Notes from the Underground Part Five — Escaping Muybridge's Curse (Can We?)
It is a "borrowed plumage."
This I will call "aided perception #1."
Muybridge's images are not very relevant to the way we see motion; they mislead us into assuming we understand how motion is made visible, how it works, but this is not motion as we perceive it when we are immersed in "ordinary" experience, it is motion as it is captured when time is frozen and the mechanical "viewer" is totally passive (an experience fairly unusual to us to say the least, and hardly available without the aid of a camera).
(That type of "understanding" of motion posits it as an isolated "tic-tac-toe," while we experience it much more in terms of a "swoosh" totally immersed in an infinite context, both in terms of space and time.)
Above all, this process singles out a subject and keeps it artificially isolated from its context. (Remember what I talked about in the previous article when I mentioned that in perception, the differentiation between figure and ground is far more ambiguous than we often realize, and each often fades into the other, refusing to maintain a supposedly distinct identity.)
I'll say it again in plain language: the eye does not work like a camera, and we do not all see the same thing!
What and how we (really) see has very little to do with "photo-realism," and yet, very few of us are at all aware of that. ("The problem with realism is that it has very little to do with reality," said Giacometti.)
Annie Dillard found some fabulous material in a book called Space and Sight, by Marius Von Senden.
The book gives detailed accounts of how people who were blind from birth reacted to their newly acquired sight (through the removal of cataracts by surgery). These reactions showed unmistakably how much "seeing" is an acquired faculty, not an inherent one.
Dillard integrated those stories in an excellent book called Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, the account of a journey that I wish would be more common amongst aspiring artists, and to which art schools should definitely "submit" their students ("Know Thyself").
One of the major points she makes is that "seeing is very much a matter of verbalization," which is exactly what I have been talking about in my previous articles.
If we don't have a name for "it," a name by which to differentiate "it" from the context, we can't see "it." (This does not mean we don't see anything, far from that!)
In fact, even that context/ground from which we differentiate "it" via verbalization is itself constituted by our world view, a world view which is no less rooted in our distinct culture as is the "figure" itself.
Even "space" is an utterly meaningless concept (note: a "concept!") for people who have not yet acquired this culturally induced way of seeing.
Indeed, they have no notion of "near" and "far" in their newly acquired visual world. "Distance" too, is a meaningless concept! ("A patient had no idea of depth, confusing it with roundness.")
Nor do they have a notion of "size," itself being also a meaningless concept.
"Shape" is another meaningless concept: a patient cannot distinguish visually between a cube and a sphere, but will instantly identify them "correctly" as soon as he is allowed to feel them with his hands and tongue.
As for the "realism" of photos, a newly sighted girl who saw some for the first time said something like: "Why do they have all those dark patches all over them?"
Someone explained to her that those were not dark patches, that they were shadows. And the explanation went on to say that shadows were one of the ways by which we know that things have shape.
The girl answered: "But things do look flat, they look flat with dark patches!"
(I am certain that many a painter will immediately relate to this as experientially true.)























Post new comment