- tween the springboard and the water, a moment when
the body seems to float strangely upon the air. We are not unaware of the other phases of the dive, yet this particular moment impresses us; to it we apply our fine appraisal of form.
Similarly in a motion picture theater we unconsciously select moments from the action before us. These fleeting moments which fix themselves, so to speak, demand practically the same work (or shall we call it play?) from our eyes and minds as the momentarily fixed pictures which the director sometimes demands. At such times the whole pattern on the screen becomes as static as a painting, and its power or weakness, its beauty or lack of beauty, may be appreciated much as one would appreciate a design in a painting.
A painting enchants the beholder, not only by its color, but also by its lines and pattern. The peculiar power which resides in the arrangement of lines and masses has been studied by art critics for hundreds of years, and many of the principles which they have discovered might well be recalled by us in judging those moments of a motion picture which may be viewed as fixed designs. And what we learn by making such applications will help us greatly toward a better understanding of the beauty of pictorial motions on the screen.
By what visual processes do we grasp the meaning of a picture? What happens when we first look at the picture? And what happens as we continue looking? The answers, as nearly as can be ascertained, are as follows. When we face a picture our eyes first glance at some spot or region which is more attractive than all others, and then proceed to explore
