The Golden Ratio and Proportion in Design

The “golden ratio” has been a subject of fascination for artists and mathematicians for millenia.  The golden ratio occurs in nature, and is a mathematical formula used by artists, designers, architects, and even musicians in creating beauty. 

What is this magic ratio?  Technically it’s 1.1688.  But for artistic  uses it’s often simplified to this:  1:1.5, or a 2:3 ratio.

The Swiss architect Le Corbusier, who applied the golden ratio (as well as the related Fibonacci sequence) in his work, believed the golden ratio naturally appeals to the human eye, and that people throughout time and space are drawn to it whether they know it as mathematical formula or not.    

Corbusier’s idea is an intriguing one, and there’s ample evidence to support it.  Art and science both recognize that faces and figures considered “beautiful” throughout history have features that relate to each other in the golden ratio.  Leonardo da Vinci was intrigued by the golden ratio and depicted it in his famous Vitruvius Man (above).

Architecture, art, and design of all media also use a 2:3 ratio in many applications for good aesthetics.  These two diagrams show “good” and “bad” proportion in art compositions—the “good” rectangle approximating the golden ratio. 

In addition, well-proportioned clothing has historically been based on the golden ratio.  Here’s a picture from a 1926 high school home economics textbook, in a chapter about proportion in clothing construction.  The figure on the right captures it; the one on the left is off.  The two sections of the dress at right are generally in golden-ratio proportion, and the sleeve divides the girl’s arm into golden ratio sections. 

Isn’t this fascinating? 

For more about the golden ratio, here’s a site you might like, and here’s one more.

Please come check out my collection of well-proportioned vintage dresses, vintage shoes, and other vintage clothes at Chronologie Fine Vintage!    Love,

sallymandy

Evelyn Cameron, Prairie Photographer

Evelyn Jephson Cameron was a Montana artist and photographer with a remarkable life.  Her story exemplifies what women throughout history have always done—created lives for themselves out of sometimes not very great raw material. 

Cameron was born to a wealthy British family.  She came to rural, remote eastern Montana in the late 19th century after her marriage to naturalist Ewen Cameron.  Evelyn initially found life there rewarding and stimulating, for all its challenges and hardships. 

Evelyn, ever cheerful, smiling on top of her horse. 

According to author Kristi Hager, Evelyn’s early life was one of wealth and luxury.  In Montana, everything was different.  She and her husband barely scraped by on the meager earnings from their ranch.  In fact, while Ewen was way studying wildlife, Evelyn took care of nearly all the ranch work alone.

Some of her chores included: raising a huge garden, chopping wood, digging coal, tending chickens, milking, breaking colts, skinning and butchering animals, branding, dehorning, and castrating cattle, baking, cooking, and keeping house with no hired help and next to no assistance from her husband (source:  Kristi Hager, Evelyn Cameron: Montana’s Frontier Photographer).

Somewhere along the way, Evelyn discovered her own passion through photography.  Over some thirty-plus years, she shot thousands of images of the landscape, people, and natural world around near the town of Terry, Montana.  Her work supported Evelyn and Ewen financially, and left posterity with a stunning record of this remote ranching culture and landscape. 

Self portrait with camera.

In addition to her photos, Evelyn recorded details of her life and world in thirty-five diaries.  Together, the diaries and photographic record are some of the best resources we have regarding life on the American Great Plains in the late 19th century. 

Milwaukee Railroad Workers, 1910.

 

Marsh School House, 1914. 

About forty years ago, a former editor for Time-Life books, Donna Lucey, found Evelyn’s entire collection of work in the basement of Evelyn’s friend Janet Williams of Terry.  Lucey later wrote the best  biography introducing Cameron’s work to the public:  Photographing Montana:  the Life and Work of Evelyn Cameron.   

 

For more of Evelyn’s fascinating story, visit this blog entry at Shades of the Departed. 

Sources for photographs, in order:  

Self Portrait Kneading Bread, Montana Historical Society; Portrait on horse:  this one is available several places online and I don’t know the original source; Self portrait with camera, University of Montana Museum; Milwaukee Railroad Workers, 1910, Montana Historical Society; Marsh School House, 1910, original source unknown; Book cover:  Mountain Press. 

sallymandy

posted by Barbara (aka Sallymandy) at Chronologie Fine Vintage. 

The privilege of a lifetime….

…is being who you are.

Joseph Campbell

art by Diane Ducruet.  Link here. 

sallymandy

 

New Photography by Jean Albus

Dark Before Dawn, Jean Albus, 2010

If you were visiting my blog last year, you might remember when I posted some work by Montana artist/photographer Jean Albus.  Click here to see those posts. 

And now here’s more wonderment from Jean.  The next images are from her 2009 collection “What Else is There to Say About Land.”   

Jean’s work combines images that speak to me:  the often harsh landscape of Montana, where four generations of my family have lived; images of women; the feminine and flowing lines of beautiful fabrics and clothing. 

Somehow, these are related.    

Even I, not given to conscious stereotyping about my home state, can conjure a cowboys-and-tumbleweed image of Montana in my mind. 

But Jean’s work shows a woman here; finding her place in this land….touching, feeling, literally immersing herself in place.  In a part of the earth where geography so clearly dominates human movement, I have needed to do the same.  I have spent hours and days making my peace with the land:  leaving my footprints, ski tracks, tire marks in deep recesses of mountains where I might not be found for days if I got lost.  I have needed to lie down, dive in, dig my hands deep into the elements of the earth. 

Nowadays this urge is not so strong.  I have reached some kind of equilibrium—unconscious, mostly—with these external forms.  Always aware of them, always knowing on the edges of my consciousness that they’re there, the mountains and the forests hold me like primeval mothers’ arms.  Knowing this, I spend more time indoors, exploring the inner wilderness of line, form, and color. 

Jean Albus’ work reminds me of who I am in this place where I came into the world.

sallymandy

You can see more of Jean’s art, and contact her, at her gallery on Flickr.

La Main de Madame Hugo and Other Photos of Women in History

Two Women Fencing, Unidentified Artist, ca. 1885. 

La Main de Madame Hugo, by Auguste Vacquerie, 1853-4. 

These images are from the collection at the George Eastman House International Museum of Photography and Film in Rochester, New York.  This collection is in the public domain—not copyrighted.

Being a lover of art and women’s history, I had to share some with you.  Although the online collection spans years up to the mid-20th century, I picked out nineteenth century ones because, to me, it’s exciting to see photographic images of a time that far gone. 

I’ve done a little online detective work to learn about who the subjects and/or photographers represented here were.  That information is below in the large fonts.   

The photo above, taken by the French photographer Auguste Vacquerie, must be of the hand of that Mme. Hugo—wife of Victor.  Vacquerie was connected to the Hugo family through his brother’s marriage. 

The image below by the English photographer Henry Peach Robinson supposedly depicts Viola from Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night.  I found that out in a book about nineteenth century photographic theory and feminism, but…I was too tired really to understand what it said. 

She Never Told Her Love, by Henry Peach Robinson, 1858.

The two photos below are by John Thomson, a Scottish pioneering photographer whose work among street people of London was a precursor to the field of photojournalism. 

Being the passionate thrifter and clothes recycler that I am (I still have not bought any new clothes since last February), I was really fascinated with this one of the old clothes shop.  I’ve never seen anything like it.

An Old Clothes Shop, Seven Dials, by John Thomson, 1876-7. 

Old Furniture, John Thomson, 1877. 

The photo below is titled “Petipa.”  I’m quite certain the dancer is Mariia Surovshchikova-Petipa, who was prima ballerina to the St. Petersburg Imperial Theatres in the late 1800s.  She was married to the choreographer Marius Pepita. 

Interesting that in the fifth and sixth shots her arms are kind of at half-mast; not a true fifth position, and an unusual way to hold her hands (by today’s ballet standards). 

Petipa, Andre-Adolphe-Eugene Disderi, 1862. 

The image below is by Julia Margaret Cameron, a British photographer from the Isle of Wight who found her art when she was 48 years old. 

Ophelia Study, Julia Margaret Cameron, 1867.

Girl With Dove, Oscar Rejlander, 1860. 

The hand-tinted image below by early Japanese photographer Shin-E-Do looks like it could have been taken yesterday. 

Shin-E-Do was known for depictions of Japanese life during the Meiji period (the last half of the nineteenth century)—a time of modernization and increasing status in the world. 

I know little about how kimono and obi were traditionally worn, but I find it interesting that her obi is down around her hips, as in most of the images I’ve seen, it’s worn farther up the body.  Maybe that was a style of the period?  Or maybe her own personal style?  Or…?

Japanese Woman With Mirrors, Shin-E-Do, 1890. 

Aren’t these photos wonderful? 

sallymandy

 

American Sculptor Edmonia Wildfire Lewis

Unk., Edmonia Lewis. 

Many readers love posts about women artists as much as I love finding the history and images to share.  The story of Edmonia Lewis is one of the most compelling and inspiring I have found yet.   click on the photos for links to their sources. 

Edmonia Lewis was born in the mid-1840s and died sometime after 1909.  It appears her father was a free African from the West Indies and her mother was a Ojibway mother.  Edmonia told interviewers that her given Ojibway name was “Wildfire.” 

Along with a brother, Edmonia was orphaned at a young age.  Her older brother Samuel became a successful businessman in Bozeman, Montana, and financed Edmonia’s secondary education at Oberlin College—the first American institution to admit women and African Americans.

Here are two photographs of Edmonia taken by Henry Rocher about 1870, and currently in the collection of the Smithsonian Institute in Washington, D.C. 

Edmonia faced discrimination at Oberlin College and left before she graduated.  But she knew what she wanted.  Again with her brother’s help, she went to Boston to study with the neoclassical sculptor Edward Brackett.  Like any artist, her career was a combination of extremely hard work, garnering patrons, and networking. 

Many of Edmonia’s friends were members of the American abolitionist movement.  Eventually, and against tremendous odds, she began to establish a name for herself as an artist facing three social obstacles:  being female, African American, and Native American.  She publicly identified herself with these threads of her identity, and chose subject matter that held meaning to oppressed people and women. 

Two of her earliest works depicted the abolitionist martyr John Brown, and Robert Gould Shaw, the white commander of an all-black regiment in the American Civil War.  Partially financed with the sale of these pieces, Edmonia traveled to Italy to further her career.  In Rome, she joined a community of American sculptors—including several notable women—and occupied the former studio of the Italian master Antonio Canova. 

Here is a study of Moses, made after the masterpiece by Michelangelo, completed during Edmonia’s time in Rome.   

Edmonia Lewis, Moses (after Michelangelo), 1875.  Smithsonian Institute. 

Fearing that others would not believe her work was truly her own, Edmonia shunned the practice of roughing out her sculptures and hiring Italian artisans to carve them.  Instead, she completed all her own work.  

One piece created during her time in Rome was the bust of Henry Wordsworth Longfellow, below.  Inspired by the poet’s work, “The Song of Hiawatha,” Edmonia had already created sculptures based on his Native American themes.  When she heard that the poet was visiting Rome, she found him in the street, studied his face, and created this bust.   

Edmonia Lewis, Bust of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1872. 

This sculpture, Hagar, was also made in Rome. 

 

Edmonia Lewis, Hagar, 1875. 

In 1876, Edmonia Lewis sculpted what is known as her masterpiece, The Death of Cleopatra.  This interpretation of the fallen queen stands out because it shows her, vulnerable and stricken, just after being bitten by the asp.  The piece generated a stir when it was shown at the Philadelphia Exposition in 1876 and again at the Chicago Interstate Exposition two years later. 

Edmonia Lewis, Death of Cleopatra, 1876.  Smithsonian Institute. 

Another important work is Asleep, below.  This is one of four cherub pieces created around 1870.  Asleep won a gold medal at the International Exposition of Paintings and Sculpture, held at the Academy of Arts and Sciences in Naples.

Edmonia Lewis, Asleep, San Jose (CA) Library. 

There are many sources of biographical information on Edmonia Lewis on the Internet.  I’ve used the one I thought was the best researched and most credible, here.  Please click on the link for much more information about this amazing, inspiring American artist. 

"Some praise me because I am a colored girl, and I don't want that kind of praise. I had rather you would point out my defects, for that will teach me something." 

Edmonia Lewis to Lydia Maria Child.

Mothers, Daughters, and the Art of Helene Schjerfbeck

Helene Schjerfbeck in the 1890s. 

The Finnish artist Helene Schjerfbeck (1862—1946) painted mainly works depicting women, children and the home. In the 1890s she simplified her style, eliminating background detail and reducing her palette.  These stylistic changes are seen in many of the portraits she painted of herself, her mother, and others.

Self portrait, 1912. 

“[Helene Schjerbeck]…was supposedly a Realist, a Romanticist, an Impressionist, a Naturalist, a Symbolist, an Expressionist and a wildly ahead-of-her-time Abstractist. Truthfully, there were elements of all of these in her work as the decades progressed and one would not be incorrect using any of these terms. But in the end she stripped herself of all save that which symbolized 83-years' worth of learning to see.”  From About.com, Helene Schjerbeck. 

School Girl in Black. 

“When the subject of a portrait is the artist's own mother, the relationship between the two is particularly interesting. Helene and Olga Schjerfbeck were very close…but their relationship was never open or without conflict. It was customary at the time for an unmarried daughter to take care of her ageing parents, which in practice meant living in the same household. Olga Schjerfbeck was a strong-willed woman, whose needs and whims her daughter tried to satisfy as best she could. The mother in turn viewed her adult daughter still as a little girl who needed care and protection, and she never fully learned to understand her daughter's profession.”  From Museums in Motion, notes on exhibition titled “The Golden Age of Finnish Art.”

At Home, Helene Schjerbeck’s portrait of her 64-year-old mother sewing. 

For more information about Helene Schjerbeck, click here.