Representation

Introduction

Visual art is the representation of things. But representation involves choice, and considering those choices can tell you a lot about the purpose behind the representation. More broadly, representation is the mental shorthand we use to navigate the complexities of reality—the symbols, images, and abstractions we create to communicate our thoughts and experiences. We use representations because we cannot hold the entirety of reality in our minds at once; we need models that simplify and stand in for something else. Yet representation is never neutral. Every representation is an interpretation, a way of framing reality that highlights some aspects and obscures others. A word stands in for an object, a map for a territory, an emoji for a feeling—each captures a select dimension and ignores the rest. In this sense, representation is always a kind of distortion, a lens that shapes how we see the world. And it is not merely a mirror: the representations we create and consume can influence how we think and act, shifting cultural attitudes, reinforcing norms, or opening new possibilities. Thus, to examine how and why a culture represents something is to learn what it values and what it intends to accomplish.

Purpose Behind Representation

Representation is not always literal. Some artists have tried to depict, with detailed exactness, the scene before them, but others choose to represent the scene through a different mode. For the Egyptians, “everything had to be represented from its most characteristic angle,” which is why each figure in Egyptian art is depicted simultaneously from different angles (e.g., the head, torso, feet, etc.). The goal was to contain all the forms they considered important—not a literal snapshot of what they saw, but a representation of what they knew to exist. Most of the time, Egyptian art followed a set of established rules; artists were aiming not to be creative in the modern sense but to produce what their culture had already deemed desirable. Thus it would be a mistake to conclude that ancient Egyptians were poor artists. Rather, how they represented their world tells us a great deal about what they valued.

This model reminds us that humans use the same types of maps to represent vastly different territories. Art historian Whitney Davis notes that “commonality of culture is best defined to begin with as the mutually intelligible use of various representational systems.” Most cultures engage in visual representation, so we can see one another’s art. Problems arise when we fail to appreciate that there are differences in how and why those representations come to be, and judge them as if they were products of our own system. Representation therefore is a gateway to understanding not only an individual artist but the sensibilities of that artist’s culture.

Crucially, representation is not only a reflection but also an active force. The choices made in representing reality—what to emphasize, what to omit, what rules to follow—shape how reality is understood and experienced. A powerful piece of art can shift cultural attitudes; a persuasive narrative can sway elections. In this way, representation becomes a feedback loop: we create representations based on our understanding of the world, but those representations in turn influence our understanding, which then shapes the representations we create next.

Examples from Art History

• Chinese artists influenced by Buddhism wished to provide material for thought and contemplation, having no desire to paint a landscape with all its details. Instead, their representations of mountains and trees were often constructed of few brush strokes, suggesting the artist’s awe.
• Muslim artists, in places and times where depicting human figures was banned, represented a dream world through intricate shape and color patterns. Later, where figures were allowed, the legacy of these patterns still influenced how they represented stories and scenes.
• Impressionists explored the impact of light on outdoor spaces and physical forms in movement. They aimed to represent scenes not in photographic detail but the way we experience them—focusing on a small area while having only an impression of the rest. As Julian Bell notes, “The painter was no longer aiming to represent objects as such, but rather to respond to a temporary pattern of stimuli to the retina.”

Artists must also navigate a tension between what is there and what appears in a given context. Bell observes that later Egyptian art “got itself hooked on the tension between nature and the ideal,” and the Greek sculptor Lysippos “spoke of representing men not as they are, but as they appear.” Meanwhile, the very medium imposes constraints. In describing Night Revels of Han Xizai, a Chinese painting from around 1070, Bell explains that if every element recedes at 45 degrees, the sequence reads more smoothly before the eyes. That is not “the way things look,” but it serves the purpose of making the scene easier for the viewer to process and comprehend.

Influence of Patrons and Institutions

To understand representation in visual art, we need to consider who was paying for or supporting the creation of the work. Governments, religious institutions, wealthy patrons, gallery owners, the general public—all have impacted what art gets produced and thus what gets represented at various times in history. This explains why, for example, Western Europe produced a thousand years’ worth of paintings of the Virgin Mary and the birth of Christ: for centuries, the Catholic church was one of the only institutions with the money to commission art and the space to display it.

The famous terra-cotta warriors in Xi’an, China, are another example. Over six thousand individualized statues were created to accompany the first Qin emperor into the afterlife, representing a real army. The goal was “representing facts faithfully on an industrial scale,” and the effort reflects the sensibilities of that society—its vision of power and the afterlife made tangible through representation.

Patronage does not merely enable representation; it channels it. The interests and ideologies of those in power become embedded in the cultural artifacts they support, often perpetuating a particular social order.

Cultural Diversity and Judgment

Without a doubt, we become accustomed to the representations in art we are most familiar with. When confronted with representations that don’t fit our expectations, we are inclined to dismiss them as “not art.” E. H. Gombrich observed, “We are all inclined to judge pictures by what we know rather than what we see.” It can be hard to put aside everything we’ve absorbed about visual art in order to look at different representations with curiosity. Sometimes the path to appreciation lies through the adage, “Less is more.” Julian Bell describes the intentions of painter Mark Rothko, who used very few forms and images, as creating “an art that expanded representation rather than excluded it, giving viewers access to a wider range of emotions.” Learning to see unfamiliar representational systems on their own terms—rather than through the lens of our own—is essential to understanding the people and cultures behind them.

Applying the Model

Representation as a model helps us understand that liking (or disliking) something and understanding something are two different activities. Regardless of whether you enjoy a particular work of art, looking at what is represented and how it is represented opens a window into a perspective that is likely quite different from yours. Understanding that representation is influenced by the context in which it occurs can offer insights into the cultures and societies that gave rise to that representation.

This lens extends well beyond visual art. Consider the evolution of the chess queen. The earliest chess sets from 6th-century India had no queen; the piece next to the king was a vizier (male advisor), able to move only one diagonal square. As chess spread to Arabia and then to southern Europe around 1000 CE, the vizier began to be replaced by a queen, and by 1200 the queen figure had appeared across Western Europe. Her powers grew slowly, until the late 15th century when she became the most powerful piece on the board—able to move any number of squares in any direction. This transformation coincided with the rising power of actual queens in medieval Europe, such as Eleanor of Aquitaine and, especially, Isabella I of Castile (1451–1504). During Isabella’s reign, Spanish chess books explicitly recognized the queen as the strongest piece. Scholars like Marilyn Yalom argue that the chess queen became “the quintessential metaphor for female power in the Western World,” consciously or unconsciously modeled on female rulers. Pawn promotion to queen was originally forbidden because it contradicted Christian monogamy doctrine; the rule appeared only later, reflecting evolving norms. Here, a mere game piece internalized and communicated the hierarchies of its time. When real-world power shifted, the symbolic representation followed—and, by reinforcing the new norm, may have even influenced attitudes further.

The same analytical approach can be applied to any form of communication: data visualizations, marketing messages, political narratives, even everyday language. In each case we can ask: Why is this being represented in this particular way? What is being emphasized, what is being obscured, and whose interests are being served? By probing the construction of a representation, we uncover the values and assumptions embedded within it, and we become better equipped to navigate the feedback loop between the symbols we consume and the reality they purport to describe.