What is a pattern? Patterns can mean many things and our daily lives are full of them. In visual art, put simply, a pattern is repetition with visual meaning. Let’s unpack this a bit and clarify the relationship of patterns to repetition.
Repetition often involves easily recognizable similar or matching shapes. These shapes can be amorphous but are usually recognized as lines, rectangles, and circles—which is one of the reasons the earlier chapters in this book discuss these simple shapes. While it is possible to literally repeat shapes, repetition often involves a progression: a shape gets bigger or smaller, or is replicated across the frame with some variations (some examples are on pages 15, 85, and 105).
Human beings are wired to respond to patterns and repetition. We recognize patterns when we encounter them, look for patterns, and are encouraged in our lives when we find patterns.
Our recognition of patterns falls across fields of human endeavor well beyond the visual arts. The underlying structure of music is made up of patterns, as is mathematics. In fact, our lives in their entirety are largely made up of patterns.
Thus, it behooves the artistic creator to recognize and use patterns in our compositions. The key point for artistic creators is that the patterns you use must be recognizable and recognized by your viewers.
The point of this chapter is to help you master tools that will allow you to capture and manifest patterns in your work. As noted, these patterns must be recognizable to the viewer.
What’s important is to create patterns that your viewers feel an instant connection with, even if they don’t understand the subject matter that is used to embody the pattern, the pattern as a whole, or why they feel the connection.
Sometimes the unconscious mind is better at grasping the entirety of a pattern that has only been partially presented. When we manipulate the viewer’s response to patterns, we are manipulating the viewer’s unconscious mind and not necessarily their conscious grasp of the details of the patterns. Perhaps understanding comes later in an “aha!” moment when the viewer internalizes and makes a connection with a larger pattern.
A good starting place for learning the tools you need to master patterns in your work is to become familiar with common types of patterns found in photography and visual art.
The simplest patterns involve repetition. The element that is repeated can be circular, rectilinear, a person, flower shapes, little bears, water drops, spirals—indeed, anything you would like.
The simplest patterns merely repeat without variation of the element sizing or spacing, but most patterns add some kind of change or shift as the elements repeat.
One simple way to add a little interest to pure repetition is to change the size of the elements that are repeated; for example, from small to large or large to small. This kind of pattern is often called a progression. To see some examples of a visual progression, check out pages 150 and 182, and Chorus of One to the right.
There are many possible variations in almost any pattern. For example, in a pattern involving repetitions and progressions, the distances between the elements as well as the elements themselves can vary.
It is important to understand that the viewer must recognize the pattern as a pattern at a conscious or unconscious level. This implies regularity and order: completely random splatterings do not a pattern make. Actually, the human propensity toward pattern making is so strong that it is quite difficult to create random imagery without patterns. For example, some people think of the famous Jackson Pollack paints-platter canvases as random. In fact, if you take a close look at these paintings, they are highly structured and involve a variety of complex patterns.
As an artist, the question becomes, how does this ordered regularity manifest itself? In other words, in a world that largely seems random, how can an image be presented that is both apparently “real” and also contains structured patterns?
Receptivity to patterns is largely a function of the viewer’s unconscious. Their unconscious will let them know when they are seeing a pattern, and when the use of the pattern seems to create a complete whole and “works.” Likewise, a viewer will often know, perhaps without being able to put it into words, when the depiction of a pattern seems incomplete and unsatisfying. Basically, their brains will stop processing the image and shut down on it.
Besides simple repetition or progression, patterns can involve:
As I’ve noted, pattern recognition is one of the most important aspects of human creativity across the arts, sciences, and life itself.
Circles and curves are all around us. Curved and circular shapes can be found in nature and in our everyday lives—for example, the wheels of our cars and the curvature of the Earth. On a broader level, we can think of our lives as arcs and circles, and position our art within the larger arc of living.
Circle patterns generally come in some basic varieties:
● A single large circle that monopolizes the composition. This could be a large circular flower like the one on page 82, taking up the entire frame, or a circular image like the one from a fisheye lens on page 71. Another possibility is the mandala. For more about this, take a look at the mandala discussion starting on page 49.
● A grid composition with many smaller circles arranged in a regular pattern. This involves fitting smaller circles into the larger rectangle of the frame. An example of this is Colored Apple Slices on pages 52–53.
● Concentric circles that involve a composition with a general large circular shape and additional arcs or curved or circular shapes. Spider Web Bokeh on pages 88–89 is a good example of this kind of pattern.
For a detailed discussion of working with circles in your compositions, see the “Circle” chapter, starting on page 36. As that chapter notes, a circle has no beginning and no end. This leads to the question of entry and exit points, which are always an issue with images that involve circular patterns. You’ll find a detailed discussion of entry and exit points, and how to use them in your compositions, starting on page 136.
It is both a pitfall and a power of the circular pattern that frames are almost universally rectangular (the exception to this, the tondo, is discussed on page 70). This is a pitfall because the circular shape works in opposition to its rectangular boundaries, and for the viewer to be satisfied with this visual contradiction, there needs to be some mechanism for its resolution. It’s like trying to fit the proverbial round peg into a square hole.
The power of the circular pattern comes paradoxically from this very contradiction. Since there is already a differential between the circular pattern and its rectangular boundary, a conflict has been set up. Conflicts are good for narrative! But narrative only works when there is some kind of resolution.
So circular patterns call out for acknowledgement of their nature and for a visual bridge to the rectangular. Two common ways to bridge the gap between the circular pattern and the rectangular frame are:
● Putting the circular pattern in the context of a grid.
● “Squaring the circle,” meaning connecting the circle to the corners of the composition.
Putting the circular pattern in the context of a grid works to resolve the conflict between the circles and the rectangular frame because the underlying structure of the pattern is rectangular, even if the manifestation of the underlying pattern involves circular elements.
By “squaring the circle,” I mean paying attention to all four corners of the composition. There needs to be a visual bridge in each of these four corners between the right angle of the compositional frame and the arc of the internal circle. When this is accomplished, the viewer no longer feels inordinate tension between the internal circle in the composition and the rectangular (or square) frame of the image.
Drakes Beach often presents an interesting photographic opportunity because the prevailing wind blows in the opposite direction against the tide. So, the waves come in but the wind blows out.
While incoming surf can always be thought of as a wave pattern, this interplay of elemental forces creates an especially interesting pattern where the smaller waves, closer to shore, are more regular than the larger waves farther out in the Pacific. The larger waves are subject to interference from the strong prevailing winds and create a blurred line in addition to the normal shape of the wave.
Wave photography involves capturing the repetition of wave motion. What is particularly interesting about the conditions at this beach is that there are two different kinds of repetition: the larger waves and the smaller waves.
Nikon D300, 18-200mm Nikkor zoom at 95mm, 1 second at f/36 and ISO 100, tripod mounted.
When you embark on a pattern involving squares or square shapes, it is important to understand that the basic shapes of your pattern are in sympathy with the rectangular frame bordering the image. This sounds good but can lead to a serious danger of too much regularity, tending toward boredom.
A pattern that looks programmatic and is filled with right angles will make the viewer’s eye go to sleep. Because there is no deep tension in this kind of composition, the viewer’s brain makes a quick assumption, scans the image superficially, and tucks the image away as uninteresting or unremarkable.
The technique for dealing with this eye glazing is to add variation. In real life, most things are imperfect and most shapes are not really perfect rectangles or really even rectangular at all. Even the tire treads shown in Tyre on page 97, which seem like they should be in a regular grid-like pattern, are, in fact, not square.
You can vary the regularity of a pattern with squares by altering some of the elements so they are slightly off square. This can be accomplished by moving an element off a grid or slightly changing its shape. The same goal can be achieved by varying the outer shape of a large square so that it is more like a trapezoid.
Undoubtedly, patterns involving rectangular shapes have their place. For example, take a look at Railroad Bridge, Maine on page 77. As a creator, you need to understand that rectangular shapes will always lead to patterns that have an apparent mechanical aspect. This can be apt when the subject matter is machinery, engineering, or the like. However, if you are striving for a more humanistic effect and you start with a pattern of rectangular objects, you should definitely try to break things up.
As I noted in the previous section, there’s a great possibility of boredom with too much visual regularity. Fortunately, life is neither boring nor regular. In fact, it’s messy and in the infinitude of patterns presented by life, the world, and the universe, you’ll find complexity, diversity, and very little regularity. That said, some of the very best patterns come precisely from this very messy and irregular world that is all around us.
As an example, consider waves crashing on a beach or tidal pools in an estuarial mud flat. These are never the same twice, and they are never precisely regular, but they do follow a pattern and they often present visually compelling subject matter. You can see what I mean by taking a look at Estero at Low Tide on pages 90–91 and Waves on Drakes Beach on pages 94–95.
It is manifestly true that patterns of waves and on the beach are created by forces beyond our control: sun, moon, tide, wind, and so on. Continuing with the waves example, what is a poor, lonesome photographer to do when faced with these primordial forces?
The set of tools available to the photographer is limited. Observation is the most important. You can recognize an interesting irregular pattern when you see it. This involves understanding regular patterns, noting the deviation from regularity, and making sure that your irregular pattern has some degree of symmetry and closure. The pattern can’t be so “out there” that it’s unrecognizable.
Once an irregular pattern is recognized, you have the tools of the photographer’s trade, such as exposure and framing, to work with. Often an irregular pattern becomes more interesting when you work with exposure to focus attention on the elements of the pattern. For example, you might want to expose for the reflected sunset in the pools of water like in the Estero at Low Tide image, emphasizing the nature of this pattern without regard for the rest of the image.
The most important aspect of the photographer’s ability to respond to an irregular pattern is framing. The choice of how you frame the image is crucial to how the viewer will perceive the pattern and whether they will see it as a pattern at all.
When you make the image, your choice of focal length, and whether you choose to be close to the pattern or farther away, will establish the framing. Of course, in a given situation, you may not be able to change your focal length, in which case it is well said that the best zoom lens is your feet.
In other words, the way you use your positioning in relation to the subject and the focal length of the lens you use largely determine the framing of your image.
Here’s an amazing thing about patterns: simply duplicating an element automatically gives you a pattern. Depending upon the element and how many times it has been duplicated, repetition in and of itself can make an interesting pattern.
You can find all kinds of repetition in photographic imagery whether the photos involve capturing nature at large or are renderings of studio compositions.
The following kinds of repetition can be kept in mind:
Keep in mind that repetition in a pattern is easy but often not satisfying. You can think of a repeating pattern as a bit like junk food: it may go down easy but it won’t nourish your body or soul for long.
The main problem with repetition in a pattern is where the pattern begins and ends. Sometimes with a circular composition, such as Mandahlia on page 82 or Flower Made from Radish Slices on page 101, the repetition works regardless of its unending nature. This often depends on the kind of subject matter. If you consider a subject like the Nesting Bowls, shown at left, this didn’t work as a repeating pattern until I added the nautilus-slice element in the very center.
In the 1977 book A Pattern Language: Towns, Buildings, Construction, architect Christopher Alexander coined the concept of the design pattern. In architecture, a design pattern solves a general problem once; that way, a solution doesn’t have to be reworked. Each implementation of the design pattern can contain variations suitable to its context.
As an example, Alexander cites the Place des Vosges in Paris, France. It’s a town square surrounded by covered arcades. This is a template that can be used and reused in many geographic locations with minor variations.
The concept of the design pattern has been fruitfully applied to many fields besides architecture, with perhaps the best-known results related to software design.
The proverb, “give a man a fish and you feed him for a day, teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime,” says that it is more important to teach generally how to do something than to provide the solution to a specific problem.
In this spirit, rather than pinpointing and analyzing specific visual patterns, I’d like to share a technique to help you with a general approach to using patterns and repetition in your work.
Here I’m borrowing the concept of the design pattern from Christopher Alexander and the disciplines of architecture and software development. A design pattern is a kind of template. You can use these templates to repeat specific patterns across a wide variety of imagery.
May I propose that you begin a notebook with the specific design patterns that you like to use in your imagery? If you look through this chapter and peruse the rest of Composition & Photography, you’ll find many patterns in the imagery and described in the text.
Human beings are creatures of habit. We brush our teeth in the morning, have a pattern of meals, commuting to work, and so on. Some of us, of course, are more creatures of habit than others.
A habit is a pattern of living. And our patterns help define us. How does this relate to your photography?
It’s well said that if you want to take better pictures, stand in front of more interesting things. But, if you really want to make better pictures, become a more interesting person.
If our patterns of living help define us, and if the subtlety, quality, and beauty of the underlying pattern makes the photo, then we should work to implement life patterns that are meaningful to us. Eventually, these improved life patterns will be reflected in your photography.
Integrating improved patterns into our lives means different things for different people. I know that I am living the life I want to live and creating the patterns I want to create for my life and my art when I achieve a measure of serenity. It’s important to me not to be owned by my possessions, and to express the love I feel for those around me, as well as caring for the Earth that nurtures us.
It’s not always an easy thing to hold to the values that are important to me in my life patterns. But when I do, the patterns that emerge from my photographs appear naturally on their own. These life patterns resonate more with viewers of my images than when I try to artificially impose patterns on my imagery without integrating them with my life.