Ever since early childhood, I have watched
clouds. As a photographer, I have added to this predilection the watching of
waves, flowing water, patterns in sand, and more. As photographers, we are all
essentially searchers for patterns of light.
All we see is light and nothing but light. Our
visual experiences are based entirely on the reception of reflected, refracted,
dispersed, diffracted light. The only addition to the sensation of vision is
twofold. Firstly, analysis and interpretation by our visual cortex in the brain
takes place of the impulses delivered from our retinal cells in the eyes by
nerves. Then, possible ‘editing’ by our imagination follows this. We do not see
a tree in front of us; we simply perceive light that has bounced off an object
that absorbs some wavelengths of sunlight and not others, scatters some
wavelengths but not all. Our mind, however, pretends that the object is actually
there, that it is in reality what it seems to us – that is, a real, genuine
tree and not a meaningless simulacrum or a figment of our imagination.
Our mind can do nothing else; for without this
interpretation by our visual system that some of the patterns of light that we
perceive indicate the presence of real objects (important as food, predators,
shelter, for example), sight as an adapted sense could not have evolved.
However, should we ever be able to interrogate a different species about what
it sees, the answer we receive would astound us.
And so, from the very beginning, all
sensations, not only sight, were limited to the perception of the stimuli
provided by the patterns of the world and not the processes, the emergent
patterns only resulting from underlying formative processes that are hinted at
but that remain elusive. We humans are obsessed with pattern, in particular the
diversity of patterns. For us, a miniscule difference between two otherwise matching
patterns is imbued inevitably with interest, with importance; distinctions
always indicate a significance for which we want to ‘know’ the reason. Identical
patters too are significant because they represent another food item, another
predator or another mate, for example. Our minds focus on difference and
similarity.
Our attempts to set boundaries and to classify
our experiences of the world around us probably are as ancient as the advent of
our nervous systems, certainly as old as the advent of language. Just as ancient
as language as well are our problems with our classification systems – if
something fits here, it necessarily does not belong there – and thus the
struggle begins to shoehorn objects, concepts and experiences into rigid
frameworks of classification, usually arranged hierarchically to reflect some
more of our mind’s biases. Alternatively, we hack liberally at existing
categories, cleaving away ever-smaller pockets to house our favoured items, and
so populating our classifications with sub-, meta- and hyper-taxa. Consequently,
our perception of the world has become categorised into discrete entities, and
we have lost the ability to perceive the fundamental unity of process that has
shaped every pattern that we can sense in our surrounding.
Of course, this endeavour of classification
does not end with the inanimate and animate world, but extends, by use and habit,
into our own human existence and into our relationships with other humans.
Since we focus intensely on the distinctions between patterns, we are often
convinced that the boundaries we imagine and construct in our minds and
knowledge are real; they are a true representation of hiatuses in reality, even
in otherwise continuous patterns and processes. From there, it becomes almost
inevitable that we should set and reinforce with significance the boundaries
that we believe will be of help to us while we attempt to keep our own group safe
and separate from the barbarians at the gate.
So, two quirks of our mind and our experiences,
the hiatus between reality and our sensory experience of it and our mind’s
obsession with pattern and boundaries, amalgamate with devastating outcome to
limit our knowledge and imagination. It is the confusion and conflation of
process and pattern that can and does befuddle our minds. Simple and well-known
illustrations of our minds’ predispositions are optical illusions of various
kinds.
Illusions, in general, are defined as instances
of the perception and interpretation of sensory experiences that give rise to
misrepresentations of reality – instances during which the experience differs
from actuality. Illusions are not faults of our sensory systems; they indicate
the physical and biological restraints of our systems and of our cognitive interpretation
of the sensory stimulation received.
Optical illusions are a subset of sensory illusions;
they are illusions arising from the workings of our visual system. Some
so-called optical illusions are not really illusions as defined since they do
not lead to misrepresentations of reality. Examples include the ‘bending’ of
the straw as you immerse it in a glass of water, and the fact that ‘in reality’
the sun is already located beneath the horizon while you can still see it above
the horizon at sunset.
These physical optical ‘illusions’ are really
optical phenomena that arise when light is refracted as it travels across the
boundary between media of differing optical densities. These are ‘strange’
realities and not faults of the visual system or a result of misinterpretation
by our minds. The less strange optical phenomena like the dispersion of light
in rainbows or halos do not qualify as optical illusions at all; yet in the
process of the interaction of light with matter there is no significant difference
between these less peculiar observations and instances of the ‘illusions’ of
the refraction of light.
The fascinating, often mesmerising,
misrepresentations of reality, the truly illusory visual experiences, are the
result of ambiguities that arise in the processing and interpretation of the
visual information received by the brain. These ambiguities are often triggered
by unconscious assumptions and inferences of what the information ‘pictures’.
In the second instalment, I will explore
further the illusions our minds experience or conjure up, and the implications
that the human mind’s phenomenal ability at pattern recognition (and
misrecognition) hold for the visual arts, including the craft of photography.
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