Seeing Form and Space
Categories of Form
Putting Stuff Into Space
Compositional Strategies
A Foundation for Meaning
I am convinced that abstract form, imagery, color, texture, and material convey meaning equal to or greater than words.
Katherine McCoy
Graphic designer and former director,
Cranbrook School of Design
There is no longer agreement anywhere about art itself, and under these circumstances we must go back to the beginning, to concern ourselves with dots and lines and circles and all the rest of it.
Armin Hoffmann
Graphic designer and former director,
Basel School of Design: 1946–1986
Categories of Form
Putting Stuff Into Space
Compositional Strategies
A Foundation for Meaning
First Things First All graphic design—all image making, regardless of medium or intent—centers on manipulating form. It’s a question of making stuff to look at and organizing it so that it looks good and helps people understand not just what they’re seeing, but what seeing it means for them. “Form” is that stuff: shapes, lines, textures, words, and pictures. The form that is chosen or made, for whatever purpose, should be considered as carefully as possible, because every form, no matter how abstract or seemingly simple, carries meaning. Our brains use the forms of things to identify them; the form is a message. When we see a circle, for example, our minds try to identify it: Sun? Moon? Earth? Coin? Pearl? No one form is any better at communicating than any other, but the choice of form is critical if it’s to communicate the right message. In addition, making that form as beautiful as possible is what elevates designing above just plopping stuff in front of an audience and letting them pick through it, like hyenas mulling over a dismembered carcass. The term “beautiful” has a host of meanings, depending on context; here, we’re not talking about beauty to mean “pretty” or “serene and delicate” or even “sensuous” in an academic, Beaux-Arts, home-furnishings-catalog way. Aggressive, ripped, collaged illustrations are beautiful; chunky woodcut type is beautiful; all kinds of rough images can be called beautiful. Here, “beautiful” as a descriptor might be better replaced by the term “resolved,”—meaning that the form’s parts are all related to each other and no part of it seems unconsidered or alien to any other part—and the term “decisive”—meaning that the form feels confident, credible, and on purpose. That’s a lot to consider up front, so more attention will be given to these latter ideas shortly. Form does what it does somewhere, and that somewhere is called, simply, “space.” This term, which describes something three-dimensional, applies to something that is, most often, a two-dimensional surface. That surface can be a business card, a poster, a Web page, a television screen, the side of a box, or a plate-glass window in front of a store. Regardless of what the surface is, it is a two-dimensional space that will be acted upon, with form, to become an apparent three-dimensional space.
In painting, this space is called the “picture plane,” which painters have historically imagined as a strange, membrane-like “window” between the physical world and the illusory depth of the painted environment. Coincidentally, this sense of illusory depth behind or below the picture plane applies consistently to both figurative and abstract imagery.
Categories of Form
Putting Stuff Into Space
Compositional Strategies
A Foundation for Meaning
The Shape of Space Also called the “format,” the proportional dimensions of the space where form is going to do its thing is something to think about. The size of the format space, compared to the form within it, will change the perceived presence of the form. A smaller form within a larger spatial format—which will have a relatively restrained presence—will be perceived differently from a large form in the same format—which will be perceived as confrontational. The perception of this difference in presence is, intrinsically, a message to be controlled. The shape of the format is also an important consideration. A square format is neutral; because all its sides are of equal length, there’s no thrust or emphasis in any one direction, and a viewer will be able to concentrate on the interaction of forms without having to pay attention to the format at all. A vertical format, however, is highly confrontational.
Its shape produces a simultaneously upward and downward thrust that a viewer will optically traverse over and over again, as though sizing it up; somewhere in the dim, ancient hardwiring of the brain, a vertical object is catalogued as potentially being another person—its verticality mirrors that of the upright body. Horizontal formats are generally passive; they produce a calming sensation and imply lateral motion, deriving from an equally ancient perception that they are related to the horizon. If you need convincing, note the root of the word itself.
Categories of Form
Putting Stuff Into Space
Compositional Strategies
A Foundation for Meaning
Positive and Negative Form is considered a positive element, a solid thing or object. Space is considered negative—not in a bad way, but as the absence, or opposite, of form. Space is the “ground” in which form becomes a “figure.” The relationship between form and space, or figure and ground, is complementary and mutually dependent; it’s impossible to alter one and not the other. The confrontation between figure and ground defines the kind of visual activity, movement, and sense of three-dimensionality perceived by the viewer. All these qualities are inherently communicative—resolving the relationships between figure and ground is the first step in creating a simple, overarching message about the content of the designed work, before the viewer registers the identity of an image or the content of any text that is present. Organizing figure—the positive—in relation to the ground—or negative—is therefore one of the most important visual aspects of design because it affects so many other aspects, from general emotional response to informational hierarchy. The figure/ground relationship must be understandable and present some kind of logic to the viewer; it must also be composed in such a way that the feeling this compositional, or visual, logic generates is perceived as appropriate to the message the designer is trying to convey. The logic of composition—the visual order and relationships of the figure and ground—is entirely abstract, but depends greatly on how the brain interprets the information that the viewer sees. Visual logic, all by itself, can also carry meaning. An extremely active relationship between figure and ground might be appropriate for one kind of communication, conveying energy, growth, and aggression; a static relationship, communicating messages such as quietness, restraint, or contemplation, might be equally appropriate in another context. The degree of activity might depend on how many forms are interacting in a given space, the size of the forms relative to the space, or how intricate the alternation between positive and negative appears to be. However, a composition might have relatively simple structural qualities—meaning only one or two forms in a relatively restrained interaction—but unusual relationships that appear more active or more complex, despite the composition’s apparent simplicity. In some compositions, the figure/ground relationship can become quite complex, to the extent that each might appear optically to be the other at the same time. This effect, in which what appears positive one minute appears negative the next, is called “figure/ground reversal.” This rich visual experience is extremely engaging; the brain gets to play a little game, and, as a result, the viewer is enticed to stay within the composition a little longer and investigate other aspects to see what other fun he or she can find. If you can recall one of artist M.C. Escher’s drawings—in which white birds, flying in a pattern, reveal black birds made up of the spaces between them as they get closer together—you’re looking at a classic example of figure/ground reversal in action. The apparent reversal of foreground and background is also a complex visual effect that might be delivered through very simple figure/ground relationships, by overlapping two forms of different sizes, for example, or allowing a negative element to cross in front of a positive element unexpectedly.
Categories of Form
Putting Stuff Into Space
Compositional Strategies
A Foundation for Meaning
Categories of Form
Putting Stuff Into Space
Compositional Strategies
A Foundation for Meaning
Clarity and Decisiveness Resolved and refined compositions create clear, accessible visual messages. Resolving and refining a composition means understanding what kind of message is being carried by a given form, what it does in space, and what effect the combination of these aspects has on the viewer. First, some more definitions. To say that a composition is “resolved” means that the reasons for where everything is, how big the things are, and what they’re doing with each other in and around space—the visual logic—is clear, and that all the parts seem considered relative to each other. “Refined” is a quirky term when used to describe form or composition; in this context, it means that the form or composition has been made to be more like itself—more clearly, more simply, more indisputably communicating one specific kind of quality. Like the term “beautiful,” the quality of “refinement” can apply to rough, organic, and aggressive forms, as well as sensuous, elegant, and clean ones. It’s not a term of value so much as an indicator of whether the form is as clear as possible. This, of course, brings up the issue of “clarity,” which has to do with whether a composition and the forms within it are readily understandable. Some of this understandability depends on the refinement of the forms, and some of it depends on the resolution of the relationships between form and space and whether these are “decisive,” appearing to be on purpose and indisputable. A form or a spatial relationship can be called decisive if it is clearly one thing and not the other: for example, is one form larger or smaller than the one next to it, or are they both the same size? If the answer to this question is quick and nobody can argue with it—“The thing on the left is larger” or “Both things are the same size”—then the formal or spatial relationship is decisive. Being decisive with the visual qualities of a layout is important in design because the credibility of the message being conveyed depends on the confidence with which the forms and composition have been resolved. A weak composition, one that is indecisive, evokes uneasiness in a viewer, not just boredom. Uneasiness is not a good platform on which to build a complicated message that might involve persuasion.
Seeing Form and Space
Putting Stuff Into Space
Compositional Strategies
A Foundation for Meaning
Each of These Things Is Unlike the Other There are several kinds of basic form, and each does something different. Rather, the eye and the brain perceive each kind of form as doing something different, as having its own kind of identity. The perception of these differences and how they affect the form’s interaction with space and other forms around it, of differing identities, is what constitutes their perceived meaning. The context in which a given form appears—the space or ground it occupies and its relationship to adjacent forms—will change its perceived meaning, but its intrinsic identity and optical effect always remains an underlying truth. The most basic types of form are the dot, the line, and the plane. Of these, the line and the plane also can be categorized as geometric or organic; the plane can be either flat, textured, or appear to have three-dimensional volume or mass.
Seeing Form and Space
Putting Stuff Into Space
Compositional Strategies
A Foundation for Meaning
The Dot The identity of a dot is that of a point of focused attention; the dot simultaneously contracts inward and radiates outward. A dot anchors itself in any space into which it is introduced and provides a reference point for the eye relative to other forms surrounding it, including other dots, and its proximity to the edges of a format’s space. As seemingly simple a form as it might appear, however, a dot is a complex object, the fundamental building block of all other forms. As a dot increases in size to cover a larger area, and its outer contour becomes noticeable, even differentiated, it still remains a dot. Every shape or mass with a recognizable center—a square, a trapezoid, a triangle, a blob—is a dot, no matter how big it is. True, such a shape’s outer contour will interact with space around it more dramatically when it becomes bigger, but the shape is still essentially a dot. Even replacing a “flat” graphic shape with a photographic object, such as a silhouetted picture of a clock, will not change its fundamental identity as a dot. Recognizing this essential quality of the dot form, regardless of what other characteristics it takes on incidentally in specific occurrences, is crucial to understanding its visual effect in space and its relationship to adjacent forms.
Seeing Form and Space
Putting Stuff Into Space
Compositional Strategies
A Foundation for Meaning
The Line A line’s essential character is one of connection; it unites areas within a composition. This connection may be invisible, defined by the pulling effect on space between two dots, or it may take on visible form as a concrete object, traveling back and forth between a starting point and an ending point. Unlike a dot, therefore, the quality of linearity is one of movement and direction; a line is inherently dynamic, rather than static. The line might appear to start somewhere and continue indefinitely, or it might travel a finite distance. While dots create points of focus, lines perform other functions; they may separate spaces, join spaces or objects, create protective barriers, enclose or constrain, or intersect. Changing the size—the thickness—of a line relative to its length has a much greater impact on its quality as a line than does changing the size of a dot. As a line becomes thicker or heavier in weight, it gradually becomes perceived as a plane surface or mass; to maintain the line’s identity, it must be proportionally lengthened.
Seeing Form and Space
Putting Stuff Into Space
Compositional Strategies
A Foundation for Meaning
Seeing Form and Space
Putting Stuff Into Space
Compositional Strategies
A Foundation for Meaning
Plane and Mass A plane is simply just a big dot whose outer contour—the sense of its shape—becomes an important attribute: for example, that it may be angular, rather than round. Its dotlike quality becomes secondary the larger the plane object becomes. This change depends on the size of the plane relative to the space in which it exists; in a large poster, even a relatively large plane object—a square or a triangle, for example—will still act as a dot if the volume of space surrounding it is much larger than the plane object itself. At the point where a plane object enlarges within a format so that its actual shape begins to affect the shapes of the negative space around it, the character of its outer contour, as well as its surface texture, come into question. All such shapes appear first as flat surfaces; their external contour must be defined by the mind to identify it as being one kind of shape or another and, subsequently, what meaning that shape might have. The more active the plane’s contour—and more so if the contour becomes concave, allowing surrounding negative space to enter into the dimensional surface defined by the shape—the more dynamic the shape will appear, and the less it will radiate and focus in the way a dot, with a simple, undifferentiated contour, does. The relative size and simplicity of the shape has an impact on its perceived mass, or weight. A large form with a simple contour retains its dot-like quality and presents a heavy optical weight; a form with a complex contour, and a great deal of interaction between internal and external positive and negative areas, becomes weaker, more line-like, and exhibits a lighter mass. As soon as texture appears on the surface of a plane, its mass decreases and it becomes flatter—unless the texture emulates the effect of light and shade, creating a perceived three-dimensionality, or volume. Even though apparently three-dimensional, the plane or volume still retains its original identity as a dot.
Seeing Form and Space
Putting Stuff Into Space
Compositional Strategies
A Foundation for Meaning
Geometric Form As they do with all kinds of form, our brains try to establish meaning by identifying a shape’s outer contour. There are two general categories of shape, each with its own formal and communicative characteristics that have an immediate effect on messaging: geometric form and organic form. A shape is considered geometric in nature if its contour is regularized—if its external measurements are mathematically similar in multiple directions—and, very generally, if it appears angular or hard-edged. It is essentially an ancient, ingrained expectation that anything irregular, soft, or textured is akin to things experienced in nature. Similarly, our expectation of geometry as unnatural is the result of learning that humans create it; hence, geometry must not be organic. The weird exception to this idea is the circle or dot, which, because of its elemental quality, might be recognized as either geometric or natural: earth, sun, moon, or pearl. Lines, too, might have a geometric or organic quality, depending on their specific qualities. Geometric forms might be arranged in extremely organic ways, creating tension between their mathematical qualities and the irregularity of movement. Although geometric shapes and relationships clearly occur in nature, the message a geometric shape conveys is that of something artificial, contrived, or synthetic.
Seeing Form and Space
Putting Stuff Into Space
Compositional Strategies
A Foundation for Meaning
Seeing Form and Space
Putting Stuff Into Space
Compositional Strategies
A Foundation for Meaning
Organic Form Shapes that are irregular, complex, and highly differentiated are considered organic—this is what our brains tell us after millennia of seeing organic forms all around us in nature. As noted earlier, geometry exists in nature, but its occurrence happens in such a subtle way that it is generally overshadowed by our perception of overall irregularity. The structure of most branching plants, for example, is triangular and symmetric. In the context of the whole plant, whose branches may grow at different rates and at irregular intervals, this intrinsic geometry is obscured. Conveying an “organic” message, therefore, means reinforcing these irregular aspects in a form, despite the underlying truth of geometry that actually might exist. Nature presents itself in terms of variation on essential structure, so a shape might appear organic if its outer contour is varied along a simple logic—many changing varieties of curve, for example. Nature also appears highly irregular or unexpected (again, the plant analogy is useful) so irregularity in measurement or interval similarly conveys an organic identity. Nature is unrefined, unstudied, textural, and complicated. Thus shapes that exhibit these traits will also carry an organic message.
Surface Activity The quality of surface activity helps in differentiating forms from each other, just as the identifiable contours of form itself does. Again, the dot is the building block of this formal quality. Groupings of dots, of varying sizes, shapes, and densities, create the perception of surface activity. There are two basic categories of surface activity: texture and pattern. The term “texture” applies to surfaces having irregular activity without apparent repetition. The sizes of the elements creating surface activity might change; the distance between the components might change; the relative number of components might change from one part of the surface to another. Because of this inherent randomness, texture generally is perceived as organic or natural. Clusters and overlaps of lines—dots in specific alignments—are also textural, but only if they are relatively random, that is, they are not running parallel, or appearing with varying intervals between, or in random, crisscrossing directions. “Pattern,” however, has a geometric quality—it is a specific kind of texture in which the components are arranged on a recognizable and repeated structure—for example, a grid of dots. The existence of a planned structure within patterns means they are understood to be something that is not organic: they are something synthetic, mechanical, mathematical, or mass produced. When considering texture, it’s important to not overlook the selection and manipulation of paper stock—this, too, creates surface activity in a layout. A coated paper might be glossy and reflective, or matte and relatively non-reflective. Coated stocks are excellent for reproducing color and detail because ink sits up on their surfaces, rather than being partly absorbed by the fibers of the paper. The relative slickness of coated sheets, however, might come across as cold or impersonal but also as refined, luxurious, or modern. Uncoated stocks, on the other hand, show a range of textural qualities, from relatively smooth to very rough. Sometimes, flecks of other materials, such as wood chips, threads, or other fibers, are included for added effect. Uncoated stocks tend to feel organic, more personal or hand-made, and warmer. The weight or transparency of a paper also will influence the overall feel of a project. Exploiting a paper’s physical properties through folding, cutting, short-sheeting, embossing, and tearing creates surface activity in a three dimensional way. Special printing techniques, such as varnishes, metallic and opaque inks, or foil stamping, increase surface activity by changing the tactile qualities of a paper stock’s surface. Opaque inks, for example, will appear matte and viscous on a gloss-coated stock, creating surface contrast between printed and unprinted areas. Metallic ink printed on a rough, uncoated stock will add an appreciable amount of sheen, but not as much as would occur if printed on a smooth stock. Foil stamping, available in matte, metallic, pearlescent, and iridescent patterns, produces a slick surface whether used on coated or uncoated stock and has a slightly raised texture.
Seeing Form and Space
Putting Stuff Into Space
Compositional Strategies
A Foundation for Meaning
Seeing Form and Space
Putting Stuff Into Space
Compositional Strategies
A Foundation for Meaning
Breaking Space Space—the ground or field of a composition—is neutral and inactive until it is broken by form. But how does the designer break the space, and what happens as a result? Thoughtfully considering these fundamental questions gives the designer a powerful opportunity not only to engage a viewer but also to begin transmitting important messages, both literal and conceptual, before the viewer even gets the chance to assimilate the content. Space is defined and given meaning the instant a form appears within it, no matter how simple. The resulting breach of emptiness creates new space—the areas surrounding the form. Each element brought into the space adds complexity but also decreases the literal amount of space—even as it creates new kinds of space, forcing it into distinct shapes that fit around the forms like the pieces of a puzzle. These spaces shouldn’t be considered “empty” or “leftover;” they are integral to achieving flow around the form elements, as well as a sense of order and unity throughout the composition. When the shapes, sizes, proportions, and directional thrusts of these spaces exhibit clear relationships with the form elements they surround, they become resolved with the form and with the composition as a whole.
Static and Dynamic The proportions of positive and negative might be generally static or generally dynamic. Because the picture plane is already a flat environment where movement and depth must be created as an illusion, fighting the tendency of two-dimensional form to feel static is important. The spaces within a composition will generally appear static—in a state of rest or inertia—when they are optically equal to each other. Spaces need not be physically the same shape to appear equal in presence or “weight.” The surest way of avoiding a static composition is to force the proportions of the spaces between forms (as well as between forms and the format edges) to be as different as possible.
Seeing Form and Space
Categories of Form
Compositional Strategies
A Foundation for Meaning
Arranging Form Within a compositional format, a designer can apply several basic strategies to organizing forms. Each strategy a designer employs will create distinctly different relationships among the forms themselves and between the forms and the surrounding space. Just as the identities of selected forms begin to generate messages for the viewer, their relative positions within the format, the spaces created between them, and their relationships to each other all will contribute additional messages. Forms that are clustered together, for example, will suggest that they are related to each other, as will forms that appear to align with one another. Forms separated by different spatial intervals will imply a distinction in meaning. Near and Far In addition to side-by-side, or lateral, arrangements at the picture plane, a designer may also organize form in illusory dimensional space—that is, by defining elements as existing in the foreground, in the background, or somewhere in between. Usually, the field or ground is considered to be a background space and forms automatically appear in the foreground. Overlapping forms, however, optically positions them nearer or further away from the viewer. The designer may increase this sense of depth by changing the relative values of the forms by making them transparent and increasing the differences in their sizes. Placing forms that are reversed—made negative, or the same value as the field or format space—on top of positive forms, will similarly exaggerate the sense of spatial depth, as well as potentially create interesting reversals of figure and ground. The seeming nearness or distance of each form will also contribute to the viewer’s sense of its importance and, therefore, its meaning relative to other forms presented within the same space. Movement Overlapping and bleeding, as well as the rotation of elements compared to others, may induce a feeling of kinetic movement. Elements perceived to occupy dimensional space often appear to be moving in one direction or another—receding or advancing. Juxtaposing a static form, such as a horizontal line, with a more active counterpart, such as a diagonal line, invites comparison and, oddly, the assumption that one is standing still while the other is moving. Changing the intervals between elements also invites comparison and, again, the odd conclusion that the changing spaces mean the forms are moving in relation to each other. The degree of motion created by such overlapping, bleeding, and rhythmic spatial separation will evoke varying degrees of energy or restfulness; the designer must control these messages as he or she does any other.
Seeing Form and Space
Categories of Form
Compositional Strategies
A Foundation for Meaning
Seeing Form and Space
Categories of Form
Compositional Strategies
A Foundation for Meaning
Symmetry and Asymmetry The result of making all the proportions between and around form elements in a composition different is that the possibility of symmetry is minimized. Symmetry is a compositional state in which the arrangement of forms responds to the central axis of the format (either the horizontal axis or the vertical axis); the forms might also be arranged in relation to each other’s central axes. Symmetrical arrangements mean that some set of spaces around the forms—or the contours of the forms around the axis—will be equal, which means that they are also static, or restful. The restfulness inherent in symmetry can be problematic relative to the goals of designed communication. Without differences in proportion to compare, the viewer is likely to gloss over material and come to an intellectual rest quickly, rather than investigate a work more intently. If the viewer loses interest because the visual presentation of the design isn’t challenging enough, the viewer’s attention might shift elsewhere before he or she has acquired the content of the message. A lack of visual, and thus cognitive, investigation is also likely to not make much of an impression on the viewer and, unfortunately, become difficult to recall later on. Asymmetrical arrangements provoke more rigorous involvement—they require the brain to assess differences in space and stimulate the eye to greater movement. From the standpoint of communication, asymmetrical arrangements might improve the ability to differentiate, catalog, and recall content because the viewer’s investigation of spatial difference becomes tied to the ordering, or cognition, of the content itself.
Activating Space During the process of composing form within a given space, portions of space might become disconnected from other portions. A section might be separated physically or blocked off by a larger element that crosses from one edge of the format to the other; or, it might be optically separated because of a set of forms aligning in such a way that the eye is discouraged from traveling past the alignment and entering into the space beyond. Focusing the majority of visual activity into one area of a composition—for example, by clustering—is an excellent way of creating emphasis and a contrasting area for rest. But this strategy might also result in spaces that feel empty or isolated from this activity. In all such cases, the space can be called “inert,” or “inactive.” An inert or inactive space will call attention to itself for this very reason: it doesn’t communicate with the other spaces in the composition. To activate these spaces means to cause them to enter back into their dialogue with the other spaces in the composition.
Seeing Form and Space
Categories of Form
Putting Stuff Into Space
A Foundation for Meaning
Seeing Form and Space
Categories of Form
Putting Stuff Into Space
A Foundation for Meaning
Compositional Contrast Creating areas of differing presence or quality—areas that contrast with each other—is inherent in designing a well-resolved, dynamic composition. While the term “contrast” applies to specific relationships (light versus dark, curve versus angle, and dynamic versus static), it also applies to the quality of difference in relationships among forms and spaces interacting within a format together. The confluence of varied states of contrast is sometimes referred to as “tension.” A composition with strong contrast between round and sharp, angular forms in one area, opposed by another area where all the forms are similarly angular, could exhibit a tension in angularity; a composition that contrasts areas of dense, active line rhythms with areas that are generally more open and regular might be characterized as creating tension in rhythm. The term tension can be substituted for contrast when describing individual forms or areas that focus on particular kinds of contrast—for example, in a situation in which the corner of an angular plane comes into close contact with a format edge at one location, but is relatively free of the edge in another; the first location could exhibit more tension than that of the second location.
Proportional Systems Controlling the eye’s movement through, and creating harmonic relationships among, form elements—whether pictorial or typographic (see page 202, Structure: The Grid System)—might be facilitated by creating a system of recognizable, repeated intervals to which both positive and negative elements adhere. A designer might approach developing these proportions in an intuitive way—moving material around within the space of the format or changing their relative sizes—to see at what point the spaces between elements and their widths or heights suddenly correspond or refer to each other. After this discovery, analyzing the proportions might yield a system of repeated intervals that the designer can apply as needed. Alternatively, the designer might begin with a mathematical, intellectualized approach that forces the material into particularly desirable relationships. The danger in this approach lies in the potential for some material to not fit so well—making it appear indecisive or disconnected from the remainder of the compositional logic—or, worse, creating static, rigid intervals between positive and negative that are too restful, stiff, awkward, or confining.
Seeing Form and Space
Categories of Form
Putting Stuff Into Space
A Foundation for Meaning
Seeing Is Believing What is the result of all this form and space interacting? At this most fundamental level, the result is meaning. Abstract forms carry meaning because they are recognizably different from each other—whether line, dot, or plane (and, specifically, what kind of plane). As a beginning point in trying to understand what it’s seeing, the mind makes comparisons between forms to see how they are different and whether this is important. Forms with similar shapes or sizes are linked by the mind as being related; if one form among a group is different, it must be unrelated, and the mind takes note.
Seeing Form and Space
Categories of Form
Putting Stuff Into Space
Compositional Strategies
Identity and Difference There are numerous strategies for creating comparisons between groupings of form or among parts within a group. The degree of difference between elements can be subtle or dramatic, and the designer can imply different degrees of meaning by isolating one group or part more subtly, while exaggerating the difference between others.
Because tiny adjustments in form are easily perceived, the difference between each group can be very precisely controlled. Of course, which strategy to employ will depend heavily on the kind of message the designer must convey as a result of such distinction; he or she will trigger very different perceptions of meaning by separating components spatially, as opposed to creating a sense of movement in components by rotating them or changing their size. In the first instance, the difference may be perceived as a message about isolation and may introduce anxiety; in the second instance, the change may be perceived as an indication of growth, a change in energy, or a focusing of strength.
Seeing Form and Space
Categories of Form
Putting Stuff Into Space
Compositional Strategies
Interplay Makes a Message Forms acquire new meanings when they participate in spatial relationships; when they share or oppose each other’s mass or textural characteristics; and when they have relationships because of their rotation, singularity or repetition, alignment, clustering, or separation from each other. Each state tells the viewer something new about the forms, adding to the meaning that they already might have established. Forms that appear to be moving, or energetic, because of the way they are rotated or overlapped, for example, mean something very different from forms that are staggered in a static space. The simplicity of abstraction belies its profound capacity to transmit messages on a perceptual level that is very rarely acknowledged by viewers intellectually—flying below their radar—but which they feel and understand nonetheless. Manipulating such base perceptions—in concert with whatever representational or pictorial content might be included—offers the designer a powerful medium for communication.
Seeing Form and Space
Categories of Form
Putting Stuff Into Space
Compositional Strategies