Sombras e Luzes

by Michael Baxandall

Recuperando as teorias oitocentistas da percepção visual, com o apoio da ciência cognitiva contemporânea e de vasta bibliografia especializada, o professor de história da arte Michael Baxandall discute o papel das sombras na representação que se tem das formas, assim como os significados diversos que elas podem assumir. Partindo de uma descrição detalhada da constituição física e das variedades de sombras, o autor analisa diferentes abordagens científicas e artísticas do fenômeno, incluindo obras de, entre outros, Giotto, Tiepolo, Chardin e Da Vinci.

Genres: Art, Philosophy

248 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1995

About the author

Art historian who developed the theory of period eye. He worked as a curator at the Victoria and Albert Museum, London as well as teaching at the Warburg Institute and the University of California.

Reviews

[Sean Tatol · Rating 3 out of 5]

Baxandall is one of my favorite art historians, quite probably my favorite, so although I found this to be a letdown I feel compelled to do some apologetics for it. Very little of the book is about art, it's primarily a summary of 1995 scientific theories on how computer eyes process shadow and 17th and 18th century writings on the perception light and shadow. While I can follow the information I'm just not regimented enough in my thinking to internalize any of it, so I eventually starting breezing through. I'm interested in art, and most of this analysis is too rigorously scientific to come in handy for looking at art. Characteristically, Baxandall is aware of this and acknowledges at the end that the visual attention we pay to paintings isn't strictly compatible with this kind of analysis, but on the other hand the fact that this sort of rigorous methodology for seeing was valued in Chardin's time has an integral relationship to the existence of an academic tradition of painting that produced painters such as Chardin, just as da Vinci's polymathic observations on shadow certainly have something to do with his genius as an artist. I would never disparage that kind of rigor, I just know my own limits and don't particularly lament my lack of it either. What's painful is that the final chapter where he finally digresses into some thoughts about painting has some wonderful pages where he brilliantly observes some works and eloquently summates the nature of looking at art so effortlessly that it feels as though he might have done it absent-mindedly. Personally I would have preferred a whole book in that tenor, but that's just me. If I had to levy a real critique it would be that I'm unsure if the book is useful for anyone since it straddles computer science, the history of visual theory, and art so broadly that I imagine it's too specialized for the generalists and too general for the specialists, but I won't presume to know that for others.