Currently open at Carelyna’s ARTCARE Gallery is Second Life is another exploration of the human condition through art by Scylla Rhiadra. Scylla is an artist who has a reputation for getting the grey squishy stuff located within the upper portion of our skulls firing on all cylinders – and for that very reason, I always enjoy spending time within her exhibitions, even if it does mean the four cylinders of my own little brain have to work overtime….
Geometries of the Human is a deftly layered collection of images, thoughts, quotes and themes which offer the visitor opportunities to consider the exhibition along several parallel – and overlapping – lines. The most visual of these themes / lines is the relationship between art and geometry – the latter being perhaps one of the most important (and certainly one of the oldest) branches of mathematics. It is one which has and does hold influence over many aspects of our lives, as Scylla points out in her introductory notes for the exhibition: it has applications in the majority of the sciences (including other branches of mathematics), in architecture, design, and – of course – art. Thanks to the Fibonacci sequence, it is also very present in the natural world.
It is geometry which so often gives art its form. Perhaps the most obvious influences here are those of ratio and proportion – the former notably through the use of the Golden Ratio / Fibonacci sequence, the latter most famously embodied within da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man, which brilliantly brings together mathematics and anatomical science and combines them with art (both classicism, and naturalism). Both individually and jointly, ratio and proportion can do much to give a sense of depth and / or sense of balance which more readily give pieces that have an intrinsic – if indefinable – appeal.
Geometry therefore helps gives structure to art – much as it does the worlds, the very cosmos, around us. However, the fact that it does can actually be a limitation, particularly through slavish adherence. The rule of thirds, for example, and clearly a geometrical imposition, is intended to offer a rule of thumb within the visual arts; yet all too often it is taken as an immutable rule, any violation of which lessens the finished work – potentially to the point where it should not be considered art. Whilst the first of these views might (to a point, again it depends on the artist’s overall goal) be seen as “true”, the latter most certainly is not.
Thus, within the pieces – and their accompanying descriptions – Scylla presents an engaging exploration of the relationship of geometry and art which is both a celebration of the beauty their interaction can create, and a questioning of the enforced rigidity and limitations they can place on art through consideration of the aesthetics of geometry alone when composing an image, painting or drawing. This leads directly into a wider context of the exhibition: a questioning of perspectives and – and this is purely my term, not Scylla’s – slavish adherence to doctrines.
At the end of the day, geometry is purely a tool or tool set – an undeniably useful one which has allowed humanity to evolve in terms of knowledge, technology, science and understanding. But like any tool or tool set, it is not all-encompassing; like much in science, it is far from static. Whilst it is perhaps the most widely recognised, Euclidean geometry is far from alone, and since the 1800s in particular, differential geometry (through the likes of the Theorema Egregium and Riemannian geometry), together with computational and discrete geometry, play key roles in our understanding of the cosmos and science (even general relativity is underpinned by non-Euclidean geometry), and can lend themselves to art. Ergo, allowing oneself to be constrained by a specific set of rules or concepts is perhaps not the best position to take.
This is as fundamental a truth in life as it is in science (and art). We are not uniform creatures; each of us is more than shape or form or colour; we have folds and volume (depth). We might all be the result of the same biological processes, but none of us is mass produced; we are all truly unique. And it is in our differences to one another – however those differences might be manifested – that we are perhaps the most precious, because it is through the understanding – and acceptance – of what makes us different which can lead to the best understanding of one another.
For me, this is aptly stated within What Would You Be without Me?, together with the accompanying quote attributed to Dürer alongside it. Yes, an understanding of geometry and its attendant use of ratio and proportion clear enhance the artist’s work – but it is still the subject of that work which should be central to it. Without such a focus, the work is diminished, emptied; the use of geometry pointless. Similarly, if we are unwilling to accept others can have outlooks on life different to our own, and instead seek to ostracism and “other” them simply because of they are “different”, then we diminish ourselves as well, becoming – if I might mangle Shakespeare here somewhat: a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage … full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
Having a belief system or guidelines is not a bad thing – again, without our understanding of geometry, the world we’ve created and our understanding of it and the cosmos in which it sits, would potentially be a very different place. But to quote Scylla – too strong a faith in anything is dangerous. It can blind us to the beauty of creativity and artistic freedoms – and rob us of understanding and wisdom that might be vital to our future existence.
As I noted towards the start of this piece Geometries of the Human is a deftly and deeply layered exhibition, one in which both art and the words accompanying it offer nuanced opportunities for reflection on ideas on life and expression great and small. In its viewing, it is not so much an exhibition which should been seem so much as absorbed – and it is obviously thoroughly recommended to anyone who appreciates art with a message (and a conscience).
SLurl Details
- ArtCare Gallery (Emotion, rated Moderate)
Inara Pey: Living in a Modemworld 