ike rhythm, pattern is built on repetition,
but unlike rhythm it is associated with area,
not direction. A pattern does not encourage the
eye to move in a particular way, but rather to
roam across the surface of the picture. It has at
least an element of homogeneity, and, as a result,
something of a static nature.
The prime quality of a pattern is that it covers
an area, thus the photographs that show the
strongest pattern are those in which it extends
right to the edges of the frame. Then, as with
an edge-to-edge rhythm, the phenomenon of
continuation occurs, and the eye assumes that
the pattern extends beyond. The photograph
of the bicycle saddles illustrates this. In other
words, showing any border at all to the pattern
establishes limits; if none can be seen, the image
is take to be a part of a larger area.
At the same time, the larger the number of
elements that can be seen in the picture, the more
there is a sense of pattern than of a group of
individual objects. This operates up to a quantity
at which the individual elements become difficult
to distinguish and so become more of a texture.
In terms of the number of elements, the effective
limits lie between about ten and several hundred,
and a useful exercise when faced with a mass of
similar objects is to start at a distance (or with
a focal length) that takes in the entire group,
making sure that they reach the frame edges,
and then take successive photographs, closing in,
ending with just four or five of the units. Within
this sequence of images there will be one or two
in which the pattern effect is strongest. Pattern,
in other words, also depends on scale.
A pattern seen at a sufficiently large scale
takes on the appearance of texture. Texture is
the primary quality of a surface. The structure
of an object is its form, whereas the structure of
the material from which it is made is its texture.
Like pattern, it is determined by scale. The
texture of a piece of sandstone is the roughness
of the individual compacted grains, a fraction
of a millimeter across. Then think of the same
sandstone as part of a cliff; the cliff face is now
the surface, and the texture is on a much larger
scale, the cracks and ridges of the rock. Finally,
think of a chain of mountains that contains this
cliff face. A satellite picture shows even the largest
mountains as wrinkles on the surface of the earth:
its texture. This kind of repeating scale of texture
is related to fractal geometry.
Texture is a quality of structure rather than
of tone or color, and so appeals principally to
the sense of touch. Even if we cannot physically
reach out and touch it, its appearance works
through this sensory channel. This explains why
texture is revealed through lighting—at a small
scale, only this throws up relief. Specifically, the
direction and quality of the lighting are therefore
important. Relief, and thus texture, appears
strongest when the lighting is oblique, and when
the light is hard rather than soft and diffuse.
These conditions combine to create the sharpest
shadows thrown by each element in the texture,
whether it is the weave in a fabric, the wrinkles
in leather, or the grain in wood. As a rule, the
finer the texture, the more oblique and hard the
lighting it needs to be seen clearly—except that
the smoothest of all surfaces are reflective,
such as polished metal, and texture is replaced
by reflection (see page 124).
Related to pattern and texture, but with
content playing a stronger role, is the idea
of many, as in a crowd of people or a large
shoal of fish. The appeal of huge numbers
of similar things lies often in the surprise of
seeing so many of them in one place and at
one time. The view of the Kaaba in Mecca,
seen from one of the minarets, for example,
is said to take in at least a million people, and
this fact is itself remarkable. Large numbers
congregating usually constitutes an event.
Framing to within the edges of the mass allows
the eye to believe that it continues indefinitely.vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv
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