Shadows and Light

Why contrasts in art (and life) matter

I went to the beach last weekend. In Maine. In March.

Even at the height of summer, the beach is invariably 10 degrees cooler than inland. It might be a balmy, sun-dappled morning at home and a blustery, grip-your-coat tighter climate at the shore. But Saturday was a pleasant surprise. The temperatures were mild, the sun plentiful and the sand empty. Within hours we’d be thrust back into winter; the winds blew in and the mercury plummeted by evening. And evidence of that is in the picture above, the two weather fronts merging.

That image stuck with me and I’ve been thinking about it, that collision of dark and light, joy and sorrow. And I think that’s a healthy tension to have in art, as well as life.

But why?

1. Contrast creates drama: Case in point, Caravaggio. Take a look at those extreme lights and darks (insert: chef’s kiss). Caravaggio’s technique, Chiaroscuro, relies on pronounced contrast to make an impact. Darks are DARK and lights are LIGHT. And that creates drama. For instance, in this painting of Narcissus, your gaze goes immediately to the Greek god leaning over a dark pool of water. But it takes a moment to see his reflection looking up. It’s just barely there. Even in this painting, it’s Narcissus that’s the center of attention. Every movement of his tendons, every bit of his inquiring gaze is that more powerful because it POPS off the canvas.

   

2. Life is both sadness and joy: The best books, the best movies, the best music recognize the dichotomy of joy being tinged with sadness and sadness tinged with joy.
   
   Take the holiday classic, It’s A Wonderful Life. It’s got all the trappings of a feel good Christmas film: a bumbling angel, a slowburn love story, friends and family coming together in a moment of hardship. But it’s also a very dark film. There’s a man at the point of a mental breakdown, struggling up on a bridge Christmas Eve. Substance abuse, poverty, death, bankruptcy and depression all have their moment. Even the seemingly happy-go-lucky Jimmy Stewart was grappling with his own post WWII PTSD during filming (this is well worth a read). Stewart let the darkness of his experiences permeate the role, giving the joyous scenes at the end of the movie far more credibility. And because that movie acknowledges that relationship between extremes, it has an enduring legacy. It’s saying something timeless, it’s saying something true: life is both the highs and the lows.

3. Grey is Boring: If you’re drawing in color, struggling with something feeling off, change the image to greyscale. If you’re working digitally, that’s an easy fix. If you’re working traditionally, take a photo of your image and set it to black and white. What do you see? Are all of your values just a muddy “meh”? Or is there a range of lights and darks?

   

   Sorry for the subpar laptop photo, but needs must…

   On the right is an image I drew of Vasilisa the Brave (of Baba Yaga fame). On the left is the image swapped to greyscale. And if I had it to do over again? There’s some changes I’d make. In black and white, I can see areas that need adjustment. The white triangles in the border should recede more, not matching the stars in intensity. I think the bag that Vasilisa carries could be slightly darker, giving it more emphasis. Having worked out my values more clearly beforehand by doing a black and white study would have helped. Occasionally swapping the image to greyscale while working digitally would have been good, too. To be honest, I can see where this awareness of values has been a shortcoming for me in the past and I’m trying to be more attentive to that now.

4. Contrast Adds Zip: This may be a controversial opinion, but I think sea salt chocolate chip cookies are infinitely superior to regular chocolate chip cookies. That savory/sweet mashup is unexpected, yet works together perfectly. Same goes for chicken and waffles. Or Abbott and Costello. One without the other is okay, but combined? Disparity is good.
   
   I remember listening to Desert Island Discs years ago, an episode featuring writer/actor Mark Gatiss. Something that stayed with me was the story of his mother’s death, how he and his siblings alternated between grief and laughter. There was the expected sadness and bedside vigils. But there were also funny memories shared and plates of sandwiches passed around. He took the analogy further, explaining that life is always a mix of emotions. In horror movies, that sharp intake of air that comes with terror is followed by a rapid exhalation and a laugh when it turns out the monster isn’t behind the door. It’s how babies react to shock. Try playing peekaboo with a young child. There’s silence and confusion when your face goes behind your hands. Squeals of laughter follow when you fling your hands apart and yell, “PEEKABOO!” Contrast creates meaning.

So here’s to highs and lows, humor and sadness, shadows and light. And maybe it’s time for another walk on the beach.