Saturday, 11 October 2025

From making votives to visualising Interoception

Image from a visualising interoception workshop

Stress influences the way we perceive pain. Our worry associated with pain, especially if the pain is long lasting, can make it worse. There is a feedback loop that will eventually lead to anxiety and depression and it is this feedback loop that I am hoping to break when I work with people who have experienced severe pain. 

Making votives alerted me to the fact that rituals and objects associated with them could be used to take away the pain or distress associated with a difficult experience. A votive materialises a thought, it congeals around a feeling and gives it literal weight. Once objectified, the votive releases the feeling from the person and can pass it on, become a holder for it or become a channel for the intervention of a higher power. The psychology of the situation involves the release of the trauma from the person who is suffering and 'takes their mind off it', as one of the people I was working with put it. 

Votive made for someone with chronic lung problems

Making votives led me to have to devise rituals for their use. However I didn't take that aspect of the work seriously, until by chance I met John Fox and Sue Gill, of Welfare State International and when John Fox saw what I was doing he wondered if I could extend the votive idea into rituals for funerals, something he and Sue Gill had been doing for some time. I was somewhat in awe of them, as I knew of the amazing work they had done over the years and was honoured to feel that John thought what I was doing interesting. Their 'Dead Good Guides' are designed to work in real situations and to show how art can be seamlessly integrated into the lives of everyone. I never did get to show him what I came up with, because he died not long after our meeting, but he had impelled me to move my work on and to really think about how and why my work should be more available and accessible to everyone, not just people from the art world. Not long after meeting John I had to attend a funeral of someone who had been cremated and it was obvious that people didn't really know what to do with the ashes. So my first venture into the territory was to think about rituals and associated objects, that might help people come to terms with the problem of how to dispose of someone's ashes.

Sketchbook page used to communicate the idea


Votives made to hold a body's ashes after cremation

The shell-like objects above are made very simply using pinched clay, which is then fired. Although I made these, the idea is that they should either be made well beforehand by someone before they die, or in response to a post funeral need, by a close relative or friend. Making small objects like these with your hands is an easy thing to do and the process solidifies imprints of every maker's fingertips into each object. Designed so that they can be easily pushed into the earth like a seed pod, they are closed with sealing wax or modelling wax to keep the ashes in. You can also make these seed or shell like shapes in the form of a necklace. One aspect of a pre-ritual workshop is to get the people involved to agree how these objects will be used. The more religious will perhaps want to use them like traditional votives, whereby a candle is lit and prayers said. If so these ash containers can be made into candle holders or have a wick inserted into their hollow insides. Mourners may want to add specific elements that remind them of the person who they wish to celebrate; before they release their relative or friend back into the earth or waters they came from. The more that people get involved the better. 

The ritual of letting go: Skimming votives off into the water

Ceramic votive in the form of a skimming stone filled with ash and sealed.

Another form these ritual objects can take, is that of skimming stones. Again made out of fired clay, two shallow concave forms are put together to make a 'skimming stone'. A hole is left in one side which allows ashes to be inserted and once that has been done, again wax is used to seal the hole, before the final ritual skimming of the ashes out into a lake, river or sea. 

From a sketchbook page used to communicate the idea

The work with votives always involves a drawing led conversation and that conversation leads to the visualisation of a desire or need. This is very emotional. The study of interoception grew out of this work and it has made me very aware that emotions are built within the body, that they are physiological responses to both interior and exterior change. When trying to visualise somatic awareness, I have begun gradually to build up a language of forms that have emerged from both workshops and one-to-one drawing conversations; conversations that are centred on the correspondent agreeing that it is possible to develop an image of their feelings, in a not too dissimilar way to how a police artist would sit with an observer of a crime and work with them to construct an identikit image of the perpetrator. Is it more like this...or like this...? The good thing about this approach is that the person involved doesn't need to know anything about art, they just need to make basic yes/no decisions. 

Which of these two drawings is more like the feeling you are trying to describe?

We often start with a simple comparison drawing such as the one above. Then rough drawings are made as the patient begins to open out about what they feel and we begin to sort out what is possible. 




Initial drawings done during a first meeting

Where is the feeling located?

Then we move on to where is it located in the body. Once I think I have enough information, I take the drawings back to the studio and then work them up. They are then scanned and turned into digital images and printed off. I bring these back to the hospital a week later and these images then become what is critiqued by the patient and ideas as to colour and its effect are developed. 

Annotated images developed with two different patients

As conversations move on I often get to visualise concepts such as how pain moves through the body. Typically this is described by participants as being like a zigzag of lightening. In the case of the image below I was asked to imagine a field of lightening that was also like a spider's web.

An idea worked up as a digital print

The final stages often require several changes, especially as colour is such an emotive aspect of visual language. At this stage images are digitally developed using Photoshop, which allows changes to be kept, because sometimes the patient wants me to take the image back to an earlier stage and it is so much easier to change colours. The digital version also allows me to print off copies for the patient to keep and they can be shown to other interested people.  

Image with annotations as reminders of the story behind it

The final image

Although I hadn't consciously tried to predict the visual shape of the final outcome, in several cases I realised that because we were dealing with the visualisation of normally hidden feelings, that this was not that dissimilar to visualising hidden energies. Patients would talk about the release of an electric charge within their body, or waves of emotion, descriptions that reminded me of the way that earlier researchers had described what they were discovering when they attempted to visualise invisible energies, such as the Odic force.*

In my own work, whereby I tried to visualise personal somatic experiences, such as a difficulty I had breathing due to covid19, I had also sensed that I needed to visualise a certain flow of energy, in this case how it was compacted and then released due to a blockage. 

The moment of a breath breaking into the lungs from a previously closed throat

My academic research has over the last few years looked into earlier attempts to visualise hidden or invisible forces. Initially I looked at visualisations that were the products of quasi-religious thinkers associated with Theosophy, partly because I knew that their work had influenced artists such as Kandinsky and Klee. However I gradually found more scientific thinkers and as I looked into their theories, I began to feel that there was a real need for a belief system that could explain why we feel as if there is something mystical about the universe. 

When researching older areas of esoteric thinking, that have now being debunked by science, such as geometrical psychology, Rayonism and other para-scientific theories, I began to see certain common beliefs, that might not have stood the test of time, but which do reflect an intuitive set of feelings that point to some sort of vibrational understanding of our reality. 

Visualisation of Chakras: From Leadbeater

The idea of chakras, the concept of body auras or the captured energy fields as seen in the work of Dr. Hippolyte Baraduc and the shapes of thought forms, are all attempts to visualise the invisible energies that flow through our bodies. Both colour and sound are vibrational energies and there are many examples of how sound can calm the soul and although the research surrounding colour theory is far less clear in terms of how effective colour can be in creating or changing mood, I have no doubt that colour's vibrational energy does effect emotional change. However after working with a wide range of people, I now realise that colour response is very personal and that it is not something that effects everyone's emotions in the same way.  But that doesn't mean I cant use it, in fact because it is so personal, it opens a door for idiosyncratic visual responses to deep inter-personal communication and one-to-one conversations, which is where most of my work is initiated. I don't though normally have to agree with someone else if my imagery is communicating. Outside of the work in the hospital, I am free to take the imagery wherever I feel it needs to go. The construction of meaningful to myself colour communications has become an essential aspect of my recent work and although colour is hard to pin down, so are emotions and the more I go on to work in this area, the more I feel that it is in the struggle to find an authentic colour voice for a feeling, that I will find a something that allows me to communicate whatever it is that I need to communicate. 

This image emerged from conversations about poor circulation in a leg

In my drawing conversations with people I often hear that they feel anxious, a state of mind that in Chinese culture is sometimes understood as a type of inner body chaos, or the blowing of 'internal winds' and sometimes their descriptions of the internal state of their bodies are less like a medical anatomy diagram and more like an immersion into a strange landscape or contact with alien energies. In Chinese medicine, our bodies are regarded as elements of and inseparable from, the natural world. We are an embodiment of the Earth and the Universe, the patterns of internal change that occur in our bodies, resonate with the external forms of landscape. All are manifestations of the universal Qi, the “substratum of the cosmos,” the essential quality of being, that I personally think of as another type of underlying vibration. 

An animation of an inner body form 

Each of these understandings allows me to develop imagery. By working with a range of overlapping viewpoints I can cross fertilise ideas and allow myself the luxury of imaginative play, whereby I 'freeform' with the visual elements that I have surrounded myself with in the studio and play with various interconnections as they reveal themselves.

The more I work with others, the better prepared I am to set up workshops designed to help people develop their personal interoceptual visual language. These workshops have often involved communicating the things learnt during my one-to-one drawing conversation sessions. I work with people in pairs, helping them to respond to each other's growing awareness of a chosen interoceptual feeling. People often chose a painful experience to try to visualise, but someone in a group will quickly realise that it could be a pleasurable feeling or a very different feeling, such as one that gives you goose bumps, that could be explored. I always encourage this as my research is about the benefits of a wider awareness of interoception than just pain. Craig, in his article 'How to you feel?', a paper that he went on to develop as an excellent book with the same title, points to an awareness of interoception being central to our feelings of being alive and that it is essential to our development of a subjective image of our sentient selves across time. He demonstrates how important interoceptual feelings are and shows how they are inseparable from the way the body knows itself and that emotions are inextricably linked to everything from muscle tone, to a need to go to the toilet. I'm writing this post from a hotel bedroom in Gothenburg in Sweden, having just spent the last three days at a conference devoted to the current medical understanding of issues related to spinal injuries. I sat and drew during several presentations and as the conference went on, I found myself coming to another visual conclusion about the inner body, one more to do with dendritic shaped fibrous growth at the scale of microscopic neurons. I think this was because I had been reading Craig's book and he looks at the evolutionary history of our nervous systems. He welds together ideas about both physical and mental feelings being transmitted to the brain; in such a way that I have an image in my mind of an emotive feeling being no different to a feeling of coldness, when it comes to an electrical signal, carried by neurons and stimulating the brain to make a decision about an action. I also began drawing mice and monkeys, perhaps to make sure I did not forget how grateful we should be to their contributions to spinal injury research. When I draw a monkey, it is a substitution for myself, an image that reminds me I am an animal also. I do realise that without the research that is done we would not be able to further our knowledge but I hope that when animals are used great care is taken to treat them with respect and to minimalise their discomfort and pain. 

Notebook page

In their book, 'Your Brain on Art', Magsamen and Ross use the term 'neuroarts', which is defined as 'the study of how the arts and aesthetic experiences measurably change the body, brain, and behaviour.' When highlighting art's effect on pain awareness and how it can shape it, they state in relation to people interacting with an art form, (2025, p. 37), 'The physical pain may still exist, but how they emotionally relate to that pain has changed'. It is the visualisation of both a change in emotional relationship and an awareness that the physical nature of our insides is intertwined with these emotional changes, that I hope to continue to develop my art practice out of. It takes me into the unknown, which is where as an artist I need to be, but not only that it gives me an audience that perhaps for the first time begin to see that shapes and forms might actually carry information and communicate it in ways that they had never previously noticed. 

However I'm also still probing around at that old problem, of how in making an image do you represent a feeling of being alive? In German there is a term 'zitterbewegung', a sense of vibrating, oscillating energies, that is often associated with quantum mechanics, a term I quite like as it deals with things we cant see, but which need to happen if the things we can see are to behave in ways that result in the world appearing to be as it does. The hidden processes that go on inside our bodies are for myself similar, if they go wrong, the outward appearance of the external body is also changed, another tied together set of happenings. 

The making of an animation based on a feeling of the body as a landscape, is one approach I am taking to the visualisation of inner and outer somatic interrelationships, hoping that after watching it, someone might be able to put their own inner body feelings into action and thus begin their own journey to externalise feelings. As well as exploring how some existing interoceptual visualisations of inner body forms could be animated, I've been looking at Faraday wave phenomena, another aspect of vibrational energy depiction, that I've intuitively linked to a personal understanding of the work of Dr. Hippolyte Baraduc. 

Dr. Hippolyte BaraducIconography obtained without light, electricity or photographic apparatus, due to the right hand of Dr. M. Adam

Dr. Hippolyte Baraduc and Dr. M. Adam, must have at one point in time conjoined to produce the image above. Their activities were I'm sure serious and purposeful and I would like to think that they felt that they had seen something special related to the invisible nature of our existence. They may even have found a way to visualise dark matter, not that it matters, what does matter for myself is the never ending journey of enquiry that as a species we continue to go on, each generation trying in its own way to find ways to visualise those things that we cant see, but which underpin everything that we do.   

The old lungs in action

Recent attempts to make images based on a feeling have been made in response to my own asthma. That harsh rasping feel of lungs struggling is one I know well, but to make an image of it is challenging. This time I have tried to think more about spatial aspects and have looked at stretch, perspective and our sense of vertigo when we are too high up and looking down. I never quite get it right, but each time I try something emerges and as it does it adds to the iconography of inner body speculation. 

• The Odic force was a hypothetical energy or life force, proposed in the 19th century by Baron Carl von Reichenbach. Named after the Norse god Odin, it was believed to be a pervasive energy that permeated all living things and could be influenced by other invisible forces such as magnetism, electricity and sunlight.

References

Craig, A. How do you feel? Interoception: the sense of the physiological condition of the body. Nat Rev Neurosci 3, 655–666 (2002). https://doi.org/10.1038/nrn894

Craig, A. (2014) How Do You Feel?: An Interoceptive Moment with Your Neurobiological Self London: Princeton University Press

Magsamen, S. and Ross, I. (2025) Your Brain on Art: How the arts transform us Edinburgh: Canongate

Baraduc, H. (1913) The Human Soul: Its Movements, Its Lights, and the Iconography of the Fluidic Invisible Paris: Librairie Internationale de la Pensée Nouvelle*

* In his book 'The Human Soul' Baraduc describes something he calls the 'fluidic invisible' or 'Odic liquid'.  We in effect swim in an invisible sea named by Baraduc, 'Somod'. The link above is hopefully still live and you will find images of his exposed photographic plates at the end of the book.

Monday, 6 October 2025

Drawing age

Alice Neel: Self portrait 1980

I've written a few papers about drawing age as I have gotten older and have used the writing of them to reflect on how I've used drawing to come to terms with the ageing process but I've not transferred many of the issues to my blog for some reason. I think its a particular duality that interests me, the differences between what we see and what we feel. For instance I sometimes catch an unexpected view of myself in a shop window or mirror and for a moment can find it hard to believe that that old man looking back at me, is in fact myself. My inner feeling is centred on how I can achieve goals and get stuff done, on where I'm going to, what I need to get for tonight's meal or on what my next drawing is going to be about or how my thoughts can be translated into new artworks and at the same time my feelings about aching limbs, constant indigestion and a fluttering heart continue. All very active stuff that seems to be still partly associated with an active me, a 'young' me; someone that gets stuff done. But then I'm reminded by my reflection that I don't have the energy levels I once had, that physically I now find large drawings very difficult to do, it's hard to get up and down off my knees and I easily go down with infections or suffer from aching limbs. When I read complex texts I now tend to find myself asleep, suddenly nodding off as my mind begins to drift. When writing papers the necessity to accurately use in-text citations, doesn't seem so important any more, in fact it simply begins to annoy me and I see it as an example of academic hegemony. 

1000-piece Jigsaw: Frida Kahlo Self-Portrait with Thorn Necklace and Hummingbird 

Someone asked me the other day if I would like a jigsaw for my birthday. I cant think of many things that I don't like more than doing jigsaws. I suspect that if Frida Kahlo was still alive she would have really liked to have done something with one of these 1,000 piece jigsaws of her portrait, perhaps she would half finish it and then sign it and have it framed as a joke or more likely she would contact the person responsible for having it made and make them eat it, piece by piece. The original was painted ten years before I was born and she died when I was three. The first suggested jigsaw for a three year old I found was of dinosaurs, a thirty-five piece 'Jumbo Toddler Floor Jigsaw Puzzle'; the irony was inescapable.  


The doing of jigsaw puzzles is associated with maintaining cognitive function and memory, as well as decreasing stress, apparently making it a popular hobby for older adults. So yes I am a dinosaur, or at least I am thought of by some as being an artist well past their sell-by-date and ready to begin life as a dissectologist.

Self portrait at the age of 72

Each year I make drawings of myself, the one above I made three years ago, I use it here simply because of the many I have done it still feels honest. To begin this post I used a painting by Alice Neel for a similar reason, it feels to me that her image is also an honest representation. She sits awkwardly in a chair, as if about to make another mark on the painting that she is making of herself. She seems worried, should she reveal so much of herself? Nudes are meant to be 'beautiful', but am I not also beautiful? She holds a rag in her left hand, she could wipe herself out, but she doesn't. 
The final self-portraits by Picasso are also images that feel as if they are raw, honest attempts to record what it feels like to be old. All four of the portraits below were made when Picasso was 90 years old. They are I think set out in chronological order. He was still pushing visual languages around, each time seeking that resolution that can only emerge from being sensitive to what the image is telling you as it emerges, each image arriving out of the medium as much as out of the artist, visual stories that were dictated by decisions made in the early part of their making. You can see Picasso beginning with a visual language he has used before, but although it makes a good image, it doesn't quite get there in terms of confronting the reality of age. It speaks of experience, but not the moment being inhabited.

June 28th 1972

July 2nd 1972

The next two images seem to have moved Picasso on, his image now stares into the bleakness of existential existence. One head a broken rock, balanced on landscape shoulders, the other more planted, both though very aware of what comes next. The drawing made on July 2nd is though an image made at one sitting, the image below was constructed over a longer period of time, it has had a few changes in direction. I get a feeling that he is still processing what his feelings are.

Picasso: Self portrait facing death: Done over several months 1972

Picasso's final self portrait is strangely more confident. It is as if he is now ready to go. His shoulders remain the same boney ones , but his head is much more firmly attached, he is confident in his use of a language that is much more about the depiction of mass and weight. He still uses the either or flicker of cubist space and his ability to get a head to look at you and yet suggest it is also looking sideways but the tonal control that gives solidity to the form as a whole, over rides the cubist idea. I suspect that he thinks this is funny. He spends a lifetime developing a new language, one that was often cited as bringing art into the twentieth century and echoing the findings of science about the flickering nature of underlying reality. His last self-portrait though relies on the power of chiaroscuro to give conviction, as if he is suggesting that some things will always be. His final image turning himself into a rock, before his actual body turns back into the inert materials it was made from. 

Picasso: Self portrait 1972 July 3rd 1972

That duality that artists face when making self-portraits as they get older can be found in other artists, but perhaps not so knowingly as Picasso. 

Joseph Stella: Self portrait on paper: 1940

Joseph Stella was 63 when he draw the self-portrait above, in it he used a combination of graphite pencil, metal-point and both transparent and opaque watercolour, I feel as if it is another of those honest responses to what it is to be alive. He died in his late sixties, so in relation to his life span, this image was made when he was old. I find it fascinating, it feels as if his face is pressed into the paper. He has a very solid, massive head and yet it is flattened by his approach, life seems to be being squeezed out of it, but at the same time he stares back at us very knowingly, almost I feel like a genie that is escaping out of the bottle. He is perhaps escaping his representation, turning back into the monster that he is as a human being. He was apparently a volatile, truculent personality, and I do feel that this image would snap back at you if it could. Like Picasso, Stella's work is associated with modernism and yet when he needs to reflect on his own image, he returns to an academic way of working.

In my published article 'Drawing Age' I wrote that "an ageing body and its memories are simply a conglomerate of materials moving from one state to another and that drawing materials can be thought of as operating in parallel to this." I wanted to communicate the ‘self-feeling’ of ageing in order to develop a personal understanding of how my own thought about it could be taken ‘into’ the thought of another and I also wanted to show how a visual conversation could enter the mind of others as a material entanglement. Looking back on what I wrote I'm already questioning whether or not I was able to do this, but it still seems a worthwhile thing to be occupying myself with.

Interoceptual self portrait 2025

How it feels like to have an insides and yet to also still be standing, is a puzzle to me. This is my jigsaw puzzle, the one I'm still struggling with as I get older. Like a child I still play with colours, I lose myself in doing what I do, and hope that at some point an image will emerge that enables my own thought about something to be taken up by the thought of another.

See also:

Wednesday, 1 October 2025

Figure-Ground Relationships

Figure-ground relationships are usually thought of as gestalt principles and one cannot be perceived except in relation to the other. When I used to teach on the visual communications stream of the foundation course, an exploration of figure-ground relationships was one of the basic exercises we set for students and designers in particular use an awareness of these issues as an essential tool. Simon C. Page's posters for the Batman comic series 'Criminal Underworld', being an excellent contemporary example. 

Simon C Page

If the figure ground relationship is one where equal weight is given to either reading, the mind constantly switches between one and the other, thus activating a static image. A trick often used by poster designers or by Cubist artists, as below.

Georges Braque: Woman with two faces

Figure–ground thinking is central to the psychology of perception and is vital to our ability to recognise objects through vision. In Gestalt psychology it is known as a process that helps us to identify a figure and pick it out from the background; an activity that is harder than you might think. The images above rely on an alternation between two mutually exclusive perceptual states, an awareness of which is also referred to as bistable perception. Finding images that sit on this edge can be a very important issue for an artist, especially if what you are trying to do is to keep an image 'alive'. The flicker between one possibility and another, in effect gives life to the image as a whole.
Salvador Dali related this to what he called the paranoiac-critical method. This concept was one derived from Andre Breton's idea that in Surrealism objects could be thought of not as a fixed external things but also as extensions of our subjective selves. When creating an image that illustrates this idea however, an artist needs to use a process that can result in a double or ambiguous image, one that can be read as one thing or another. As an object or as an extension of our inner psyche.

Dali: Apparition of Face and Fruit Dish on a Beach

Dali's 'Apparition of Face and Fruit Dish on a Beach', is an example of his paranoiac-critical method, a process that at its core led to visual ambiguity. The image oscillates between a human face and a fruit dish.
Abstract artists can also use this ambiguity. Victor Vasarely in particular was very fond of these figure / ground illusions.

Keple Gestalt: Victor Vasarely

We are in effect playing with 'border regions' which in visual perception are the transition points between objects and the background in an image. Our ability to identify these borders and assign them to the correct object is a fundamental part of vision, it enables us to 'see' what is out there. This process is also called border ownership, and it's essential for object recognition and understanding the visual scene.

Alaska Geographic logo


Figure-ground illusions, as in the Raven-Bear image above, illustrate how border regions become grouped together with the object that is perceived, even as the figure and ground reverse. This gestalt totality results in heightened neuronal activity as these borders are perceived in conjunction with the overall image that is also being perceived. This requires a rapid global analysis of the entire scene involving the coupling of masses of neurons, which are collectively seeking out clues for both plasticity and meaning. (What it is and what it represents). Thousands of synapses and neurons are simultaneously contributing to the complex cognitive operations required by our minds to try and solve these types of puzzles, and we intuitively feel this in our bodies, as far more energy is involved in dealing with ambiguity than certainty. 
Although not strictly figure ground relationships, images that require a 'Gestalt switch' such as the young/old lady, also for myself fit into this category, as well as seeing faces in everyday objects or face pareidolia as it is properly named.

In my work looking at how to visualise interoceptual experiences, I'm very aware that these experiences are often ambiguous and therefore I have been looking at this area of gestalt psychology as a possible solution to some of the issues I have been facing, especially as to how to maintain the feeling tone that comes from a real life experience in a static image.

A face in the clothes

I think this can be something found out in the world as well as in a drawn image. The 'discovery' of a face within a pile of clothes in an old photograph of mine, shows that Andre Breton's idea that objects could be thought of as extensions of our subjective selves, still has traction. In drawn images about embodied feelings, a certain ambiguity as to figure/ground relationships, can again help heighten visual tension and thus help carry a more accurate sense of a feeling tone. For instance when I was thinking about breathing and how closely our lungs relate to a tree's dendritic structure, it was an obvious move to link the two images and to try and make an image that sat between both.

Lung / tree

This works both ways and when drawing a landscape you can suggest it is alive and breathing by the way you place and shape trees.

Tree lungs within a landscape (detail)

Entrusted with carnival business: Pen and ink wash: 112 x 50 in

In my drawing, 'Entrusted with carnival business', I wanted to show that a local park was in effect the 'lungs' of the area. In the 'Mythic landscape' drawing, there was an attempt to fuse together the concept of our emergence from a female principle, that was both a body and a landscape. 

Mythic landscape: Charcoal on paper: 16 x 23 in

Embodied landscape: Pen and ink, watercolour and ceramic: 72 x 60 in

The embodied landscape drawing above was an attempt to fuse landscape, body and memory together. The landscape that flows from the embodied hills being one reconstructed from memory, as was the ceramic octopus, which was a reconstruction of a child's toy, something that was important to myself when I lived in that landscape when I was growing up. Memories inhabit the body, just places are engraved into old maps and that feeling of inhabiting a body, never leaves us until of course we die.

The flow between an external view of a body and how we see a landscape is something I have tried to depict several times. Some embodied feelings are not so straight forward, but their images can be designed to still use a certain amount of 'bistable perception', just enough to make the observer have to use a little more energy to try to 'see' what is there and as they do perhaps to 'inhabit' the image on their own terms.

Embodied feeling of a failing knee: Felt tip, watercolour and ink: 11 x 16 in

The image of a knee above was made after talking to an old school friend, who like myself is now retired and his knees were going. I made several images of our conversations and he has since had his knees replaced, but the whole experience in effect gave him a mountain to climb. For a while each knee became for him the centre of his perceptual world, the pain blotting out the rest of the landscape. 


A drawing from a series of images about tinnitus 

When I was working with people who had tinnitus, I began making images that were an attempt to visualise an invisible or non-existent force invading the inside of the head, such as the one above. Gradually the drawings of heads became more like landscapes, but not the ones typically produced by European artists, more in my mind like those made by the original inhabitants of Australia.
A working image exploring how to depict an individual experience of tinnitus

Bandak Nym: 1959/60

The 'figure/ground' images made by Aboriginal Australians of "The Dreaming" evolved out of an animist creation narrative and can be understood as belonging to a "timeless time" of formative creation. They are not fixed images, more like maps used to work out where you are both physically and psychically. Their work effortlessly fuses different viewpoints together and I owe a deep debt to a culture I have never witnessed but whose continuing existence reminds me that there have been and always will be many alternative ways of depicting our various realities.

Perhaps the most constant figure-ground or dual image in my work over this time has been that of the body / landscape. We sometimes think of our bodies as small things that inhabit an ever expanding landscape but when we begin to have to focus on our insides, such as during a time of illness, our bodies become the totality of the world we live in. There is of course a flow between the two views, at one moment I stumble and a pain in my foot becomes the centre of my attention and a few moments later, a rumbling sound in the distance takes up all of my perceptual energy, as I try to work out if a storm is coming my way.

Stomach awareness

In the image above I was trying to construct a representation of the feelings that emerge from my stomach. From hunger to nagging indigestion, via rumblings of nervous responses to facing difficult issues, my stomach seems to digest emotional feelings as much as food. It is a complex thing and I never see it, I only feel it, unless of course I have a nasty accident.

Storm clouds with lightening

It is no accident that we think of the adjective 'rumbling' to describe both a stomach or a storm.
I have returned to how to depict this, as well as finding images for my chest and breathing issues many times and if the images are to operate as I want them to, they need to sit on a fence between figure and ground, if not they become too static and cannot breathe or as in the case of the stomach, be able to communicate the movement of peristaltic waves. In Chinese medicine a stomach ache might be described as a malignant wind. 'Feng', the Chinese word for 'wind', has a wider meaning, as an invisible power that works in a way similar to how a howling wind bends a tree. It can 'blow' diseases through the body that result in aches, sickness, tremors, headaches, dizziness or fever and it can operate both internally and externally. An internal imbalance of energy or an external confusion created by a too complex environment may receive similar treatments, in both cases treatments would look to ways to induce calm.

A flow of embodied energies

As always a balance is required, total stillness may be due to death and the flicking/ticking of awareness is a good sign of life. However too sedentary or too active lives become stressful; so take a deep breath and whilst you engage with what's going on, watch how the world flips from one reading to another.

Reference:

Fields, R.D., Araque, A., Johansen-Berg, H., Lim, S.S., Lynch, G., Nave, K.A., Nedergaard, M., Perez, R., Sejnowski, T. and Wake, H., (2014) Glial biology in learning and cognition. The neuroscientist, 20(5), pp.426-431.
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