Here Goodman makes several errors. No one after Brunelleschi
ever tried to "make picture and facade deliver matching bundles of light
rays to the eye" in situ, even though it is very easy, in principle,
to do so. What some may want to claim for perspective (and I am one of them,
though with much hedging) is that, by using it, one can create a picture that,
if viewed from the center of projection, will deliver a bundle of light rays
to the eye that matches one bundle of rays delivered by the scene viewed from
one vantage point.
For the sake of argument, let us use Goodman's strict notion
of matching. Because Goodman does not tell us where the picture plane was
when the picture was made, we must guess. It could not have been at d,
e, because a cannot be the center of projection that would make d,
e, a picture of b, c. If it was at h, i, then the perspective
belongs to the same rare class as the base in Uccello's Hawkwood (Figure
8.12) and Mantegna's Saint James Led to Execution, which we will
discuss in the next chapter (Figure 9.7). If the artist who created such a
picture using central projection also wants the viewer to be able to see it
from the center of projection (as Mantegna apparently did), he will place
the picture above eye level, notwithstanding Goodman's protestations that
such things are not done. If the picture plane was at the height of m,f, then
it was the artist who must have elevated himself to paint the tower as it
is seen squarely, and the only way to match the bundles of light rays from
the facade and the picture exactly is to elevate the viewer to the height
of the center of projection. The third possibility is one not hinted at by
Goodman, and it is the solution to his problem: Suppose that when the picture
was drawn the picture plane was perpendicular to a, f. Then, when
the picture was eventually moved to its "normal" position (according
to Goodman) at d, e, it would deliver a bundle of light rays matching
the one delivered by the facade.
Goodman mistakenly constrained perspective to pictures projected onto vertical
picture planes and hung at the height of the eye, but he allowed the height
of the center of projection to be chosen at will. Under these constraints,
there are indeed pictures that will not deliver a bundle of light rays to
match the one delivered by the scene. But those are constraints invented by
Goodman on the basis of a misinterpretation of the rules of central projection.
Goodman tried to show that the "choice of official rules of perspective
[is] whimsical" (1976, p. 19). This is an extremely pregnant way of putting
things. By referring to a choice, Goodman suggests a freedom in the selection
of rules of pictorial representation that others have denied. By referring
to the choice as whimsical, Goodman suggests that the choice was unwise, to
say the least. In the first part of this chapter, I made a point not too far
removed from Goodman's, namely, that geometry does not rule supreme in the
Land of Perspective. However, we stopped far short of agreeing that the rules
of pictorial representation are arbitrary and can be chosen freely. In fact,
if in the Land of Perspective geometry plays a role analogous to the role
played by Congress in the United States, then perception has the function
of the Constitution. Whatever is prescribed by the geometry of central projection
is tested against its acceptability to perception. If a law is unconstitutional,
it is rejected and must be rewritten to accord with perception.
In consequence, the laws of perspective do not coincide with the geometry
of central projection. We have noted two ways in which the practice of perspective
deviates from central projection: (1) the restriction of the field of perspective
pictures to 37°, and (2) the representation of round bodies (spheres,
cylinders, human figures) as if the principal ray of the picture ran through
them. This procedure does not preclude foreshortening: It is designed to avoid
the rather severe marginal distortions that are perceived when such bodies
are not very close to the principal ray.