WHAT IS THE FOCAL POINT?” That is the question many painters ask as they compose a painted artwork. Since this idea is widely taught in art schools, it is also the question that art critics and art contest judges ask when they look at someone’s painting. Indeed, in some schools of thought, the “focal point” is as indispensable to a painting as paint itself.
How did this come about? The origins have a number of commonsense explanations. For a start, much painting in history was portraiture, in which case the head—and foremost the eyes—are the undisputed center of things. Modern day psychologists speak of “salience,” the fact that human attention is attracted by something singular, from a bright spot to a loud noise.
The camera lens also played a role. Early photos often were sharply focused in one area, growing softer elsewhere—a stock in trade now of modern photography. The effect was first made famous in artwork by the Edgar Degas’ painting of a laundress, her face in sharp focus, her form and background diffuse. Once the academic study of visual art “composition” arose, the focal point became perhaps the biggest tool in the tool box (alongside contrast, harmony, value and the rest).
Nevertheless, does a good painting need a focal point? Modernist art does not think so. Its idea was to break space so that it was even hard to locate one thing in relation to another, except dynamically. The fairer question, really, is whether traditional realist painting in all its variety needs a focal point “to work.” Some painting instructors insist on it. But is this really written on stone tablets handed down at Sinai?
At one workshop in Cumberland, Md., with a nationally-known realist painter, I lamented that my back-alley scene had no focal point. His wry rejoinder: “Ah yes, the focal point. Who needs a focal point? Look at all the great paintings of the past, and there’s things to focus on all over the place.”
This very problem puzzled me when I did a modest painting of Rodney Square in downtown Wilmington, Del. My original intent was to make square’s equestrian statue my focal point. Even the perspective lines of the buildings seemed to converge on the tall granite and bronze statue.
However, over to the edge of the square, I painted a spray of colored balloons and the brightly-lit trees. They were there so I included them. Soon enough they became more eye-catching than the statue. Then I painted in pedestrians. In the field of Neuroaesthetics—how the brain perceives art—researchers who study eye movements find that a viewer’s first gaze always rests on, and returns to, a human form. So, perhaps the people are the focal point. Hmmm.
My Rodney Square is indeed no masterpiece, though enjoyable enough to do for a charitable outdoor painting contest. The work’s modesty may come from lack of a focal point. On the other hand, it could lack other things known to unify a painting: consistent light, contrasting values, diverse edges, atmospheric perspective, or a superb color combination. Nevertheless, I’m always reassured by the memory of a graduate school painting department’s chairman comment to his class: “If it looks good, it probably is good.” Focal point or no.