On Images
Summary
- Type
- Letter
- Written
- Place
- Østerbro, Copenhagen, Denmark
- Author
- Michael Baastrup Chang
On Images considers the relationship between images, perception, memory and the physical experience of painting. The letter examines how images enter consciousness through vision, how visual knowledge is formed and remembered, and how paintings can be experienced through the senses beyond sight.
Letter
“The essence of learning is the attaching of symbolic value to signs from the outside world. Images on the retina are not eatable or dangerous. What the eye of a higher animal provides is a tool by which, aided by a memory, the animal can learn the symbolic significance of events.”
— Young, John Z., The History of Neuroscience in Autobiography, volume 1, edited by Larry R. Squire, 1996
Let’s consider images for a moment. They are alien, apparitions that enter us through our eyes, projected on our retinas from an outside world. As independent entities, we are not physically linked to that world. We are mobile, and we sense the world pressing against our skin, which forms the real border between us and everything else. The surface of the eye isn’t part of the skin-barrier. To shield ourselves from the outside world’s visual impulses, we must keep our eyes closed. If we choose not to, our eyes respond to wavelengths between 390 and 750 newton meters and we engage in the visual interpretation of the world as we have come to know it through our eyes.
Images are powerful, and they keep us on a rather short leash. They activate our sensory systems, protect, stimulate, provoke emotional responses even in want of a real need… Without exaggeration, every single image is unique. Images activate our memories, and we respond to those memories, for example by drooling at the sight of a well-photographed apple pie, despite knowing how photographic paper tastes or a computer screen. Images elude our memories. As objects, paintings may be created to endure for centuries, but the image of any particular painting can only be experienced by looking at it directly. As soon as we close our eyes, the image disappears, perhaps leaving behind an afterimage on the retina as a neural adaptation.
We may not be consciously aware of it, but each time we look at an image is a unique experience. Don’t blink too long! Just this notion keeps some people from taking photographs; they might miss something when the shutter closes. The exact image on a photograph has never been witnessed firsthand. Analogue objects such as paintings cannot be copied exactly, but they can be reproduced more or less convincingly. Because we use our memory to respond to the images on our retina, the quality of reproductions varies (not to mention the psychological effect of knowing – or not – that we are looking at a reproduction).
Taking into account that each and every person possesses a unique set of visual memories, and assuming that we want to share our notions of the world with each other, the symbolic value of an image is very relevant. As we all know, paintings come in an endless variety of styles, shapes, and sizes, with their own tactile qualities and motivations; a little-known painting requires a thorough description in a conversation, but a well-known painting already has a place in our visual vocabulary and can be used in communication. Naturally, specialized groups of professionals do consider works of art that are generally little-known to the public, as well-known.
So how should one gather knowledge about paintings? The complex anatomy of paintings calls for the categorization of paintings, both to facilitate the work of those dealing with paintings professionally and to enable the use of paintings as cultural metaphors and historical anchors. Looking at images, paintings in particular, is something that can be taught and learned. The exercise of looking is in turn linked to the exercise of remembering. It is tempting to assume that the more paintings we have seen the more we will learn from looking at paintings, but quantity is only one aspect to consider. Knowledge about what to look for and how to look for it will impact how exposure to images can activate our senses.
Without a sense of purpose it is difficult to remember anything. Luckily we use the entire body to memorize past experiences, e.g. riding a bicycle. As children, we explored and experienced the world with our mouths. The specifics of when we first tasted glass, aluminum foil or a shag carpet may escape us, but our bodies remember the sensation well. Have you ever tried to imagine the taste of paintings? It opens up a whole new world of sensation. Certain paintings taste familiar, others are definitely an acquired taste… the memory of our impressions will influence the paintings we have yet to see and change the paintings we’ve already seen. Or what about lying with our bare skin on the painting, to bring us closer to the physical dimensions: the proportions, the framing? I vow to someday arrange shows with a hands-on policy, complete with a room in which experiencers can lay their bare skin on the canvas. Allowing a full synthesis between vision and our other senses expands and heightens our experience, not only of paintings, but of the world in general.
References
Young, John Z., The History of Neuroscience in Autobiography, volume 1, edited by Larry R. Squire, 1996. Preserved excerpt
Arnheim, Rudolf, Art and Visual Perception: A Psychology of the Creative Eye, University of California Press, 2004.
On Images draws on questions of visual perception, memory and the experience of painting. The references preserved here are limited to sources directly associated with the letter.
Archive Context
On Images was originally written as an email letter to friends. It forms part of a group of letters written around 2010 and subsequently collected under the title On Art.
The individual letters are preserved here as separate archival records in order to retain their individual subjects, dates, references and relationships to the wider artistic practice.