Make a Point with the Vanishing Point
Learn how to draw viewers in and keep them engaged with a center of vision.
This article is excerpted from the September/October 2024 issue of Artists Magazine. Read the rest of the article—and other inspiring artist features and columns—in the print or digital edition.
Artists talk to their audiences with pictures rather than words. What’s important in a painting or drawing can’t be verbally explained, so artists rely on graphic pointers to do the speaking for them. While color, value, lighting and composition are a few of the methods artists can employ to get their visual conversations started, perspective also has a long history as an effective tool for creating an implicit dialogue with viewers.
It was discovered early on that perspective’s “center of vision”—originally seen only as an anchor to the rules of drawing—could also be used to inform viewers about a painting’s main intent. Paolo Veronese’s Marriage at Cana, painted in 1571, provides an excellent model of this practice, as does The Wedding at Cana, an etching created in 1855 by Hugo Bürkner after the style of Veronese’s masterpiece.
The Wedding at Cana
Considering the majority of 15th- and 16th-century artists were commissioned by the Catholic Church, it’s understandable that Renaissance-era art was focused heavily on religious themes. The biblical story of Jesus and the wedding at Cana was among the popular motifs, inspiring numerous depictions that date as far back as the 1400s. All these works of art utilized perspective in one manner or another to show convincing depth. One artist in particular, Paolo Veronese, took artistic license with his painting’s central vanishing point to convey his own version of the story with the brilliant placement of his all-important center of vision.
With the center of vision placed on the apostles in The Wedding at Cana (1855; steel etching, 6×14) by Hugo Bürkner (after Marriage at Cana by Paolo Veronese, 1571), the historical significance of this event is implied.
In this well-known tale, Jesus and his apostles were invited to a wedding, and during the occasion the host’s wine ran out. Jesus, informed of the dilemma, gave the servants instructions to fill six large stone jars with water. When the servants returned with the vessels, everyone was amazed to see that the water had changed into the finest wine.
The cast of characters present in Veronese’s painting includes Jesus at center-left; Mary sitting to his right; the father of the bride opposite Jesus; and, toasting the father, the chief steward for the event. The apostles are seated at the end of the table on the right. At this point in the story, the chief steward is noting that the father of the bride “saved the best wine for last.”
The perspective we see at work in Bürkner’s version creates a convincing sense of three-dimensional space, but even more importantly, the placement of its central vanishing point provides a hidden clue as to the story’s primary intent. With this in mind, where did Veronese position his center of vision? Did he place it on Jesus, on the father of the bride, on the chief steward—or did he aim his projecting lines toward the raised wine goblet? All are logical locations for this crucial element of the design.
The festivities at Cana marked the first public miracle performed by Jesus. Up until that moment, the apostles were following their leader on blind faith. Now, after seeing Jesus miraculously turn water into wine, they were truly convinced that Jesus was who he said he was. With this information, if we analyze the horizontal lines projecting into the scene, we find that Veronese ingeniously converged them on the apostles. The historical significance of this moment is communicated by the artist’s strategic placement of the center of vision.
Perspective was a very young concept when Veronese painted the work, yet the technique had already evolved beyond simply capturing realism in art. The central vanishing point not only adds depth to this image, but it also acts as an aid to Veronese’s pictorial narration.
From Vermeer to Matisse
In his Woman with a Lute Near a Window, Vermeer quietly used this same visual trick to transcend human senses. The scene’s horizontal lines—the windowpanes, edge of the table and side of the chair seat—are pointing to the ear of the woman as she plays the instrument. Even the wall map’s wooden tapestry rod contributes to this effect as it, too, points to her ear. It’s as if Vermeer wants us to enjoy the beauty of his composition, but he also wants us to hear the music that’s being performed.
An exact vanishing point in such works isn’t always necessary. The eye will follow any projecting shape in a painting aimed toward specific items. Directing the viewer’s attention can even be suggestive or hinted at. For example, in his Interior with Phonograph, Matisse invites us into his sunlit studio with a foreground still life, then uses projecting shapes to train our focus into the studio and toward a small mirror on the far wall. There, to our surprise, the mirror reflects a self-portrait of the artist.
Making Your Point
Whatever subject or emotion you want to convey with your art, tools such color, lighting, value and composition are always available to you. Keep in mind, however, that the time-tested power of perspective and an artwork’s center of vision can create resonance in paintings and be a valuable method for establishing a graphic dialogue with your audience.
About the Author
John Roman (johnromanillustration.com) is an award-winning illustrator, the author of The Art of Illustrated Maps: A Complete Guide to Creative Mapmaking’s History, Process and Inspiration (HOW Books), and a teacher of illustration and perspective drawing at Boston’s Massachusetts College of Art and Design. He is the creator of the illustration at the top of this article.
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