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Art and The Senses: January 2010
Art and The Senses: January 2010
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Siân Ede
A book devoted to ‘the Art and Science’ of anything immediately suggests a binary
attitude to the way we consider the workings of the world and of ourselves in it; the
categorizing of the five senses suggests a further attempt to take taxonomizing to
possibly reductive extremes. The ‘Art and the Senses’ symposium, held in Oxford in
, examined those interfaces between art and science and between the senses, and,
because all the speakers were exquisitely thoughtful academics, the level of interaction
and the complexity of the discourse was profound, with each side exceptionally willing
to listen to the other perspective and even subsequently announcing new approaches
in forthcoming research. In this paper I look briefly at the way we communicate our
experience of the senses and at the poetic language necessary to convey something of
the felt physiological experience.
The experience of actually living in the world is multiply layered. We translate the
input from discrete sense organs into a blur of embodied sensation and, because we
are more than unself-conscious diatoms or zoophytes, we bring or ‘bind’ a range of
associations acquired from memory to make sense of the prelinguistic experience,
translating it more reflectively into what emerges as thought, and eventually even into
self-conscious awareness of thought—and thence to the pronouncements we make in
art history and scientific discourses. In humans, language is the key to this translation
and by language I include art, besides the spoken and written word, symbolic systems
where meaning is attributed to forms not literally associated with their referents. This
is so even in science. The palaeontologist Steven Mithen has created a hypothetical
framework for explaining the emergence of the human mind in later Homo sapiens
(Mithen ). Over millions of years we developed four kinds of intelligence, he
suggests: a natural history intelligence; a technical intelligence; a social intelligence;
and more recently, the capacity for language. At some point in the evolution of the
mind these separate facilities began to interact. The evolutionary psychologist Nicholas
Humphrey proposes that the significant factor in an increased cognitive fluidity was
the development of a capability to see into the minds of others, a consequence of
advanced social intelligence. This internalized the communication processes which
had taken place between individuals in a social group in the outside world and self-re-
flexively enabled the different domains in the individual’s private mind to ‘talk to’ each
other. An increasing facility with language may have been the critical factor: social
fact that she is playing on imagery familiar in art-history, from the vanitas paintings
of the seventeenth century, which she has particularly studied (Fig. ), and also through
the symbols of death familiar to us from Victorian funeral ritual, all of which set up
a cascade of association-making.
In addressing the effect of Donne’s disparate image creation, Byatt pictures the
reader’s brain at work in bringing many layers of understanding together, describing
‘millions of cells with connecting dendrites and long questing axons, some of which
can cross into the opposite hemisphere of the brain.’ At first sight this appears to be
purely the technical language of science—‘cells’, ‘axons’, ‘brain’—but metaphors
are unavoidable. Her language is both physically representational and intellectually
loaded. ‘Cells’ themselves were so-named by Robert Hooke peering down his micro-
scope and reminded of monks’ separate enclaves. I’m not sure whether scientists at
their microscopes would use Byatt’s anthropomorphized active participle ‘questing’
to describe the presumably flailing axons but that seems exactly what they are doing
Fig. 1 Jane Wildgoose, Vanitas Still Life at the Wildgoose Memorial Library, 2005.
(See Colour plate 1)
(photo: courtesy of the artist)
a deficit in particular ones. Such experiences can throw real insight into the workings
of the normal mind. When such deficits are described as literature the language
employed is not the language of logical explanation, the preferred language of science.
It is, instead, a poetic discourse which affects the reader by eloquently describing visual
images, affecting the emotions through heightened rhythms and cadences which rever-
berate silently in the mind, reaching the other senses through the imagination. Literary
writing is an apt medium in which to reflect on the art and science of the senses, because
threaded through the metaphor, simile and other vivid sensuous re-evocations are
veins of rational presentation and contemplation in an attempt to convey exactly what
experience is like. Of particular interest is the way in which a deficit in one sense relies
on imagery from the other senses to describe sensation.
The American poet and writer Stephen Kuusisto was born prematurely and suffers
from the retinopathy of immaturity and also nystagmus, ‘darting eyes’. He is not
completely blind but sees the world through a blur of colour and motion. His book,
The Planet of the Blind, describes his refusal to acknowledge his disability and his risk-
taking struggle to maintain a normal life from childhood through to adulthood, even
riding a bicycle and negotiating new cities on his own (Kuusisto ). The book is as
much about failure and stubbornness as it is about depicting the world of the visually
impaired but it leaves a strong sensuous impression on the reader. Kuusisto is famil-
iar with the visual arts through sporadic close-up studies of books, or through visiting
galleries with friends and it is interesting how he speaks of his world-view in terms of
paintings:
Faces loom, adults are rising from the vista like sensate stones. These are gorgeous mirages
of not-seeing, moments red and green and black as the studios of Matisse. The moments are
seriocomic: a white horse stands at the circus, no, it’s a bed-sheet in the wind . . .
(Kuusisto )
This is a good example of how a sensory ‘bottom up’ perception is shaped through
applying a ‘top-down’ rationalization when memory and a kind of internal logic are
brought into play, and illustrates how much we impose our conceptions on our
perceptions in order to interpret what we are seeing.
Kuusisto goes on:
Dear Jackson Pollock, I’ve entered your Autumn Rhythm. The irregular or sometimes certain
flight of colour and shape is a wild skein, a tassel of sudden blue here, a wash of red. The
very air has turned to hand-blown glass with its imperfect bubbles of amethyst or hazel blue.
I stand on the ordinary street corner as if I’ve awakened at the bottom of a stemware vase. The
glassblower’s molten rose has landed in my eyes . . .
His experience of the world also involves a compound of other sensory intelligences
focused around spatial orientation:
Delicate, skinny, inordinately active, I was sharpening a sixth sense that fostered the impres-
sion in my parents that I could see far better than I really could. Such acting requires a capa-
cious memory; in the gaudy nets of pastel colours where I lived, every inch of terrain had to
be accurately remembered. In the heart of every blooming and buzzing confusion, I found
a signpost, something to guide me back along my untutored path. . . . I suppose this plum-
meting through the world involves the same inexplicable faith known to skydivers. Fast blind
people have exceptional memories and superior spatial orientation. By the age of five, I was
a dynamo. Wanting to see me run, my mother saw me run and guessed that I must be seeing
more than I really could. And so I landed like the bee who sees poorly but understands destina-
tion by motion and light and temperature.
The brain quickly reads sensory stimuli and brings ready-made meanings to the fore
to assist interpretation. The desire to make sense of things seems unavoidable, so much
so that given a few hints, we can imagine things that are not actually there. An auditory
equivalent of this top-down/bottom up processing is amusingly described in Jonathan
Raban’s sailing book Coasting:
The engine, the engine. Its thump and clatter, all mixed up with the smell of diesel oil and the
continuous slight motion of the sea, is so regular and monotonous that you keep on hearing
voices in it. Sometimes when the revs are low, there’s a man under the boards reciting poems
that you vaguely remember in a resonant bass. Sometimes the noise rises to the bright non-
sense of a cocktail party in the flat downstairs. At present, though, you’re stuck with your usual
cruising companion at sixteen hundred revs, an indignant old fool grumbling in the cellar.
Where’d I put it? Can’t remember. Gerroff you, blast and damn you. Where’d I put it? Can’t
remember . . .
(Raban )
Deaf, blind, and speechless as the consequence of scarlet fever ate the age of two,
Helen Keller describes her multi-sensory deprivation:
Have you ever been at sea in a dense fog, when it seemed as if a tangible white darkness shut
you in, and the great ship, tense and anxious, groped her way towards the shore with plummet
and sounding-line, and you waited with beating heart for something to happen? I was like the
ship before my education began, only I was without compass or sounding-line, and had no
way of knowing how near the harbour was.
(Keller )
She is writing here with eloquent hindsight using the image of the lost ship to give a
more acute sense of her sensory deprivation, but the isolation of her situation is more
intense because she had no language with which to articulate her feelings. Her first
realization of the power of self-expression comes in a famous breakthrough. Her
devoted teacher Anne Sullivan has been introducing her to language by getting her to
feel an object and then spelling out the written word on her hand.
We walked down the path to the well-house, attracted by the fragrance of the honeysuckle
with which it was covered. Someone was drawing water and my teacher placed my hand under
the spout. As the cool stream gushed over one hand she spelled into the other the word water,
first slowly, then rapidly. I stood still, my whole attention fixed upon the motion of her fingers.
Suddenly I felt a misty consciousness as of something forgotten – a thrill of returning thought;
and somehow the mystery of language was revealed to me. I knew then that ‘w-a-t-e-r’ meant
the wonderful cool something that was flowing over my hand . . .
I left the well-house eager to learn. Everything had a name, and each name gave birth to a new
thought.
She was learning not simple vocabulary but setting down an understanding of
generic ideas which would bring in top-down processing to speed up her understand-
ing when she came across a new object. She goes on to understand the nature of
conceptual thinking:
I was stringing beads of different sizes in symmetrical groups – two large beads, three small
ones, and so on. I had made many mistakes, and Miss Sullivan had pointed them out again
and again with gentle patience. Finally I noticed a very obvious error in the sequence and for
an instant I concentrated my attention on the lesson and tried to think how I should have
arranged the beads. Miss Sullivan touched my forehead and spelled with decided emphasis,
‘Think.’
In a flash I knew that the word was the name of the process that was going on in my head. That
was my first conscious perception of an abstract idea.
We can see here how the senses are a route not simply to an animal sensation
but form part of a chain of intelligent and self-aware construction of the outside
world.
The artist Alexa Wright effectively illustrates the brain at work where the body
sense ought effectively to be absent altogether in a project she undertook with neuro-
scientists and patients with phantom limb syndrome, which occurs where people who
Wellcome Trust sci-art report, September ; Wellcome News Supplement, Science and Art
; also conversations with the artist.
rubbish is BIISH
leather SKENN
take-away food – TCKOO
natural flowers NIIS
a train TRAKEE
a caramel factory SUIIS
One cannot think about the effect of taste (and smell) without referring to the
most iconic passage in literature, that describing Proust’s sip of tea in which had been
soaked a morsel of madeleine. The incident has become a touchstone for explaining
the almost magical effect that taste and smell sometimes have on memory, evoking
an immediate and vivid ‘qualic’ sensation of an often unlocatable sense of time past.
In evolutionary respects smell is a primitive sense, and its receptors transmit signals
to the olfactory bulbs which lie close behind, the most direct process system of any of
the senses. This short pathway has direct links to the limbic system, which deals with
vigilance and emotions and there are also links to the hippocampus where memory
is stored. However, there is no contact with the parts of the brain responsible for
language or speech. This might explain why we have a limited vocabulary for smell
beyond analogy (smells ‘like’) and why, like Proust, we often find it hard to locate the
original source of a sudden waft of familiar perfume.
Proust is a master in evoking the sensuous filtered through the intellect, so the plea-
sure is doubled. But it takes him four pages of close introspection to chase the original
stimulus and the ripples it then sets up.
Here is Proust’s initial moment:
I raised to my lips a spoonful of the tea in which I had soaked a morsel of the cake. No sooner
had the warm liquid mixed with the crumbs touched my palate than a shiver ran through me
and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary thing that was happening to me. An exquisite
pleasure had invaded my senses, something isolated, detached, with no suggestion of its origin.
And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its
brevity illusory – this new sensation having had the effect, which love has, of filling me with
a precious essence’ or rather this essence was not in me, it was me.
Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time (–). Information on smell and memory is well
described in chapter of Douwe Draaisma’s compelling book on memory Why Life Speeds Up
as You Get Older ( Cambridge, Cambridge University Press).
In trying to locate the source of this overwhelming sensation, Proust takes a couple
more sips but finds that the initial impact is becoming diluted, the memory still elusive.
He tries to re-trace his thoughts, acknowledging how difficult it is to maintain a con-
centration on one’s own thought processes, trying to give his mind a rest by distracting
it and then searching within himself again.
It is interesting how Proust describes this memory pursual after one sensation in
terms of the other senses:
I do not yet know what it is, but I can feel it mounting slowly; I can measure the resistance,
I can hear the echo of great spaces traversed. Undoubtedly what is thus palpitating in the depths
of my being, must be the image, the visual memory which, being linked to that taste, is trying
to follow it into my conscious mind. But its struggles are too far off, too confused and chaotic;
scarcely can I perceive the neutral glow into which the elusive whirling medley of stirred-up
colours is fused, and I cannot distinguish its form, cannot invite it, as the one possible inter-
preter, to translate for me the evidence of its contemporary, its inseparable paramour, the
taste, cannot ask it to inform me what special circumstance is in question, from what period
in my past life. [my italics]
He goes on to remark:
taste and smell alone, more fragile but more enduring, more immaterial, more persistent,
more faithful, remain poised a long time, like souls, remembering, waiting, hoping, amid the
ruins of all the rest; and bear unflinchingly, in the tiny and almost impalpable drop of their
essence, the vast structure of recollection.
One doesn’t have to be diagnosed as synaesthetic to recognize how the input from
different sensual stimuli quickly blur and are made sense of through multiple associa-
tion. Language is second-hand (note the bodily metaphor there) to the immediate
physical stimulus but it helps us combine an intellectual and creative response.
In considering simultaneously the Art and Science of the senses, the felt or imag-
ined experience and the material processes involved, our minds cannot reconcile the
ambiguity of such a dual approach, but there is pleasure in blending together physical
understanding and an intellectual appreciation of how it works. The heightened
language of poetry aids this exploration, bringing together the second-hand vigour of
sensuous experience with an intellectual pleasure in making links and analogies to
communicate feelings normally too deep for words.
References
Byatt AS (). Feeling thought: Donne and the embodied mind. In A Guibbory (ed.) The
Cambridge Companion to John Donne, pp. –. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.
Keller H (). The Story of my Life. Doubleday, New York.
Kuusisto S (). The Planet of the Blind. Faber and Faber, London.
Mithen S (). The Prehistory of the Mind. Thames and Hudson Ltd, London.
Raban J (). Coasting. Collins Harvill, London.
Ramachandran VS and Hirstein W () The science of art: a neurological theory of aesthetic
experience. Journal of Consciousness Studies, –, –.
Preface v
List of contributors xxiii
Introduction
. Making Sense of Art, Making Art of Sense
Francesca Bacci in conversation with
Achille Bonito Oliva
. The Science and Art of the Sixth Sense
Nicholas J. Wade
. The Art of Touch in Early Modern Italy
Geraldine A. Johnson
. The Multisensory Perception of Touch
Charles Spence
. Aesthetic Touch
Rosalyn Driscoll
. Rendering the Sensory World Semantic
Elio Franzini
. Sculpture and Touch
Francesca Bacci
. Touch and the Cinematic Experience
Jennifer M. Barker
. Hearing Scents, Tasting Sights: Toward a Cross-Cultural
Multimodal Theory of Aesthetics
David Howes
Index
Dr Amir Amedi Laboratory for Magnetic Brain Stimulation, Beth Israel Deaconess
Hospital, Department of Neurology, Brookline Avenue, Boston MA , USA
Dr Francesca Bacci Centro Interdipartmentale Mente/Cervello University of Trento,
Palazzo Fedrigotti, Corso Bettini , Rovereto (Trento), ITALY
Dr Jennifer M. Barker Moving Image Studies, Department of Communication,
Georgia State University, One Park Place, Atlanta, GA .
Mr Heston Blumenthal The Fat Duck Restaurant, High Street, Bray, Berks SL AQ
Dr Beatriz Calvo-Merino Department of Psychology, City University London
Northampton Square ECVOHB, London, UK and Honorary Research Fellow,
Institute of Cognitive Neuroscience (University College London), Alexandra House,
Queen Square, WCIN AR, London, UK
Dr Patrick Cavanagh Vision Sciences Laboratory, Department of Psychology,
Harvard University, Kirkland StreetCambridge, MA , USA
Rosalyn Driscoll
Dr Elio Franzini Dipartimento di Filosofia, Università degli Studi di, Milano, Via
Festa del Perdono , Milano, Italy
Professor Vittorio Gallese Department of Neuroscience, Section of Physiology,
University of Parma, Via Volturno, /E, Parma, ITALY
Dr Ede Sign
Mr Ivar Hagendoorn
Patrick Haggard
Paul Hekkert Industrial Design Engineering, Delft
Dr David Howes Dept of Sociology & Anthropology, Concordia University, de
Maisonneuve, boulevard West, Montréal, Québec Canada, HG M
Professor Tim Jacob School of Biosciences, Biomedical Building, Cardiff University,
Museum Avenue, Cardiff CF US
Dr Geraldine Johnson Department of History of Art, University of Oxford, Oxford
OX PT
Dr Carol Krumhansl Department of Psychology, Cornell University, Uris Hall,
Ithaca NY -, USA
Fred Lerdahl
Dr Guy Madison Department of Psychology, Social Sciences Building, Umeå
University, S- Umeå, SWEDEN
Dr Joe Magliano Department of Psychology, Northern Illinois University, DeKalb
IL , USA
Dr Laura Marks Art and Culture Studies, Simon Fraser University, University
Drive, Burnaby BC, CANADA VA S
Dr David Melcher Department of Cognitive Sciences, University of Trento, Corso
Bettini, , Rovereto, ITALY
Dr Lofti Merabet Laboratory for Magnetic Brain Stimulation, Beth Israel Deaconess
Hospital, Department of Neurology, Brookline Avenue, Boston MA , USA
Vik Muniz
Professor Juhani Pallasmaa Architect, Juhani Pauasmaa Architects, Helsiuki
Professor Alvaro Pascual-Leone Laboratory for Magnetic Brain Stimulation, Beth
Israel Deaconess Hospital, Department of Neurology, Brookline Avenue, Boston
MA , USA
Dr Elena Pasquinelli Institut Jean Nicod, UMR , Pavillon Jardin, Ecole Normale
Supérieure, , rue d'Ulm, F- Paris, FRANCE
Alberto Perez-Gomez
Ruggero Pierantoni Visiting Professor, Dizraeli School of Architecture, Carleton
University, Ottawa, CA.
Hendrik N.J. Schifferstein
Maya U. Shankar
Dr Simon Shaw-Miller Department of History of Art and Screen Media, Birkbeck
College, University of London, Gordon Square, London WCH PD
Professor Charles Spence Department of Experimental Psychology, University of
Oxford, South Parks Road, Oxford OX UD
Noa Tal
Dr Cretien van Campen Synesthetics Netherlands, Rubicondreef JC Utrecht,
The Netherlands
Professor Nicholas Wade Department of Psychology, University of Dundee,
Nethergate, Dundee DD HN
Dr Jamie Ward School of Psychology, University of Sussex, Falmer, Brighton, BN
QH
Dr Jeff Zacks Department of Psychology, Washington University in St Louis, One
Brookings Drive, St. Louis, MO -, USA
Massimiliano Zampini