“Remember that the most beautiful things in life are often the
most useless; peacocks and lilies for instance.” – John Ruskin
The Enlightenment, the Age of Reason, the Neoclassical. For three
centuries successive ages of philosophers, principally rejecting the
yoke of the Church, concurrently left superstition and sentiment
behind to embrace science and reason. But a generation of the
philosophers' children felt their fathers had overreached. A world of
reason was fast becoming a world devoid of sense. For many of this
next generation of philosophers of the Romantic era it wasn't enough
to think, they had to use their innate capacity for feeling to help
understand themselves, society and even the physical world.
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Porte del Paradiso
Ghiberti, 15th century |
To some degree John Ruskin was influenced by the times he lived
in, yet to a greater extent his philosophy contributed to defining
the era. Certainly, he held a view of beauty that was not “of his
time”, not of any time really as far as I can ascertain. If
anything Ruskin's vision of beauty was not temporal, rather physical,
“of his place”, thereby transcending the cultural milieu of the
19
th century. For Ruskin, beauty was primarily an
objective matter and thus a shared value amongst humanity. Although,
in seeming contraposition, he likewise held beauty to be largely a
sensory affair that could only fully be experienced emotionally. The
uniting bridge between an objective view and a sensory experience was
a profound sacredness, an intrinsic knowledge of beauty intimately
imbued in our very humanity as fundamental and universal as our
understanding of the sweetness of sugar or the bitterness of
wormwood.
Ruskin by far considered beauty the brightest "Lamp" or
virtue that could be embodied in a work of any architecture that
might be called good. He opens his essay on beauty with the
declaration, “
the value of architecture depended on two distinct
characters: the one, the impression it receives from human power;
the other; the image it bears to the natural creation...all beautiful
lines are adaptations of those which are commonest in the external
creation”.
The Classical Orders
Ruskin subsequently precedes to illustrate the aforementioned
premise with a consideration of the three principal orders of
Classical or Greco-Roman architecture: the Doric, Ionic and
Corinthian.
Doric
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The Parthenon, 5th century B.C.E. |
The order is introduced as
follows: “beyond a certain point, and that a very low
one, man cannot advance in the invention of beauty, without directly
imitating natural form. Thus, in the Doric temple the triglyph and
cornice are unimitative; or imitative only of articficial cuttings of
wood. No one would call these members beautiful. Their influence over
us is in their severity and simplicity.”
I would venture that this
sentiment is evidenced most clearly at the Parthenon where the
severly linear geometric trigylphs, mutules and cornice powerfully
frame the truly beautiful forms of men and centaurs engaged in
pitched battle that lie in alto-relievo upon the metopes.
Ruskin next addresses the other
prominent features of the order, namely the column shaft and capital,
“The fluting of the column...was imitative in origin, and
feebly resembled many canaliculated organic structures. Beauty is
instantly felt in it, but of a low order...the Doric capital was
unimitative; but all the beauty it had was dependent on the precision
of its ovolo, a natural curve of the most frequent occurrence.”
The ovolo Ruskin refers to was called the “ekinnos” by the
Ancient Greeks, so named because of its resemblance to, or perhaps
better stated imitation of the skeletal body of the sea urchin. The
canalis, or shallow flutes of the shaft too resembled the channels
often encountered in shellfish such as the sea scallop.
Ionic
Again, the Ionic order like the Doric
depends on the abstraction of natural forms for its expression of
beauty. The most notable, perhaps defining feature being the
conspicuous volutes representative of many spiral growth patterns in invertebrates and vegetation. However, Ruskin reserves particular
praise for the Egg & Dart motif going so far as to say that its
“
perfection, in its place and way, has never been surpassed”,
offering the following detailed explanation:
“
Simply because the form of which
it is chiefly composed is one not only familiar to us in the soft
housing of the bird’s nest, but happens to be that of nearly every
pebble that rolls and murmurs under the
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Argus Pheasant |
surf of the sea, on all its
endless shore. And that with a peculiar accuracy; for the mass which
bears the light in this moulding is not in good Greek work, as in the
frieze of the Erechtheum, merely of the shape of an egg. It is
flattened on the upper surface, with a delicacy and keen sense of
variety in the curve which it is impossible too highly to praise,
attaining exactly that flattened, imperfect oval, which, in nine
cases out of ten, will be the form of the pebble lifted at random
from the rolled beach. Leave out this flatness, and the moulding is
vulgar instantly. It is singular also that the insertion of this
rounded form in the hollowed recess has a painted type in the plumage
of the Argus pheasant, the eyes of whose feathers are so shaded as
exactly to represent an oval form placed in a hollow.”
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The Erechtheion, 5th century B.C.E. |
Corinthian
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Thermae Stabianae, Pompeii
1st century C.E. |
Until now we've considered
decorative motifs prominent of the Doric and Ionic orders that are
highly abstracted. Ruskin noted that further progress in the pursuit
of a beautiful architecture could not be attained without a more
direct imitation of nature herself, what he expressed as "delight"
to be "engrafted
upon architectural design".
For the Ancient Greeks this was to culminate in the Corinthian order
and specifically with the appropriation of the acanthus leaf. The
Romans would wholly embrace the acanthus form as well, expanding its
use beyond capitals for a variety of uses most notably delicately
carved foliated scroll-work. Ruskin conveys his veneration for the
beauty inherent to the Corinthian capital as follows:
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Acanthus Spinosus |
“Thus the Corinthian capital is
beautiful, because it expands under the abacus just as Nature would
have expanded it; and because it looks as if the leaves had one root,
though that root is unseen. And the flamboyant leaf mouldings are
beautiful, because they nestle and run up the hollows, and fill the
angles, and clasp the shafts which natural leaves would have
delighted to fill and to clasp. They are no mere cast of natural
leaves: they are counted, orderly, and architectural: but they are
naturally, and therefore beautifully, placed.”
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Library of Hadrian at Athens, 2nd century C.E. |
Conclusion
In the continued consideration of the “Lamp of Beauty – Part II, Monstrosities” we will examine some of what Ruskin perceived as
ugliness, certain abuses that developed during the Renaissance and
Neoclassical periods.
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Contributed by Patrick Webb