I wrote this piece for What We Saw Today soon after reading the wonderful book by Oliver Sacks, The man who mistook his wife for a hat. I got a lovely comment from Michael C., who actually recommended the book to me. I am reposting my review. Michael if you read this please try and comment again? You had such wonderful insights to share!
One of my favourite books is the one by Oliver Sacks The man who mistook his wife for a hat (Picador, 1985). Dr Sacks is a neurologist and the stories he narrates in his book are about his patients. The most extraordinary thing that comes across is his strong sense of empathy with his patients. We do not find in this book arid descriptions of neurological diseases, case studies presented in medical terminology, in which people could well be things, totally divested of their humanity. On the contrary, these are stories where we the readers meet real people and feel for them and their bizarre world, not entirely devoid of logic.
A story I truly love is the one that gives its title to the book. This is a very moving account of how a musician, affected by a brain tumor in the visual parts of his brain, began to lose his ability to see people and things and recognize them. He was not blind, he suffered from a visual agnosia. He saw shapes, abstract geometrical shapes at that, and he was only able to make sense of the world around him, as his illness progressed, by relying on body-music, rather than body-image. He constantly sang to himself and, as his wife related to the doctor, he was not able to do anything unless he made it a song.
While reading the story I was particularly struck by certain observations made by Sacks on art and pathology. The musician in question had apparently been a good painter. Over the years he seemed to have moved from realistic representation to abstraction. To Sacks this was indicative of the musician’s illness, his gradual visual agnosia. To the patient's wife it was a marker of him having gone from more conventional representational art to modern abstraction. "You doctors" she says "are such philistines. Can you not recognise artistic development?" Sacks comment was that the wall of paintings in the musicians living room, where all his painting were shown together, was a “tragic pathological exhibit which belonged to neurology, not art”. And yet, says Sacks, there is often a struggle, a collusion between the powers of pathology and creation. A Picasso-like way of seeing is artistic rather than pathological, but in this particular instance it would be pathological, linked as it is with this patient’s visual agnosia.
For me this raises an important question. Are art and madness in partnership? There is certainly truth in the idea that an artist sees things differently, through a different sensibility. The different way of seeing may be accompanied by a pathology i.e. think here of Van Gogh or Schumann. But madness is not a prerequisite for making art. The myth of the mad genius artist is just that, a myth, despite some recent attempts to prove a correlation between bipolar disorder and creative genius. There is definitely a link between creativity and eccentricity, understood to be a deviant , out of the norm, behaviour. But eccentricity is not madness.
Creative endeavours actually require a sober mind to be truly successful. The creative arts do however have a remarkable therapeutic effect and may help in assuaging the assaults on the psyche of mental illness, however we may want to define mental illness. They help to deal with traumatic experiences and are a wonderful way to give an outlet to the expression of emotions, contributing to the healing process. Often, people affected by mental illness also have an artistic talent and through engaging in one of the creative therapies they may be able to nurture and develop that talent.
Back to Oliver Sacks’ wonderful book. It truly is an eye opener : in its pages we encounter people who are afflicted by some severe disorder and far from being viewed critically or judged, they are shown to us as people. Often endowed with amazing gifts and artistic abilities, they are lovable and full of wit. It is a book that makes you wonder about the human condition and makes you want to reach out for the characters that populate its narrative. Overall, a wonderful and stimulating read.
(All photos modelled by Alex B.)
Book review
One of my favourite books is the one by Oliver Sacks The man who mistook his wife for a hat (Picador, 1985). Dr Sacks is a neurologist and the stories he narrates in his book are about his patients. The most extraordinary thing that comes across is his strong sense of empathy with his patients. We do not find in this book arid descriptions of neurological diseases, case studies presented in medical terminology, in which people could well be things, totally divested of their humanity. On the contrary, these are stories where we the readers meet real people and feel for them and their bizarre world, not entirely devoid of logic.
"Sunset on the beach" by Korrigan
"Last rays" by Korrigan
While reading the story I was particularly struck by certain observations made by Sacks on art and pathology. The musician in question had apparently been a good painter. Over the years he seemed to have moved from realistic representation to abstraction. To Sacks this was indicative of the musician’s illness, his gradual visual agnosia. To the patient's wife it was a marker of him having gone from more conventional representational art to modern abstraction. "You doctors" she says "are such philistines. Can you not recognise artistic development?" Sacks comment was that the wall of paintings in the musicians living room, where all his painting were shown together, was a “tragic pathological exhibit which belonged to neurology, not art”. And yet, says Sacks, there is often a struggle, a collusion between the powers of pathology and creation. A Picasso-like way of seeing is artistic rather than pathological, but in this particular instance it would be pathological, linked as it is with this patient’s visual agnosia.
"Wild on red" by Jan Murphy
For me this raises an important question. Are art and madness in partnership? There is certainly truth in the idea that an artist sees things differently, through a different sensibility. The different way of seeing may be accompanied by a pathology i.e. think here of Van Gogh or Schumann. But madness is not a prerequisite for making art. The myth of the mad genius artist is just that, a myth, despite some recent attempts to prove a correlation between bipolar disorder and creative genius. There is definitely a link between creativity and eccentricity, understood to be a deviant , out of the norm, behaviour. But eccentricity is not madness.
"Evening on the beach" by Korrigan
Creative endeavours actually require a sober mind to be truly successful. The creative arts do however have a remarkable therapeutic effect and may help in assuaging the assaults on the psyche of mental illness, however we may want to define mental illness. They help to deal with traumatic experiences and are a wonderful way to give an outlet to the expression of emotions, contributing to the healing process. Often, people affected by mental illness also have an artistic talent and through engaging in one of the creative therapies they may be able to nurture and develop that talent.
"Evening on the beach" by Neil Huxtable
Back to Oliver Sacks’ wonderful book. It truly is an eye opener : in its pages we encounter people who are afflicted by some severe disorder and far from being viewed critically or judged, they are shown to us as people. Often endowed with amazing gifts and artistic abilities, they are lovable and full of wit. It is a book that makes you wonder about the human condition and makes you want to reach out for the characters that populate its narrative. Overall, a wonderful and stimulating read.
(All photos modelled by Alex B.)
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