
visually? Through scale, line, color, etc?
• Is there an underlying rhythm, pattern, or geometric structure to the composition?
•• Does the composition seem unified—do the elements
appear integrated or separate and distinct from each other?
• Ho w can the emotion or idea evoked by this piece be
described? Ho w is this achieved visually?
• What is the viewer's position in relation to the work? Is the
composition large or small scale? Horizontal or vertical in
orientation? Ho w do these characteristics alter the viewer's
perception of the work?
• Is the work figurative or abstract?
Expanding on the basic questions about composition
listed above, I'll provide here som e specific questions you
might ask in analyzing works of art in different media.
Two-dimensional works: painting, graphic arts,
photograph y
A numbe r of questions address the specific qualities of
two-dimensional works—that is, works characterized
by length and height, such as a painting, but of littie
depth (or three-dimensional form).
• Ho w is color used? Are colors saturated? Where are the
brightest colors? The darkest colors? Is there a wide range
28 /CHAPTER 2 THE FUNDAMENTALS OF INTERPRETATION: FORMAL AND CONTEXTUAL ANALYSIS
of colors or a narrow range of colors? Do the colors contrast or blend? Do the colors create a sense of calm or a
sense of drama and excitement? Are they used to emphasize certain forms or elements in the work?
• Can you see the marks of the tools—pencil, brush, burin?
Does the work seem highly finished or rough and
unfinished? Ho w do these qualities contribute to the overall effect of the work?
• Is there a strong contrast between areas of light and dark?
Does this help to create the illusion of three-dimensional
forms existing in space, or do the elements of the painting
remain flat, emphasizing the picture plane?
• Does the artist try to create an illusion of depth, or does she
use techniques to make the viewer aware of the picture
plane?
• Ho w are forms defined—through hne or shading?
•• Is there a sense of texture or a smooth surface?
Let's explore some of these issues of color, surface, and
composition in Marilyn (Vanitas) by Audrey Flack (b. 1931)
(Figure 2.6). Flack used a mechanical airbrush, rather
than a conventional bristie brush, to achieve remarkably
intense colors and a smooth surface. She employs the
full spectrum of primary and secondary colors here: yellow, orange, red, green, blue, and purple. Highly saturated colors predominate, although several hues are
represented in multiple shades—the saturated red of the
cloth in the foreground, for example, is set off by the different shades and hues of pink in the hourglass, rose,
and makeup. There is littie sense of depth, for the elements of the composition crowd up against the picture
plane. Despite this, the elements are not flat; instead,
they appear as fully modeled, three-dimensional forms,
as if they might pop out of the picture plane. The
smoothness of the airbrushed surface enhances these
illusionistic effects.
Although this image first strikes the viewer as a rand o m profusion of brighdy colored objects, in fact the
composition is tightiy constructed in three bands. A n
29/CHAPTER 2 FORMAL ANALYSIS
wolfflin an d forma l analysi s
In Principles of Art History (1915), the Swiss art
historian Heinrich Wolfflin (1864-1945) mad e
a major contribution to systematizing formal
analysis through his definition of paired, contrasting terms to describe works of art and to
distinguish their stylistic aspects. He defined
five basic pairs of characteristics, which he
s aw as characterizing the Renaissance vs. the
Baroque: linear/painterly, plane/recession,
closed form/open form, multiplicity/unity,
absolute clarity/relative clarity.
Wdlfiflin uses the term linear to indicate works
that emphasize outlines and that have a
special kind of clarity in the spatial separation
and relation of objects. Painterly form is more
elusive—attention is withdrawn from the
edges, outlines are de-emphasized, and form
is developed primarily through the use of light
and shade. Compare Kathe Kollwitz's selfportrait, with its strongly delineated forms,
and Rembrandt's, in which few individual lines
stand out against the areas of light and shade
used to build the figure (Figures 2.2,2.3).
Wdlfflin's second concept is planar us. recession.
In a planar composition, as in a Classical
relief sculpture, objects are represented
parallel to the picture plane. The spatial
recession is clear, achieved by a series of
planes that are all parallel to the picture.
plane, as in muc h fifteenth-century Italian
art. In contrast, a work characterized by
recession is one in which the planes are not
clearly articulated as separate parallel units.
Spatial depth is created along diagonals and
the frontal plane is not emphasized. The compositions of Japanese screen paintings are
sometimes organized in this way.
Closed us. open forms is Wolfflin's third major
distinction. In a closed form, the depicted
contents seem to stand in clear relation to the
edge of the image, so that the viewer can
establish her position in relation to the image
via its edge and has a clear sense of her
relationship to it. In an open form, there's no
such clear spatial relationship either within
the work or between the viewer and the work.
The elements within the image are not
oriented in relation to its edge or surface. The
Palazzo Medici-Riccardi and the Robie House
are a good illustration of closed and open
forms, respectively (Figures 2.4, 2.5).
Multiplicity vs. unity contrasts works in which
the individual parts appear as independent
units (even though they are subordinate to a
whole), with works that are perceived as a
whole, in which the individual elements of the
composition do not stand out. Compare the
clear articulation of the stories and windows
of Palazzo Medici-Riccardi by Michelozzo de
Barolommeo (1396-1472) with Robie House
by Frank Lloyd Wnght , which impresses the
viewer as one long horizontal flowing shape,
in which the different stories of the house —
even the interior and exterior spaces—are not
easily distinguished (Figures 2.4,2.5).
Wolfflin's final pair, absolute vs. relatiuc clarity
is closely related to the preceding pair.
Absolute clarity refers to works with explicit
and clearly articulated forms, and relative
clarity refers to works with less explicit and
less clearly articulated forms.
Although art historians don't necessarily
use precisely these paired terms today,
Wolfflin's comparative method still provides
a useful model.
30/CHAPTER 2 THE FUNDAMENTALS OF INTERPRETATION: FORMA L AN D CONTEXTUAL ANALYSIS
2.2 Kathe Kollwitz, Self-Portrait,
1921. Etching. National
Museum ofWome n in the Arts.
•s^mr/T
2.3 Rembrandt, Self-portrait, 1630. Pen and red
chalk, bistre, wash. Musee du Louvre, Paris.
2.4 Michelozzo de Barolommeo,
Palazzo Medici-Riccardi, begun
1444. Florence.
2.5 Frank Lloyd Wright, Robie House, 1907-09.
Chicago.
31/CHAPTER2 FORMAL ANALYSIS
2.6 Audrey Flack, /Marilyn
(Vanitas), 1977-Oi'°ver
acrylic on canvas. University
of Arizona Museum of Art,
Tuscon.
A formal analysis u/ouldn't
address the many prouocatiuc
contextual questions raised by
this image. In the tradition of
European vanitas imagery,
several elements in the painting
refer to the passage of time
(watch, calendar, hourglass,
candle). The mirror,jeiuclry, and
cosmetics allude to the
particular ways that women
fight the passage of time.
array o f objects is set against a red cloth in the foreground; the middle register is occupied by the black-andwhite pages o f a n ope n boo k an d three sepia-toned
photographs, their starkness relieved by the touches o f
color provided by a pink rose an d pots o f cosmetics; the
upper register is occupied by the mor e mute d presence o f
a purple cloth, green grapes, an d buff-colored calendar,
whic h frame an d set off the objects below. Th e large size
o f the image, 8 feet (2.4 metres) square, mean s that this
array o f intensely colored, three-dimensional form s
almost overwhelm s the viewer. Th e composition creates
a n imag e that is rich an d lustrous, yet somewha t threatening at the sam e time.
N o w let's explore som e o f the distinctive visual
effects achieved in printmaking. In The Sleep of Reason
Produces Monsters, Francisco de Goy a (1746-1828) uses
t w o techniques, etching an d aquatint, to achieve both
linear an d tonal effects (Figure 2.7). Th e aquatint process, in whic h powdere d resin is sprinkled o n the plate
before it is placed in a n acid bath, produces grainy areas
o f tone. Th e etching process, in whic h the entire plate is
coated with resin an d lines are draw n in the resin with
32 / CHAPTER 2 THE FUNDAMENTALS OF INTERPRETATION: FORMAL AND CONTEXTUAL ANALYSIS
2.7 Francisco de Goya, The sleep
of Reason Produces Monsters,
no. 43 from Los Caprichos,
1796-8. Etching and
aquatint. The Hispanic
Society of America, New
York.
needles, produces lines of various width. Goya uses these
techniques to produce a visually dramatic and unsettling
image full of contrasts of light and shade, tone and line.
T he aquatint background suggests a murky atmosphere.
Bats—rendered with dense, inky black lines—emerge
from the gloom. The sleeping figure slumps over his
desk. His back and shoulders, delineated with nervous
etched lines, seem to be bathed in a glaring light, created by leaving these areas of paper unprinted.
Sculpture
Sculpture can be either freesranding or relief which
means projecting from a surface like a wall or stone
slab. There are a number of processes for making sculpture, including additive processes, in which the sculpture
33/CHAPTER 2 FORMAL ANALYSIS
is built up, or modeled, from material like clay; casting,
in which molten metal is poured into a mold; or subtractive, like carved stone or wood, in which material is
taken away to create an image. A range of basic questions will help you address three-dimensional forms:
• What is the viewpoint su^^ested by the work? Does the
sculpture visually lead the viewer to move around it and
view it from different angles, or does it seem to guide the
viewer to one position?
• What materials are used? Ho w do they contribute to the
work's form? Do the materials make open spaces
within the sculpture possible, or do they require a more
block-like form?
• Does the sculpture c^phasizf j •ipn'^p nf ynliimp, of threedimensional form, or of flatness?
>
• Does the sculpture use the play of light over the surface to
create a pattern of lights and shadows? Does this emphasize the three-dimensional form or flatness? Does it create
a sense of drama or movement?
• If the surface of the sculpture is colored, how does that
affect the viewer's perception of the work? Does color serve
to emphasize certain features of the work? Does it make
the work seem more or less three-dimensional?
•• What is the texture of the surface? Is it smooth or rough,
dull or shiny?
Let's compare two sculptures (Figures 2.8, 2.9) to
explore some of these issues. On e is an Aztec stone figure
depicting the goddess Coadique, the other a bronze figure
depicting Apollo by the Renaissance artist Giovanni da
Bologna (1529-1608). Although both portray anthropomorphic figures of gods, they do so in very different ways.
(Note that this analysis uses a basic piece of contextual
information, the identification of each figure, as a starting
point for a more insightful formal interpretation.)
Coadique is a massive stone sculpture with a frontal
orientation, showing bilateral symmetry along a vertical
axis. The frontality demands that the viewer stand before
the sculpture rather than walk around it or see it from
multiple angles. The supernatural nature of Coadique,
34 / CHAPTER 2 THE FUNDAMENTALS OF INTERPRETATION: FORMAL AND CONTEXTUAL ANALYSIS
the earth goddess, is indicated by the composition of the
body. Th e head is formed of two ratdesnake heads and
the feet have feline claws. She wears a huma n head pendant strung on a necklace of hands and hearts and a skirt
of entwined snakes, fiirther emphasizing her divinity and
striking fear in the viewer.
In contrast, the figure of Apollo
appears godlike through the perfection of his huma n form.
T h e graceflil, rhythmic positioning of the Apollo's limbs,
turn of the head, and twist of
the torso lead the viewer's eye
around the figure. While the
Coadique is solid and
block-like, with few
freely carved parts,
the Apollo incorporates
space within the figure,
and the limbs are all separately articulated. Th e figure
of the Apollo contrasts
smooth stretches of flesh,
characterized by a lustrous
bronze surface, with intricate!
detailed and textured areas
such as the hair, the rob<
draped over the lyre, and tht
lyre itself H e appears supernaturally elegant, graceful, and energetic.
Students beginning art history often find abstract
very challenging to interpret, so I'll briefly discuss ai
abstract work, the Three Forms by Barbara Hepworth
(1903-1975) of 1935 (Figure 2.10). (Abstraction can
occur in painting, drawing, sculpture, etc., so there's
n o particular significance to discussing abstraction
here, under sculpture.) Abstraction is a style of
representation in which the image does not directiy
represent observed reality. Abstract forms can either
be purely geometric and non-figurative, or a reduction
2.8 The mother goddess,
Coatlique. Aztec,
15th century. Stone.
Museo Nacional de
Antropologia,
Mexico City.
2.9 Giovanni da Bologna,
Apollo, 1573-5. Bronze.
Palazzo Vecchio,
Florence.
A mechanical deuice
turned the Apollo in its
niche so viewers could see
it from euery angle.
35/CHAPTER 2 FORMAL ANALYSIS
2.10 Barbara Hepworth, Three Forms, 1935. Marble. Tate Gallery, London.
of observed forms into fiindamental patterns or shapes.
Hepworth's sculpture, for example, incorporates three
marble elements of different shapes and sizes. On e is
spherical and spatially separate from the other two,
which are oriented horizontally and rather elongated.
These three elements can be seen as perfectly non-representational, a subtie meditation on the inter-relation of
geometric forms in space. At the same time, they can be
interpreted as a distilled landscape, or even a figure (the
sphere) in a landscape. Abstraction often exists on a continuum—that is, artworks are often neither completely
abstract nor completely figurative—so whe n analyzing
abstract works, take the time you need to see their more
subde aspects.
Architecture
Architecture demands that the viewer take into account
both the physical and visual experience of the building
and the spaces it creates. In discussing architecture, you
m a y want to talk about the plan (or layout) of a building;
an elevation, the side of a building; or the section, an
imaginary vertical slice through the building.
36/CHAPTER 2 THE FUNDAMENTALS OF INTERPRETATION: FORMAL AND CONTEXTUAL ANALYSIS
• What is the scale of the building in relation to humans?
• What parts of the building seem to be emphasized? Is the
system of design readily apparent? Does the building
appear to be composed of geometric or more organic (soft
and curving) forms?
• Does the building seem accessible to the viewer from the
outside? Ho w large and visible are doors and windows?
• Does the building convey a sense of solidity or of the interplay of solids and negative spaces? Do the forms of the
building use light and shadow to break up the sense of
solidity? Is there a play of light and dark across the surface?
• Ho w are ornaments used on the building? Do the ornaments
enhance the viewer's awareness of three-dimensional
form, or do they emphasize the building's surface?
• Ho w does the building fit its environment? Does it seem to
be distinct from or part of its surroundings? Ho w does it
change the viewer's perception of those surroundings?
• Is the interior divided into rooms or is it one open space?
H o w does the arrangement of interior spaces either help to
move the viewer through the building, or hinder the viewer's
movement through the building? Which spaces are readily
accessible and which are remote or blocked off?
• Is there a range of large and small spaces within the building? More or less elaborate spaces? Which spaces are most
accessible?
Frank Lloyd Wright's Robie House provides an opportunity to consider som e of these questions (see Figure 2.5).
T he house observes few of the standard conventions of
Western architecture. It sits low and seems to hug the
earth, an effect enhanced by the strong horizontal lines
created by the stone and brick fagade. The house does
not provide easy access to the viewer—it's hard to see
where the entrance is, and exterior and interior spaces
seem to flow together. Even the difTerent stories of the
house flow together and are hard to distinguish from
each other. The overhanging roof lines, and the use of
recessed windows, light stonework, and dark brick create a pattern of light and dark elements across the facade,
further undermining the viewer's sense of solid form.
37/CHAPTER 2 FORMAL ANALYSIS
Installation art
T h e kinds of formal questions you might ask about an
installation focus o n the visual and spatial elements of
the wor k and the viewer's experience of it. Th e issues are
similar to those confronted in sculpture and architecture:
• What sense of space is created by the installation? Ho w
does the artist work with the environment or surroundings? Is it an installation the viewer can enter and interact
with, or does the viewer stay outside the space?
• What effects does the environment created by the installation have on the viewer? Does it com e across as overwhelming—doe s it dwarf the viewer—or mak e the viewer
feel large? Ho w does the scale of the elements work?
• Ho w do light, color, and texture affect this sense of space
and the viewer's experience of the environment?
2.11 Rebecca Horn, High Moor\, iggi. Installation. Marian Goodman
Gallery, New York,
According to Horn, her u^orks don't actually haue a strong narratiue content:
"I simply alloui the consequences of whatever the machine is doing to meet with
the particular reality or moo d each person brings to it."
38/CHAPTER 2 THE FUNDAMENTALS OF INTERPRETATION: FORMAL AND CONTEXTUAL ANALYSIS
• Does the installation change over time (perhaps through
the participation of viewers, or through the decay of
materials it incorporates)?
Let's take as an example the installation High Moon
by Rebecca Horn (b. 1944), which centers on two
Winchester rifles that hang at chest height in a gallery
space (Figure 2.11). As installed, the guns move around,
aiming at people coming into the gallery and then finally
at each other, at which point they shoot red liquid from
two glass funnels. The liquid spills over the trough set on
the floor and creates a bloody-looking pool under each
gun. The stark symmetry of the installation contrasts
with the irregular expansion of the red liquid across the
floor. The steady, mechanical movement and firing of the
guns present a strong contrast with the way that guns are
usually fired, in passion and anger. Because the installation is so simple, composed of few elements and using
littie color, the visual and emotional impact of the red
liquid is heightened. The viewer may feel agitated,
threatened, or like a voyeur—the bloody pools suggest a
crime just committed, but in the absence of a victim, it's
hard to say precisely what happened.
Performance art
In performance art, the artist—or, more precisely, the
artist's movements, gestures, and sounds, either alone
or in dialogue with an audience—becomes the artwork.
Although performance art is an integral part of the contemporary art scene, artists in the early twentieth century also engaged in it. Questions about performance
are also relevant to the analysis of man y other artworks,
from an Italian church altarpiece to an African mask.
• Does the performance piece seem improvisational, or
planned and rehearsed?
• Ho w does the artist interact with the audience? Does the
audience remain relatively uninvolved, or does the audience participate in the performance? Is the audience's reaction or participation guided by the artist, or is it an
uncontrolled aspect of the performance?
39/CHAPTER 2 FORMAL ANALYSIS
•• Is the space important to the performance? Ha s the artist
altered the performance space in anyway?
•• Ho w are words, music, and gestures used?
• Wha t is the presentation of the artist's body? Wha t clothing and/or accessories does she wear?
In 1992, artists/scholars/activists Coco Fusco (b. i960)
a n d Guillerm o Gomez-Pefi a (b. 1955) collaborated o n a
performanc e piece to critique the quincentennial
celebration o f Columbus' s arrival in the Caribbean
(Figure 2.12). The y pretended to b e the representatives o f
a recentiy-discovered native people put o n display in
2.12 Coco Fusco and Guillermo Gomez-Pefia, The Couple in the Cage:
A Guatinaui Odyssey, 1992.
Although this performance piece challenges the idea that museums offer uniuersal
cultural truths, to the artists' surprise many viewers took it at face value. Not seeing
the irony or the social and historic commentary threaded through the performance,
these uieuiers responded to the culUmiLciuthority of the museum and expected the
exhibition to present them with the "truth." While some viewers reacted u;ith outrage
at uihat they perceived as a human rights uiolation, others were pleased to haue ar\
opportunity to interact with genuine natiues. When uieu;ers realized that these
natiues weren't "real," they were uariously angry, puzzled, or embarrassed.
40/CHAPTER 2 THE FUNDAMENTALS OF INTERPRETATION: FORMAL AND CONTEXTUAL ANALYSIS
various museum s (as native peoples often have been
displayed in the past). They created a set for the
performance, a cage that they furnished carefully with
both "indigenous" artifacts and desirable "modern"
trade goods, such as a transistor radio. The artists
dressed themselves in "indigenous" clothing mad e of
skins, fiber, bones, and feathers. They interacted with
viewers—speaking a nonsense language, posing for
photographs, touching their hair or clothing—but the
interaction was not scripted, and was usually initiated by
the viewers. In these ways, Fusco and Gomez-Peiia
simultaneously played to, and challenged, viewers'
dehumanizing stereotypes about native peoples.
Textile and decorative arts
Textiles, ceramics, and utilitarian or decorative objects
of all kinds can be analyzed in formal terms, just like
painting, architecture, and sculpture:
• Is the fiinction of the object immediately evident? Ho w is
the object designed to be fimctional? Are there aspects of
the design that could hinder its functionality?
• Ho w are materials used? Is there an emphasis on richness
or variety of materials?
• Is there an emphasis on texture? Ho w would this object feel
to the touch?
• Is there an emphasis on simplicity or complexity of foi"m
fpft HpQ|pn? Are there heural and/or geometric elements
on the surface? Do the decorative elements, if any, make
reference to the fiinction of the piece?
• What is the role of color or line in shaping the viewer's perception of the work?
• "For textiles specifically, what techniques have been used to
create the cloth—felting, weaving, plaiting, quilting,
applique, etc.? Is it a close weave or an open weave? Is the
design simple or intricate? What yarns are used (cotton,
linen, sheep's wool, llama wool, etc.)? Does the textile
incorporate other materials, such as glass or wood beads,
sequins, etc.?
A Ming-period porcelain flask will give us a chance to
explore som e of these issues (Figure 2.13). The figure of
41 /CHAPTER 2 FORMAL ANALYSIS
the dragon appears dramatically in reserve—that is, in an
unpainted area framed by the painted blue background.
T he body of the dragon wraps around the flask, empha -
sizing its elegant curve. Th e decoration on the neck
shifts to a floral motif, distinguishing the different parts
of the vessel. Th e painting technique shifts there, too —
the flowers are not left in reserve, like the dragon, but are
directiy painted in blue on the surface. Although the
shape is fimctional, the vessel is mad e of fine porcelain
with an intricate design, and wa s probably decorative
rather than actually used to contain drinks of any kind.
Whe n you're engaged in this kind of formal analysis,
remembe r that works of art change with the passage of
time. Be sure that you're not ascribing visual or physical
characteristics to the wor k that it didn't have at the time
it wa s made . For example, the Parthenon—^which w e
n o w see as an austere, white marble structure—was
originally decorated with red, blue, and yellow paint,
a nd polished bronze disks. Th e bright colors revealed
whe n the Sistine Chapel ceiling frescoes were cleaned in
2.13 Flask, c. 1425-35. Porcelain,
decorated in blue underglaze. Ming
dynasty. Palace Museum, Beijing.
An important contextual issue to raise
in discussing this flask would be the
significance of the dragon motif In
China, dragons haue long been associated
with powerful forces of nature such as
wind, thunder, and lightning. During the
Han Dynasty, China's emperors adopted
the dragon as an imperial symbol.
42 / CHAPTER 2 THE FUNDAMENTALS OF INTERPRETATION: FORMAL AND CONTEXTUAL ANALYSIS
Readin g caption s for informatio n
Artist's nam e
A caption usually gives you the artist's nam e
first. If the artist's (or architert's) nam e isn't
known, then it may say something like
"artist unknown" or simply list nothing at
all. An expression like "After Polykleitos"
means that the work was executed by an
unknown artist as a copy of an original by a
known artist, in this case, Polykleitos. An
expression like "in the manner/style of
Rembrandt" indicates an unknown artist
working in the style of a known artist.
Similarly, "Circle of Rembrandt" or "School
of Rembrandt" indicates an unknown artist
w h o is thought to have worked closely with,
or been a student of, a known artist.
Title
The title of the work usually follows the
artist's name. Sometimes the title is one
given to the work by an artist, as in Judy
Chicago's The Dinner Party. Sometimes the
title is a descriptive one, like Portrait of a Lady,
that the artist didn't give to the work but that
others have come to use as a convenience.
The practice of giving titles to works of art
hasn't been used in all time periods and
cultures, so many works are named in this
way. Sometimes the title of a work can refer
to the patron or collector—for example,
Velasquez's Venus and Cupid is also known as
The Rokcby Venus after a famous collector wh o
once owned it. Titles may also refer to the
place where the work was found, like the
Venus de Milo, or Aphrodite of Melos, which is
named for the island where it was excavated.
Date
Sometimes the date for a work is very precise
— a s when it's signed and dated by the
artist. Other times it is an approximate date
determined by scholars. In this case, a range
m ay be given (for example, "460-450 BC " or
"gth-ioth century ad") or the word "circa"
m ay be used (circa is often abbreviated as
"c") . BC means "before Christ" and is
equivalent to bce, "before the commo n era."
A D means anno domini ("in the year of our
Lord," or after the birth of Christ). It is
equivalent to CE, or "commo n era."
Medium
A caption will usually also list the materials
used in the work because photographs often
don't give a full or accurate impression of
materials.
Size
The measurements are important because
they give you a sense of the work's scale. Size
and scale are often hard to judge from
photographs, especially in a textbook, which
can picture a miniature portrait and a palace
on the same page.
Period or culture
This tells you the work's original time period
or culture (as in Edo Period, japan). In arthistory textbooks where the chapters are
organized by period or culture, this reference
m ay be omitted from the caption. Sometimes
a caption includes more specific information
about the date, such as a particular dynasty
for Egyptian art.
Collection/location
This tells you where the work is now. For a
building, this is usually the city or
geographical location. For sculpture,
painting, textiles, etc., this is often a
museu m or private collection.
43/CHAPTER 2 FORMAL ANALYSIS
the 1980s have radically altered our understanding of
Michelangelo's work. A wooden mask from Ne w
Guinea may have originally borne decorations made of
shells, feathers, leaves, or pigments. Whe n you're not
sure about changes over time in the work of art, you may
want to consult outside sources rather than working
purely from your visual experience.
Contextual analysis
Whe n you undertake a contextual analysis, you're trying
to understand the work of art in its cultural context. This
can mean focusing on the work of art as it exists today,
or on the work of art in its ow n time or at another point
in history. You may look at the social, political, spiritual,
and/or economic significance of the work.
People often talk about art "in" context, but that isn't
a very satisfactory approach in some ways. It suggests
that context (culture) is already all set without the work
of art, as if the work of art has no effect on individuals or
society. O f course, if it were true that visual images don't
have any effect on people, then there wouldn't be any
advertising on TV or in magazines!
To think of a work of art "as" social context means
recognizing it as something that has an effect on people, on ho w they think and feel and act, and on larger
social processes—how groups of people think and feel
and act. Works of art and social context are often
thought of as mutually constituting, that is, having an
effect on each other: works of art are shaped by historical processes, which are in turn shaped by works of art
in a continual interaction.
The following are some basic questions to ask in
developing a contextual analysis. Not every question is
applicable to every artwork. For example, if you don't
know the artist's identity, for whatever reason, then
there are a number of questions that you can't ask about
the creation of the work.
O ne range of questions focuses on the people
involved in the creation, use, and viewing of the artwork: the artist, patron^and viewers;
44/ CHAPTER 2 THE FUNDAMENTALS OF INTERPRETATION: FORMAL AND CONTEXTUAL ANALYSIS
• Wh o were the patron, artist, viewers?
• What sorts of records did the artist leave about the creation
of this work? Did the artist say anything about his/her
intentions in creating the work? Were there other artists or
workshop assistants involved?
• What were the patron's motives in sponsoring this work?
To what extent did the patron participate in its creation?
What does the contract for the work or correspondence
about it reveal? Wa s the patron acting individually, or on
behalf of an institution?
• Wh o was able to see the work? Under what circumstances?
V^at was the response ot coiiLeilipOTSry viewers to this
work?
Other questions for building a contextual analysis
address the physical wor k of art, its location, and use:
• Whenwas this work made?
• Where was it originally located?
•• In what rituals was this work used or seen?
• Does the work make use of rare and costiy materials? Does
it use materials that have ritual or symbolic value? Are they
n ew or innovative in some way?
• Are the artist's techniques new or innovative in some way?
W a s there any significance to the choice of techniques?
Still other contextually oriented questions address the
larger social issues presented by the wor k of art:
• Is there a particular political, religious, or social context in
which this work was created?
• What is the subject? Wh y would the arrisr parmn nrvj^yvpr
of this culture be interested in a depiction of this subject?
• Wa s this a new or innovative subject, or a new treatment of
a familiar subject? If so, what prompted the change? If not,
what was the motivation for conservatism?
• What political/religious/social messages are being conveyed
through the subject matter or artistic style of this work?
• Wa s this a new or innovative artistic style? If so, what
prompted the change?
Let's see how some of these questions might be used
to begin interpreting a wor k of art, taking as an example
45/CHAPTER 2 CONTEXTUAL ANALYSIS
the Selimiye Mosque built in Edirne, Turkey, in 1567-74
(Figure 2.14). The architect was a ma n named Koca
Mimar Sinan (1489-1588), and in a contextual analysis
you will want to find out as muc h background about him
as possible. Sinan was, in fact, an amazingly productive
architect wh o designed more than eighty large Friday
mosques. H e actually began his career as a soldier and
engineer, and was not appointed architect to the Sultan
Suleyman the Magnificent (ruled 1520-1566) until 1538.
His patron for the Selimiye Mosque, the person wh o commissioned and paid for its construction, was Suleyman's
son, Selim II (ruled 1566-1574). In this case, you would
want to examine Selim's reign, his patronage of mosques
generally, and of Sinan's work in particular. In terms of
viewers, you would want to think about not only the
Muslim residents of the city and those wh o worshipped
at the mosque, but also foreign visitors and what their
impressions might have been.
2.14 Koca Mimar Sinan, Selimiye Mosque, 1567-74. Edirne, Turkey.
46 /CHAPTER 2 THE FUNDAMENTALS OF INTERPRETATION: FORMAL AND CONTEXTUAL ANALYSIS
T he second set of questions listed above raises some
other interesting issues. The Selimiye Mosque is located
in Edirne, which was the first Ottoman capital in Europe.
You would want to consider the role of this provincial
capital city in the Ottoman empire at this time. Since this
is a mosque built for Friday worship, you might want to
look at the floor plan of the mosque and see how it is
constructed to accommodate the large numbers of people wh o would assemble there on Fridays.
As far as the third set of contextual questions is concerned, there are numerous political and religious messages conveyed by the building. In designing this
building, Sinan wanted to build a dom e to surpass that of
Hagia Sophia, which was originally a Christian church.
You might think about the message conveyed by such an
act, in surpassing a dom e constructed in the ancient
world by Christians, and its construction in an Ottoman
capital city so close to the main centers of Western
Europe. In this regard, you might want to think about
Selim's motives as patron and Sinan's motives as architect. You would consider the range of activities that went
on at this site, and the complex of buildings that form
part of the mosque, including a madrasa set aside for
study, a hospital and charity kitchens, a covered market
and public baths.
The minarets provide an opportunity to see ho w the
formal questions can lead to contextual insights and vice
versa. In a formal analysis, you would discuss the
remarkable soaring presence of the minarets. They
spring up from the mass of lower buildings of the
mosque complex and frame the dom e itself, accentuating its ow n hghtness and upward thrust. You would note
that since the mosque is located on a foundation at the
city's edge, the minarets dominate the skyline and provide a landmark visible from many parts of the city. You
would discuss the remarkable engineering required to
build these soaring minarets, each of which is more than
295 feet (89.9 metres) high but only 12V2 feet (3.81
metres) in diameter at the base, and this might lead you
into a contextual discussion of Sinan's engineering
47/CHAPTER 2 CONTEXTUAL ANALYSIS
accomplishments and the practice of engineering generally in Ottoman culture. From a contextual standpoint,
you would also focus on the fact that only royal mosques
were permitted to have more than one minaret and usually no more than two, so that the presence of four in this
building is very extraordinary. You might think about wh y
Sinan and his patron Selim might want to construct a
mosqu e with four minarets in this particular city at this
particular time—the complex of artistic and political factors that might have prompted such a decision.
Style and Meaning
6 months ajter /Wary Alice ujent to flit Sojia out o/prison, she
bigw to sinfl. First she sin^ Shug's son^s, then she begin to
make up songs her own self.
She got the kind 0/voice you never think of trying to sing
a song. It little, it high, it sort ofrrteowing. But Mary Agnes
don't care.
Pretty soon, us git used to it. Then us like it a whole lot.
Alice Walker (b. 1944), The Color Purple
Celie, the character speaking here in Alice Walker's
novel The Color Purple, is talking about her friend Mary
Alice's artistic style as a singer. Celie talks about the
songs Mary Alice sings, which she first borrows from
another singer then makes up herself She then
describes Mary Alice's voice style, the way she puts a
song across. Litde, high, meowing—i t ma y not be pretty,
but it's all her own . That voice style, combined with Mary
Alice's choice of song, goes a long way toward defining
her artistic style as a singer. (Of course, Alice Walker has
her ow n writing style at work here—she uses dialect and
first-person narrative to reveal Celie's inner world.)
T h e concept of artistic style is an important one in art
history—art historians over the centuries have spent a lot
of time trying to define artistic style and explain ho w and
w h y it changes over time and varies between individuals
and groups. Ernst Gombrich defined style with deceptive
simplicity as "any distinctive . . . way in which an act is
performed." In a famous essay, the art historian Meyer
Schapiro defined artistic style as "constant form—an d
48 / CHAPTER 2 THE FUNDAMENTALS OF INTERPRETATION: FORMAL AND CONTEXTUAL ANALYSIS
sometimes the constant elements, qualities, and expressions—in the art of an individual or a group." Style is
sometimes identified in terms of a time period or culture
(Italian Renaissance; Edo period, lapan); in terms of a
group of artists (Rembrandtesque or school of
Rembrandt); or in terms of an individual artist's style.
T he concept of artistic style fiises formal and contexmal questions. Style is important to art historians because
if works of art both reflect and shape the worlds around
them, then style is one way that they do that. That is, style
communicates rehgious, social, political, and moral values through the formal properties nf the work of art.
T he idea that style both expresses and shapes values
or ideas may seem difficult to grasp, but let's look at it in
another context. Take the concept of life-style, for example. The word "life-style" indicates a certain set of
behaviors, consumer products, and ways of living chosen by an individual, usually to express a sense of connection to a certain group or idea. Life-style choices are
affected by gender, race, class, ethnicity, age, sexual orientation, personal taste—and they affect the experience
of these characteristics. A n individual's choice of a car,
for example, usually has as muc h to do with image as it
does with functionality. The popularity of SUVs in the
United States in the late 1990s is a good example—people wh o drove nowhere more exciting than the local grocery store wanted these rugged, off-road vehicles in
order to appear outdoorsy and adventurous.
The complex interplay of an artwork's features is
important in defining a style, not any one feature in particular. Subject matter is a good example of this. Images
of the Buddha have been made in widely varying cultures
and time periods, and in many different formal styles.
Considered alone, the subject matter of the Buddha does
not tell you where and when a particular image was
made—i t isn't diagnostic of any particular style. Similarly, particular formal features are also not necessarily
diagnostic of a cultural style. Doric columns, for example,
have been used in Greek, Roman, Italian Renaissance,
and nineteenth-century American architecture.
49/CHAPTER 2 CONTEXTUAL ANALYSIS
Art out of context? Museum s an d art history
Museums are a fact of American cultural life today. Most
Americans have made at least one visit to a museum, and
these institutions can seem as natural a part of the cultural landscape as churches or town halls. But museums
haven't always been around (and neither have churches
and town halls, for that matter). Museums are, in fact,
cultural institutions with a very specific history that are
dedicated to very specific ideals and goals.
It's important to think about this, because the
museu m is the place where you will most often study
art, even though a lot of art wasn't actually made to be
exhibited there. The museu m itself may shape the
viewer's understanding of a work of art, by displaying it
in a very different context than it may have had in its
original cultural setting. At the same time, museum s
have their ow n cultural agendas, histories, and politics
that must be taken into account in any experience of art
you have in a museum.
A very brief history of museums
For the Greeks, a mouseion was a place not for the display
of art but for contemplation, a philosophical institution
dedicated to the Muses. The Romans followed the
Greeks in making "museums" places of philosophical
discussion. Even if museums then weren't quite what
they are today, traditions of collecting and display were
part of many ancient Mediterranean cultures. Egyptian
pharaohs collected natural-history specimens and
works of art. In both Greece and Rom e wealthy citizens
often maintained private art collections, and temple
treasuries were open to visitors.
Later, the treasuries of the great medieval cathedrals
presented splendid displays of gold and silver artworks
that attracted pilgrims and other visitors. During the
Renaissance, many nobles and wealthy merchants
formed collections of rare and wondrous objects, both
natural and made by humans, and displayed them in
"cabinets of curiosities." Collecting art—painting, sculpture, prints, drawings—became an accepted activity of
50/CHAPTER 2 THE FUNDAMENTALS OF INTERPRETATION: FORMAL AND CONTEXTUAL ANALYSIS
the elite. It was at this time that the word "museum"
came into use again, but no w it described a collection of
natural objects or works of art that promoted comprehensive and encyclopedic knowledge, rather than philosophical contemplation.
In the eighteenth century, some individuals opened
their collections to the general public, and the modern
museu m was born. Many great museums today, such as
the Louvre and the British Museum, trace their origins
to this time. Through the nineteenth century, museums
rapidly filled with the spoils of war, or artworks gathered by colonialists and missionaries. For better or
worse, modern museums are wrapped up in the history
of the nations that fostered their growth.
Are there counterparts to the museu m in other nonWestern cultures? Although museums as w e know them
today have their roots in the European Enlightenment,
traditions of collecting and display are widespread. The
emperors of China collected works of art and displayed
them in imperial academies and palaces. Islamic leaders
also collected works of art that they displayed in palaces
for the pleasure of the elite. Buddhist temples in Japan
have amassed collections of calligraphy and other artworks for display on special occasions.
Today, museums are found around the world. There
are many different kinds of museums, dedicated to
anthropology, history, natural history, science, technology, popular culture. What w e might define as "art" can
be found in any of these institutions.
Museums and the experience of art
The ways that museums can shape our understanding of
works of art was something I realized most fully during a
visit to Florence, Italy, as a student. I had just spent most
of the day in the Uffizi Gallery, one of the world's great
painting collections, where I wanted to study Italian
altarpieces from the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries.
Many of them were displayed together in attractive galleries with bright lights and white walls (Figure 2.15).
Whe n I left the museum, I stepped into a church not far
51 /CHAPTER 2 ART OUT OF CONTEXT? MUSEUMS AND ART HISTORY
away to see another altarpiece (Figure 2.16). As m y eyes
adjusted to the darkness, I glimpsed the painting, lit by
the soft glow of candles. The air was faintiy scented with
incense and murmured prayers rose around me . A n elderly woma n knelt before the altarpiece and prayed
intensely.
Wha t a different experience! It wasn't a question of
better or worse, but of each place yielding very different
insights. At the Uffizi, I was able to see a lot of artworks
all at once so that I could compare different artistic styles
and iconographies and observe the changes that took
place in altarpieces across time and space. At the church,
I was able to experience a single altarpiece in a way that,
despite the passage of time, was close to the conditions
for which it had been created. The altarpiece was surrounded by a church's distinctive smells and sights and
sounds, with the low light muting yet enriching the
colors of the painting.
2.15 Photograph of gallery,
Uffizi, Florence.
2.16 Photograph of church interior,
Santa Croce, Florence.
52 / CHAPTER 2 THE FUNDAMENTALS OF INTERPRETATION: FORMAL AND CONTEXTUAL ANALYSIS
I was lucl<y enough in Florence to experience similar
works of art in the church and museu m in close proximity, but that's not necessarily typical. As you visit museu m s to study works of art, you'll have to keep in mind the
ways that the museu m environment shapes your perception of the work. For example, think about the lighting
level, your position in relation to the work, the number
of people around you, the kinds of noises you hear, the
way works of art are grouped. Compare this to the original context(s) in which the work would have been seen.
At the same time, it's important to keep in mind that
much European and American art from the late eighteenth
century on has been made with public museums or
gallery spaces in mind as places where the artworks may
appear. Much contemporary installation art or performance art, for example, needs the kind of large, public
spaces that museums and galleries provide.
The process of interpretation: confronting your
assumption s
Whe n interpreting works of art, it's important to be
aware of the assumptions you make. You must question
those assumptions—ask where they come from, why
you maintain them, and ho w they shape your interpretation. Some of these may be simple factual assumptions:
you believe the Renaissance in Italy extended from the
fifteenth to the sixteenth century. Others may be more
interpretive biases or concepts: you believe Italian
Renaissance painting is a naturalistic tradition of representation, or you believe that Italian Renaissance art
represents humanity's highest achievement.
Both of the^f i^inHc^pf assumptions, /irnnl and
interprptiv^ should be questioned when you're undertaking art-historical analysis. Instead of assuming that
you know or understand a work of art you're studying,
consciously take the position that you don't know anything for sure—everything you think you know must be
tested and rethought. It's not that your assumptions are
necessarily wrong, just that you need to be aware of
what they are.
53/CHAPTER 2 THE PROCESS OF INTERPRETATION: CONFRONTING YOUR ASSUMPTIONS
T h e challenges of cross-cultural interpretation
Everything I need to knou; about Afi-ica is in those objects.
Pablo Picasso (1881-1973)
Like many modern artists, Picasso was interested in and
inspired by the art of other cultures. H e kept masks and
figural sculptures from Africa and the Pacific in his studio and mad e man y visits to ethnography museums .
Unlike art historians today, Picasso was primarily interested in the formal qualities of these works, rather than
their cultural context. His statement above suggests that
he didn't need to study cultural context to understand a
work: for him, understanding arose from a visual
engagement with the piece.
Let's put Picasso's assertion to the test with the
sculpture pictured in Figure 2.17. Think about ho w you
might interpret this work, without researching any contextual information about it. Wha t does the artist seem
to emphasize? Wha t ideas or emotions does the work
provoke in you, the viewer? Can you tell ho w the work
w as used originally? Wh y are nails and metal blades
inserted in the surface?
Here's a brief interpretation of sculpture of this kind,
one that draws on both formal analysis and contextual
analysis for its insights. As you read it, think about ho w
muc h of this insight is available to the viewer simply
through looking:
In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, Kongo
peoples, who live along the Atiantic coast of central Africa,
used such sculptures in rituals that dealt with social and
personal problems, including public strife, theft, disease,
seduction, and the accumulation of wealth. The figure contains relics of the dead person, whose spirit was a powerfiil
force to be harnessed toward the desired end. A ritual specialist, nganga, owned the figure and used it as a medium to
access the spirits on behalf of his or her client. The insertion of nails and blades into the surface of the sculpture
was not the work of the artist, but of subsequent users of
the piece. Hammering a nail or blade into the figure
attracted the attention of the spirit associated with it and
roused that spirit to action.
54/CHAPTER 2 THE FUNDAMENTALS OF INTERPRETATION: FORMAL AND CONTEXTUAL ANALYSIS
The figure itself is impressive, it conveys a sense of
Strength and power in its large, staring eyes and muscular
arms held at the ready. However, to the people who made
and used it, the wooden sculpture itself was not the most
important part of the piece—the medicines and relics
were. In fact, nganga specialists often simply kept the medicines and relics in simple clay pots, and they were considered just as effective in that form.
Now , although Picasso asserted that
he was not interested in context, in
some ways he—like us—couldn't help
but interpret the work by applying his
o w n cultural criteria to what he was
seeing. His looking process wasn't
neutral. Even if he wasn't explicidy
interested in context, in some sense he
w as creating a context or meaning for
the work because of the ideas and
assumptions he couldn't help but bring
to bear. For example, Picasso probably
found the wooden figure itself more
interesting and more important than the
small bits of bone and herbs contained
within it—a perception exacdy opposite
to that of the Kong o people themselves.
Even more revealing, Picasso, like
man y other people at the time, called
works like this "fetishes". For him this
might have seemed to be simply a
descriptive term, but w e can see it
today as loaded with cultural assumptions. In Picasso's time, the word
"fetish" indicated a material object
worshipped by people wh o endowed it
with divine powers and the ability to
act like a person to fulfill their wishes.
At the same time, the term fetish was
also used in psychoanalysis to indicate
an irrational sexual fixation on an
object (as in a "foot fetish"). The two
2.17 Power figure (nkisi nkonde),
igth century. Wood and other
materials. Kongo people.
Democratic Republic of the
Congo. The Field Museum,
Chicago.
55 /CHAPTER2 THE PROCESS OF INTERPRETATION: CONFRONTING YOUR ASSUMPTIONS
IS African art anonymous ?
If you take a look at the captions for African art
in your textbook, you will often see, instead of
the artist's name, a statement like "artist
unknown" or "anonymous." This reflects the
history of collecting African art and Western
attitudes toward Africa, more than African
cultural practices. But it's easy to overlook this
history and simply assume that the individual
artist is not important in man y African cultures.
Historically, artists in many African cultures—
sculptors, weavers,
metalworkers, potters
—wer e often
celebrated individuals,
widely known in their
communities and
beyond for their skill.
But because in most
African cultures history
w as an oral tradition,
the nam e of the artist
w as passed on verbally
and not written down.
In the late nineteenth and
early twentieth centuries, the
outsiders wh o collected in
Africa—explorers, colonists,
soldiers, missionaries, and
anthropologists—often didn't
record the names of the people wh o mad e or
owned artworks. These collertors frequently
assembled objects to illustrate a timeless
picture of a culture, not to document individuals
and their work. They usually didn't value these
objects as "art" so it wouldn't have occurred to
ask for the nam e of the "artist." Moreover,
objects were often collected in such large
numbers that it was difficult to record a lot of
information. For several decades, art historians
and anthropologists have worked to rediscover
the names and histories of
African artists.
The stool illustrated here
is one of about twenty
objects that art historians
think were mad e by artists
living in or near a village
called Buli in southeastern
Democratic Republic of the
Congo (Figure 2.18). Since
the individual artist's name
isn't known, it is usually
attributed to "the Buli
School." This attribution
copies the accepted way of naming
anonymous Western artists or groups
of artists according to their
location, distinctive styles, or
signature pieces.
2.18 Buli School, Stool, late igth century. Wood . Hemb a people. Democratic Republic of the
Congo. British Museum , London.
One scholar has suggested that an artist named Ngongo ya Chintu carved this stool and a similar
example in the /Metropolitan Museum of Art, Neu; York. Objects in this style were used throughout the
Hemba region, further complicating their attribution to particular artists.
56/CHAPTER 2 THE FUNDAMENTALS OF INTERPRETATION: FORMAL AN D CONTEXTUAL ANALYSIS
meanings of fetish imply that the religious practices
connected to these figures were at the very least misguided, if not "sick." Rather than taking these practices
at face value within their ow n cultural context, the term
fetish assigns these figures a negative value based on
European cultural values and practices.
So even Picasso, wh o explicitly denied an interest in
context or the interpretation of context, was looking and
interpreting with culturally informed eyes. Picasso
wasn't "wrong" to do this, because it's really unavoidable. W e all com e to art history, to the process of interpretation, equipped with prior knowledge and our ow n
cultural experiences. We're not blank pages, and this is
not a bad thing. Som e of your assumptions and prior
knowledge will increase your understanding and your
ability to interpret the work and to engage with it on a
variety of levels. The point is that vou should try not to
unthinkingly apply what you kno w from yoitrown ci!^^^
ture to the interpretation of works from other cultures. It
can be misleading to assume that there are universal
values expressed through art or universal forms of
representation. Too often these kinds of "universal
truths" turn out to be just your ow n specific cultural
beliefs or values in disguise.
N o w think again about your initial interpretation of
the Kongo figure. Ho w man y of your ow n cultural truths
do you find in it?
The challenges of historical interpretation
The past is a Joreign country: they do things drfcrently there.
L.P. Hartley (1895-1972), The Go-Between
What do these words, a famous line from an English
novel, have to do with art history? They remind us that
w e cannot assume that w e understand the past, or that
there is an immediate connection or understanding
between us and the past, even within our ow n culture. In
this sense, studying a work of art from the past is like
visiting a foreign country. As an art historian, you must
learn to "speak" the language of that past culture and
57 / CHAPTER 2 THE PROCESS OF INTERPRETATION: CONFRONTING YOUR ASSUMPTIONS
learn to "practice" its customs. Once again, the challenge lies in not making easy assumptions about what
you know, or think you know, or even can ever know,
about the meaning of a work of art.
Here's an easy linguistic example of this principle of
interpretation: "artificial". Today, it usually means "fake"
or "not natural," as in "artificial flavoring and coloring"
listed on food labels. The word often carries a negative
connotation. But in the eighteenth century, artificial
meant simply "made by huma n hands." For example, on
his voyages of Pacific exploration. Captain James Cook
(1728-1779) collected both "artificial curiosities" (baskets, sculptures, textiles) and "natural curiosities" (shells
and plants). To complicate matters further, w e can also
note that earlier, in the sixteenth century, "artificial"
actually had a positive connotation, as in "made with *"
art," or "fijll of deep skill and artistry." So even a comm o n word like "artificial" requires that you be sensitive
to when and where and ho w and why it is used—in other
words, you have to be sensitive to the particular context
in which you find it.
Similarly, visual images have the same kind of
changing meanings through time. There are original
meanings—created by the artist, patron, and viewers—
and then there are the meanings that subsequent generations create and find in the work. You, as an art historian,
must be aware of this process, and aware of ho w differentiy you might look at a work compared with its
creator, patron, initial audience, or people of other times
and places. You may regard a painting like Olympia by
Edouard Manet (1832-1883) as completely unobjectionable, but remember that many nineteenth-century viewers
were shocked and dismayed by it.
Let's take a famous, and probably familiar, painting
as an example of the challenges of historical interpretation: the Wedding Portrait, or Arnoljini Wedding, by Jan Van
Eyck (c. 1390-1441) which dates to 1434 (Figure 2.19). Once
again, think about ho w you might interpret this work
without looking up any contextual information about
fifteenth-century Europe, Van Eyck, or the Arnolfini family.
58 /CHAPTER 2 THE FUNDAMENTALS OF INTERPRETATION: FORMAL AND CONTEXTUAL ANALYSIS
2.ig Jan Van Eyck, Arnolfini Wedding, 1434. Oil on panel. National Gallery of
Art, London.
First off, we should note that there's some question
as to whether this painting does depict a wedding ceremony, as its commonl y used tides suggest. It ma y also
commemorate another legal arrangement between the
couple, such as the husband granting power of attorney
to the wife. If the painting does indeed represent a wedding, you ma y be wondering whe n the bride and groom
are going to go off and get changed for the ceremony. In
fact, the white wedding dress and the morning coat are
nineteenth-century inventions, and there was no standard wedding costume at this time. If this image does
59/CHAPTER 2 THE PROCESS OF INTERPRETATION: CONFRONTING YOUR ASSUMPTIONS
depict a wedding, did these two get married in their bedroom? What about the church or the court house?
Again, at the time, it wouldn't have been at all surprising
for the ceremony to take place in a private home. Weddings were primarily contractual agreements, and a religious ceremony was not considered essential.
You probably also suspect that the artist is making a
statement about the wealth and status of these people.
The couple's fur-trimmed clothing is something that,
both then and now, indicates wealth. But take the
oranges on the chest at left, behind the man. You
probably didn't think twice about them—nothing
remarkable, right? Grocery stores practically give them
away in season. But to a northern European at the time,
oranges were "the fruit of kings," a rare and costly
import from Spain. Fifteenth-century viewers would
have interpreted the inclusion of these oranges—so
carelessly and luxuriously scattered over chest and
windowsill—as a sign of great wealth, in the same way
that you might react to bottles of the finest French
champagnes in a portrait today.
But this painting isn't just a straightforward "snapshot" recording an event; it's also a highly complex and
subtie statement about the couple. Many aspects of this
painting are still poorly understood, and the precise
nature of the overall meaning isn't entirely clear. Scholars have described this work as a large puzzle, for each
element seems to contribute to this larger meaning. The
painting seems to address marriage and family, domestic
life and the responsibilities and duties it brings to each
membe r of the couple. The little dog, for example, is on
one level a sign of wealth, for it is a rare breed. Yet the
dog also symbolized fidelity, especially marital fidelity, at
this time. Notice that the woma n stands in the part of the
room dominated by the bed, perhaps a symbol of domesticity, while the ma n stands next to a window which
opens to the outer world. The woma n pulls up her gow n
over her stomach, creating a rounded silhouette that
evokes pregnancy, and therefore the perpetuation of the
family lineage.
60/CHAPTER 2 THE FUNDAMENTALS OF INTERPRETATION: FORMAL AND CONTEXTUAL ANALYSIS
The continuing mystery of this famous painting
reminds us of the limits of interpretation and historical
understanding. The kinds of documents that might answer our question directiy (a description of the painting
by the artist or patron, a contract for it, the impressions
of early viewers) don't survive. Does this mean we
shouldn't or can't interpret the work? I think it means
interpretation is more necessary than ever if we are going
to engage with the work on levels beyond simply admiring Van Eyck's technical skill as a painter. To achieve
understanding, viewers today must work both from the
painting itself for it provides its own primary evidence
for interpretation, and also from general knowledge of
northern Renaissance culture and society.
Let's go back to the quotation that begins this section. It makes a simple but profound point: be aware
that historical works, even if from your own culture or
the recent past, are in some sense foreign and not necessarily easily comprehensible. At the same time, you
don't need to feel entirely cut off from the past, for the
past is only knowable in the present, and is, in that
sense, part of the present.
Conclusion
For me, the process of interpreting a work of art from
another culture or fro m the past is lil<e speaking a foreign
language. I ma y not speak a language very well, an d ma y
not fully understand wha t native speakers are saying, but a
great deal o f successful communicatio n is still possible,
despite m y imperfect gramma r an d vocabulary. So, too,
with a wor k o f art. Yo u ma y not grasp all o f its meaning—i f
that's even possible, given the variable understandings an d
interpretations o f the very people wh o mad e an d used the
work—bu t there is muc h that you can kno w an d understand. Your tools are contextual an d formal analysis.
61 /CHAPTER 2 THE PROCESS OF INTERPRETATION: CONFRONTING YOUR ASSUMPTIONS