You know rhythm from music. But is it also present in paint, in brushstrokes, in the way your eye travels across a canvas? Justyna and Francine, both technical advisors at Royal Talens, found out: yes, it is. And it changes everything.
Repetition. That is the first thing Justyna thinks of when it comes to rhythm in visual art. Sol LeWitt filled entire museum walls with repeated lines and squares. The rhythm lives in the return of the same elements, but also in variation: closer together, further apart, larger and smaller.
Sol LeWitt, Wall Drawing #1136
A single occurrence is a sound. Repetition makes it rhythm.
Francine adds another layer: rhythm unfolds in space. From left to right, from top to bottom. Even irregular patterns can be rhythmic, as long as an underlying cadence is felt.
"If it only happens once, it might be a sound. Only through repetition does it become rhythm."
But rhythm does not have to be rigid or mathematical. Look at Van Gogh's brushstrokes. The repetition there is not in exact forms. It lives in the movement, the gesture, the mark. The rhythm is in how something was made.
Is rhythm in the form or in the subject?
Here is an interesting contrast. Francine sees rhythm in Degas' ballerinas through the way bodies are distributed across the canvas, as if the dance continues on the surface. Justine looks differently: for her, rhythm lives in the visual execution itself, not in what is depicted.
Both are right. Visual rhythm exists on multiple levels at once: in composition, in the repetition of shapes, in theme, and in the relationship between all of these.
Edgar Degas, La classe de danse
Music as the engine of making
Justyna uses music as titles for her paintings, connected to what she listened to while working. Not consciously steering the outcome, but colouring the process. Francine almost always paints with music on. An energetic track brings physical movement and dynamism. Quiet piano music leads to a more still and contemplative way of working.
Sometimes the music fades entirely into the background: present but unheard. Rhythm then works without awareness, and perhaps that is when it is most powerful.
Can there be too much rhythm?
Yayoi Kusama's dots raise a new question. For Justyna, the abundance feels almost suffocating. Rhythm without breathing room loses its tension. Francine puts it well: Kusama's work has a tone rather than a melody. Constantly present, barely varying.
And with that, the comparison with music becomes complete. In visual art too, you need rest for rhythm to breathe.
Yayoi Kusama with her artwork Pumpkin (1994).
Rhythm is everywhere. Even outside the studio.
The Dutch polder landscape near Almere, with its repeated rows of trees and straight lines. Avenues, facades, patterns in cities and nature. The more you think about it, the clearer it becomes: rhythm is almost always there, applied consciously or not.
It does not need to be explained to exist. You see it. You feel it. Sometimes only when you pause and truly look.
About the authors
Justyna Pennards and Francine Oonk are both artists and Technical Advisors in R&D at Royal Talens, where they combine artistic research with material and technical expertise. Justyna’s practice is rooted in the belief that growth is possible anywhere and at any stage of life, drawing inspiration from nature and botanical gardens to explore the relationship between living systems and the built environment. Francine brings a strong focus on storytelling, with a passion for art, creativity, the museum sector and education. Together, they share a commitment to creativity, reflection and the connection between art, people and materials.
