W
hen describing composition in my drawing classes, I like to talk about weight and balance. Basically, dark, dense, detailed parts of the drawing have more weight, while light, diffuse, and simple parts of the drawing have less. Therefore, in order to make the drawing balanced, you have to give more room to the lighter elements, to allow them to counterbalance the heaviness. This is why leaving a lot of negative space can really improve a composition.
I believe something similar occurs in the relationship of humanity to non-human creation. Humans are extremely dense creatures, from an aesthetic and intentional point of view. Most of creation is loose, organized on dynamic, flexible principles that unfold over long periods of time. Humans, on the other hand, make objects and structures that have intense purpose to them, and this purposiveness has a strong gravitational weight to it, relative to the environment in which it is placed. In order to achieve balance, it needs to be counteracted by a lot of non-human surround. I think this is why little farms, or windmills, or towns nestled in thunderous mountain valleys appeal so strongly to us -- it's not that humans make ugliness, it's that too much of us overwhelms the picture, and leads to chaos.
Modern cities are, obviously, the worst offenders, sparing room for a few tiny parks, but drowning out the world for dozens of miles in all directions. We aren't made to live like this, and we lose perspective when exposed to such outrageous structure for our whole lives.
I figure it's about 80:20 as a ratio that should be about right. The trees, stars, and animals need some room to breathe -- they can be our negative space, and allow us to see the silhouette of our own form.