Harmony

What we as individuals perceive derives from our own individualized genetic makeup. Our visual system functions from complementary relationships that connect one another to an illusional world of perception; whether blind, colorblind, or trichromatic we sense this bonding tie through the feeling of our bodily existence. Our perception confuses, distracts, inspires, distorts, glorifies to us a minimal understanding of the world mankind thrives from. This world, the one we live together, is a compilation of narratives predominately dependent on our individual perception that projects itself into the greater cultural world. If seeing is part of our narrative, then what role does the visual system play, more so what is our understanding of it?

Tovee poses this question by attempting to understand, in a simple and clear manner, the objective and biological meaning of our visual system. He states that the purpose of such a system is, “To detect patterns of light from which information relating to the identity of objects and their spatial relationships in the environment can be derived.” (Tovee pp. 33) Due to this relationship of object and space, the visual system has developed in order to permit mechanisms that allow for a constant appearance of objects even when light differentiates constantly.

I appreciate and enjoyed reading Tovee, but somehow I am still unconvinced that the biological purpose of the visual system is the only answer to what many of us feel when connecting to the world of sight. As mystical as the visual system appears to me, there is an abstract connection to how luminance and brightness tricks us in believing that what is in front of us is universally felt by all. I appreciate Tovee’s work and find him extremely helpful in understanding the visual system on a biological level, his ties to understand photoreceptors and the relationship to ganglion cells, and the fixed relationships each component of the visual system has to one another. Reading this, I find myself peeling layers of the visual world apart, leaving me in awe as to how brilliant such a system is and how every part of the body, in a small way, is sensitive to something.

 Yet, could it be that Arnheim is asking the deeper, more fearful question of our visual system; what are we looking at when we see? I have no place to answer this question, but I was struck by the constant longing to strive for balance. Harmony transforms itself in order to lead to this balance or at least ideal representation of it. Even so, Arnheim is aware that to achieve an ultimate perfection of harmony means nothing if the connections between the parts that are seen are not relatable. He mentions that, “To state that all colors contained in a pictorial composition are part of a simple sequence derived from a color system would mean no more- and probably much less- than to say that all the tones of a certain music fit together because they belong to the same key. Even if the statement were correct, still next to nothing would have been said about the structure of the work. We would not know what the component parts were, or how the parts were related to one another.” In this sense, the purpose of the visual system is about the connections formed, which ties back to Tovee, and the relationship of space and environment to the identity of objects. Here I agree with both thinkers and wonder how this idea of parts is a symbol of connection that we as a species strive towards. 

Then the questions evolves to ask whether color connects one’s emotions and body to itself and that of others. However, as I learned from Sacks, this is not always the case.  It cannot be  color that ties to us to connect to ourselves, because not all see in color. This would mean that harmony is a conception to trick us. Making harmony beautiful in the sense that it lies to us because we know no more than the lie we tell one another, and when that harmony is not meet, is balance still achievable? Yes, it is as I learned from the first Sacks readings, which once again makes me question the role of all our senses.

So with all of this in mind, I think back to artists that I admire and respect, and wonder about their understanding of the relationship with color and vision.  If an artist takes what appears harmonious and distort and disfigures that balance are we still able to connect? Does our visual perception quickly learn how to form connections with objects with new shapes and colors not to our liking?

In the end, I am left to contemplate whether we can or cannot escape harmony. Arnheim says himself that, “Now harmony is indeed necessary, in the broad sense that all the colors of a composition must fit together in a unified whole if they are to be relatable to one another.” (Arnheim: 248) In this light, harmony in color is inescapable. The imperfect still reaches balance. I will refer quickly to Francis Bacon’s artwork, because I think he is a nice example of how color can be manipulated to make what appears at first inharmonious and a person who chose colors that are not necessarily pleasing to observe. Nevertheless, he is able to draw me to connect to the most gruesome depictions and I do feel balanced, or at least leaves me with a sensation that I have experienced something.  Maybe the sensitivity of light to our rods and cones makes us reflect the sensitivity we have in connecting to the world and ourselves, and that our visual perception is one form that allows us to explore this relationship.