THE AESTHETIC OF THE PAGE

I recently had a stack of scripts to read, and in this modern world that means I got a handful of printed scripts plus a sporadically growing count of .PDFs in my in-box. I prefer to read scripts in the hard copy form; something tactile, pages to bend. Space for corrections and notes to myself. Most of these notes are not actual words, but markings - pen scratches. A dash over a name that isn't capitalized, a line drawn through a description or action that I didn't understand in the first pass. An X by an element that should, I hope, pay-off somewhere down the line.

It is only the growing old man inside of me that dislikes reading scripts, or anything, on the computer. For the most part because I'm unable to mark it up or drop it in my bag to take on a plane flight or read in bed but there is also another aspect to this situation - how the reader relates to, and interacts with what they are reading.

I prefer small paperbacks that fit in my back pocket. White pages with enough white space to keep my eyes strong and loose in my skull. On the illuminated screen of my Powerbook, the eyes grow tired from the constant and steady pulse of light. The eyes are muscles, or if not actual muscle, there has to be a muscle or tissue behind the corneas that stretch and flow and drop focus when stressed by too much visual stimulus to take in.

A page in a book can be visually appealing even beyond the words and their meaning. A Rothko-esque canvas of paragraphed space.



This page is from Francoise Sagan's novel BONJOUR TRISTESSE, a HarperCollins book designed by Cassandra J. Pappas. This is page one of a one hundred and thirty page novel, a book roughly five inches by seven inches. The font is a dark steel blue on matte white page. The amount of white space that heads the page pushes the reader's eyes down through the white to the title "INTRODUCTION" that is printed in the center of the page to balance the eyes before they hit the first paragraph.

The viewer has a lot of clean negative space, to draw the focus easily into the first paragraph. The letters are loose with a lull of white between each word. One critique of this page is that the empty space between the paragraphs is too large. If seen as the time it takes the viewer to get from one to the other, it makes it appear that these paragraphs are two separate thoughts and not a continuation of the theme. It could be argued that this brief pause is necessary, it gives the reader a breath to be taken back to "That summer..." after the writer introduces a state of being for the main character. It's only an aesthetic issue I take with it, not one of content.

This is something that a script cannot do as easily as a novel, but if you were to consider the first page of your script and look at as a visual piece, it can be written to ease the reader into the world you are creating and at least make it visually appealing.

to absolutely steal an example from a far better writer and artist than myself, I turn to John K* of REN & STIMPY fame.



In the above panel from a YOGI BEAR comic, we can immediately discern that Yogi Bear is where the artist wants our eyes drawn. He is at the center of the page and the white motion lines connect him from the background to the foreground. His brown coat pops against the pale green of the grass floor. The yellow crates in his arms push down on him, tipping from the right of the page and the top. It's a simple drawing, an obvious set up, but one that can also be applied to the page of a script or novel.

To bring it back to the world of scripts; if a character is introduced in a brick of scene description, his name and situation will get lost and die. His appearance might only be in type, but the surrounding elements still need to bring the reader's focus on him and his action.

Every moment in a script needs to have a purpose. To have a known place of priority. If the fact that the character we are following is wearing a flannel shirt does not play into the story or theme, but the fact that he has a gun in his hand does - forgo the shirt detail in favor of supporting the importance to what's necessary. Meaning, if a scene description eats up a good portion of the page, the writer needs to find what is important and what is interesting in the scene and nix everything else. Have every word aid in focusing the reader's attention.

To go against all of that, I present this inadequately scanned page from Ayn Rand's novel ATLAS SHRUGGED.



This paperback edition of ATLAS SHRUGGED is full of densely packed type.

As soon as the book is turned to this page, the eye is drawn to the center of the page where it reads, "I swear by my life...and my love of it...that I will never live for the sake of another man...nor ask another man...to live...for mine."

Beyond being a stilted and melodramatic moment of monologue, it acts as a spatial release from the solid masses of type above and below it. It gives the eye something to look forward to and if the writer hasn't done their job of creating interesting writing, it gives the viewer something to jump to, skipping the well-worn prose that came before it.

Like...

This.

Not to say that the opinion given here is the right one to have. It is only one writer's, one reader's, opinion of what makes for a strong visual experience when absorbing written information. A writer should be in control of their writing and stand strong in their chosen writing style. The reader should be able to see the intent of the image on the page as well as the meaning of the words.

* I do recommend John K's blog. Insanely interesting cartoon analysis and a good eye opener into the world of animation and its relation to story telling.