Perception and Understanding in the Post-Post Modern Age:
A prologue:
Random House American Dictionary (Pocket Edition)
perceive: 1. gain the knowledge of by hearing, seeing, etc. 2. understand
perceptive: 1. keen 2. showing perception
understand: 1. know the meaning of 2. accept as part of an agreement 3. sympathize
understood: agreed or assumed
sympathy: 1. agreement in feeling, accord 2. compassion
empathy: sensitive awareness of other’s feelings
interpret: 1. explain 2. construe 3. translate
agree: 1. consent or promise 2. be in harmony 3. be similar 4. be pleasing—a. agreement
subjective: 1. personal 2. existing in mind
Perception is a multi-tiered, multi-faceted and downright complicated action. It would seem the act of human perception lies somewhere between mind (subjective interpretation) and matter (pure sensory experience.) However, no clear line of demarcation exists between these two realms. Random House Dictionary splits the verb “to perceive” into two parts:
1. gain knowledge by hearing, seeing, etc.
2. understand.
The word subjective is likewise doubly divided:
1. personal
2. existing in mind
As we are incapable of “existing” outside of the “mind,” what we perceive can’t help but be warped. Its luminescent rays of understanding are forever tugged into subjectivity’s hole-y void.
…all organisms actually live in duree reelle, or real time, in which waiting for a teapot to boil may seem an eternity. In any case, change is observed change, and in spite of strenuous efforts, no one has ever proved out a totally neutral, purely objective standard of observation. Perception is an essential aspect of reality. When we perceive a different world, the world becomes literally different. (Leonard 120/1)
The same Random House Dictionary divides the verb “understand” into three parts:
1. know the meaning of
2. accept as part of an agreement
3. sympathize
If perception is both an “essential aspect of reality,” and completely fluid, how do we resolve the “agreement” aspect of understanding as it would seem it is at risk of opposition to the subjective nature of perception. What happens to understanding when our perceptions fall out of line?
**end prologue**
A work of art provides an experience and it is an experience in delay. The artist creates a work at one moment in time (many moments in actuality) to be experienced in another. As it is shared, be it by museum wall or some other venue, the viewer experience resides in their temporal and perceptual reality. When an art piece strikes a chord, that chord reverberates within the organ of the viewer. It resonates within that viewer, vibrating off their perceptions, experiences, memories, and knowledge. As an artist, I hope to be understood and as a viewer, I hope to understand. These goals seem quite lofty and unattainable in the face of subjectivity. If my “organs” are composed of my perceptions, can the harmonious chord of understanding truly be struck if my knowledge and experiences are insufficient or disjointed? There is no way for me to tap Van Gogh upon his thin and bony shoulder to simply ask him if I got it/him “right” (and then maybe give him a sandwich or a hug.) Art creates an intimacy between viewer and artist, but this intimacy can feel cold and questionable in comparison to experiences shared in real time. When I make my mother laugh and our eyes meet mid-roll during a particularly bad episode of insert bad medical drama here: that sort of mutuality is potent and seemingly stable. All feels right with the world in that perceived moment of knowing and being known.
Humans (among other creatures) value stability and order; we long to have a “world” or “reality” that adheres to these values. Once the established “rules” are intact (however shaky they may be in actuality) a disruption of said rules is not entirely welcome. To achieve a true state of understanding, both knowledge and acceptance (if not agreement) are necessary. When disagreement arises, this stability is compromised. Though it’s become a fairly well known adage within U.S. borders that different folks require different strokes, the phrase often meets with contention in execution. Acceptance and agreement are so closely linked that participants can’t help but be changed in their process of establishment. If one fears the change, resistance arises. This is an equation easily applied to a number of political movements, from Civil Rights to the fight against Prop 8., but what happens when this sentiment is applied at a far lower (and less heated) level, towards the simple experiences shared between two individuals? On this level, understanding feels far more accessible, the potential for achievement within easy reach. There may be a danger in this reliance, for understanding in its past tense (“understood”), is boiled down to assumption as well as agreement (and as another common adage warns: “ to assume makes and ass out of u and me.)
My good friend Claire once shared a story with me that she had classified as being a “core memory,” essential to the saga of our friendship (her version). As I walked over the Ballard Bridge in Seattle, 2750+ miles from her apartment in Ithaca, NY, we reminisced via cellphone. At that point about eight years had passed since the memory’s original occurrence. While Claire’s memory did ring a few dusty bells, it was not (and is not) a part of my “Claire and Jessie” lexicon. In fact, at this very moment, I cannot bring to mind what she had shared (though the memory of forgetting is crystal). I can recall how hurt she had sounded that the memory’s importance was not shared, as evidenced by my forgetfulness. However benign this hole in my memory had been, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of heart-rending guilt pressing hard against my chest. To forget was a transgression against our friendship, that the act had been accidental was irrelevant (if not worse).
Should it matter whether or not this memory ranked similarly high for me; should my ineptitude have affected the level of Claire’s esteem for the memory and its importance? There were (and are) many stories I hold dear, involving Claire as a key player, a fraction of which have presumably escaped her in a similar fashion. Though we’ve not spoken of that conversation since, I have little doubt that the memory has remained somewhat affected. As shared experience, much of memory’s strength is found in its perceived mutuality. When one feels as though a level of understanding and enjoyment has occurred in a particular moment, one hopes to retain that mutuality in memory, preserved. The seal can be broken in times of reminiscence, both solitary and social. In these times of sharing, revelations can occur: of both absence and (more troublingly) discrepancy. Is it the addition of temporality that sullies understanding, as being understood becomes assumption?
GS- Glass Soup
Jonathan Carroll creates a situation somewhat similar to Claire’s and mine in his novel Glass Soup (only Surreal, fantastical, and based in romance). Leni and Simon are two characters (former lovers) that die in the course of the novel, only to be reunited in death. GS establishes that death is not a stagnant realm. When one dies, s/he is inserted into a personal death realm, composed of all the trappings of their past life (materially and experientially.) Dreams are included in this system and are likewise crucial to the death experience. Individual modes of perception are key factors in the differentiation between realms. A tree in Simon’s realm would presumably be quite different than one found in a separate realm. Halfway through the novel, Simon finds a way to insert himself into Leni’s particular death (he must do so in order to save a mutual friend, long story very short.) It is worth acknowledging Leni’s emotional state within her death, which is one of extreme anger. Her current situation (death) had been wrongfully achieved (she’d been murdered by a deceitful lover).
When Simon first appears in Leni’s realm, she does not believe that he is “real,” because she had already come to realize death was in many ways a place of her making. She assumes that Simon, too, is a work of her creation, so she creates a second Simon in order to flex her abilities; “she conjured the Simon Haden she remembered and been together with in life.” (Carroll 189). This Simon (#2) is a compilation of her memory and her desire. The real Simon is able to bear witness to the discrepancies of Leni’s memory/imagination through the physical manifestation of #2; and he is no fan of her interpretation. One such discrepancy in particular centers on a request for avocado; this becomes an emotional “last straw” for Simon.
…his frustration spilled over when #2 asked for something to eat—maybe an avocado? Haden loathed avocados. Those strange green things that always reminded him of legless frogs…
“I hate avocados! I would never ask for one.”
When he said that, Leni looked at him outraged, hurt eyes and immediately began to cry. Why? What had he said? (Carroll 190)
It is then revealed (as Simon remembers) that one of the few romantic and intimate engagements the two had shared (in life and like—not love) had centered upon a sun-filled trip to an open-air market, a whimsical purchase (on Leni’s part) and theft (on Simon’s part) of two avocados, culminating in a surprise dinner of guacamole and wine: a product of Simon’s thoughtful creation. “’Ohhhh yes, I remember that day.’ He was smiling now, ‘You choked on a carrot stick.’” (Carroll 191) This response works to enrage Leni further. Again, Simon is left sputtering and confused. She lashes out.
“What, why are you so upset Leni? What’s the big deal?”
“…because it was my memory and my life. Now you’ve changed it and there’s nothing I can do about it, you bastard! Now it will always be the day I choked on the carrot stick and you hate avocados.” (Carroll 189)
She later expands upon her argument, that however badly she felt about how their relationship ended, “avocado” had come to represent the good times, the good in Simon, and (in some ways) reaffirmed a reciprocation of feeling and emotion (in Leni). When Simon fails to remember the evening and comes to belittle it in his recollection, that feeling of reciprocation became tainted. For Leni, her wondrous avocados had become pitiful carrot-sticks and the self-perceived image of her desirousness likewise became one of clumsy embarrassment. In many facets of our lives, it is understanding and reciprocation that what we seek, especially when it comes to relationships (of the romantic as a well as the platonic variety.) Leni feels as though Simon has devalued the worth of her memory, and he has done so through his lack of prolonged reciprocation. The revelation of weakness/detachment in an area of a relationship once felt bonded and strong can’t help but call other areas into question. Sympathy has a hand in understanding. With one look at its paired down definition—
1. agreement in feeling, accord
2. compassion
--one can easily see where Simon’s lack of awareness could be construed as a cold lack of sympathy, compassion, and accord. Leni feels isolated and lessened by this disparity.
Perceptions change and are changed. They are actor and receptor, affecter and affected. Our present perception is developed from past experience and stands to affect future perceptions. That Simon does not mirror her memory in his eventual remembrance (along with her emotional attachments to said memory) is not the greatest transgressor in this scenario. What is deemed more important (by Leni’s standards) is the affect of Simon’s misalignment upon her memory. The memory’s value and resonance is effectively and irrevocably changed by this revelation. Simon’s value (according to Leni) is likewise decreased/devalued. “You ended our thing badly, Simon. But you were also the avocado- thief and that always made me smile when I thought of you, even afterwards.” (Carroll 192). Was that day any less perfect? Had Simon become any less thoughtful in that particular moment? With or without this present knowledge, Leni’s enjoyment of the day (as it happened) and its importance in the past tense cannot truly change; though the memory can continue on a different trajectory from this moment forward. “One of life’s (and death’s) nastier lessons: what’s important to us is not necessarily important to others, no matter how close we are to them.” (Carroll 191). This sentiment throws a harsh light on all shared moments; their rich wealth rendered valueless in the sealed vaults of our memory banks.
Her perception of an understanding and reciprocation between them on that day was not entirely incorrect. Simon’s actions were those of thoughtful attentiveness; any partial observer could attest to that. They had given Leni a feeling of being valued and understood in their fitting perfection. However, the reader is never given a full account of Simon’s experience of the day beyond “you choked on a carrot stick.” We are only left with Leni’s account of his actions and his bemused one-sentence recollection. Perhaps reciprocity hadn’t even existed in the past, let alone the present. If Simon had acted with ulterior motives, those of seduction, his plan and his dastardly guacamole were successful in their mission. To follow this line of analysis any farther is to plummet into the tumultuous waters he said/she said argumentation, a debate deeply rooted in defensiveness. This day had been the first step in their romance, a page in their joint history book, and there is a certain importance in such a moment, whether or not it is felt with complete mutuality.
What can be certain is that Leni’s perception of continued reciprocation was a fabrication, the mutual understanding felt on the day had fallen away. The purity of her artifice was sullied in its correction. Perception being one part understanding, and understanding being contingent on agreement: the revelation of the memory made understanding actual where it had been lost (in time and experience.) As Leni’s memory is deflated, Simon’s is revived. Leni is unwilling (at this particular juncture) to realize the strength in this motion. All she feels is the (-) change in her perception (the defiling of her perfect memory) not the possible (+) change in Simon’s. In this supposedly hurtful motion, Simon is made aware of the memory’s importance. Where it is “ruined” for her it is “revived” to him. At this juncture, she can receive the sympathy and compassion she had (to this point) been denied because Simon is made aware of her condition.
It is in this revival that actual understanding is found. The containment of Leni’s memory allowed her to assume its reciprocation and fabricate the mutual understanding of its importance. In this moment, the real Simon is able to remember the day as well see it from Leni’s point of view. At the time, it had been the day she “choked on a carrot stick” but now he understands the day in her edible terms. How could he ever vibrate back true understanding (knowledge and agreement) had the internal not been made external? The physical externalization of #2 (from Leni’s perceptions) is likewise revelatory, but the verbal externalization of Leni’s memory is doubly so. When our perceptions remain contained and unaffected, they may feel stable and dependable. However, this stability is an illusion. It is in dialog, debate and externalization that we achieve the illusion. This achievement too is fleeting, temporary as new information inevitably flows in. Acknowledgement is a part of the process, as differences collide.
How then can true understanding of an art piece be obtained through the distance of time? There’s at least one major relational difference between the pairing of me/Van Gogh (through his painting) and Leni /Simon: in the course of artistic contextualization, I only have myself to blame for any discordance. Leni can blame Simon, as they are in direct relation to each other. I can’t blame Starry Night for not getting me. It is my feelings (those initial connections I had made) that must change as context is created. The art object is fixed, where I am fluid. Is it necessary for those original, uninformed perceptions to be removed entirely, banished for their inaccuracy, all in deference to an unattainable one-sided peak of understanding? The trouble is in the singularity implied by the “true” part of “true understanding.” Leni made it seem as though their day had been either guacamole or carrot-stick. Through Simon and Leni, the day had accrued a number of values and meanings, none of which were completely untrue. We can’t help but experience through perceptions skewed by subjectivity; differing perceptions create a multiplicity of meanings. The art object need not change to match my perceptions; there’s plenty of room for both.
Even understanding and agreement felt in real-time is not without question. (Flashback to mid-eye roll, bad medical drama, my mom.) Though my laughter is met harmoniously with my mother’s own echo, it’s likely the feeling I have in my chest in that moment is somewhat different than my mother’s. She brings to our relationship the experience of motherhood as well as daughterhood; hers is a position I cannot fully understand for my own experiential limitations. The aura of understanding our closeness provides may be illusory at times. I may think I am being understood when I am not, and vice versa. This is a truth that need not diminish my experiences of and with my mother. Why sacrifice all that is created in our relationship to the gods of “official” reciprocation? In the viewer’s experience of art, the perceptual and experiential divide is far more apparent but it is no less wide than the divide of individuality (I was debating the deletion of this paragraph)
Rather than hamper the process of creation (as well as observation) in the harried race towards “understanding,” it is best to acknowledge what can be missed when rigidity is applied to such a lofty and misconstrued goal. The beauty of the experience, shared in delay but alive in the present, is sacrificed by such controls. Just as Leni had once had a beautiful day and a beautiful dinner, should the viewer not allow him/herself the same enjoyment: an experience shared in real time, to move and change as more knowledge is procured? In both life and art, there is no finish line when it comes to understanding; we are always on the run.
Bibliography:
Carroll, Jonathan. Glass Soup. New York: Tor, 2005.
Leonard, George B. The Transformation: A guide to the inevitable changes of humankind. Los Angeles: J.P. Tarcher, 1987.
New Revised Random House Pocket Dictionary. New York: Random House Inc., 1989.
