In attending lectures and events centered around synesthesia at the Conte Center and the Brain Science Initiative hosted by researchers at Harvard University sporadically over the last decade or so, I’ve learned that there are scant theories on what the phenomenon of synesthesia is, neurologically, or why it might exist. But, to be honest, the “why” doesn’t concern me as much as the known neurophysiological implications of the phenomenon on our individual and collective perceptions.
I didn’t know I had synesthesia until I was 19
While attending a lecture on Russian composers of the 20th century at university, the subject of Scriabin’s and Rimksy-Korsakov’s “color hearing” came up. It was reductively explained as seeing colors while one hears sound. I was surprised that most in the classroom were amused by this.
In my experience, sound has always been intrinsically visual, and learning of my own synesthesia opened doors for me to realize the degree to which perception, in general, is vastly diverse.
I asked my professor and classmates how they experienced music, if not inextricable from other senses. I had thought this crossing of senses was an innate characteristic of all musicians. In classical cello lessons, teachers often tell the student to “change the color” of certain passages; only at that point did I realize that I’d been interpreting them far too literally for about 15 years. I was literally manipulating the colors in my own perception, since for me, color is experienced in articulation, dynamic, and timbre. By switching the angle of my bow, I would change the opacity or tone of the color in a passage, and then the teacher would give me positive feedback. Because of this pattern, I postulate that at least some of my synesthetic perceptions regarding colors are due to classical conditioning.
What changed after learning
Once I realized that I had (what I at first thought to be a disorder called) synesthesia, I began analyzing my perceptions and comparing them to those I was collaborating with. I was able to realize my synesthesia was not solely based on color; in fact it was based primarily on visual texture and density, and not at all limited to music.
A common stereotype is that synesthetes have enhanced memory performance. Because one of my weaknesses is recalling the titles and artist names of pieces of music (I almost failed a course in grad school because I struggled so hard with listening exams), I thought that I could not truly be a synesthete.
However, there is a ton of disagreement among researchers pertaining to the relationship between synesthesia and memory cognition: Some research suggests that synesthesia improves sensory memory only when one is actively cognizant of it. Other research suggests that visual memory and visual perception are extremely closely related. More recent studies have even suggested that synesthesia and memory aren’t linked. One study even suggests that autism is the key ingredient in enhanced memory performance and prodigious talent in synesthetes, and alas, I’m not autistic.
My infamously bad sense of direction is another reason that I questioned the validity of my condition. But in a twist, there is a burgeoning consensus that us synesthetes may rely more heavily on GPS than our non-synesthetic counterparts.
Socially…
When given an EEG exam, the technician instructed me to close my eyes. Though my eyes were shut, she was still detecting activity. She then blindfolded me, and even after this, she was still getting a reading. She ended up replacing all of the little electrodes, but then I realized that the problem was my synesthesia – because there were people walking and talking outside the exam room, she was getting electrical feedback. After I put in some industrial-strength earplugs, we were finally able to begin.
Like I mentioned in my writing On Improvisation, some thought (or wished for) my condition to be somehow supernatural, as if I was connected to “another dimension,” and wanted to perceive me as some sort of fairy-wizard-fae being with magical musical powers. Because that notion repulsed me, I reacted by learning what I could about the real neurological implications, though the studies were sparse, I have no academic background in science, and since the condition doesn’t often negatively impact synesthetes’ lives, there isn’t often considerable funding for research.
Unfortunately my condition does not in fact turn my world into a fantastical experience of trippy floating rainbows and ghostly Miro paintings floating in midair. My perception feels completely normal and unremarkable for me, just as yours may for you, but I acknowledge that it may seem comparatively exciting, and it makes me feel heard when people take an interest in my view of the world!
Example correlations in my musical synesthetic perceptions:
Color -> Articulation, dynamic, timbre, pitch* combinations i.e. harmony
Texture -> Instrumentation, tone, sound quality i.e. reverb, delay, other effects
Density/opacity (this is also a tactile and occasionally olfactory sensation) -> Number of frequencies occurring at once, timbre, duration
*In musical contexts, all of my visual feedback is
influenced by tuning and temperament.
In non-musical sounds, there are also consistent correlations.
For example:
Human voices -> beams or bands of colored light of varying density and opacity
Ambient white noise or brown noise, i.e. the wind, cars passing, etc. -> right field of vision and at high volume crosses into the left. Static, fuzziness, fluff of varying size, ovular/rounded
Water flowing -> crystalline grid that occupies the entire field of vision
Consistencies and variables
There are many consistencies to my synesthesia, for example a kick drum is always a glowing blue semi-circle at the very bottom of my field of vision. The density, length of persistence, and proximity of this figure varies depending on volume and any effects processing, like reverb or triggers.
Because there are so many variables to my synesthetic perception, I’m able to extrapolate that I would be considered a “lower synesthete” by a vision scientist, which leads me to question to what degree my angular gyrus is involved in my synesthetic perception. I would expect very little.
Another phenomenon I realized was that when I was severely dysregulated, for example in having panic attacks as a teen, my visual perception would feel “gray and flat” for a long period afterward. My nervous system for reasons unknown would inhibit my synesthetic perception. I would become less reactive to aural stimuli and if I needed to perform musically after a panic attack, I would rely on muscle memory and other learned mechanical behaviors to “get through” the performance with accuracy.
I do occasionally note idiosyncratic consistencies with fellow synesthetic composers. My composer-performer colleague Mary Bichner and I played a show at Mount Auburn Cemetery this past September – she was an artist in residence there from 2016 to 2018 and I’m a current resident, so we had a fun showcase event to celebrate the cemetery’s Consecration Day.
Her music seems to be very “higher synesthesia,” since particular pitches and keys have direct, consistent correlation with specific colors regardless of other musical attributes. For Mary, B♭ is always purple; but for me B♭could contain any number of colors and/or non-colors.
At this show, I debuted my new instrument argent & sable. When an audience member asked how Mary perceived the sound of the new instrument, she described a static-like color combination. A shiny white and black frenetic movement. The direct translation of the words “argent” is “silver,” and “sable” is “black.”
Argent & sable’s primary textures and colors, for me, appear exactly as Mary’s – like static.
Oh lol you just realized you’re a synesthete too?
Welcome, comrade! We don’t even know how many types of synesthesia there are. Florence & the Machine smells like laundry. Sustained flute pitches taste like water. Scratching cardboard hurts my teeth. GPS is god. We ride at dawn.
This is an amazing write up!!