Maurice Ronai picks up where he left with his follow up to his earlier article ‘Paysages’. Appearing in the same journal, the author sticks to the short titles, opting for ‘Paysages. II’ this time. Unsurprisingly, he reiterates some of the key insights from the previous landscape article. These need not be repeated, so I will focus only on what is new and/or of interest to me.
In the first pages, Ronai (71-72) elaborates the role of the observer in relation to landscape. In summary, while an elevated position and distance to objects will provide a maximized depth of field, it is not essential as landscape is, more or less, everywhere when viewed terrestrially. Too high elevation leads to increased distance, which dilutes the visual apprehension of space and everything appears flattened. He uses the example of view from a satellite or a high altitude plane here. Too close proximity, on the other hand, grants more detail, but on the expense of the overall view. As noted by Bernard Kalaora and Valentin Pelosse, situated in forest actually prevents one from seeing the forest for the trees. Fair enough, you are likely keenly aware of the forest around you, but you only see trees.
Perhaps counterintuitively to those not familiar with cartography, Ronai (71) likens landscape to small scale maps, which represent a large area, unlike large scale maps that represent a small area. It should, of course, be made clear that landscape is not a map, a top-down view representation, but a view which essentially retains the horizon. Simply put, it’s a view from the ground, or rather a grounded view, even if elevated. He (73) uses the issue of scale to forward the argument that prior to the adaptation of landscape as a visual apprehension of space, the only thing in the horizon medieval peasants knew was the hardship of life, work, followed by more work, typically in servitude to a liege. Life was in large scale; space was quite literally grasped. He (73) notes that the artistic representation of space, namely in the form of painting, but also in poetry, changed this and life on the ground in minute detail ceased to function as the prime management strategy. Now, the large scale spatial strategy itself does not disappear. Rather, as he (73) points out, the hands on sense of it ends up being substituted by the visual apprehension of space.
In the Middle Ages authority over land in Europe was feudal. Simplifying it here, it was essentially a hierarchical system of property rights, a pyramid. The one on the top, the superordinate (lord), for example a king, held the rights to land, but granted them in parcels or holdings (fiefs) to others, the subordinates (vassals), in exchange for fealty, which entailed servitude, typically military service, labor and/or money (forms of levy), to the superordinate. At the bottom of the hierarchy were the ordinary folk, or peasants (in varying degrees of freedom or the lack thereof), who occupied land in exchange for labor. Ronai (75) states that the space held by a ‘seigneur’ (lord) coincides with gaze, the visible space from the manor. It is an extent of a commanding view.
Ronai (77-78) summarizes that in the 16th century the body of the king (form) not only represents the king, but also the kingdom, the area held by the king, the territorial body (content). The landscape is the in-between the two and the landscape park being its perfect demonstration, submitting nature to order. Jumping ahead in time quite a bit, sovereigns are replaced by nations. He (78) reiterates the point made in his previous article on landscapes, associating the quality of landscape with the quality of the nation. The difference is that here he goes on to note that in national discourse territory is reduced to landscape, just as the nation is reduced to a parliament. In other words, both are representations. This hits home with me. After all, a parliament is indeed representational.
The lords may be gone, but their posture of the sole spectator remains, frozen in code, writes Ronai (79). Borrowing a bit of John Berger here, one could say that the manorial way of seeing still lingers even in the absence of lords. Now, the choice of word ‘posture’ could be translated as position, to emphasize the idea of a someone commanding a view. That said, Ronai (80-81) goes on to state that the inherited ‘posture’, the mastery of observation, is in fact ‘imposture’, an illusion of mastery. The distance enjoyed as a spectator makes things appear as harmonious.
Ronai moves from the origins of landscape, the premise, to elaborate (82) the development of landscapes as “restricted, generalized, touristic and rare.” He (82-83) argues that as aesthetic visual coding landscape was initially elitist, requiring ample idle time, good taste and access. Only the elite, the sovereigns and later the bourgeoisie, could enjoy the views, commission paintings and landscape the environment. He (83-84) adds that the economic progress made in the 19th century gradually increased leisure time and the access to culture, which, alongside the improvements in transportation led to further landscaping. That said, the aesthetic code remained the same, despite all the progress. The next step for him (84), tourism, with its taste for travel and adventure, emphasizes the consumption of landscapes, exploiting the exalted landscapes. Landscapes are no longer just worth seeing, but they need to be seen. Later in the article, he (86) states that this turned landscape from art to merchandise. This development, he (85) adds, led people to crave for rarity over beauty. When the masses flood the sites, one must seek harder to access and more specifically time specific, ephemeral landscapes. In order to address representation, he (85) links landscape, painting and photography: the restricted or elitist view is linked to painting, the generalized and touristic views are linked to photography and postcards, whereas the rare or the event driven view takes the photos to the level of art, capturing the rare, such as safari as a landscape. Fast forwarding to the present day, one could argue that safaris have probably lost their charm in terms of their rarity. Ronai (85) actually takes notice of this and points out that the ephemeral and limited landscapes are haunted by repetition. One must stay ahead of the game, seek enjoyment elsewhere as repetition ruins originality.
Already flirting with time on the rarity aspect, Ronai (86-88) further complicates the relationship with landscape by addressing duration. He lists four types of consumption of space: sojourn, habitat, residence and circuit. The sojourn type is a temporary, yet long term, stay, one for the expats, artists and diplomats, for the type of people who have the time and the interest to read the landscape, be immersed in it and enjoy it like a fine book. The habitat type then is the permanent setting for living, one in which landscape is at best an aesthetic supplement, hardly seen, more like a backdrop. The residence type refers to intermittent stays with recreational purposes, such as weekends away from home and holidays. Visiting one’s rustic cottage in the countryside would fit here in the Finnish context, enjoying the nature and immersing oneself in rural traditions. Lastly, the circuit type, or tour, is touristic, successive consumption of nature as exotic and culture as history.
Once again, I skipped certain parts of the article. I opted not to focus too much on the origins of landscape. I’ll cover that more at another time. That said, grasping the fascinating parts of this article, the development and duration aspects, might be tricky without understanding how things came to be as they are and what that entails. I also appreciated some of the clever wordplay. Connecting nation, landscape and territory, and exhibiting the reduction of landscape and parliament to representations of territory and nation are clear highlights for me. This is something I want to return to later on. Translating this to myself was yet again a bit tricky and I may have misunderstood something. Anyway, those who are interested can go and read the article themselves.
References
- Berger, J. (1972). Ways of Seeing. London, United Kingdom: Penguin.
- Kalaora, B., and V. Pelosse (1977). La forêt loisir, un équipement de pouvoir: L’exemple de la forêt de Fontainebleau. Hérodote, 7, 92–129.
- Ronai, M. (1977). Paysages. II. Hérodote, 7, 71–91.