The "Innocent Eye" and Recent Changes in Art Education

Author(s): Erik Forrest

Source: The Journal of Aesthetic Education , Winter, 1985, Vol. 19, No. 4 (Winter,
1985), pp. 103-114
Published by: University of Illinois Press

Stable URL: https://www.jstor.org/stable/3332302

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 The "Innocent Eye" and Recent Changes
in Art Education

ERIK FORREST

The notion of an "innocent eye," of a naive "direct" view of visu

has a long history in art education. "The whole technical power
ing," writes Ruskin, "depends on our recovery of what might b
the innocence of the eye; that is to say, of a sort of childish per
these flat stains of colour, merely as such, without consciousne
they signify-as a blind man would see them if suddenly gifted wi
It would not be difficult to find fault with Ruskin's statement: we know
from many recent researches2 that what the blind man sees when his sight
is miraculously restored bears little relationship to Ruskin's description.
We know too that childish (childlike?) perception, even if it is an innate
endowment-and that too has been disputed-can hardly be characterized
as innocent in the sense that Ruskin is using. Only at a late stage in child-
hood, if at all, is a boy or girl able to see beyond the predicated world of
objects to the kind of world of object qualities and characteristics that "flat
stains of colour" suggests. Ernst Gombrich has criticized the innocent-eye
concept as "demanding the impossible: the innocent eye is a myth,"3 he
writes, though he keeps returning to a conception of art as being, in some
sense at least, an attempt to match an image with reality. If that were a
valid conception, the innocent-eye model would retain some appeal-what,
other than an innocent eye, could recognize the failure of an image to
match reality, could see that the schemata of representation failed to fit
the world of observation? Even Nelson Goodman, though agreeing with
Gombrich that there is no innocent eye ("The eye," he writes, "always
comes ancient to its work")4 suggests that, all the same, an artist may
often do well to strive for innocence of eye. There is some contradiction
here, though one may recognize the usefulness to creativity of attempts
to see beyond accepted conventions.

Erik Forrest is Professor of Art at Ohio University. His articles have appeared in
Studies in Art Education, Leonardo, and Dialogue.

Journal of Aesthetic Education, Vol. 19, No. 4, Winter 1985

?1985 Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois

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104 Erik Forrest

There seem to be two concepts involved. One is the difference b

sensation and perception. The concept of the innocent eye rests o
conceived ability to be open to raw sensation; to see, as it were, w
perceiving. The artist is seen as a neutral observer acting only as a
for the transmission of visual sensations unordered by perception.
course, while the having of visual sensations is a necessary basis for
ing, we have no means of dealing directly with these sensations. "N
writes Gombrich, "has ever seen a visual sensation, not even the i
sionists, however ingenuously they stalked their prey."5
The second is the notion that all of our sensations and perce
while giving us some knowledge of the world, fail to penetrate to t
reality which lies behind all the experiences we have so far encou
There is a suggestion that, if only we looked harder, observed mor
ately, took greater care, discriminated more finely-finally, looke
greater innocence-then we might catch at least a glimpse of t
world. And this is accompanied by the parallel conception of an ar
seeks-over centuries or millenia-to match more and more accurate
world perceived, where the world that might be so perceived is tho
as the world that is. On this view, our perceptions of the real worl
least partly obscured by the sets of conventions we use in making
Rather than giving us a clearer and clearer sense of how the worl
is, our perceptions may trap us into accepting, even into believin
particular set of conventions as providing a "true" mirror of the
only the innocent eye will enable us to break out of this stran
"Most individuals.. . will, consciously or not, epitomize the fea
the epoch and milieu. A few-the most advanced, or precocious, or t
-will come to see the world with an innocent eye, to think of the
in somewhat different ways, and hence to effect breakthroughs
views, unanticipated graphic ploys, and even new stages."6
Opposed to this viewpoint is that of the relativists, of whom Go
is perhaps the best-known exemplar. Goodman is especially persua
arguing that there is no one true world which either lies behind or
partly revealed by the "versions" of science, art, psychology, soci
and so on. The world, according to Goodman, just is these vers
innocent eye can reveal a true world since there is no world apart
what we find in our various conceptions of it.
Might it be possible to posit some revised version of the innoce
idea that would help us get a handle on innovation in art? One dire
take might be to consider the contrast we often pose between inn
and sophistication. The naive painter, for example, is not so m
painter seeing the world in any raw, virgin sense or with some u
truthfulness, but rather the painter from whom layers of sophis
have been stripped away or who has avoided the contamination of

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 Recent Changes in Art Education 105

phisticated vision. Goodman's striving for innocence of eye might then be

viewed as attempts to divest oneself of accepted visions, conventions, and
stereotypes, in the hope that at least as a now less sophisticated artist one
might be less prone to finding one's work overinfluenced by one's past,
one's education, one's particular zeitgeist. But we must accept that the
stripping away is limited and finite-no bare bones, no virgin forms, no
fundamental reality will be revealed; all we could hope for is the kind of
innocence sought by the hermit withdrawn to a place far removed from
the sophisticated world of books, technology, and machines-a less crowded
milieu and a less cluttered mind.
The teaching of drawing, for example, based on an "innocent" render-
ing of virgin perception, has perhaps all but disappeared with at least
some recognition of the new modes of seeing suggested by the innovations
of modern art.

The notion that nature is somehow unequivocally there, available to

be seen by anyone and then imitated in the "correct way," is directly
antithetical to the contemporary view of art in which different or
even unique representations are especially to be prized . . . A view
of the arts as somehow mirroring physical properties of nature or the
world emerges as either simple minded or useless.7

There are now at least superficial obeisances to the "look" of modern

art, but the criteria for evaluating drawing often still owe more to degraded
academic ideas of correct proportion and accurate anatomy than, say, to
the ways that Matisse or Picasso viewed the world or to the ways they
approached the problems of transforming their views of the world into
expressive imagery.

The Scientific Parallel

There are similarities here to the controversy raised by Thomas Kuhn and
his followers about the forms of scientific change and about the relation-
ships between science and reality.
Kuhn argues that the normal work of the scientist is encompassed by a
framework which "defines a coherent research tradition." This research
tradition is controlled by sets of presuppositions-both conceptual and
methodological-that find their expression "in the 'standard' examples
through which students learn the prevailing theories of the field."8 These
examples set the norms for what constitutes "good" science; set out for
students not only what they are expected to do as scientists but also what
kinds of questions are scientific questions and can therefore be raised
legitimately in a scientific context; and what kinds of answers would be
acceptable. There are paradigmatic examples of these which are easily

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106 Erik Forrest

brought to the students' attention and which, not only by overt

but also by a rather subtle and pervasive presence, define for stu
science the limits within which their work will take place. Additi
the students have set before them examples of established scienti
work-the ways in which they work, the "network of commi
conceptual, theoretical, instrumental and methodological'" which
their work and thus too acts as an initiation for students into the
of science. In these ways embryonic scientists are inducted in
profession. Some of the concepts that form the basis described do
the need for scientists to be open to new experience, to be wi
abandon old patterns of thought if their observations or exper
results are to reveal something new, but their early indoctrination
accepted modes is likely, in all but the rare cases of genius, to put
tions both on what is seen and on what interpretations are made.
The current paradigm is, in Kuhn's view, highly resistant to ch
and when change does occur it tends to occur "all at once" an
"step at a time, forced by logic and neutral experience."'10 Practi
of the discipline are not gradually convinced but are "converted"
radically new point of view. Kuhn writes that

[each revolution] necessitated the community's rejection of

time-honoured scientific theory in favor of another incompati
with it. Each produced a consequent shift in the problems avail
for scientific scrutiny and in the standards by which the profes
determined what should count as an admissible problem or a leg
mate problem solution. And each transformed the scientific imag
tion in ways that we shall ultimately need to describe as a transf
mation of the world within which scientific work was done.' 1

Kuhn describes a major change in science as a "Gestalt switch"; small

changes tend to be resisted until the evidence for a quite new set of
approaches becomes so overwhelming that a sufficient number of impor-
tant scientific researchers is convinced of the "truth" and efficacy of the
new model and then, quite suddenly, the old perspectives are abandoned
and the new one adopted. In science, as in the arts and in art education,
the conversion of some important or particularly vocal or charismatic prac-
titioner is likely to produce a "band-wagon" effect, with large numbers of
previously indecisive workers in the field finding the conversion of the
leading figures a convincing reason for dropping their objections; doubts
are erased or stifled, misgivings forgotten or recognized now as an unnec-
essary clinging to the security of older methods. Change in science is char-
acterized, then, not as an inevitable progress towards "reality" but as a
paradigm shift from one view of reality to another. Barry Barnes, for
example, parodies the notion of science as a disinterested, objective mode
of cognition which distills objective truth or some closer and closer
approximation to it when he writes of a "Manichean cosmos... [where]

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 Recent Changes in Art Education 107

truth, validity, rationality, objectivity are seen to be among the white

apparelled children of the light; error, irrationality, custom, convention,
and dogma and many others dressed in black."' 2

Changes in Art and Art Education

To some degree art teachers still continue to think of the teaching of

drawing, in addition to involving interesting but finally less important
questions of styles, as primarily a teaching of ways in which students may
approach closer and closer to some reality beyond themselves. Sometimes
that reality is seen as lying behind or beyond the purely visual characteris-
tics of the model or the still life or the landscape, but it continues to be a
reality outside students, one which they would learn to grasp, or at least
come close to grasping, by practice, perseverance, and with the assistance
of a good helping of natural talent. In the sixties and seventies this appeared
to change. Drawing now began to be seen as a tool of inquiry for the artist,
as a way by which the student could, digging beneath the surface aspects
of the object being studied, find himself or herself rather than some objec-
tive reality beyond. Conjoined to that idea was a new interest in the im-
portance of the "mark." The quality and meaning of the marks might be
as important as what a drawing revealed about the inner structure of the
object or what it had to tell us symbolically about the world.
The breakup of older paradigms in art education, in contrast to what
appears to be the case in science, was caused less by the fact that a large
and increasing number of anomalies could no longer be accounted for than
by a general dissatisfaction with the limited capacity of the old paradigms
to result in works of art or movements in art that reflected contemporary
life either in its fullness or in its new contributions to "culture." A culture

changes; its moral standpoints, its recognition of psychological depths and

intricacies, its changing views of social patterns, its new conceptions of the
individual or of the individual's relationships to society-all, or at least
some of those, need to find their equivalent in the work of the artist and
subsequently in the practices of art education. Somewhat paralleling
science, old aesthetic viewpoints and methods may for a time be able to be
stretched and distorted to accommodate change; for a time art and art
education can avoid dealing with important cultural developments and
changes, but in the end the old ways are found wanting, and their place is
taken by ways more appropriate to and more sympathetic with the con-
temporary ethos.
The paradigms to be replaced in the fifties and sixties exhibited con-
siderable strength. Although Postimpressionism and Abstract Expression-
ism had shown the way to quite new conceptions of art practice and
theory, the art education establishment either ignored or gently derided

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108 Erik Forrest

what they saw as destructively revolutionary changes, and the e

these movements in the art schools were slight. The accepted pa
with the whole weight of the nineteenth century behind it, allo
art educators to recognize but resist anomalies-to see them as
than minor irritants which could be accommodated within or assimilated

to the accepted range of permissible work, or set to one side as being of

little consequence. Two chief views of the more adventurous art work of
the period were possible; the more traditionally minded could look back
at the work of Matisse, Braque, or Picasso and see in it those features
which still connected them with the acceptable Postimpressionist work of
Cezanne or Bonnard; the more radically minded could recognize and assert
that those features were the less important ones and that an artistic revolu-
tion, best exemplified perhaps by Picasso's Les Demoiselles d'Avignon, had
already begun. The discontent produced by growing numbers of art edu-
cators of this latter persuasion, who were also influenced by new psycho-
logical attitudes to art, finally made it inevitable that a dramatic new
alternative would be sought and that, when such an alternative was seen to
be operationally successful, a majority of teachers in art schools, and
eventually in public schools also, would be prepared to drop the old para-
digm and welcome the new. The sense of crisis, which seems to be a nec-
essary feature for a paradigm shift to take place, seemed to start soon after
World War II (possibly as a consequence of radical changes in political atti-
tudes), and the development of that sense of crisis proved to be the essen-
tial element that allowed teachers eventually to bring to bear on art edu-
cation practices a quite new set of assumptions and presuppositions.
In Kuhn's view the paradigm shift encompasses not only a change of
the conceptual foundation but also a change in operations and a change in
the criteria used in the judgment and evaluation of work produced. The
new art educationists began to recommend quite new ways in which the
material of modern art should be used and new ways in which the results
of this use would be categorized and evaluated. In Kuhn's account "obser-
vations" are argued to be paradigm dependent. The closest equivalent in
the visual arts was to argue that observations had now a different rela-
tionship to the art objects which, in some way or another, resulted from
them. The accepted view of drawing, for example, as a faithful attempt to
record the existing visual characteristics of the world-characteristics that
could be viewed as "real" attributes of the world-was minimized.
Kuhn argues that change in science-revolutionary change-is a change
in the researcher's view of the scientific enterprise itself and not merely
a development forced on the scientist by the uncovering of new phenom-
ena or by the results of new experiments. Science changes radically as the
scientist views differently the nature of scientific evidence, the relationship
between theory and practice, the role of observation and participation,

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 Recent Changes in Art Education 109

and, in this century particularly, the nature of reality itself. In the place
of a view of science as the exploration of an ultimately objective reality
waiting to be discovered by the researcher, Kuhn puts diverse views of the
present scientific enterprise as a way, but only one way, in which the
world of science may be organized.
During the Renaissance there had been close relationships between
artistic and scientific change. Sometimes the artists too were scientists,
and both disciplines shared in the excitement of new forms of enquiry.
In the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, while the structure and philo-
sophical foundations of the disciplines had grown apart, both artists and
scientists began to be affected by radically different views of their rela-
tionship to the external world. The artist rejected the concept of the
"innocent eye" (closely paralleling the notion of the scientist's view of
himself as the discoverer or uncoverer of already existent entities, phe-
nomena, and natural laws) in favor of systems of aesthetic structure,
affected no doubt by the world external to the artist but primarily prod-
ucts of individual sensibility and creativity.
What leads the artist or scientist to feel the need to modify a symbol
scheme or to come up with a new scheme? Why might a painter or scien-
tific researcher feel discontent with the way he or she currently works and
wish to change to another? What leads to the attempts to break away
from present styles and methods and replace them with something com-
pletely different?
No simple answer is likely to be satisfactory. Afflicted with some feel-
ings of general dissatisfaction with earlier or current symbol schemes or
symbol systems, new possibilities are erected, new alternatives proposed.
The present system is no longer adequate; the explanations it provides are
no longer convincing; the predictions that stem from it fail; the represen-
tations created by it seem no longer to capture the essential element; the
solutions found by the system's procedures are too complex or do not
appear to cover the required ground; the system is too unsystematic, too
rough or, alternatively, is too systematic, too neat, removes too many of
the rough edges; observed or understood similaries between phenomena
are not covered by the system or are not well enough covered; a desire is
felt to integrate significant, dominant symbol systems that already exist in
the culture (perhaps now seen as aspects of a further, more comprehensive
symbol system); a present perspective begins to seem disordered, chaotic;
a need is felt for greater economy. Added to these specific reasons is
the more general one that our culture primes us to expect and to strive for
more rightness, more security, more truth, more happiness.
Given these perceived restrictions and inadequacies in the world, what
kinds of things will enable us to see the world differently, that is, enable us
to devise new aesthetic and scientific schemes which are less prone to the

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110 Erik Forrest

faults and the difficulties just listed?

1. When Cezanne became dissatisfied with the schemas of th
sionists-their attempts to organize their world through the o
of "bits" of reflected light, their use of ephemeral and shifting
an attempt to capture the fluidity and transitoriness of percept
gest within the stability of the picture frame something of th
and impermanence of our visual experience-he moved to find o
a new structural scheme by taking the "units" of Impressionism
turing them anew. The process was one of decomposition of t
sionist schema into its constituent parts, the acceptance of on
them (chiefly the separate color/touch sensation and the heigh
schemes), and their reconstitution according to some aspects of
older schemas. From Poussin and, in general, the art of the old
derived ways of recomposing the atomic and shifting elements
sionism into forms which satisfied his desire for permanence, s
universality.
When Seurat also wished to make something more permanent of Im-
pressionism, he moved outside the "frame of reference" of the visual art of
his time and, by using the work of Chevreul directly and much other work
of his contemporaries in science less directly, recomposed and reordered
visual phenomena on his way to a new personal synthesis.
Paul Klee, as an alternative to attempts to copy or imitate the world,
tried to go beyond the visible world to its underlying principles of growth
and structure. Once found, these principles could be used from a personal,
even an idiosyncratic viewpoint, to create an alternate world.
In all these cases principles of innovation are to be seen. Artists are go-
ing through processes of the decomposing of accepted schemes, of reorder-
ing the elements revealed, and of recomposing these into new schemes seen
to be, in some ways, more relevant or more appropriate for their purposes.
2. Constable, perhaps the first truly modern artist who saw painting as
a "[a science] of which pictures are the experiments,"' 3 took over many
of the elements of previous pictorial schemes, but found it necessary both
to think, as the quotation suggests, of the artist as a different kind of per-
son than previously he had been and to weigh differently some of the
elements he was still prepared to accept. Color was weighted more strongly;
a certain freedom of composition was favored over stricter classical rules;
direct observation of nature was stressed. The Impressionists, too, empha-
sized color and deemphasized tonal values, much as the Venetians had
done in the eighteenth century. Kandinsky deemphasized literary content
and gave greater weight to the formal aspects of paintings conceived of as
abstract compositions. A new weighting is a way of forming a new scheme.
3. The Cubists used processes of deletion and supplementation to arrive
at their new artistic synthesis. Removed was the concept of the figure or

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 Recent Changes in Art Education 111

still life or landscape viewed from a fixed viewpoint; discarded was the
necessity to find transitional tones of subtlety and complexity between
major areas of tonal change; added were multiple viewpoints and multiple
perspectives; imposed were processes of fragmenting and reassembling.
4. Not only do artists give different weight to different elements and
order the elements of their art differently, they also use distinctive and
personal methods of deformation and distortion. When Modigliani or El
Greco stretch and elongate figures and their surroundings, when Picasso in
his "Greek" period evolves a kind of heavy-limbed, heavy-breasted figure
type, when Golub suggests significance with massive weight and limited
detail, when Henry Moore distorts the figure to reveal its elemental con-
nection with the rock and cliff structures of Yorkshire, processes of dis-
tortion in the service of new schemata are taking place.
These are but some of the ways in which artists create new worlds, "a
new world which is the work of art. Each work originates just as does the
cosmos-through catastrophes which, out of the chaotic din of instruments
ultimately create a symphony, the music of the spheres. The creation of
works of art is the creation of the world."'14 So, somewhat grandiloquent-
ly, writes Kandinsky on innovation.
The adoption of a new "frame of reference" has been noted. It is worth
emphasizing how often that new frame is borrowed from another world,
another discipline. Very often, the creation of a new vision comes, as
Kandinsky puts it, from "a thundering collision of different worlds." As
Seurat used the viewpoints of Goethe and Chevreul, so have other artists
looked to optics, to psychology, to politics, to biology, to sociology, either
for new material or, more often, for a new viewpoint from which old
material and old methods might be reassessed. Malevitch writes that "no-
thing in the objective world is as serene and unshakeable as it appears to
our conscious minds. We should accept nothing as pre-determined-as con-
stituted for eternity. Every firmly established familiar thing can be shifted
about and brought under a new and, primarily, unfamiliar order."' s It is
this phenomenon, more than any other, which leads us to view each epoch
as characterized by a zeitgeist, or at least as having some important shared
characteristics in different media and across different disciplines.
Sometimes the new emerges from almost total rejection. Alan Davie,
teaching in England in the fifties and very much basing his teaching on his
own practices as an "Abstract Expressionist" painter, would have his stu-
dents make a mark on a piece of paper, decide on the next appropriate
mark-and then do the exact opposite. "I always encourage the use of
irrational or crazy ideas and the result of intuitive action will always be
distinct and positive."'16 That doing of the contrary for the sake of its
surprise value, or just as a means of breaking down the conventional re-
sponse, is one obvious way of seeking the innocent eye, the new approach.

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112 Erik Forrest

To work out of a method untried and therefore unpredictable

of generating unorthodoxies, some of which might well b
The development of new technical resources can lead to new
The artist's first use of a vacuum-former-to make art rather
trays-the availability of styrofoam as an alternative to wax fo
caster, the use by the contemporary artist of the bulldozer an
the use of plastics and new alloys, all of these are likely, if no
ginning at least after a period of adaptation, to lead to new f
conceptions of artistic possibilities, new boundaries of the aest
Neither should one neglect the effects of chance; not only
use of the irrational or the accidental as in the works of Cage
or in the methods of some Systems artists, but also the truly
what might reasonably be called the production of "mutation
which at least provide the artist with a new stock of possibilit
cases the attempt to find something new, to look with an inn
becomes rather an attempt to look with an ultrasensitive eye,
is able to pick out from the naturally generated randomness of
ways of working these few aberrations that appear to have fut
ness. One definition of the innocent eye might be that openne
experience, that ability to work and observe, not knowing what
ings, orderings, deformation, and so on might arise; that flex
resistance to closure which ensures that accidents are seen as no
unproductive.
Quotation from some other symbol scheme within the visual arts, or
even from one outside the arts, may aid the development of a new scheme.
Consider the following examples:
1. Take a seventeenth-century Dutch flower painting: A fly is painted
resting on one of the flower petals. The painting is a "realistic" painting,
that is, it sets out to depict a vase of flowers on a shiny wooden table with
as much sense of the quality of visual experience as the painter's abilities
allow. But the painting is housed in a heavy gold frame and is hung on the
wall, and there is no attempt by the artist to fool anyone into believing
that one is seeing anything other than a painting of flowers in a vase on a
table; the painting is carried out in a consistent style which any viewer of
the painting would be familiar with and would readily accept. The fly, on
the other hand, is meant to "fool the eye," is meant to deceive the viewer
into thinking that the fly comes from another visual system-the system of
ordinary visual perception; the fly is painted lit in such a way as to appear
not to belong to the painting system-the fly casts a shadow on the surface
of the painting.
2. A Rauschenberg "combine" or "assemblage" often includes not only
paint on canvas but also different materials-cloth, plastic, newspapers-
glued to the canvas. Others go further and have spaces cut out of the canvas

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 Recent Change in Art Education 113

in which, for example, a row of Coke bottles is set. In one the space is
occupied by an old radio: the radio is turned on, and music or speech can
be heard, that is, quoted within the work of visual arts.
Given these ways in which new possibilities might arise, we also need
criteria for evaluating the new, in our own work and in that of others.
The forming or newly formed scheme might be worth pursuing, or worth
valuing, on the basis

1. that it seems to fit better, or perhaps define more clearly, the

differences between relationships that hold between the groups that
make up society, or between individuals and the institutions of
society, or between one individual and another;
2. that it seems to fit better some new sense of the relationships
between the past and the present, that is, fits better with some sense
of tradition;
3. that it better fits a new conception of the future;
4. that it seems to fit into a perceived pattern of schemes, that is,
fits between recognized patterns of old sequential schemes and
projected future schemes;
5. that it better reflects a new position of the artist in society;
6. that it better removes or deals with perceived anomalies in the
given data; in the particular case of art, that it better allows the artist
to deal with needs impossible to cope with under existing schemes.

But these are just examples. Depending on the kind of symbol system
we use, criteria will have to be found to fit them.
The degree to which any criterion is satisfied is another matter. No
numerical measure is likely to be possible. We will be flung back on levels
of economy, simplicity, coherence, as such concepts can be found to apply
to the criterion in question. For each symbol system applications will be
different: what we would take as economy of expression in a Mozart sym-
phony will not be the same as what we take to be economy of expression
in a piece by Boulez; in the one case, a delicacy of melodic line and clear
simple harmonies; in the other, the isolation of single notes surrounded
by their envelope of silence and subtle harmonics. So, too, with all and
any other applications of criteria.
But it would be foolish to imagine that the concept of the "innocent
eye" is no longer of any value. While it does not appear to offer the kind
of new insight to help satisfy the aforementioned criteria, the search for a
"new vision" goes on, and the wide-eyed, unprejudiced, innocent stare
will still, as it always has, help to combat prejudice and misconception.

NOTES

1. Ernst Gombrich, Art and Illusion (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Pr

1956), p. 296.

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114 Erik Forrest

2. See especially M. Van Senden, Space and Sight (Glencoe, Ill.: Free Pres
3. Gombrich, Art and Illusion, p. 298.
4. Nelson Goodman, Languages of Art (New York: Bobbs Merrill, 1968), p. 7.
5. Gombrich, Art and Illusion, p. 298.
6. Howard Gardner, Artful Scribbles (New York: Basic Books, 1980), p. 259.
7. Howard Gardner, The Arts and Human Development (New York: Wiley, 1973),
p. 10.
8. lain Barbour, Myths, Models and Paradigms (New York: Harper, 1974), p. 103.
9. Ibid., p. 104.
10. Thomas S. Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (Chicago: University
of Chicago Press, 1962), pp. 147-48.
11. Ibid., p. 6.
12. Barry Barnes, T. S. Kubn and Social Science (New York: Macmillan, 1982),
p. 22.
13. Gombrich, Art and Illusion, p. 33.
14. Wassily Kandinsky, "Reminiscences," in Modern Artists on Art, ed. R. L.
Herbert (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1965), p. 35.
15. Kasimir Malevitch, "Suprematism," in Modern Artists on Art, p. 98.
16. Alan Davie, The Developing Process (Newcastle: University of Newcastle Press,
1959), p. 22.

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