New Spectacles

April 16th, 2006 Fred McVittie

Today is Easter Sunday, and for some reason my mobile isn’t working so I’ve not been able to ring home and wish the children Happy Easter. I’ll try to borrow someone’s later maybe. There are no papers this morning so I’m sitting in my hotel room right now, writing this on my laptop, and squinting a little because my spectacle prescription is out of date and the words on the screen are distinctly fuzzy (if that isn’t too oxymoronic a thing to say).

Which sets my thinking about the first pair of glasses I ever got, when I was about 12 I suppose. Up until that point I just assumed that everyone else saw the world as I did; that things not only became smaller as they moved away but they also became indistinct. I also believed that this was not a feature of my dodgy perception, but a property of the actual material world. I truly thought that beyond a distance of a few hundred yards from my head the world was an undifferentiated mass, and it was only within my orbit (and presumably the orbit of other humans) that the parts emerged from the whole. If I don’t get my prescription renewed and get myself some new spectacles I may have to re-embrace that worldview.

Posted in Perception, Seeing, Space, Story, Subjective | No Comments »

The Three Dimensions of Embodied Space

May 11th, 2006 Fred McVittie

The sense of three-dimensionality that comes with binocular vision and so called ‘depth perception’ is usually assumed to be co-existant with the three dimensions of cartesian space. That is, when we perceive the world in 3D, those dimensions are the dimensions of height, width, and depth, all at right angles to each other, which demarcate the cartesian grid. However, it is proposed here that the three dimension of visual, embodied, space are in fact not co-existant with these dimensions at all. It will be shown that that the dimensions of perception are in fact:

1. A line drawn between the eyes
2. A line drawn between the left eye and the object at the focal point
3. A line drawn between the right eye and the object at the focal point

The three lines, forming a triangle of perception linking the viewer to the object, demarcate the three dimensions of embodied space. This presentation will discuss the implications of this revisioning of space in terms of an understanding of consciousness.

Posted in Dimension, Seeing, Space | 1 Comment »

Tri-ocularity and Enlightenment

May 14th, 2006 Fred McVittie

The difference between looking with one eye and looking with two is a difference we call ‘depth perception’ (the difference that makes a difference). This difference is so dramatic, so markedly different from single eye vision because it corresponds to a literal widening of the location of the perceiver far beyond what might be imagined. The space between the left eye and the right is only around 2 inches, and yet the impact on vision is profound. Monocular vision positions the viewer precisely at a particular point in relation to a 2 dimensional field of view, the opening of the second eye extends that location across an area of 3 dimensional space. The second eye effectively transforms consciousness from a point phenomenon (literally a point of view) to a regional phenomenon. This begs the question, what would be the consequences of the opening of another eye, separated more widely in space from the other two? Inevitably the location of the self in space would become more widely distributed as the region occupied by the eyes, and inferred by the triple parallax, extended. With enough eyes, widely enough separated, the location of the self in space would become co-existent with the space itself. At that point we would be everywhere.

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Overlapping concepts using the metaphor of light

May 15th, 2006 Fred McVittie

It is proposed that a key metaphor linking consciousness, presence, creativity, and enlightenment is that of light. Metaphorically they concepts all draw upon the image of moving into the light and out of the darkness.

1. The ‘light’ of consciousness is contrasted with the eldritch (and possibly forbidding) darkness of the unconscious.
2. Illumination is the stage of a creative process when a breakthrough or solution emerges into the light of consciousness, often characterised as a ‘light bulb moment’, or a ‘flash’ of inspiration.
3. Presence is the theatrical phenomenon of being entirely there, in the light of the present moment, (and often in the literal spotlight), as opposed to being partially or entirely elsewhere; in the wings, in the dressing room, offstage.
4. Enlightenment is the state of being in which one can see clearly through the shadows of illusion and ego that make up the world and the self.

This overlap of conceptual structure will be discussed, particularly in relation to the well known metaphorical relationship between seeing and knowing.

Posted in Consciousness, Creativity, Enlightenment, Illumination, Knowledge, Light, Metaphor, Presence, Seeing, Theatre | No Comments »

The Folk Science of Performance Theory

May 20th, 2006 Fred McVittie

The term ‘theory’ as it is used in the arts, and particularly in performance, is markedly different from the use of the term in the hard sciences (1). In art, theory has no predictive value, its claims are not subject to falsification by empirical testing, it makes no hypotheses, and relates to no empirically established, objectively verifiable physical laws. Theory in performance is a kind of ‘organised seeing’ (reflecting its origins in theoria) and constitutes an attempt to order the experience by the imposition of structures of meaning onto performed events. The explanations which emerge from much performance theory therefore constitute a kind of ‘folk science’, an explanatory system which exists in the absence of, or prior to, empirical testing, and which orders common (or uncommon) sense.

1. The scientific definition of the terms theory has been usefully aired and clarified in the recent Intelligent Design debates. c.f. Claudia Wallis. Evolution Wars. Time Magazine, 15 August,2005,page 32.

Posted in Art, Naive Physics, Performance, Seeing, Theory | No Comments »

Blurred Vision

May 26th, 2006 Fred McVittie

I spent this morning wandering around without my spectacles. I didn’t lose them, everything had just seemed a little bit ’sharp’ and clearly defined recently. Without my specs looking becomes a bit more like listening; things lose their distinction, edges blur, colours run. The world changes from a piece of Russian Constructivist art to an Impressionist piece, a Monet maybe, or sometimes even a Rothko. Much better.

On the subject of art, I bumped into the Indian chap I met on the first day, he said the thing he was enjoying most about The Conference was the artworks, which is wierd because I haven’t seen any artwork here at all yet. I am going to make a special effort to find some over the next few days, maybe if I prime myself to look for it, it will ‘jump out’ at me much like the clover did a few days back. Watch, this space.

Posted in Clover, Hearing, Seeing, Story, Synaesthesia | No Comments »

Everything is full of light

July 25th, 2006 Fred McVittie

Everything is full of light, and the objects are holes in the light.

The light of consciousness reflects off the objects of the world, leaving them empty and hollow. I call this reflection ’seeing’.

The sound of consciousness echoes off the objects of the world leaving them silent. I call this echo ‘hearing’.

Posted in Consciousness, Hearing, Light, Seeing | No Comments »

This Subject, That Object

August 3rd, 2006 Fred McVittie

There is a pot,
Performing all the offices of a pot.
And here is myself
With unexeptional adequacy
Looking at the pot.
The pot is my pot
And the self is my self.
My self has eyes and I can see out of myself.
The pot has no eyes and I cannot see out of the pot.

(With apologies to S. Beckett)

Posted in Beckett, Samuel, Object, Seeing, Self | No Comments »

Even Atheists are scared of God

August 4th, 2006 Fred McVittie


Many optical illusions work by encouraging the visual system to make assumptions about what it is looking at which are incorrect. So the Muller-Lyer illusion, even though it consists only of abstract 2-dimensional geometrical shapes, tricks the visual system into behaving as if it is looking at a 3-dimensional scene. The brain then makes assumptions about the relative size of the objects in the scene which assumption includes a correction for distance. So some lines which are the same length appear to be of different lengths. Similarly, the geometry of the Ponzo illusion (above) bears enough similarity to the perspectival shortening of, for example, railway tracks, that our brains make the correction and produce an apparent size difference in shapes which are actually the same.

There are two interesting aspects to this illusion making process:

  • Firstly, the construction of a non-existent perspective is entirely unconscious. When we look at an optical illusion we rarely notice the resemblance between the abstract shape and the perspectival convergence of railway lines for example, or the similarity in geometry to the interior or exterior corners of rooms (Muller-Lyer).
  • Secondly, these illusions are unusually persistant, and cannot be willed away by the acquisition of conscious rational knowledge. We can measure lines that appear to be of different lengths, confirm to ourselves that they are, in fact, the same, but they still retain their appearance of difference.

This clearly demonstrates that our conscious and non-conscious experience of the world sometimes operate on different registers, and that rational conscious knowledge does not necessarily displace that acquired and through non-conscious means. Also, given that much of our behaviour, emotional response, conceptualisations etc are produced non-consciously it is likely that in situations where conscious knowledge is in conflict with non-conscious knowledge, even when that non-conscious knowledge is known to be the product of an illusion, it is the non-conscious knowledge which will guide the response.

Many of the illusions can be found on Richard Gregory’s home page at http://richardgregory.org/papers/brainmodels/illusions-and-brain-models_p1.htm

Posted in Atheism, Consciousness, Illusion, Seeing, Unconscious | No Comments »

Non-conscious ‘Beliefs’ and Behaviour

August 12th, 2006 Fred McVittie

Theories relating to the perception of optical illusions suggest that non-conscious mental processing of visual images has a persistent effect on how those images are consciously perceived. There is clearly a potential for such non-conscious processing to similarly have an effect on physical action, behaviour, attitudes, or feelings. It is conceivable, for example, that an error in perception caused by such processes might lead a person to make a judgment based on this (mis)perception which judgment would be incorrect in conscious rational terms. We know that information directed directly at non-conscious processes, and which bypasses conscious awareness, has a direct effect on attitudes and choice (hence advertising), it is likely that the unconscious knowledge represented by Universal Physics has a similar effect.

Posted in Illusion, Perception, Physics, Seeing, Unconscious, Universals | No Comments »

Full Attention (workshop)

August 23rd, 2006 Fred McVittie

Workshop Exercise:

One person was selected/volunteered to be the centre of attention and the rest were designated as ‘audience’ or ‘viewers’. The volunteer took up a position centre stage and the following instruction was given.
To the volunteer - your job is to look at each person in the audience. Make eye contact with everyone.
To the audience - keep looking at the ‘performer’. If you feel you have not been looked at for around 5 seconds put your hand in the air.
This went on for a little while with hands going up and the performer getting slightly better at looking around. Then part 2:
To the volunteer - look at each person in the audience, but this time really look. No mechanical methods of pointing your eyes in the general direction of people. You have to really look and really see.
To the audience - keep looking at the ‘performer’. If you feel you have been looked at but have not been ’seen’ put your hand in the air.
This produced a significantly different result, but pretty stressful. Exercise 3 involved the recuiting of another volunteer who stayed in the audience but who everyone, including the ‘performer’ were asked to look at. Volunteer number 2 looked at the ground. Continues:
“To the audience and volunteer 1 (the ‘performer’) - look at this person. Make sure they are exactly in the centre of your field of vision, right in the middle of what you can see. Relax. Just look. I want you to notice several things about this person. Firstly I want you to see where they are. They are right in the centre of their world and everthing in the whole world is around them. Above, below, to the left, to the right, they are central. See how clear they are, and how well they occupy that position. Look at them and keep looking at them, and notice how, a little way away from them, the world starts to blur and become indistinct, the colours fade and then there is nothing. They are the most important thing and they hold it all together. Secondly, I want you to notice how alone they look. They are at the centre of all experience, and there is nothing and no-one with them. They are doing it all on their own. See how alone they look. They are in the centre and they are alone. Lastly, keep looking at them and keep seeing how central they are, and keep seeing how alone they are, and also look, see how beautiful they are. Every line and mark and colour and small movement is exactly as it should be. There is nothing out of place and is perfect in every way. See how they are, at the absolute centre, totally alone, perfectly beautiful.”
To volunteer number 2 - look up and see volunteer number 1.
To volunteer number 1 - see this person, really see this person.

Repeat first exercise.

Posted in Attention, Centre, Exercises, Seeing | No Comments »

Knowing is Seeing

September 29th, 2006 Fred McVittie

The language that we use to articulate knowledge varies according to the form that knowledge takes, the way of knowing, that we are referring to. When we refer to objective, 3rd person knowledge, that which seems to have a clear existence outside of ourselves accessible to independent observers, we use the language of vision; we say that we can see that the knowledge exists. The vision metaphor for knowing conceptualises knowledge as concrete, discreet objects, and places these ‘objects’ of knowledge outside in the world and in social space. The vision metaphor therefore necessarily entails a particular use of spatial metaphors. Entailments of this ‘knowledge as objects in space’ metaphor include such terms as ‘clear’ and ‘lucid’ when expressing the obviousness of the knowledge; the implication is that the metaphorical space between ourself and the knowledge object is transparent. Also, we tend to use terms associated with light, such as ‘illuminated’, ‘enlightened’ etc. to indicate the acquisition of this sort of knowledge, as if the space around us had suddenly become brightly lit, revealing objects of knowledge that were previously hidden from us in the darkness.

Posted in Knowledge, Language, Light, Seeing, Space, Transparent | No Comments »

Seeing Elephants: Visual Knowledge

October 8th, 2006 Fred McVittie

The language that we use to articulate different ways of knowing, and to talk about different types of knowledge, varies according to those ways and types. Our way of speaking about ‘emotional’ content is very dissimilar to our way of speaking about ideas we consider to be ‘rational’. One of the key ways in which the difference is revealed is in the use of terms which refer to the various sensory modes through which we access the world. When we talk about things ‘objectively’, trying to discuss topics rationally, (or at least when we want to appear as if that is what we are doing), we use the language of sight and vision. We ask ‘Do you see?’ when we mean ‘Do you think?”. This use of visual metaphor to organise our relationship to ideas treats those ideas as if they were solid objects somehow located outside of ourselves. This objectification of ideas and their putative location in the shared space beyond ourselves not only figuratively distances them, but also locates them in an imaginary shared space of intersubjective knowledge and experience. By locating my idea ‘out there’ in the world through the use of visual metaphor I am trying to give it the status of a physical fact, as solid and undeniable as an elephant.

Posted in Elephant, Knowledge, Language, Object, Objectivity, Seeing | No Comments »

Feelings aren’t Facts

October 21st, 2006 Fred McVittie

We come to know and understand abstract concepts through the metaphorical application of non-abstract embodied concepts. These concepts, which are entirely familiar and concrete, and include such things as physical objects, journeys, containers, etc., are organised ‘naturally’ into different sensory modes; those which are apprehended visually, aurally, kinaesthetically, gustatory, olfactorily, and as tactile experience. Therefore our understanding of abstract concepts is likely to be similarly organised into different metaphorical sensory modes. There is certainly an apparent order to the way we use language to articulate different types of abstract concepts; those which we regard as objective (e.g. justice, truth, etc) tend to be described using visual metaphors, whereas those which are thought of as subjective (love, hate, etc) are often spoken of using metaphors of touch. Abstract concepts which are objectified through the use of visual metaphor are awarded the status usually attributed to objects; permanence, boundedness, etc, whereas those which are not objectified in this way but are understood using tactile metaphors are regarded as ‘feelings’, and as everyone knows, feelings aren’t facts.

Posted in Abstract, Metaphor, Objectivity, Seeing, Sense, Smell, Taste, Touch | No Comments »

Knowing and Sensing

October 23rd, 2006 Fred McVittie

Our experience of the world is mediated and organised through the senses, and the various sensory modes give us different information about the world, as well as implying different relationships between ourselves and the source of the sensory information. Events which stimulate the visual sense, i.e. things that we see, are obviously outside of our body, possibly even a considerable distance from our body, and therefore may or may not have a direct ‘impact’ on our wellbeing. Visualised objects are also (usually) also visible to other people, existing in interpersonal shared space, which means that objects apprehended visually are likely to have similar significance for all viewers (seeing a tiger is likely to cause anyone in visible range to run away). Objects and events which are apprehended through the sense of touch, on the other hand (sic) do, by definition, have a direct impact on the body doing the touching, they are in extreme proximity to that body, and are likely to have a greater significance for the person touched than for someone else who is not in contact with the object, (touching a flame causes a significantly different response than seeing one). This suggests that there is a structured and organised variation in experience depending upon which sense is primarily used to access that experience.

Given that we draw substantially on embodied experience to organise and structure our knowledge of the world which is abstract (i.e. non-concrete) through the use of conceptual metaphor it is likely that abstract concepts will also be organised according to the various sensory modes. Indeed we do find this distinction, with entities which we regard as ‘objective’ being referred to using visual metaphor, thus placing them in a shared conceptual space where they appear similar to all (metaphorical) viewers, whilst those entities we regard as ’subjective’ are often referred to using tactile metaphors. Such subjective entities are held metaphorically against the body where they are ‘felt’, an individual experience with an acknowledged difference in impact for the ‘feeler’ than for the objective ‘viewer’.

The metaphorical application of the senses of smell and taste appear to be less widespread than that of sight and touch, although there does seem to be a relatively consistent mapping from the sense of taste to an aesthetic response to experience, as when we might say that some idea is ‘distasteful’. There may also be some consistency in the mapping of the sense of smell onto concepts which have moral implications, as for example when we say that an abstract idea ’stinks’. Since there is considerable crossover in the concrete experiences of smell and taste it is likely that this crossover will also appear in their metaphorical use of these senses to describe abstract concepts.

Posted in Knowledge, Metaphor, Objectivity, Seeing, Sense, Smell, Taste, Touch | No Comments »

Where I’m Looking From

October 29th, 2006 Fred McVittie

Hold a mirror in front of your face. See the face in the mirror. See the eyes in the mirror. Imagine the eyes are your eyes. Imagine the eyes looking out of the mirror. See through the eyes in the mirror. Close your eyes. Imagine seeing through the eyes in the mirror. Move the mirror behind your head. Imagine the eyes that look out of the mirror are now the eyes that look out of your head. Open your eyes. See through the eyes in your head, and through the eyes in the mirror. Imagine your mind is a mirror.

Posted in Exercises, Mind, Mirror, Seeing | No Comments »

Attending to Attention

November 13th, 2006 Fred McVittie

Although attention can be visualise/conceived as an energy, for this exercise we are going to imagine it as corresponding with a spatial location, specifically the centre.

Select an object or person in the room.
Move your head and eyes such that that object is exactly in the centre of your field of vision.
Imagine that the object is at the centre of the world it occupies, just as it occupies the centre of your visual field.

The type of looking appropriate to this exercise is one of ‘attending’ or active waiting. Allow the object of your attention, the object occupying the centre of attention, to be pregnant with your waiting. Give attention to the object like a cat giving attention to a mousehole. Let nothing happen but the waiting.

Posted in Attention, Centre, Exercises, Seeing, Space | No Comments »

Visual Duality

December 7th, 2006 Fred McVittie

The visual sense (and the visual imagination) has an inbuilt tendency to objectify experience by locating concepts at a remove from the body, thus transforming them into objects, and simultaneously creating a viewing position separate from those objects; the subject which is ourself. Inevitably, our eyesight gives us the impression that our ’self’ is located here, behind the eyes, while the world is ‘out there’, beyond the surface of the skin. The faculty of sight is not therefore conducive to the development of non-duality. Wherever we look we cannot see ourselves and, from this perspective (sic), whilst we may visualise the rest of the world as a unity; a single big picture, we ourselves are not in that picture. Visually, we are not in the world. Mirrors do, of course, provide a visual image of our selves, evidence for our worldly existence, but this evidence is circumstantial, not experiential. We usually do not identify ourselves literally with the reflection, or feel our consciousness to be located behind the mirror.

Posted in Imagination, Mirror, Non-duality, Objectivity, Seeing | No Comments »

Visual Worlds

December 11th, 2006 Fred McVittie

The evidence of the senses is sometimes contradictory, giving either different impressions of an aspect of the world according to which sensory mode we access it, or different impressions via the same mode when accessed at different times or in different ways. For example, when we are stationary and our eyes are not moving (more that the usual saccading), the visual world presents itself as a two dimensional perspectival painting, with the vanishing point corresponding with whatever our eyes happen to be focussing on. When we are moving forward, however, the optical flow transforms this image into a tunnel that we are moving through. The sides of this world tunnel slide behind us and objects in the distance become part of the ‘walls’ as we approach. If we stand in one place and look around us, the world changes again, becoming a three dimensional diorama with ourselves located at the centre; the sky like an inverted bowl over our heads.

Posted in Dimension, Seeing, Sense | No Comments »

Elephant Knowledge

December 23rd, 2006 Fred McVittie


The parable of the blind men and the elephant tells us something about the partiality of knowledge; that only having access to local information does not give us the ‘big picture’. It also suggests that our sense of touch (feeling) is individual and separate, whilst our visual sense is communal. So it is that our feelings, metaphorically mapped from our sense of touch, and the emotional knowledge that these feelings represent, separates us. Our visual sense, and the objectified knowledge it gives character to, brings us together. It is also noteworthy that the men in the story are blind, and therefore would have to take the reality of the big picture on faith.

Posted in Elephant, Feeling, Metaphor, Seeing, Sense, Touch | No Comments »

Come into the light

May 22nd, 2007 Fred McVittie

The metaphors we use to articulate abstract concepts draw most extensively from those type of concrete experiences which are most common. In terms of the sensory mode in which such experiences present themselves the most prevalent type of experience is visual. With up to 40% of the brain’s processing power being taken up with dealing with visual information it is not surprising that visual metaphors are the most frequently used, (although sensorimotor metaphors are not far behind, for possible explanations of this see Noe, Regan).

Our extensive use of visual metaphor to conceptualise abstract ideas causes an interesting phenomenon when this conceptualisation reflects back upon itself. Given that thought and the making of concepts are themselves deeply abstract activities we can inevitably only comprehend and articulate such concepts through metaphor. In other words, we can only think about thinking metaphorically. When searching for a metaphor which indicates this self-referential thinking, and remembering that most metaphors are visual, we should expect this metaphor (or meta-metaphor) to convey something of the circumstances of visuality. If KNOWING IS SEEING, and we want to talk about the properties of KNOWING, then we should find ourselves talking about the properties of SEEING. When talking about knowledge we should expect people to use terms related to sight and the conditions which make sight possible. Again this is exactly what we find. Knowledge metaphors make much use of visual concepts and terminology: we say ‘I see’ when we mean ‘I know’ etc. Also, a basic condition for the operation of sight is the presence of light and once again there is a close correspondence in language and thought between knowledge and light. In concrete terms light allows us to experience visual space. In metaphorical terms light allows us to comprehend conceptual space.

Interestingly, when we want to refer to extreme forms of knowing, as we might when we are looking for some kind of spiritual or religious knowledge, the metaphor of light is extended, intensified, and sometimes personified such that the all-encompassing knowledge which passes all understanding is conceived of as a divine light.

Posted in Abstract, Knowledge, Liquid, Metaphor, Seeing | No Comments »

Physicalese for Beginners

May 22nd, 2007 Fred McVittie

The mind of the machine speaks ultimately in zeroes and ones, whereas the body of the machine speaks in the physical language of input/output devices; printers, monitors, robotic arms, webcams etc. In humans, there is no such switch from concrete action to abstract symbols, the structure of the representation of experience that constitutes cognition remains embodied throughout. Human bodies, like the bodies of machines, are medium sized objects moving at medium speed, and the language of these bodies is constrained and constructed from the affordances they possess. It is a language of space, and motion, and gravity: of the swinging of an arm in a predictable arc when catching a ball and the rhythmic fall of a foot when walking. It is also the language of the senses: the flow of light across the retina when we pass a window and the feel of warmth on the back of the neck when we walk away from the sun. The body talks to the world, and listens to the worlds responses, in a kind of ‘physicalese’. The universal language of embodied human being.

The ‘mentalese’ spoken by our minds uses this same grammar and vocabulary, or more accurately, the body provides the grammar and vocabulary utilised by the mind. There is no need for translation into some kind of neurological Visual Basic or C++.

Posted in Computation, Embodiment, Seeing | No Comments »

The Space of Sound

May 26th, 2007 Fred McVittie

The operation of the visual sense is dependent upon the movements of the body such that the perception of an object involves not the simple passive viewing of that object but the active engagement of the muscles and motor nerves. Seeing is ‘enactive’ (Noe, Regan et al 2005)in the sense that, without movement and the kinesthetic awareness that accompanies movement, no seeing would take place. This understanding of visual perception allies it to another sensory mode, that of olfaction, which also requires that movement take place in order for it to function fully. If we smell something, typically we move our head and neck, craning to find, not the essence of the odour, but its source or its ’shape’. These features of a smell, the shape and the trail to its source, are completely real features which are completely inaccessible if we remain still and ‘let the smell come to us.’ Both vision and olfaction therefore lose part of their nature if we do not interact physically and kinesthetically with them, and the part that they lose is their presence in extended space. Without moving our own bodies through space, the objects that we see and smell are themselves evacuated of space and extension.

The acoustic sense is somewhat different however. It is possible to remain completely passive, not making any external movement of the body whatsoever, and still experience sound in a spatially extended way. Sitting quietly in a room with good music system, or an old Dansette record player, or with the TV on and children playing noisily in the garden outside. With eyes closed and only the rise and fall of breathing, the space of sound is everywhere, all around.

Posted in Hearing, Noe, Alva, Seeing, Sense, Space | No Comments »

Return of the Midgard Serpent

May 28th, 2007 Fred McVittie

Looking into the distance we focus on a single infinitesimal point. We give this distant point all of our attention and become immersed in that point. There is no here here, and we are the distant point. We allow the point to diminish and diminish until we are looking at nothing, and that nothing is ourselves, devoid of place and content. We empty ourselves and become like a mirror, reflecting the world perfectly and with no sense of a separate self beyond that reflection. Then something catches our eye, at the corner of our eye, at the periphery of our vision. A shadow, a blur. We turn and the shadow turns with us, it is always there. Turning our attention to the the other extreme, left to right, right to left, we see the shadow is also there, always at the periphery of our vision. It is above us and below us, all around us and maybe even behind us. The shadow is our own body, and we are looking at our eye-sockets, the blur of a nose, an eyebrow. Looking forward we witnessed ourself retreating into the distance and in losing sight of ourselves were lost beyond the horizon of our identification, but now we have caught ourselves returning from that journey. We went all the way around the world and approached ourselves from behind, like a friend or an enemy lurking back there with hands outstretched toward us ready to clap them over our eyes and say ‘guess who?’

Posted in Attention, Ouroborus, Seeing | No Comments »

Empty Yourself

May 29th, 2007 Fred McVittie

  1. Empty your perceptions into the world. See vision as including the objects of vision.
  2. Empty your attributes into the world. You are not what you have, what you look like, what you can do, what you have done, or what you will do. The secrets that you tell no-one are not you. The part of you that others see, but which you are unaware of, is not you. The part of you that is hidden to yourself and to the world is also not you.
  3. Empty your body into the world. Space runs through you and through everything and everyone.

Posted in Perception, Seeing, Space | No Comments »

Dark Light

June 3rd, 2007 Fred McVittie

The ‘projective’ model of vision in which the act of seeing involves the radiation of a beam from the eyes, was common to the Greeks and featured in Medieval texts on optics. This understanding of vision has largely been replaced with a more passive or relational account, in which the light reflected of the objects of the world enters our eye and contributes to sight rather than any light emerging from the eye. However, the idea of there being some kind of ray or light beam emitted by the organs of sight still has a place in the popular and scientific imagination.

A common metaphor for attention is that of the spotlight, in which it is conceptualised that when we look around at the world the light of our conscious awareness seems to fall on the objects of the world, calling them to attention. (See Fernandez-Duque, D. and M. L. Johnson: 1999). Evidently, regardless of its status outside of physical science, the ’spotlight’ of attention still has currency and meaningful value in the phenomenology of consciousness. An additional possible use of the spotlight metaphor, or rather an entailment of the metaphor which has not yet been exploited, is the application of the spotlight metaphor to an understanding of time. When we cast the light of our attention around the room we are illuminating space with that light, but we might also consider that, in some respects, we are also illuminating time.

When we walk in the dark carrying a torch to help us find our way, the light of the torch illuminates the path directly ahead; we can see the path, and the lower branches of the trees that overshadow it. We can see the bend in the path coming up. But the light of our torch is limited and can only penetrate the darkness a few yards ahead of our feet. We can see the way the path will support our next few steps, but beyond that it grows indistinct. We assume the path continues in a reasonably straight line beyond the haze limits of our illuminated sight, but we cannot be sure. There may be a fork in the road ahead, or the path may end suddenly, or the darkness may conceal an infinity of emptiness and potentiality. Maybe we are not moving forward at all. Maybe the darkness up ahead is actually moving towards us. Maybe our torch is not picking out selective details from the background of the night, but what we are witnessing is the constant congealing of the darkness into the solidity of the path and the lower branches of the trees. Maybe the bright light of our torch is not illuminating the world before us but in actuality we are witnessing the dark light of the past fuse into the singularity of the present.

Posted in Attention, Light, Metaphor, Seeing | No Comments »

Tideblind

June 26th, 2007 Fred McVittie

When we stand at the centre of our world we experience a few objects up close and personal: our loved ones, the walls and furniture our our houses, parts of our body, and these proximal objects, looming near to us, are large and significant, dwarfing those objects which recede into the distance. The hand in front of my face is larger than the tree at the bottom of the garden; the nail on my little finger can easily cover the moon.(As a child we may have played games of proximity and significance with our parents and teachers.Who among us hasn’t held up their thumb and forefinger and, squinting through the gap, said “Your head is this big!”).

What distant objects lose in size however, they make up in number. That book, held close to the face, is all you can see.In a forest you may be able to see more, but the trees are close together and therefore close by, those that you see may be large but they will be countable. On the savannah, or on the beach, as objects recede into the far distance, they rapidly exceed in quantity our ability to count them, and the further away they are the more numerous and indistinct they become, until at the absolute limit of our experience, at the furthest edge of the circle which surrounds us, the edge of the world, the number of objects approaches infinity and simultaneously blends into one.

You are back in your own garden looking at the tree. You move to the tree and put your hand on its bark but you find that its entirety is lost to you and you find you cannot see the tree for the wood. The moon is even more removed from your experiencing of it. You can see the moon, but only one side of it, and that only once every 28 days or so. Close your eyes and it might never have existed at all. (I wonder how a blind species of human might explain the tides?)

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Listen with you Eyes

July 22nd, 2007 Fred McVittie

Achieving mindfulness through an attention to the visual or the tactile sense can be difficult. Both of these senses rely o difference to operate, the saccading of the eye picks up difference (the difference that makes a difference) and without finding any such differences the eyes would effectively cease to see anything at all. In order for the fingertips to feel anything they must be constantly on the move. Neither sense provided the stillness and quietude which mindfulness desires. Also, both of these senses require active content in order for them to come into being. If we close our eyes it is impossible to imagine a kind of contentless ’seeing’, a visual attentiveness without anything to be attentive to. Similarly, it is hard to imagine what it might mean to ‘feel’ something when there is nothing to feel. Non-specific, contentless feeling seems to be an incoherent concept. As with seeing, it seems that our intuitions tell us that feeling and the thing felt arise mutually and the feeling sense cannot exist as a free-floating independent sense.

It is, however, comparatively easy to use the sense of hearing without having any specific aural stimulus to listen to. We seem to be able to allocate attentional resources to the act of listening even when there is little or nothing audible to capture that attention. We can, as Krishnamurti put it, ‘listen to the silence’. Listen, in this sense, connotes a kind of mental state; an attentiveness and readiness in which we might listen for something or may simple remain poised and empty, waiting for nothing.

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z View in. View out.

August 17th, 2007 Fred McVittie

Mind is the view out from the centre.
Body is the view in to the centre.
Mind is the experience of a place that We are looking from.
Body is the experience of a place that We are looking toward.

(D.E. Harding)

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This is how you remind me, (of what I really am)

August 17th, 2007 Fred McVittie

Descartes’ logic of embodiment and cognition as essentially separate is based on the metaphor KNOWING IS SEEING together with a number of folk theories relating to essences and ideas.

The so-called Cartesian Body/Mind Split is partly a product of the spatialising metaphors employed in articulating the philosophy and the apparently inevitable here/there binary logic of spatial organisation. Harding’s formulation of centrality and viewpoint overlay this Cartesian divide with a subjective/objective layer in which Res Cogitans is associated with directionality of vision from here to there, inside to outside, centre to periphery, while Res Extensa is associated with the complementary trajectory of visuality, from there to here, outside to inside, periphery to centre. When I look at you I see your body and experience myself as the location of mind, but this difference is a functionality of the direction of vision, from in to out, rather than of a particular quality of the fixed point at this end of the perceiving path. This is evidenced when the direction of travel is reversed; when you look at me along the very same line of sight I become a body travelling toward you at the speed of light, whilst your looking out from the place where you are becomes an experience of mind.

Because I have consciousness I am able to report on the state of mind that is the looking from here to there. I can say what I feel(s) like, or what you (all of you) look like. Yet even if I did not choose to use this reportability, this would not deny the presence of mind in the directionality of my looking. I can speculate about a set of circumstances in which such reportability was completely lost to me, and in which my consciousness was made radically different, perhaps through accident, illness, or education, but even in that reduced/enhanced state the directionality of ‘looking’ that is inherent in being somewhere somewhen, exactly here, precisely now, implies the existence of mind in that trajectory. (Of course mind is not ‘in’ that line of sight as a thumb might be in a pie, or a coin in a pocket; the trajectory is the mind, wherever I happen to be).

Without the burden of a responsible, self-reflective consciousness holding down my understanding of mind I can extend my definition of ‘that thing my brain does’ and bring back Descartes. For every view in there must always be a corresponding view out. This is the case even if the trajectory of mind embodies an inanimate object: a rock, a tree, a star, a corpse. The existence of a line of sight from here to there, from this centre to that centre, demands that the polarity of this line is dual, and has a complementary trajectory from there to here, from that centre to this centre. Within the logic of this line I am embodied by my status as view in and the object whose non-consciousness lies at the origin of that line is ‘reminded’ by being the source and centre of the view out. When I look at you, you look at me. as myself, at the centre of my little world, I look out into you and yours, and in doing so I embody you and you in turn remind me of what I really am. From you point of view the favour is returned and I am embodied and you are reminded. Hello friend, wherever you are.

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Seeing Flatland with Enactive Vision

August 18th, 2007 Fred McVittie

Edwin Abbott’s fantasy novella ‘Flatland’ tells of a world which is composed not of the three dimension of Cartesian space we are used to but of only two dimensions. This land is visited by an outsider from the world of 3D space and the story explores the many implications of such a visit, and indeed of the peculiar debt one’s version of reality holds to the number of dimensions in which one is lodged. One particular aspect of the description concerns the ‘vision’ that the inhabitants of Flatland might have, what they would see as they move about. Here Abbott betrays his own highly situated understanding of how space is viewed and conceptualised. He describes vision within Flatland as essentially one-dimensional such that an inhabitant, living as they do on a plane, would see only a single line, possible gradiated in colour or luminance, and from this one-dimensional perspective would infer the contents of their environment. This is, effectively, a mapping not of how we in three dimensional space see that space, but of how we see representations of the space we inhabit. When we look around us we do not see a two dimensional surface suspended in front of our eyes, but rather see ‘into’ that space and ‘occupy’ that space visually. We are able to do this because vision is not simply a passive mechanical process in which patterns on the retina because pictures in the head, but is an active, interactional process. Our eyes are constantly saccading and scanning the world, an exploration which is aided by the movements of the head, neck, body etc. and all of these movements, correlated with the changing patterns of light and colour coming in through the eyes, builds up a 3D model of space through which we move. In this way vision is ‘enactive’, as Noe and Regan put it. This process is supported by the other tricks we have of modelling three-dimensionality: binocular vision allowing for parallax viewing of objects and spaces, heuristic cognitive tricks such as the ’smaller things are further away’ assumption, and the ‘distant things are blurry’ strategy. If only these last two techniques for the mental modelling of 3D space was available to us then there would indeed be little difference between looking at a perspectival painting, photograph, or movie, and looking into ‘real’ space. The first two strategies, and particularly enactive vision, make it a vastly different experience.

Assuming the inhabitants of Flatland were not restricted to the basic space-modelling techniques of ’smaller equals more distant’ and ‘distant equals blurry’, and had some version of enactive vision (which is more applicable that the parallax technique of binocularity in that it does not require two eyes), then they would not see the world around them as a one-dimensional line. Their visual processes would allow them to construct some version of a two-dimensional map of their space, into which they could see and which they would feel themselves as occupying.

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Conceptual Fog

August 20th, 2007 Fred McVittie

‘Conceptual Fog’ is another term for ‘inappropriate viewing conditions’. All forms of seeing, even the most apparently naïve, transparent, and realist, require the mobilisation of concepts, but some concepts are more conducive to certain forms of seeing than others.

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Harding’s Trompe L’oeil Space

August 20th, 2007 Fred McVittie

Douglas Harding’s ‘naïve’ seeing requires, or at least significantly benefits from, a Western paradigm of looking which is passive and camera-like. This is possibly promoted by a familiarity with experiences which respond to this paradigm, particular repeated exposure to 2-dimensional representations of 3-dimensional spaces. Such images utilise those mechanisms of the visual system which are the most passive. In looking at a 2D image and seeing it as 3D one is relying on the perceptual cues of perspective, blurring with distance, overlapping of objects such that nearer objects obscure those objects which are further away. Facilities of depth perception which are not used are parallax vision, which uses the binocular system of the eyes to judge distance, and the ‘enactive’ vision technique in which the movements of the eyes, head, and body provide depth information. These latter techniques are both active and require an understanding of perception which is very dissimilar to camera-vision. Both these latter techniques are necessarily suppressed when carrying out the experiments which form the core of Harding’s work, in favour of a kind of seeing which is more akin to looking at a trope l’oeil painting of the world than at the world itself.

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Centre to Centre: Olber’s Paradox

September 16th, 2007 Fred McVittie

Centre to Centre

The view ‘out’ from the centre of one universe is also the view ‘in’ to the centre of another.

Olber’s Paradox asks why, when we look up, we are not dazzled by the brilliant light of an all-encompassing radiance. In an infinite, (or nearly infinite) universe like ours, with an infinite (or nearly infinite) number of stars, every line of sight from our position here on Earth should end on the surface of a star, just as every line of sight in a forest ends, sooner or later, on the surface of a tree. The fact that the sky, particularly the night sky, is not a continuous blaze of intolerable light is because, from our individual perspective, the universe is not even close to infinite but is bounded by the limits of visibility, which are in turn set by the speed of light. Whilst we may (or may not) live in an infinite (or nearly infinite) universe, our local, visible, speed-of-light determined universe is finite, and not every line of sight ends in a star, only the billion or so lines we look along when we look up at night, or which populate the charts of Earth-bound astronomers.

An alien astronomer at the other side of the sky, assuming he/she had somewhat similar biological and technical equipment, would also see a limited universe, but not the same universe as we inhabit.

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Default Components of Mental Imagery

September 16th, 2007 Fred McVittie

Mental imagery, regardless of the varying forms which it may take, always involves the presence of three necessary elements. These are:

? The imaginary mental space in which the image appears
? The location within that space from which the image or scene is observed: the mental viewpoint.
? The direction of the imaginary gaze from the mental viewpoint, probably toward a particular point on the image or scene.

The second and third elements are variable and likely to fluctuate widely during the observation of a mental image. The viewpoint may move in or out, embracing more or less of the scene, or it may move around the space allowing for different viewpoint on the image. Also, the direction of the imaginary gaze may flicker from one point on the image to another, much as the eye flickers over an object in actual vision.

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Knowledge, Substance, Proximity

September 17th, 2007 Fred McVittie

We indicate different types and different status of knowledge using a range of metaphors. One of these is proximity, in which we indicate knowledge which we feel most sure about by conceiving of it as lying close to or in contact with the body, whilst more impersonal, and possibly contested knowledge tends to be conceptualised as remote.

A second gradient of different ways of knowing is that of the different sensory mode through which that knowledge is metaphorically conceived, with ‘felt’ knowledge, drawing on metaphors of touch, having a subjective quality, with the kind of personal certainty which accompanies ‘feelings’. Observed knowledge, using metaphors of sight, lies at the outer end of the spectrum and is seen (sic) as objective and existing apart from the individual body in intersubjective space. The certainties of objectivity are social and interpersonal and may not be ‘felt’ as certainties at all.

These two metaphor sets correlate with one another such that proximal knowledge, lying close to the body, is usually ‘felt’, whereas remote knowledge, separated from the body and located in objective space, is ’seen’. Felt knowing is subjective and seen knowledge is objective.

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Blind Spot

October 27th, 2007 Fred McVittie

Imagine a creature which has an eyeball similar to a human being’s, but an extremely tiny body. The point of the creature’s retina from which its body extends corresponds to the human ‘blind spot’, an area of the retina which contains no receptor cells. As in human beings, the creature is not aware of their blind spot; there is no patch of darkness or empty space in the visual field where this absence of vision is noticed. Instead, these is the persistent and irresistible illusion of continuity across this ‘gap’ in vision. Mechanisms in the visual processing centres in the creature’s brain extrapolate the likely contents of this blind area and patch the break with this extrapolated information. Again, this is exactly as in the human visual system, which provides the necessary filler for our seeing, putting colour where there is no colour and pattern where there is no pattern.

A hugely significant difference between this creature and ourselves is that, because its body is small, and because of its location within the blind spot, the creature cannot see its body wherever it looks. What’s more, it cannot even see the place where its body is; when we look up we cannot see our bodies either, but we are aware of a dark area, bordered in black, at the edge of our vision that we know contains our body. With this creature however, there is no border to its vision like that provided by our eye-sockets, there is simply a continuous field of vision in all directions, with the tiny area at the back of the eye where it joins the body patched over invisibly by the magic of the blind spot mechanism.

Posted in Boundary, Embodiment, Perception, Seeing | No Comments »

Darkness at Noon - Objectivity and Undeniability

November 23rd, 2007 Fred McVittie

A common metaphor for the acquisition of knowledge is that of ’seeing’. When we want to refer to such gaining of knowledge we might explicitly say ‘I see’, meaning that we have such an understanding. As noted elsewhere, this visual metaphor for knowing also confers object-like status on the knowledge itself and we intuitively begin to treat it as if it were some kind of object that can be ‘grasped’, ‘acquired’, and ‘transferred’, or might be ‘hard’, ‘robust’, or less positively ’slippery’.

The visual metaphor for knowing also has a number of significant entailments which figure within the structure of the metaphor but which may be less obvious. Firstly there is the requirement that these ‘objects’ of knowledge exist in some kind of conceptual ’space’, usually external to the body (obviously, or we would not be able to ’see’ them), and secondly that this space be illuminated. This latter point is evidenced in our references to being ‘in the dark’; we use this and similar phrases when we want to indicate that we know that certain facts (knowledge objects) are ‘out there’ but we cannot see them.

Some types of knowing are conceptualised without the use of the visual metaphor, and in these cases some other sensory mode is usually referred to. So for example, when we want to indicate that we understand what a person is saying but do not want to simply agree with their viewpoint (sic) we might say ‘I hear what you’re saying’. By using an auditory rather than a visual metaphor we have acknowledged the existence of the facts the other person is claiming sight of but have not awarded those facts the full objective status that would be implied by saying that we also ’saw’ what they meant. We are acknowledging the existence of their words, but holding back on accepting the truth claims that those words make. To this extent we might say that (metaphorical) seeing is believing, whilst (metaphorical) hearing has something of the status of rumour; a good indication of what the other person thinks they know, but no guarantee of authority.

Other metaphorical senses used as labels for knowing have similar partial status; ‘felt’ knowledge is usual personal and tacit, and the defining feature of that form of knowing we call ‘taste’ is that it is not ‘out there’ in interpersonal space at all but is inside the body, inside the mouth. Strangely, these up close and personal (or even internal, interoceptive) forms of knowing, whilst they may not have the interpersonal and social authority of ’seen’ facts often have a feeling of personal authority which exceeds the objective. Whilst we may rationally understand that ‘feelings aren’t facts’ as the AA mantra goes, at the same time there is an undeniability of this type of felt knowledge which is often lacking in the objective. Many of us will have had the sense that, whilst all the (objective) facts about a certain phenomenon say one thing, our guts say something else, and that ‘gut feeling’ has a authoritative quality which is hard to overcome.

Obviously these acts of knowing that draw on non-visual metaphors have different, and usually lower social status than the objective knowledge of the seen. In any official context, or in any claim for the authority mentioned above, it is visual, ‘objective’ knowledge which holds sway. For this reason it is not surprising that when we wish to imply that our ideas should be treated as authoritative we tend to use visual metaphors to frame those ideas. Any politician who argued that his opponents ideas were invalid because they were ‘not to his taste’ would get short shrift from those who argued that the truth of such ideas ‘could easily be seen’.

Occasionally the visual metaphor is used to articulate a belief about the status of knowledge which is not easily shared, or which has ambiguous status, and this is most clearly revealed in the language around enlightenment and spiritual experiences. Typically, a person experiencing some kind of epiphany or divine revelation would claim that this experience constitutes the gaining of knowledge or insight, usually a particularly significant or transformative insight which seems to have something to say about the external world. To this extent it requires an objective explanation. Also, such experiences tend to have a quality of undeniability about them; it is rare for a person having such an experience to doubt the reality of it, in the way one might doubt the reality of a contestable fact. To this extent such experiences also demand an explanatory form which indicates the felt certainty of that knowledge. For these reasons, any desire to communicate this experience and share the knowledge thus gained would require that this communication use sensory metaphors which convey the most authority, which as already noted tend to be visual metaphors with all the entailments of space and light that go along with them. (This paragraph has already mobilised some of these metaphors as exemplified in words like ‘enlightenment’ and ‘insight’). They would also require the use of metaphors which convey the ‘felt’ sense of the experience, with all of the self-evident undeniability of the closely-held belief, (again the idea of a belief being ‘closely held’ indicates the mobilisation of an appropriate metaphor, and the unavoidability of using such metaphors in writing and thinking about these concepts). The requirements of a form of expression and conceptualisation appropriate to these experiences inevitably lead to paradox; one must find a way of thinking and speaking which simultaneously evokes the metaphorically exterior space in which objects of knowledge gain their interpersonal authority, a space which is illuminated and translucent, but one must also suggest the darkness and contact of the internal space which give an undeniably sense of phenomenological truth. This necessary paradox may help to explain why some authors, when trying to articulate the enlightenment state (or cognate conditions) use apparently oxymoronic terms such as ‘the dazzling dark’, or possibly in the case of alien abduction, a strange set of (probably confabulated) experiences in which similar symptoms to enlightenment are featured, the light emitted by the aliens or the ships has been described as ‘white, but dark white’.

Posted in Belief, Darkness, Feeling, Grasp, Hearing, Knowledge, Light, Metaphor, Objectivity, Seeing, Sense, Space, Taste | No Comments »

Knowing is Seeing: The ‘Height’ Entailment

March 21st, 2008 Fred McVittie

Applied to the general schema of knowledge and more specifically to the well-established metaphor KNOWING IS SEEING, the dimension of height has a very clear application, and to explore this it might be useful to remind ourselves of the benefits that seeing from a height brings to the primate in the treetop and the lookout in the crow’s nest. Height, in the physical world, allows one to see further and to see more. It offers the ability to see over obstructions to what lies beyond and extends one’s gaze further into the distance, effectively pushing back the horizon and opening up new vistas. Looking from a high place also lets one take in more of the landscape at a glance, uniting the fragments of this piece of land, this lake, these trees, into a singular vision. Height shows patterns that would be invisible close to; the river deltas and the regularity of the coastline. From a position that is sufficiently elevated one can see all the way to the edge of the world in all directions, taking in the entire disc of the world and finding oneself at the centre of that disc.

It can easily be demonstrated that this height dimension is brought into the overall knowledge metaphor as a useful entailment by recognizing its usage within language. It is no accident that Isaac Newton famously remarked that ‘If I have seen further than other men it is because I have stood on the shoulders of giants’; there is an intuitively self-evident recognition implicit in this remark that the kind of sweeping breadth of vision which Newton brought to science was only possible through his being elevated to a height from which such vision becomes possible. Here the KNOWING IS SEEING metaphor is transparently employed such that seeing more, and seeing further, infers greater access to knowledge and ownership of larger swathes of that knowledge. There is a strong sense here of recognizing patterns and seeing beyond obstacles, glancing over the horizon of 15th century natural philosophy into the newly revealed regions of early science. The coherence of this metaphor, and the ease with which we accept its terms, is partly produced by the familiarity we have of the part played by height in the overall act of seeing, and the deployment of this play as an important entailment in the KNOWING IS SEEING metaphor.

Posted in Dimension, Knowledge, Metaphor, Seeing, Up | No Comments »

Cross-modal sensory mapping.

April 13th, 2008 Fred McVittie

The analysis of texts which use sensory mode based metaphors, i.e. that refer to ‘touch’, ‘taste’, ’see’, in a non-literal way, shows that there are a number of consistent patterns within this usage, including patterns of relations between the sensory modes. For example, Shen & Cohen (1989) demonstrate that within poetic texts there is a predictable and coherent use of what they refer to as ’synaesthetic’ metaphors, in which the properties of one sensory modality is mapped onto the other. They give the example of phrases such as ’sweet silence’, and point out that in phrases such as this the modality which they refer to as ‘lower’, i.e. closer to the body, in these cases the sense of taste or touch, is mapped onto the ‘higher’ or less proximal sense. Also, the ‘higher’ sense which forms the target of this metaphor is usually less accessible, less easy to ‘grasp’. So, in the case of ’sweet silence’, the higher and more ethereal auditory quality of silence is referred to using the more delineated, accessible, and proximal sense of taste. Although it is not stated in this article, it is hard to miss the metaphor of elevation which is also being deployed in order to give form to our understanding. Not only are the metaphorical senses ordered across the dimension of proximity and distance, (with the access that such proximity entails), and not only are they distinguished in terms of substantiality, with some being easy to grasp whilst others are harder to get a handle on, but they are also arrayed vertically, with some metaphorical sensory modes appearing more elevated than others. Tasting and touching happen locally and at ground level, sight gives us a wider, but less tangible view, and audition (including listening to the sound of silence) extends that view backward and forward and into the future and the past. Shen and Cohen do not make mention of the part played by olfaction in this schema, but it is likely that given the ubiquity of phrases such as ’strong smell’, or ’sharp odor’ demonstrate that it also figures within the overall structure. In these two possible examples the olfactory experience, which has the characteristics of ephemerality and extension which make access difficult, is understood in terms of the tactile, base-level, and proximal senses of strength and sharpness.

Shen, Y. and M. Cohen (1998). “How come silence is sweet but sweetness is not silent: a cognitive account of directionality in poetic synaesthesia.” Language and Literature 7(2): 123-140.

Posted in Cognition, Grasp, Hearing, Knowledge, Metaphor, Proximity, Seeing, Sense, Silence, Smell, Space, Synaesthesia, Taste | 2 Comments »