The concept of the horizon line in a painting is so simple, I doubt there’s 10 things to say about it. But it’s extremely important if you want to imbue your visuals with impact. Even the most subtle painting needs a good horizon to set elements within.

Let’s just assume for the moment you’ve no idea what I mean by horizon in a painting. Think of looking at the Earth. The horizon is simply the line of the planet in the distance. You’re looking at the far distant horizon line, like looking across a landscape or the ocean.

Like our observation of the Earth’s horizon, we set a horizon in a painting, too. The difference is on how you observe the horizon: at what angle are you looking at it. This will determine where the horizon sits in your picture which will determine your composition.

Think of looking through the lens of a camera, even your cell phone screen. As you lower your point of view—let’s say you crouch down—the horizon line lowers as well in your lens, too. If you snap that picture, you’ll see that the horizon is lower in the photo.

Just the opposite if you climb a couple steps up a ladder and look down on a scene with the camera and shoot, you’ll notice that the horizon line is now near the top of the photo.

Look at these three general examples of a castle in the middle ground.
Horizon line through the middle…average human height.
Horizon line low, up angle…you lower yourself to the ground and look up at the subject.
Horizon line high, down angle…you raise yourself up from the ground and look down at the subject. (here we are up so high the horseman is a tiny speck)

Notice how the horizon line moves in the frame as you move, up or down. Even so far as to push the horizon off the page.


Here’s where it gets interesting. If you crouch way down, but tilt the camera to look more upward, you’ll lose the horizon line altogether, off the bottom of the screen. But if you point the camera down again, you can get the horizon to come back into the frame, even off the top of the image.

Same thing happens on the ladder. Climb way up, tilting the camera down, the horizon runs off the top of the screen. Pivot the camera up again, and the horizon comes back into play, but you see a lot more of the foreground between you and the horizon.

Don’t get confused by this description. Sounds complicated, but it’s not. It’s just easier to get your camera out and look at these angles. Because that’s what gives a painting an interesting point of view: the angle of your observation.

Where you place the horizon will make a difference in your paintings, but you don’t have to start with it.

Personally, I like low-angle shots because they bring wonderfully interesting views to people and scenes. Ones we rarely bother to look at. How often have you crouched down to look at something? Or stepped up on something to look down on a scene instead of just standing there, at your normal human height, and looking across at the subject?

That’s the scene-killer: same ol’ drab pov. You, looking at any room or scene or landscape from a standard human height. Why? The horizon ends up cutting right through the middle of the frame or picture. Very dull. I’m falling asleep already.

Let’s take a room setting and apply the same three variables.
Average human height, horizon line across the center.
Low angle, horizon line is low in the frame.
High angle, horizon line is high in the frame.

C’mon…you’re an artist! Your mission is to give the viewer something interesting. Take them somewhere they haven’t been. Even look at something they’re familiar with, but seen differently. I’m sure you believe me when I say that most people on the planet probably never think about the angle of visual attack. They never change their point of view unless they drop into a barcalounger or fall down.

Just to simplify: The lower the horizon line in a painting, the higher figures rise above it and become dramatic. Like looking up from a worm’s-eye view. The higher the horizon line in a painting, the more severe the angle looking down on figures. Like looking down from a bird’s-eye view.

Those are extremes, but starting there will allow you to become so familiar with pov that you’ll be able to adjust the angle to whatever subtlety you need. Picture yourself as a movie director, hands out in front of you making the shape of a frame, searching for the right shot.

You can also tilt the horizon line across the painting. You’ve probably seen or heard this spoken about by artists or instructors. Usually called, ‘Dutching the angle,’ the horizon line creates a beautiful diagonal through the picture, giving it not only drama, but adding tension and interest. An example is the slight angle in the final thumbnail above.

The understanding of using the horizon line is nearly scientific. Although ancient, it hasn’t been used that much across art history. There is a point in the timeline of 2D images where we figured out mathematically how to record and use perspective to gain depth in a picture–how we were able to recreate on a 2D plane what we saw naturally with our eyes.

It’s not difficult if you think about how you see. I’m not crazy about math, so if you aren’t either, then think of using the horizon in your paintings by studying your point of view in Nature. Get down on the ground. Look up at people on the street from the bottom of a stairwell. Get up on the roof. Study people in the street from an open parking garage or from your apartment window. Look up from below the waterline, look down from a plane.

Where you place the horizon will make a difference in your paintings, but you don’t have to start with it. If you have an idea of how you want to view, say, a figure in your painting, you can determine the horizon line after that, which will help you determine where all the other figures and objects go in the composition.

Next time you compose a scene, figure out how you want to see it first—what’s your pov. Then the horizon line will come into play to help you make it believable, as if the viewer is involved in your picture, as if they’re actually in it, looking at what and how you want them to see the scene.

Nothing is more compelling than putting your audience into the picture, just at the right angle, just for the right view. It takes nothing to learn, other than your willingness to experiment and try it. Once you use it over and over again, it will become second nature, and your designs will draw a viewer in and keep them looking.

Which, yknow…is kinda what you want when you’re an artist.