There’s a lot I don’t remember from grade school, but of all the curriculum, the ones I remember the most involved the Classical Civilizations. The Greeks and Romans. Some may get flash backs (even trauma) about Greek mythology, but the good stuff was their philosophy.

Since this is an art blog, the pertinent idea for today will be Aristotle’s 3 Artistic Proofs, also known as Logos, Ethos, and Pathos. Not exactly sure why Aristotle called them “artistic” but I do see their usefulness for animation.

The proofs are often taught in the context of rhetoric (persuading an audience).

That’s what film-making is, isn’t it? Film attempts to persuade audiences that the film is real, in some sense. Whether it’s real characters, a real world, or real emotions, art in general tries to present something that feels true. The artistic proofs simplify this endeavor into 3 distinct approaches.

The following is my current understanding of those approaches, applied toward my own work (art & animation).

Pathos: Emotional Proof

EMOTIONS + VALUES

Pathos is emotional appeal.

I start with this one because it’s the proof easiest to identify in story-telling.

We all know when an actress is sad in a movie, the director wants us to feel sad too.

And when the actress is mad, the director wants us mad. And same with all the other uncomfortable emotions the director wishes to inflict upon us. Waddajerk!

…I want to be that jerk!

Each proof has their own perks and challenges. For Pathos:

Perk of Vested Interest

I think it’s safe to say that, in our day to day, we want things to go pleasantly. No big surprises, no drama, no disturbances in the force. — Because emotional energy is a valuable asset that people don’t give up easily.  —

An invested viewer of your film will stay with the story to see their investment payoff. There’s an instinctual expectation:

If we identify with someone in a story emotionally, then by the ending, we’ll eventually get a satisfying feeling of catharsis.

Challenge of Viewer Vulnerability

Again, people take a risk when being emotional, so it is not done freely. There are only a handful of situations for someone to let their walls down. For a story, it’s usually to get some sort of emotional payoff. A deeply rewarding, satisfying, payoff.

Because when a character gets all “touchy-feely”, my gut reaction is to either empathize, or to try to poke holes in the performance so I don’t have to feel wimpy while watching LEGO Batman Movie on the couch with my brother. If you’re gonna pluck at my heartstrings like some guitar, your song had better be worth it!

Logos: Logical Proof

LOGIC + REASON

Logos is logical appeal. It’s that good feeling when things make sense.

Rational people expect:

• Events to be caused by preceding actions.
• Physics (like gravity and the laws of motion) to work.
• Historical facts to not be contradicted.
• Other people to behave with common sense (for the most part).
• Irrational behavior to have consequences.

Perk of Immersion

Logically consistent decisions and clear cause-and-effect chains keep a story believable. This is incredibly important, and often under appreciated. Although the viewers’ “suspension of disbelief” is a nice safety net, it is hardly a foundation to rest fiction upon.

Whenever your character makes a mistake and viewers think “Why didn’t he/she just…[insert common sense]?”, immersion dies. And that thought will nag our viewer all the way til the credits roll, so that they can brag about how smart they are for pointing out plot-holes.

But more likely, they are not bragging. They are annoyed. I don’t blame them. They never got a return on their emotional investment. In storytelling (especially fantastical genres), it’s tempting to brush aside logic in pursuit of what is cool. So when writing, I try to remember the sentence: “…But does that even make sense?”.

Sin of Boredom

On the flip-side, too much logic and explanation leads to the ultimate entertainment sin: boredom.

And although not all art is entertainment, good art is not boring*.

(*Can good art be boring? I genuinely thought about this for awhile and imagined several scenarios of “good boring art”. It may make a good future blog-post. 

Truly boring things are not important, and they get filtered from our mind.

Good art leaves an impression. Good art interests us.

Good art is not boring.)

Sin of Confusion

Presenting logic too quickly leads to confusion. Even if it all “makes sense”, if we can’t keep up, we’ll get frustrated.

Ethos: Ethical Proof

CREDIBILITY + ETHICS

Ethos is appeal to ethics.

Why is being ethical persuasive? Because we trust ethical people. Now this does not mean you must be a model Samaritan in order to make good art. It means that demonstrating your expertise will make it a lot easier to communicate your ideas.

Perk of Trust

The nicer the production, the more credibility we build with the audience. That is, I can see the amount of time and effort that was put into the art, so I will give it the benefit of the doubt. I recognize the artist, and they’ve done good work in the past. I have more confidence, and belief, that the story will be good. This literally makes the story more good. And that is good.

Problem of Broken Promises and Unmet Expectations

A strong record can work against you. Good art and good taste grow together, and if a new piece isn’t careful at managing audience expectations, then a legitimately emotional, structured story may fall flat due to reputation.

This is why we artists say “I’m just new to this!” when we first share our experiments. We’re acutely aware of audience expectation and how it can affect enjoyment. If you’re genuinely new, just be aware you can’t use this excuse forever.

If you’ve been at it for awhile, saying “I’m just a bad artist!” will not help your cause. It is not a valid form of managing audience expectation. One may get pity, but no applause. Charity goes to inexperience but not incompetence.

Bonus Proof: Kairos

RELEVANCE + TIME

Kairos is appeal to timeliness. Although the other three proofs have rock-solid qualities that transcend time, presenting your point at an opportune time can only boost its appeal.

This is a tricky one to employ, but it boils down to appearing, and being relevant. Addressing the present, and calling action upon the near future.

Comedians are good examples of rhetoricians. They can hit ya by being relate-able (pathos), set-ups (logos), and clean execution (ethos).

Kairos is like a comedian’s ability to read the room and mix it into their routine.

Perk of Freshness

Fresh things are interesting to people. That which is new is resistant to becoming old and obsolete. We want to be in the know, and feel like a part of modern times. This is why trending tabs and topics exist on social media. Position your art to address pertinent topics or utilize innovative techniques to be fresh.

Kairos is Icing, Not Cake

Balance is key, and although people are interested in the topical, we need a sense of stability. Art that is overly reliant on the “NOW” feels cheap, shallow, and forgettable. Not to mention, it will go out of style very quickly (see memes*).

We instinctively know that things with age on them have lasted, and will last. Art that demonstrates careful thought and preparation (e.g. long-form content, deep subject matter) have an appealing integrity to them.

Lasting things are just as interesting to us as fresh things.

(*Some memes are so funny they seem to last forever. But that’s due to the other artistic proofs, not kairos.)

Marvel, Fiero, Sublime and Other Awesome Experiences

The previous 4 proofs actually have a lot more depth and nuance than I have outlined.

Over time, countless interpretations have watered down the definition of logos, pathos, and ethos. So by now, they are outdated for modern day use.

But they have survived this long and I find it fun to apply them when watching my favorite moments in movies. They really do help me understand why I felt something was awesome.

A perfectly balanced mix of the proofs, should, in theory, result in a harmonious experience that is incredibly enjoyable and pleasing. Awesome. And it turns out there’s even different types of awesome. Here’s how I see them:

• Magnificent – Awesome, but with fanciness and class. Oozing elegance. Heady, brainy.
• Badass – Edgy awesome. Fresh. Irreverent, individualistic, powerful. Hippy, pelvic.
• Marvel – Wonderment, mouth agape, twinkle in the eye. Grand. Probably because it reminds me of the word “marble”. Eyes & mouth.
• Fiero – “HELL YES” feeling of accomplishment. Fiery. Blood-pumping victory. Hearty.
• Sublime – Overwhelming scale, quality, and greatness. Submerging. Mind-blowing to the point of numbness. Whole body experience.
• Awesome – Really, really cool. Great balance, rhythm, symmetry, colors, and sounds. Shiny, loud, and intense. Fists in the air.

One can accurately describe many moments in film and music (especially) with these words.

I’m certain those old Greek philosophers recognized Badass when it happened. They wouldn’t have conjured the artistic proofs otherwise.

Let us keep their insights in mind the next time we express something truly awesome.

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