synesthesia (sin-uhs-TE-zhee-uh) an automatic involuntary sensation arising from a stimulus to a different sensory organ
We all have this to some degree: a gentle caress in one spot can tickle another, scents evoke flavors, and we’re chilled by an eerie squeak. These experiences are ordinary ‘wiring’, but some people are ‘wired’ differently than the rest of us. For example, they may see specific shapes selected in distinctive colors, or see specific colors when hearing distinctive sounds.
A century ago, scientists, musicians, and artists were fascinated by whether sounds could stimulate color images. They found the waters muddy for several reasons:
* Obviously, it is the specific sounds that cause the colors, rather than the music as a whole.
* Different synthets they see quite different colors when listening to the same music.
* A repetitive sound can cause annoying flickering or even temporarily disable.
* Musicians have always used the language of color to describe pitches, chords, modes, and keys.
* To top it all off (and disappointingly for composers with big holistic ideas), the vast majority of listeners don’t actually see anything.
Even so, there’s still plenty of scope for artists with this rare neurological condition—let’s call it The Gift—to explore the potential of direct visual inspiration from music.
One of those artists is Mark Rowan Helmet whose witty catchphrase “Hear Color, See Sound” and dramatic technique “Performance painting” It really caught my fancy when I saw her work at a small local gallery. Mark’s abstract canvases glared from the whitewashed walls of a simple Jacobean barn. A video screen showed Mark painting with speed and confidence. In the video, musicians from the Royal Academy of Music improvised ‘live’, but we didn’t hear his songs. To set the music scene, the gallery’s sound system played a typical CD of abstract atonal music.
I admit not everyone was impressed: ‘utterly pretentious rubbish’, ‘the visuals are disgusting, as is the music’, ‘I’ve seen better efforts produced in the children’s classroom’, but many were captivated, ‘I really enjoyed exploring expressing feelings in a physical way!’, ‘I love the energy I feel in response to the vibrant use of colour’ – you get the idea, so to speak.
One thing stood out to me above all else: although the whole selling point of the show was the derivative art of sound, the visuals themselves were curiously silent. Not completely; my favorite had a subtle hint of music in wavy horizontal lines similar to a harmony flowing across a staff. That really appealed to me, although I suspect Mark might be horrified if someone suggested that he should deliberately include “musical motifs” in every painting. That little ripple did more than just draw me into the painting. It showed me that he was unconsciously desperate to connect each image to the music Mark had been listening to while he was painting it, music he couldn’t even imagine.
So I was curious how, if I could afford the painting, I could display it at home. If you take a look at Mark’s website, you’ll see that a completely white wall with strong even lighting would be essential for the image to speak for itself as an abstract painting. If I were buy in concept (i.e. trading a huge wad of cash for, let’s face it, a short burst of panchromatic choreography), I’d like all my guests to pick up on the distinctive story behind the image as well, whether they like it or not! But how? A printed artist statement is vital for galleries and perhaps public spaces, but pretentious in a home, and still quiet. If I had the urge to ‘listen to the music’, at least once anyway, then chances are my guests would too. I could play a video of him making it along with the image, complete with the original soundtrack. That would show how it had been painted and, more importantly, how each color choice was in sync with the sound world. However, I felt that to be undomestic and overly masterful, “Come on everyone. Can you all watch? Silence while I press Play.”
On second thought, I think I’d like a middle path, making only the music available, and only while people are concentrating on the image. Perhaps an MP3 speaker behind the canvas, with a small but insistent play button for the curious. If I had a big enough white wall, that is.
As always, Wikipedia neatly summarizes The Science Bit
Some questions for you:
* Do you think that idea could be adapted again for gallery shows?
* If so, should the artist or gallery be the one to solve the problems and provide the equipment?
* And would it be a good idea to offer buyers the options of a sound kit, pre-loaded with the right music, to accompany each image?