Fine Lines

Some time ago I read Alain de Botton's wonderful book The Architecture of Happiness. Among the many striking concepts in the book, one that has really stuck with me is the capacity of a very simple line to evoke very strong responses in the viewer. Botton explains that human beings are hardwired to discern the meaning of minute differences in facial expressions. For example, a mere fraction of an inch creates the difference between a brow that we consider "concerned" and one that reads "concentrating". There is an equally small difference between the contour of lips that imply sulkiness, as opposed to those that imply grief. 

Because we are attuned to deducing important information from very slight changes in human forms, we also pick up strong meaning from the shapes and lines of inanimate objects. I love de Botton's example of how this works in the case of something as innocuous as typeface. Looking at the letters above, he writes "The straight back and alert bearing of a Helvetican "f" hint at a punctual, clean and optimistic protagonist, whereas his Poliphilus cousin, with a droopy head and soft features, strikes a sleepier, more sheepish and more pensive note. The story may not end well for him."

Consider the power of line alone. In the above example, a psychologist asked his students to describe a good and a bad marriage using only a line. Amazingly, these simple lines are quite successful in capturing the qualities of two different relationships. One has smooth curves, like the peaceful course of a loving union. The other has "violently gyrating spikes [that] serve as a visual shorthand for sarcastic putdowns and slammed doors." 

Given the human tendency to attribute such strong emotional meaning to a simple line, can you imagine how terrifying it can be to paint a painting?? One centimeter can be the difference between a shape that is pleasing and one that is disturbing. Ah, the mysteries of the human mind!