Giorgio Vasari told a story in his Lives of the Artists about Giotto, who proved his ability by drawing a circle. The Pope needed a fresco artist and needed a very good one, so he sent his people out to find the best. They decided to ask each artist contacted to give them a drawing as a competitive sample, but when Giotto was contacted, he just flicked his wrist and drew a perfect circle. Vasari wrote: "The messenger, seeing that he could get nothing else, departed ill-pleased...However, sending the other drawings to the Pope with the names of those who had made them, he sent also Giotto's, relating how he had made the circle without moving his arm and without compasses; the Pope…saw that Giotto must surpass greatly all the other painters of his time."
This is an old story; Apelles, the ancient Greek painter once went to visit his fellow artist Protogenes, but on getting to his studio found that Protogenes was not at home. Apelles drew a perfect circle on the other artist's studio wall instead of leaving him a written note, confident that the circle would indicate his great ability and therefore the other artist would know it had been non other than the great Apelles, who had been to visit his studio. Gombrich in the Story of Art, tells of another skill contest between Apelles and Protogenes, each one striving to draw a thinner line, a contest that to me read rather like one of those Robin Hood shooting an arrow contests, whereby one archer hits a dead centre bull but Robin then shoots his arrow so accurately that it splits the other archer's arrow in two, leaving only Robin's in the bull's eye.
Rembrandt: Self portrait with two circles
There are no definitive readings of Rembrandt's Self portrait with two circles, but I have an idea that he may well have been making a statement along the lines of, "If you think Giotto was good, well look what I can do, two perfect circles, one drawn with my left hand and the other with my right".
The artist Tom Phillips at one time decided to respond to these earlier precedents. He wrote: "I've always been fascinated by the story of Giotto drawing a freehand circle to demonstrate his prowess... Did anyone at the time think to measure Giotto's circle against one drawn with a compass? The question continued to worry me. In 1974 I thought I'd have a go myself. In fact, not being Giotto I gave myself rather more chances than one of getting it right. The procedure was quite simple. First I made a broad attempt with a dark colour. Then, over all the canvas, with a light colour, I isolated the putative circle, refining it by eating away at the line from the outside and from within. Over that line I had another try, refining that in its turn. And so on, until I thought that the resultant line was as near a true true circle as I would get. After this, having ascertained where the centre of that circle lay, I drew parallel circles with a compass either side of the freehand line, thus exposing any irregularities it might have. The small group of paintings in which I made several shots might be subtitled The advantages of not being Giotto".
Tom Phillips: from: "Fifty attempts to draw a freehand circle."
Tom Phillips reminds us that we should never take what is written in the history books for granted, but he also reminds us that a circle is an amazing visual thing. The slightly off centredness of Phillip's effort, giving an energy to the circle, that is all the more powerful because of that. In fact a circle drawn with a compass would be 'dead' in comparison.
When I used to teach on the foundation course at Leeds one of the exercises given to students was to draw a circle that 'popped' up into space. I.e. to draw a circle that could appear to be a sphere. This was a very hard thing to do, but it was possible. Our eyes create two images that when brought together create an illusion of depth. The trick was to fool the eyes into 'seeing' something that echoed the experience of seeing a sphere. There never seemed to be an exact science to this but after lots of redrawings and rubbing out, occasionally someone would make a circle that was imperfect enough to suggest a perfect sphere.
When I was heading up the drawing area of the fine art course in Leeds I used to hold student competitions, each one designed as a focus on a particular aspect of drawing language and the circle was nearly always used. Students were asked to draw the best circle they could, it could be the most dynamic, the most refined, the most powerful, the most spiritual, the most intellectual, it didn't matter as long as the implications of drawing a circle were pushed to the furthest limits possible. Some of the drawings made at that time still echo in my mind, and such a simple exercise always seemed to help with a deeper understanding of drawing's potential and possibilities.
In ancient China, the circle was an important cultural symbol. It represented harmony, the balance of the yin and yang and the duality of nature, being an essential part of the Daoist philosophy. The circle stands for “oneness”, “perfection” and “unity”. It is also representative of all processes that come full circle, such as each day having a morning, mid-day and evening. The circle represents a oneness that can unite conflicting forces inside everything. In Japan the Zen Buddhist tradition building on Chinese principles uses the concept of Ensō, an idea that partly means circle, but which also suggests a void, a concept used by artists as a way to see both the form of a brushstroke and the space of its becoming, entangled as one.
In Zen, the ensō (円相) is a circle that is hand-drawn in one uninhibited brushstroke, it is meant to express a moment when the mind is free enough of its constant chatter to let the body create. Some artists draw the ensō with an opening in the circle, while others close the circle. The closed circle represents the totality of experience and life, whilst the opening of the circle represents removing the desire for perfection and allowing the universe to be as it is.
Making a circle in the ensō way requires you to create freely and then observe the result without feeling the urge to modify your actions. According to Buddhist tradition, one should draw the ensō in a single, swift stroke, and is not possible to go back and change the drawing. Zen masters have been known to draw an ensō for their students to meditate upon, and it is said that the quality of the brushwork reveals the depth of their master’s enlightenment. The ensō also embodies the 'no-mind' concept of Zen Buddhism, a state where a person is free from thoughts and emotions while being completely present in the now.
An ensō demonstration using martial arts skills to control the brush
It is interesting to compare the traditions of circle mastery. One is all about elevating the self and giving others a sense of your worth as an artist, the other is also about control and skill, but as a way of letting go of worldly things.
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