Across Borders and Senses I
Artistic Synesthesia
Einav Grushka
Synesthesia is a phenomenon that involves the stimulation of several sensory experiences in tandem. Whether it adopts auditory, tactile or visual forms, I personally associate it with the process of translation from one artistic medium to another and the merging of artistic experiences that are inevitably associated with cultural and occasionally political shifts. In this first column, I want to focus on the French Impressionist movement across the arts, and specifically the fluidity with which they intertwine and interact. As a classical musician, I have come to understand that without having a rounded knowledge of the relevant artistic period, suitable interpretation is rendered extremely difficult. This leads me to believe that the arts are inseparable, that you can never master one without recognition of the others, and even if you may not realise it, that each artistic medium is embedded within the others. It’s all or nothing.
The term ‘Impressionist’ was coined by critic Louis Leroy in 1874 in reference to Monet’s Soleil levant, a work that to him seemed a mere sketch. The emergence of this new movement marked the brutal rupture from the strict rules of the Académie Des Beaux-Arts and Salon de Paris, with a striking shift away from the traditions of Realism. The movement itself was a cultural scandal, an uproar that replaced highbrow artistic themes with representations of the ‘banal’ realities of daily life and leisure.
In the sphere of the fine arts, scenes were painted as if at a glance alone, and this idea of the swift, momentary gaze became essential for the movement in its entirety. Regarding methodology, artists adopted the use of light brush strokes, concentrating on the effects of light and colour, often working outside with haste due to the unpredictability of nature. Furthermore, varnishes were abandoned, allowing the vraisemblable, or ‘true-to-life’ characteristic of Impressionism to emerge.
I remember standing before Monet’s Nymphéas (Water lilies) at the Musée d’Orsay, and from up close, they seemed abstract and dare I say, chaotic. However, next time you find yourself there once borders are opened, take a step back. In an almost magical sense, the true image unfolds. The individual brush strokes that at first glance seemed arbitrary transform into an abundant scene, upheaving a plethora of almost overwhelming sensations. In this way, artists created not just a visual work, but rather a wholesome experience that intoxicates the spectator’s senses. It is precisely at this moment that ‘synesthesia’ becomes relevant. Through the merging of colours and the fading of contours, the works come to life; water flows and on its surface, water lilies sway. Rays of sun flit and dance around the natural scopes, and you seem to experience nature as it is, you hear it, and in essence, you live the scene.
Claude Monet, Nymphéas bleus (1920-26). Musée d'Orsay via Wikimedia Commons
Synesthesia is literally a merging of the senses, but on a figurative level, I also see it as the intertwining of artistic effects in its various forms. Looking at different forms of creative expression shows that they are actually far more similar than we might think. Without even noticing, musicians constantly refer to synesthesia. We strive to create musical ‘colours’, implying that mentally, auditory and visual realms are one and the same. Naturally, we must ask ourselves, “how is it possible to evoke visual impressions through sound?” My answer: through the blurring of distinctions.
Ravel and Debussy used whole tone and pentatonic scales as well as exotic modes, creating ambiguous tonalities. In addition, the interweaving of melody and accompaniment in direct contrast to the Romantic period allows the music to wash over the listener. Just as Impressionist painters rendered their works fluid with less constrained strokes, pianists turned to the modern use of the sustain pedal in order to merge different sounds. The freedom evoked, in turn, is essential to the Impressionist obsession with nature, and more importantly, with water. In Debussy’s prelude Voiles, clarity is arguably not the composer’s intention, but rather the sensation provoked by the unique sounds and the image conjured in the listener’s mind of sails on the water. Similarly, in Ravel’s Une barque sur l’océan, the melody is hidden within a continuous cascade of tones, evoking the unruly movement of the sea. Moreover, the descending and ascending sequences imitate the swell of waves whilst the shimmering high tessitura evokes the glimmer of sunlight on the ocean. In this liberal and unrestrained manner of imitation, the natural world takes form in the mind of the listener.
What made the synesthetic experience so novel was its cultural and emotional exoticism, achieved through the crossing of both mental and physical borders. For me, this boils down to the obsession with l’étranger. Debussy’s music is heavily imbued with foreign stimuli. The music of Debussy and Ravel is heavily imbued with foreign stimuli, whether through Middle Eastern harmonies in Pour l’egyptienne (Six epigraphes antiques) or the glissandos and vast, mysterious melodies of Le jardin feerique (Ma mere l’Oye) that transport us to a fantastical dream world. Performing both works with my wonderful duet partner, their emotive effect is unquestionable, for we find ourselves sighing, breathing and feeling together - it is no longer an auditory experience but rather all-encompassing, very literally taking our breath away.
My discussion of the relationship between the arts would be incomplete without the fundamental pillar of literature, and particularly, a mention of Symbolism, driven by Baudelaire and Les Fleurs du mal. Reacting against Realism and Naturalism, Baudelaire aimed to bridge the gap between the arts and senses, delving into the world of dreams and drug-induced daydreams through labyrinths of metaphors, the crux of which lies in the notion of ‘poetic synesthesia’. This is most prominent in Baudelaire’s Correspondances in which he describes the transportation of “l’esprit et [les] sens”, (the spirit and senses) as well as “les parfums, les couleurs, et les sons” (the scents, colours and sounds), engaging us in a world of sensory overload.
Illustration: Vega Boney-Hundal
Finally, I want to shed light on the links between the three mentioned art forms via a single title that renders them inseparable and highlights how each translates neatly from one to the other. Mallarmé’s poem A l’après midi d’un faune, published in 1867 depicts a highly-descriptive fantasy world, engaging all senses. A few years later, Debussy composed a prelude to the same title in which music can be seen as an auditory translation of the poem; for example, the word “murmure” is depicted by string tremolandos. The use of free literary form is reflected in the meandering, seemingly endless opening melody, and the lack of a tonal centre and a clear metre depicts the mystical theme. Manet created the poem’s frontispiece, and thus the simplistic drawing composed of sketch-like strokes that seem to blur our perspective and almost make us doubt its reality, forms the final angle of a literary, artistic and musical portrayal of a single theme in which the same impressions are evoked.
Personally, the fact that our senses are entangled in such a way, transporting us between the real world and that of our imagination and carrying us across distant borders is proof of the magic of Impressionist synesthesia. It has shown me that in my own musical endeavours, I should aim to take into account all art forms and incorporate the feelings provoked by each to make my own interpretations as vivid as possible, for regardless of whether we read, listen or view, the effect provoked is mirrored and ever complemented.