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An Introduction to Composition in Painting
by Damon Denys
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There are four basic aspects of a painting: theme, visual composition, style, and material composition. The first three are concerned with the image itself, while the last is concerned only with the painting as a physical object. Theme is the idea the painter expresses. Visual composition is how he expresses it. Style is how he brings the visual composition into physical form. Material composition includes the materials he actually uses to construct the painting. Since material composition is better treated as a separate issue, this essay will focus only on visual composition. For practical purposes, visual composition will be referred to as simply composition.
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Composition is the painter’s blueprint for transforming an abstract theme into an identifiable, concrete form. If there is a flaw in his blueprint, the final result may not effectively portray the theme. Style is how he transforms his compositional blueprint into physical form, i.e. into a painting, drawing, etc. The effectiveness of a painter’s compositional design and how well he can render his composition are the measure of his technical craftsmanship. If his technical ability in either of these areas is lacking, he may be unable to convey his theme effectively or efficiently, and his idea will be lost or confused.

One can see then why it’s so important for a painter to learn his craft well. Without the skill necessary to create an effective physical work of art, his ideas are useless. Unfortunately, craftsmanship is an aspect of painting that hasn’t only been neglected in the last 100 years, it’s been the target of outright attack. What was once a grand tradition of technical mastery has been diminished and nearly killed by proponents of artistic mysticism--those who believe a painter can portray his ideas by inspiration alone, devoid of technical skill. Worse still, practically the only ones who have taken a different point of view are of the school of artistic pragmatism--those who believe art requires no theme at all and is only about rendering. The first group believes in an end without means, and the second group believes in means without an end.

My objective here isn’t to explain why such beliefs are flawed. For most of us, the reasons are more than obvious. Rather, my intention is to address those who already understand why a work of art needs a theme and why that theme can only be realized through adequate technical craftsmanship. With that understood, we can more closely examine the technical side of composition.
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When you ask a painter to define composition, the most common reply is that it’s the way in which an image is visually arranged. While that’s certainly an important attribute of composition, it doesn’t make an adequate definition. As I mentioned above, composition is the means by which a painter makes an abstract theme concrete. By using visual tools, he focuses his work of art on the essence of that idea so it’s identifiable to the viewer. Put simply, he gives his idea physical form. Composition dictates the physical form his idea will take. How effectively his theme is communicated depends upon his compositional decisions.

The purpose of composition, therefore, isn’t just to arrange elements on a surface. As painters we have to remember to ask ourselves, “arrangement of elements to what end?” If composition were left at mere arrangement of visual elements, it would be an entirely ambiguous affair. We have to keep in mind that such an arrangement is merely the means by which composition fulfills its true purpose, which is to give physical form to the theme. That said, we can turn to the manner in which a composition actually achieves this goal.

Anyone who has taken an art class has heard their teacher divide painting into different visual categories. These usually include line, value, color, and form. More often than not, these elements are treated separately and no consideration is given to how they work together or what significance each may have to the painting as a whole. To begin with, it must be understood that every visual element of a painting is an aspect of composition. Line, form, value, color, contrast, unity, hierarchy and context are all tools a painter uses to create an effective composition. Composition is concerned with far more than simple visual esthetics, or how the image appeals to the viewer’s eye. It is a means of communication. And as in other forms of communication, the painter has many tools by which to express his meaning. None of these tools stand alone--they are a means to an end.

Unlike other forms of communication however, a painter has less liberty to pick and choose the tools he uses. With few exceptions, every one of the elements available to a painter is present in each of his works. It is sometimes possible to eliminate an element from his work, but more often than not such exclusions have a detrimental effect on the composition as a whole. Because each and every one of these compositional elements is present in a painter’s work, it’s important that a good painter have an excellent grasp of each one. If he lacks ability in using any one element, he’ll find that his work suffers as a consequence.

Most painters are lacking in their use of one element or another. It’s quite common to see a painting that has magnificent use of color, but lacks sufficient unity, or that has excellent form and line, but insufficient hierarchy. If such painters understood the importance of each element to their composition as a whole, they’d probably give more consideration to improving their weak points. But unless they’re aware of the function of composition and the way each of these elements affect it, they’re more likely to continue producing works that are less effective than they could be.
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A complete discussion of composition would be divided into three sections: 1) An exact definition and justification of composition itself; 2) A thorough listing and explanation of each of the compositional elements available to the painter and how they can be used to describe a theme; 3) An in-depth description of how each of these elements affects and interacts with the others. Such a discussion is more suitable for a book than an essay. Instead of attempting to go into such detail here, I’ll only describe each element briefly and afterwards touch upon related issues concerning the interpretation and application of composition by painters today.

First, however, I must state that the list of elements I describe below is by no means intended as a definitive guide. There are aspects and subtleties of a composition that can fall within the listed elements, possess characteristics of several listed elements, or exist outside the realm defined by the listed elements. This is only meant to be a list of the most broad and basic elements. Like the title of this essay indicates, it’s an introduction--presumably for those who are unfamiliar with compositional concepts.
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Line:

If one considers a single point (a dot) to simply be the shortest possible line, and all lines to be essentially a string of such points, then it can be argued that line is the most basic element of a painting. In truth, however, line and form are both very closely related, as I‘ll describe in a moment. Most drawing relies heavily upon line as a means of defining objects. While painting also uses it as a means of definition, it often relies upon it as a sort of infrastructure upon which the rest of the composition is built. This infrastructure of line may be hidden in the final composition, but its influence dictates what the viewer sees just as the steel girders of a skyscraper dictate its exterior. Thus, line serves a dual purpose of developmental support, as well as definition of surface detail.

Example of line 1:



Here you can see 3 different kinds of lines. A traditional unbroken line, a broken line, and a dotted line. A line isn't limited to a simple unbroken strip. It can be formed by intersecting borders, a string of elements, and simple color diferences, among other things.

Example of line 2:



A line can be seen simply as a string of single points combined together.

Form:

As stated above, line and form are closely related. The division between the two is often blurred, depending upon how the painter defines each. While line is mainly used to define edges, whether in two dimensions or three, form defines the shape of an object as a whole, or the shape of regions within it. Think of a map of the United States. Line defines the country’s borders and the borders of the states within it, while form defines the shape of the country as a whole and the shape of each individual state. It’s possible to have form without line, and it’s possible to have line without form, but usually where one exists so does the other. This is why the two elements are so closely related. For practical purposes, we’ll regard line as the element that defines borders, and form as the element that defines the shapes created by those borders.

Example of form 1:



Here's an example of form defined by line. The line defines the perimeter of the form, which, as we can see, is a circle.

Example of form 2:



Form doesn't always depend upon line to define it. Here's an example of an essentially circular form which is defined by color and tone differences instead of line.

Value:

Because a painted image is physically two-dimensional, a painter must have some tool to create a false, but convincing illusion of three-dimensionality. Value is that tool. The effects of value are most easily seen in a black and white drawing. In such a drawing, one can find a range of tones from pure black, across a spectrum of gray, ending in pure white. By using such a scale of tones, a painter is able to recreate in two dimensions the effects of light and shadow on a three-dimensional object. In a painting, such tones are usually found in spectrums of color instead of gray, but the effect is the same. Value is extremely important to a painter because without its proper use it would be impossible for a painter to create convincingly realistic imagery. It’s also a useful tool for adding further definition to forms, of which line alone is incapable of doing. Value also works in conjunction with contrast, as described below.

Example of value 1:



Here's a simple black and white value scale.

Example of value 2:



As you can see here, adding value can have a huge impact. Figure A is a simple two dimensional scheme with no value. With the simple addition of value, as in Figure B, the scheme can be made to look three dimensional.

Color:

Line, form and value can be considered the most basic elements of painting. Although they interact with one another, they can still be viewed as fairly singular aspects of a composition. Color too can be regarded as a singular aspect, although it usually functions as an extension of the three basic elements and serves to give them further definition. Because color is derived from the spectrum of light itself, it is much more closely associated with the appearance of light in a painting than the three basic elements. This is why color, and not grayscale, is the most common means of creating value in a painting. Because color is present in light, it also plays an extremely important role in the material aspect of the pigments a painter uses. It is because of the color spectrum contained in light that a painter’s pigments appear the way they do.

Only a painter who understands this can take full advantage of the properties of his pigments. It’s possible to create each of the three basic elements solely through the use of color. Indeed, it is with a combination of colors that a painter creates his entire work. Color can provide a much deeper sense of reality and three-dimensionality beyond what value alone can do, and it can be used to create surface details above and beyond the ability of line. Besides this, colors tend to possess a more personal meaning than other elements of painting. For instance, most people have favorite colors, but few have favorite lines. For this reason, color can elicit--although quite unpredictably--a deeper psychological or emotional response in a composition. But because such reactions are difficult, if not impossible for a painter to anticipate, color tends to be used for its qualities of realism, intensity, and, as described below, in conjunction with the more complex elements of painting. Color is a powerful tool in painting, and its value is probably underestimated by most painters.

Example of color:



The same range of values can be achieved with color as with grayscale.

Contrast:

Contrast is an element that not only depends upon the presence of the previously described elements, it presupposes their existence. Contrast cannot exist alone. It is a quality derived from a comparison between two or more other elements, whether they are colors, lines, forms, values, or any combination thereof. Contrast is a quality that defines the relationship any one element has with any other element in a composition. Contrast isn’t the only means of defining such relationships, but it can be a very effective one. Unlike hierarchy and unity, which also define such relationships, contrast tends to describe the relative similarity or dissimilarity of one element to another. In regard to values, for instance, a very light tone would be considered in high contrast to a very dark tone, and in low contrast to a tone that was similar in lightness to itself. Contrast is a very effective tool for creating interest in specific areas of a composition. High contrast can draw attention to an area, while low contrast discourages such attention. Contrast is usually most useful as a means of creating hierarchy, as described below.

Example of contrast 1:



High contrast is a strong eye-grabber, while low contrast is not. (Depending on your web browser, the examples of high and medium contrast here may actually be reversed)

Example of contrast 2:



Contrast can be achieved in many ways by using color, form, texture, detail, etc. In the two examples above, the rightmost version calls more attention to itself than the plain blue circle on the left.

Unity:

Like contrast, unity is an element that describes a relationship between two or more elements or objects within a composition. Unlike contrast, however, which tends to focus on isolated relationships within the composition, unity usually describes such relationships within the context of the composition as a whole. Unity can be said to define how any one element or group of elements is related to the rest of the composition. Thus, contrast itself would be an aspect of unity, as is color, value, etc. The most common quality of unity that art classes and critics focus on is visual flow or connectivity. This can be described as the way in which compositional elements “lead the viewer’s eye” from one area of the image to another.

There are many old and very well established conventions describing the “best” and “proper” uses of unity within a composition, but most of them neglect to consider why such conventions are necessary--i.e. they fail to explain the purpose of unity. Unity has several functions. The most obvious is as the final step to creating a believably realistic image: if the objects within a composition are disjointed, the illusion of reality will fail, no matter how realistic those objects appear on their own. Even if believable realism isn’t what the painter is after, lack of unity can distract from the theme, thus undermining the purpose of the entire composition. Once sufficient unity is achieved, however, its most important consideration is in connection with hierarchy.

Example of unity:



Unity is necessary to maintain logical order in a painting. Without it, the image becomes disjointed and confusing, which distracts from the theme. Here I've disrupted the unity of Jacques-Louis David's "Oath of the Horatii" by adding a new figure. Although Blossom is cute and adorable, the effect she has on the painting's unity is not. She sticks out like a sore thumb and completely distracts from the theme.

Hierarchy:

Most art classes, books and instructors fail to even mention of the most high-level of all painting’s elements: hierarchy. Even though it is arguably the most important quality of a composition, it’s implications are practically unknown to contemporary painters, and its conscious use is rare. Put simply, hierarchy answers the question “what is important?” in a composition. By making his painting hierarchical, a painter places the greatest emphasis on those things which are most important, and the least emphasis on those which are less important. Visually, this allows the viewer to immediately identify the painter’s primary goals, which, if he designed his composition well, will effectively communicate the theme. A painter must have hierarchy in mind when he makes his first designs for a composition.

Practically speaking, all the previously described elements are tools the painter uses to achieve hierarchy in his composition. By using elements such as contrast, color, form and unity, he is able to describe the importance of objects within the image. The painting’s theme itself dictates what is most important, therefore hierarchy is the tool that prioritizes all the elements and exposes the theme to the viewer. Lack of hierarchy is just as fatal to a composition as lack of unity is distracting. By neglecting hierarchy, a painter allows the theme to be buried beneath a cloud of inconsequential and confusing elements. There are as many ways of creating hierarchy as there are combinations of elements within a painting. Common ways of creating hierarchy include manipulating the way important elements are situated within the image, use of contrast to bring attention to them, use of color and detail to create such contrast, and use of visual flow to lead the viewer’s attention to the essential areas of an image.

Contrast:

It must first be stated that context is not an essential element of a painting. But when present in conjunction with hierarchy, context can add a whole new dimension to a work of art. If hierarchy answers the question “what is important?” in a composition, context answers the question “why is it important?” Context therefore does not add depth to a work of art, it adds breadth. The addition of breadth means an increased spectrum of themes that may be represented in a painting. Simple themes, such as beauty, strength, and determination require no context, but more complex themes, such as the responsibility of freedom, require context for effective communication. Context is also a powerful tool for relating to the viewer, even if the viewer is simply the painter himself.

By creating a context the viewer identifies with on a personal level, an image can be far more powerful and express a theme much more effectively. For example, the theme of beauty can be expressed effectively by portraying either a man or a woman. The painter’s choice of model is a contextual one, and the viewer will react to his image of beauty accordingly. Despite the added breadth that context allows a painter, it must always be remembered that context operates under the direction of unity and hierarchy. Relating to the viewer, even if that viewer is the painter himself, is not the primary function of a painting. Context can only become the focus of a composition at the loss of the theme. And if the theme is lost, context is meaningless.

Example of composition:



To better explain some of the elements I've been describing, I'm using as an example an excellent painting by Frederick, Lord Leighton entitled The Painter's Honeymoon. This is a particularly good example of how the elements of composition can be used to express a theme.

At first glance, it's obvious that the two figures are happily and contentedly in love. There are no smiles on their faces, but we can still tell with certainty that they find peace, fulfillment and joy in one another. The composition makes this very clear. There are many kinds of love, so to describe the theme as simply "love" isn't quite enough. The love shown here, for instance, is sensual, but by no means erotic. It's romantic, not familial, and it stresses love between two people, as opposed to, say, love for God, or love for chocolate chip cookies. A more accurate description of the theme would probably be "the way in which romantic love can compliment and fulfill one's self, and the calm joy that results from such a union." It may sound like a complex theme, but then love can be a complex thing.

You don't actually have to know anything about the artist in order to understand the theme--the composition explains that well enough. But it is interesting to consider certain facts when looking at such an image. The fact that the image portrays an artist is very illuminating. The same theme could easily have been expressed by showing a poet, a lawyer, etc. Leighton's choice of showing a painter is an example of context. You have to remember that Leighton himself was a painter. By showing a painter in love, it's simple to deduce that Leighton was showing ideal love as he himself saw it--love that he could most identify with.

It's also interesting to note that Leighton never married, and only had one known secret mistress in his life. A picture like this is certainly the product of a romantic man, concretizing the ideal of love that he himself was unable to attain in life. By painting a picture like this, he was able to experience that ideal. The figure of the artist in this picture then is essentially Leighton himself.

Okay, now we know the picture indeed has a theme and we've identified it. Now we can begin to look at how exactly the artist went about expressing it.

The composition is a fairly unusual one, but one that works particularly well. Everything of interest is really in the top half of the image. The drawing board forms a distinct dividing line between the two halves. The bottom half is entirely dark and muted with nothing of interest, save for the girl's dress. This dress, which comprises the entire bottom right quadrant of the picture, is a great example of contrast and visual flow.



The dress is certainly the first thing that catches our eye when we look at the painting. This is because of Leighton's use of contrast. The form of the dress is very complex compared to the rest of the painting. It's also very light in value, but incorporates dark-value folds in between the bright highlights. This creates a visually "loud" area. These attributes, when placed within the rest of the very dark, muted lower half of the painting, draw our eye unavoidably to the dress.

But the dress is completely unimportant to the theme, so why on earth does Leighton want us to look there? You may be asking yourself: "Isn't the dress distracting and thus destructive to the unity of the painting?" Well, it could be, but only if Leighton had drawn us in and then left us there. In fact, you have to consider that the dress is simply a tool he's using in order to lead us to what's really important. In this respect, the dress does its job very well.

By grabbing our attention with so strong an element, Leighton can be sure we're going to look exactly where he wants us to look. Notice the folds in the dress. They flow in a very clear, directed current toward the middle of the painting. This flow is duplicated in all the other parts of the painting. When you take a good look at things, it seems everything is either pointing toward the center of the picture, or pointing toward the dress which very strongly inclines us in that direction as well.



And what's in the center of the picture? The clasped hands of the two lovers--the ultimate symbol of their romantic, physical and spiritual union. If it weren't for those hands (and the title of the picture as well), we wouldn't necessarily even be sure whether or not the two were in love, or whether the painter was simply giving a lesson to an affectionate pupil. She could be his sister as far as we know without those hands.

The hands of the lovers are thus given priority in the painting. All the elements of the painting create a logical visual flow leading to them. They're also placed directly in the center of the painting, which is usually the most important area as well.

Notice Leighton's use of hierarchy in this respect. The only direct light that strikes the figure of the painter is his clasped hand--which exemplifies the theme--and a slight amount on his drawing hand--which exemplifies his identity as an artist. The rest of his figure sinks into shadow. By drawing attention to these two parts of the figure, Leighton is stating what is important. Of primary importance is the figure's love, of secondary importance is his work, or identity. This is appropriate to the hierarchy of the picture, because love is the theme and his identity is simply contextual. Both are expressed very clearly, but far greater importance is placed on the former.

The last issue that needs to be discussed is the presence of the pot of flowers and fruit behind the couple. At first glance, it may seem superfluous and unnecessary. But don't be too quick to accuse Leighton of whimsical embellishment. We've already seen how the pot contributes to the overall visual flow leading to the center of the picture. This ensures the pot is well situated within the logical unity of the picture, so we can't complain about it being distracting. In fact, it posts a rather weak threat to the dominance of the dress.

The pot is, of course, a contextual element Leighton has added to his composition. The fact is, fruit and flowers are common symbols of bounty, fulfillment, and fruitfulness. Like the flowers, the couple's love has blossomed. Like the fruit, their love is a culmination of beauty and enjoyment. Love itself is a harvest of sorts, and Leighton is simply reiterating that fact by including the pot. Reiteration of the theme is a very common function of contextual elements, and Leighton does so simply and gracefully, while at the same time enriching the scene with some additional color and atmosphere. Is the pot necessary in order to express the theme? Absolutely not. Is it an inconsequential element that distracts from the theme? No again. Is the painting better off with it included? I suppose that's up to each viewer to decide for himself.
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Once a painter has gained a good grasp of using his compositional tools, he can then turn his attention to the more serious problem of actually designing compositions that effectively describe the theme he has in mind. This is, as one can imagine, a complicated issue. For the most part, it’s the product of the painter’s own creative decisions. There are countless ways of portraying any single theme. It’s up to the painter’s own artistic judgment to decide which way is best for any particular painting.

Many theories have been drafted on the subject of how to properly and effectively create a composition. In fact, just about every major school of painting in history has held to some form of compositional law. Unfortunately, many such schools lacked an exact definition of composition and theme. The result was a blurring of the line between the two, resulting in paintings that held composition itself as the ideal.

A good example can be found in history painting--that is, the portrayal of historical events such as wars, cataclysms, etc. This particular school of painting became very popular in 18th and 19th century Europe. As it did, schools began developing strict compositional rules the painters were expected to follow. Instead of painting value-oriented themes, they were painting events. As a result, the painter’s merit was not judged by his choice of subject so much as it was by his ability to conform and creatively adapt to compositional law.

The remnants of such compositional dogma can still be felt today. Critics, painters and art lovers alike will often criticize a painting based on obsolete compositional “laws”, without giving thought to ask why such laws are a valid means of judgment. Old laws, for instance, dictate that multiple figures should be assembled into a pyramidal form within the composition. Why? Perhaps because a pyramid visually presents a feeling of strength. But is such strength necessary to all compositions? Without answering such questions viewers continue to make judgments based solely on unjustified dogmatic conventions. A rational person, of course, must question such judgments.

If we can’t depend upon conventional law to aid us in judging a composition, how then, as painters or viewers, do we decide if a composition is good or bad? After all, we are required, either consciously or subconsciously, to make such decisions. To answer this question, we must remind ourselves of the purpose of a composition: to express the theme. If we’re going to judge a composition rationally, therefore, it reasons that we must do so with the theme in mind.

To begin, if the main purpose of a composition is to present the theme, that theme must be identifiable. Otherwise, the composition is a failure. Is the theme apparent upon looking at the painting? Is there an identifiable sense of life present? What is our first reaction upon seeing the painting? If a painting lacks hierarchy, chances are that our first reaction will be one of confusion, coupled with an immediate feeling of “I like this” or “I do not like this”, depending upon the viewer’s personal values and state of mind. Whether or not we actually like the painting is unimportant in this issue however. The bottom line is that if the theme cannot be identified upon looking at the painting, the composition must be considered a bad one.

Only once we’ve established that the painting indeed has an identifiable theme can we then begin to criticize how good or bad its composition is. Even an allegorical painting that visually bludgeons the viewer with its theme is better than a painting with no theme at all. Judging the actual quality of a composition is tantamount to asking the question “how well does the composition present the theme?” Is the imagery still slightly confusing? Are there elements that seem inexplicable in light of the theme being presented? Is there a clearer, more effective way the theme could have been presented? By answering such questions, a viewer can decide for himself how good or bad he thinks the painter’s composition is.
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When judging a composition, however, one must keep in mind that the quality of a composition and the quality of the theme being presented are two different issues. It wouldn’t be reasonable to judge a painter’s compositional abilities based on his choice of theme. On the contrary, many of the best visual composers in history have chosen rather questionable themes for their paintings. The judgment of a composition should be based only upon its effectiveness in portraying the theme. The judgment of the theme itself brings to question how good or bad the work of art is as a whole. It’s entirely possible, and quite common, for a bad visual composer to present great themes, or for a great visual composer to present horrible themes.

All in all, paintings should be judged on an individual basis. Because there are so many ways of presenting themes visually, it would be absurd to try to dictate a set of fixed compositional rules to be applied to every painting by every painter. To do so would be in defiance of a painter’s ability to creatively develop new and potentially more effective ways of exemplifying themes. For the same reason, the painter himself must not fall into the trap of applying the same compositional techniques to each of his works. He must consider each of his subjects individually as a new problem to be solved, using whatever creative methods he can to develop the best solution. If he does not constantly apply himself creatively and intellectually to his craft, his work will become routine and he won’t be able to capitalize on more effective ways of communicating his ideas.
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In closing, I’d like to explain a final, essential aspect of composition that is seldom, if ever, emphasized in contemporary schools of painting. Although it may come as a surprise, not every painting actually possesses a composition. Most schools take for granted that composition is present in every painting. But this viewpoint is only justifiable if composition is defined merely as the way in which visual elements are arranged in a painting. As I explained above, visual arrangement itself is not an adequate definition of composition because it fails to answer the question “visual arrangement to what end?” If theme is the end, and composition is the means, then a painter must use his visual elements as a means of describing the theme in order for his painting to be considered as having a true composition.

If the visual elements do not attempt to describe a theme, the painting cannot be said to possess a composition at all. In such cases, the painter has only produced an arrangement of visual elements. He is a painter, but he is not an artist.

A true composition includes visual elements such as line, color, value and contrast to create objects and effects that are logically connected to one another for the purpose of portraying the theme. If a painter throws paint at the canvas with no regard to where it lands, or why it lands there, he is not creating logical visual unity. Likewise, a painter who devotedly and realistically reproduces a scene from nature, with no concern for his placement of objects other than “that’s how I found them”, also eschews logical unity in his work. Both are creating visual arrangements, but neither is creating an actual composition.

The word itself, “composition“, implies that the painter is composing, i.e. creating a selective, intentional arrangement. A random selection of elements, or even a specific selection of elements combined in a random manner does not qualify as a selective arrangement.

It’s possible for a painter to include enough logically connected elements to describe his theme while also including elements that are unassociated with it. When he does so, he is creating a true composition. However, inclusion of inconsequential elements will inhibit or destroy the unity and hierarchy in the painting, which, as described above, can only harm the composition as a whole. An expert visual composer doesn’t allow such distractions in his work.

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