Paradigms and Purposes: The Idea of Beauty Through Gardening and Symmetry

I think Freeland was right to choose gardening as one of the forms of art that helped to shape the Western world. As Horace Walpole put it, gardening is one of the “three sisters of graces”. Gardening is a wonderful way to take your mind off of the stresses in life and express yourself in a healthy, constructive way. One of the most famous and arguably most incredible gardens, are the gardens at the Palace of Versailles.

I have never personally gone to see the gardens or the palace at Versailles, but I would like to some day. From the pictures I’ve seen and what I’ve read about them, it sounds like an amazing place. André Le Nôtre, the chief designer of the gardens, did a superb job over the course of the fifty some years he put into the project. It’s hard to believe that the gardens of Versailles contain 200,000 trees, 210,000 flowers, and 50 fountains. One would imagine such a garden to be substantially cluttered and in disarray, but the gardens of Versailles aren’t at all. In fact, they were designed with symmetry and perfection in mind. Louis XIV used the gardens as a display of his absolute power during his reign. The seer vastness of them signified Louis’ dominance over everything. Yet the gardens acted as more than just a political statement.

Kant saw gardening as a perfect example of “purposiveness without a purpose”. In other words, gardens such as those found at Versailles, existed solely for beauty and not for growing fruit or vegetables. He agreed that it was a little strange to consider gardening as art, but when one takes into account the “free play of imagination”, it is undeniable. The symmetry and excellent form used by Le Nôtre produced what Kant referred to as “a harmony of faculties”. He believed that this is what causes people to view gardens as beautiful and I absolutely agree. I think the prettiest of art plays off of symmetry. This is especially the case with gardening. I find that the closer each side of the reflection is to matching the other, the more incredible the overall picture. It takes a great deal of skill and technique to make one half of a garden grow in the exact same manner as the other. Clearly Le Nôtre was a master at his craft. I really hope that I’ll get a chance to visit France one day, and see the palace at Versailles and the beautiful work of art growing around it.

Conniff's The Natural History of Art

After reading the article The Natural History of Art by Richard Conniff, I found myself looking at art from a whole new perspective. Before, I never saw anything in art past its face value. If a piece of art looked beautiful and appeared aesthetically pleasing, then I deemed it to be a good work. Conniff asks his readers however, to take that second glance and see some of the deeper meaning. In particular, he focuses in on the roots behind what makes that art pleasing or not.

Conniff argues that art is influenced by evolution. In other words, our DNA may very well be “a sort of ghostly puppet master” (96) that determines our aesthetical preferences. For example, our ancestors’ knowledge of good habitats or danger may very well be played out in the art world. The notion that art could be influenced in such a way by evolution is incredibly fascinating. However, I felt Conniff’s points were a little weak. One point in particular, was the study done by Gordon Orians at the University of Washington. Orians was looking at people’s preferences in landscape paintings based on the criteria of a savanna (where human beings are thought to have evolved). He found that people generally prefer paintings of landscapes that most resemble the African savanna. However, Orians criteria were pretty general. There are many landscapes that have the presence of water, large trees, open space, and distant views. The Great Plains and Eastern Washington are just two that come to mind. Maybe the participants were most influenced by those environments rather than the savanna, when choosing their preferences. Conniff makes this stretch again when he relates a British woman’s landscaping to the savanna. He suggests that her cutting down of dense forests and introduction of water holes within her yard, is evidence that the grounds were made to resemble the savanna. I find that to be a pretty weak correlation. There’s much more to the savanna than just the absence of trees and water holes. Landscapes aside however, Conniff does make a pretty strong argument, in support of evolutionary influences, when regarding thrilling art.

I know personally that some art can cause a physiological response. When I look at Seymour Guy’s painting Unconscious of Danger, I can actually feel myself tensing up as I imagine being in the same position as the little boy. Art definitely has the ability to give its viewers the thrill of danger without actually endangering them. Such art is fascinating and as Conniff points out, it helps us prepare a biological response in the event that we might one day experience the same thing. So what does this mean? Are people’s preferences for art the direct result of their DNA? I think our preferences are at least influenced by evolution. I don’t believe Conniff means to suggest that people are simply machines that are completely subjected to some kind of programming. Instead he is only trying to point out that there is this element of determinism in art that simply cannot be ignored.