In his Sonnets to Orpheus (1922) the Austrian poet and novelist Rainer Maria Rilke (1875–1926) speaks of “the magic power at the crossroads of your senses.” Polina Dimova uses this refrain in constructing her title for At the Crossroads of the Senses: The Synaesthetic Metaphor Across the Arts in European Modernism. She also expands it in the book, arguing that synaesthesia encompasses a wider range of issues in poetics and figuration than previously understood. She defines synaesthesia as “the confusion or conflation of the senses, where one sense is experienced or described in terms of another” (p. 6) and Rilke is among the key artists Crossroads turns to in presenting her case. Others include Oscar Wilde, Aleksandr Scriabin, Wassily Kandinsky, Frantisek Kupka, and Andrei Bely. Dimova does an excellent job in placing these artists within their milieu, as she situates synaesthetic artistic work at the multimodal intersection of discourses, technologies, multimedia art, and bodily sensations.

At the beginning of the book Dimova indicates that she is a grapheme-color synaesthete. With this type of synaesthesia an individual's perception of numerals and letters is associated with the experience of colors. Therefore, her own makeup no doubt drew her to study synaesthesia and her synaesthesia itself is represented through her decision to use synae when spelling synaesthesia rather than syne. Indeed, Dimova tells us that this combination evokes a striking red-green coloring. As she explains, “In my associations synae is blue-red-green as opposed to the pleasant but plain blue-green syne” (p. xvi).

Dimova also points out that she wrote the book with multiple intentions in mind. First, she hopes it will encourage readers to reflect on the capaciousness of artistic synaesthesia. She also sees the study as an invitation to redefine synaesthesia so that our discussions will reflect the trait’s multidimensionality. Finally, because in her view synaesthesia is related to metaphor, introspection, and emotion, the book is intended to explain why she thinks we derive benefit from exploring these three areas in terms of how synaesthetic metaphors were a key component of the modernist aesthetic and how the trait was a catalyst for a robust and cross-disciplinary fascination within the fin de siècle. As her case studies further demonstrate, synaesthesia’s cross-modality was expansively established in early twentieth century art projects as well.

It is an intriguing positioning, and overall the book has many impressive features. One is that the author learned the languages used in the book (Russian, German, French, etc.). Additionally, her background as a trained musician comes through in her fluid treatment of the musical discussions. It is also evident that she did a tremendous amount of research in pulling the analysis and source material together for this publication. The printed text is supplemented with 34 illustrations and nine musical examples. A digital companion [1] further enhances the in-text examples with online links to multisensory images, videos, and music. Despite this book’s limitations, as detailed below, her analyses of multimedia art projects and technological influences will certainly appeal to many within the Leonardo community.

A DH abbreviation is used in the text to indicate content that links to the digital companion. Although it is useful at times, because the DH does not parallel the book’s content it is primarily a supplemental component. For example, both the book and the DH have copious references to the Russian composer Alexander Scriabin. One extraordinary link in the DH takes the reader to an overview of a performance of Scriabin’s Prometheus coordinated by Anna Gawboy in 2010. Gawboy’s production in effect realized Scriabin’s dreams for a color-music synchronization. Other links made me wish she had more fully integrated specific scientific studies tied to her research into the text and companion. Charles Myers’ write-up of his 1914 interview with Scriabin falls into this category. Although she includes the full four-page report that he wrote in the DH, there is no commentary relating to this physician’s report in the book itself. Consequently, Myers’ work served as a reminder that there was a range of scientific interest at the time that is outside the scope of the Crossroads book itself.

Crossroads of the Senses opens with a broad overview of how the senses were understood historically and philosophically. This section introduces a range of views and serves to place some of the controversies surrounding synaesthesia within a larger context. As the author correctly points out, there were many conflicting theories about the senses over time, with conflicting theories of synesthesia being further developed in the nineteenth century and, as she notes, competing neurological and humanistic theories are still evident today. In terms of neuroscience, according to Dimova, contemporary researchers debate where synesthesia “is” in the brain. While I wouldn’t characterize the science this way, it isn’t really an issue for this review because, as she mentions, the scientific work is not what her book is about in any kind of comprehensive way. Rather, her intention is to probe how perceiving meaning through the senses resonates with romantic and modernist concepts of unmediated vision (understanding through sensing) and immediate knowledge in perception. For example, she demonstrates that practices of synaesthetic listening, viewing, and reading were intended to appeal to all of our senses, as we can see in her analyses of Scriabin’s conceptualization of an electric organ and Rilke’s fascination with phonography.

Additionally, in her view, literary synaesthesia, one of her foci, is now seen as pseudosynasthesia and it is largely downplayed or disregarded by scientists. Thus, this book is both an attempt to show the bias embedded in the pseudosynaesthesia characterization and an attempt to integrate pseudosynaesthesia into what she calls the modernist project. I would argue that her argument obscures how complex the relationships are among synaesthesia, literary tropes, and pseudosynaesthesia. As I read, I frequently wondered why she, as a synaesthete, wants to shroud so much of what we have learned in terms of how our unique sensory experiences differ whether or not we are synaesthetes, including in the creation of multi-sensory artwork.

Just as I wish she had offered more commentary on how literary tropes differ from verified synaesthesia, I would have like more discussion on the many types of synaesthesia, how “ordinary” synaesthesia challenged long-standing characterizations of the senses even in the period she examines, and how multi-sensory artwork by those who do not place themselves within the synaesthesia framework are a part of both the modernist and cultural equation. These factors, too, are relevant to our understanding of how our senses operate. For example, even in the nineteenth century, it was known that that there were many types of synesthesia, although other names were generally used (e.g., pseudo-chromesthesia), and it was also known that synaesthesia is an idiosyncratic trait. It is now estimated that there are 60 to 175 types of synaesthesia [2].

Part I, “Modernist synaesthesia: art and science” turns to the modernist project specifically, making it clear that for Dimova the “synaesthetic metaphor” is confined to how certain arenas within the nineteenth century and early twentieth century cultural discourse adapted the concept of synaesthesia as they developed their work and theories. She covers how some psychologists imagined that synaesthetes perceived analogous frequencies of sound and light waves, others condemned synaesthesia as degeneration or, as she puts it, a sort of relapse into sensory pleasure. Here, too, she articulates how some of the scientific discourse on perception coalesced with the fin de siecle advances in technology as well as views on decadence. For example, in terms of technology, she mentions that instruments such as the color organ, which correlated music with color, promised to make synaesthesia possible by enhancing the senses.  She frames this as a paradox where synaesthesia is “unique, utterly individual and singular,” and yet compatible with “a thoroughly ordinary experience.”

“The central paradox of synesthesia at the fin de siècle manifests itself in its response to the cultural search for a system of universal correspondences, for a revelation of one comprehensible-by-all, transparent common language or art of the future. By contrast, synaesthetes rely on radical introspection; their perception is unique, utterly individual and singular. On the one hand, the idiosyncrasy of synaesthesia and its marked difference from normative perception earned it the label of atavism and pathology by degenerative theorists. On the other hand, the subjective truth of synesthetic correspondences became the epitome of universal truth and mystical revelation at the turn of the century.” (p. 14)

She would have strengthened the arguments for her alternative perspective by more fully integrating synaesthesia research and discussion that were neither pathological nor involved with universality, introspection, metaphor, and emotion.  Without this, her characterization of the ordinary/extraordinary balance seemed to bring an elitist flavor to the artists and to mitigate the degree to which “ordinary” people experience this extraordinary trait. Dimova does include a few passages pointing out that psychologist and polymath Francis Galton (1822-1911) brought synaesthesia to the attention of the nineteenth century scientific community, but she appears more interested in those scientists who were involved with theories that equated the trait with a spiritual dimension, theosophy, and universality.

Briefly, Galton recognized that what we now call synaesthesia was manifested in some of his cases. He noted that it appeared to be genuine and was idiosyncratic, writing “It will be seen in the end how greatly metaphysicians and psychologist may err, who assume their own mental operations, instincts and axioms to be identical with the rest of mankind instead of being special to themselves.” [3]. The idiosyncratic aspect of the trait fostered debates and stimulated research. For example, Edward Holden’s reports on his eight-year daughter Mildred’s color associations was published in both Nature (1891) and Science (1885 and 1895) [4]. How interest in the subject was communicated from person to person within the cultural sphere is also evident in the opening of Holden’s 1885 report, where he writes:

“In 1880, while I was in Washington, I read Mr. F. Galton’s note on “Visualized numerals,” in Nature of Jan. 15 of that year. After I came to Madison, probably late in 1881, or early in 1882, I mentioned my own entire inability to visualize numerals, or anything else of the kind, to a member of the university faculty, Professor O. I was interested to learn, that, when a boy, he had always conceived the vowel sounds as having color, and that he still retained some traces of this early habit. I spoke of this subject at my dinner-table shortly after; and my daughter Mildred, then about eight years old, said she also had colors for the days of the week.” [5]

Overall, the array of publications stimulated dialogue. One was series of Letters to the Editor that followed the Holden’s 1895 publication in Science Magazine quoted above. Some authors recalled their own synaesthetic experiences. Others noted their interest in learning more about how others experienced the trait.

Part II moves directly to Dimova’s focus on the interface of intermediality and the senses in terms of the arts, the primary theme of the book. Here Dimova examines synaesthesia as a sensory strategy for creating multimedia art. Titled “Transforming the senses: decadent and symbolist vision,” this section outlines how Oscar Wilde’s language transmutes into music, visual art, and dance, with a focus on his Salomé. Also discussed are the Russian Symbolist poetics of light and Aleksandr Scriabin’s electric Prometheus.

Part III, “Projecting the senses: from mystical syanaesthesia to abstraction” focuses on the intimate connection between the emergence of early abstract art and the mystical understanding and lived experience of synaesthesia. This section offers an alternative genealogy of abstract art through her tracing of the painterly and literary turn to abstraction through experimentation with mixed senses. Among the pioneers of abstraction that she explores are Kandinsky, Kupka, and Bely. They were inspired by music as an abstract art. Color-form synaesthetic structured their visual work by showing the relation between abstract imagery and the synaesthetic perception of form constants (geometric patterns) associated with synaesthetic art.

Part III would have been a good place to distinguish non-synaesthete artists from those who elevated synaesthesia. For example, it is often hard to distinguish the work of Paul Klee from that of Kandinsky during the period both were at the Bauhaus. It terms of artmaking and synesthesia, both Klee and Kandinsky had musical training, and both aimed to portray music in their visual expressions. Klee, who was not a synaesthete, used a bottom-up process. Kandinsky sought to integrate his synaesthesia with his artmaking, using a top-down approach [6]. She does point out that when Kandinsky designed detailed synaesthetic questionnaires to ascertain what colors correspond to certain sounds, personal qualities, or flavors, Paul Klee and Oskar Schlemmer were among those who failed to give the “correct” answers.

“Extending the senses: Rainer Maria Rilke’s language as synaesthetic technology” is the topic of Part IV. The author argues that Rilke, who worked primarily in the early twentieth century, uses language as a synaesthetic technology to overcome the separation of the senses established by nineteenth century science. “Thus, Rilke’s poetry anticipates future synaesthetic completion across the arts by seeking a primordially Orphic yet technologically motivated, phonographic wholeness of sensory experience.” (p. 21).

The book ends with a Coda titled “Synaesthesia as Constellation.” In it the author attempts to integrate her view of synaesthesia with modernity by incorporating commentary related to the writings of Walter Benjamin (1892-1940) and Theodor Adorno (1903-1969). She concludes,

“Ultimately, I do not argue for artistic synaesthesia and against neurological synaesthesia, and I do not claim that there is no difference between synaesthetic sensations and synaesthetic metaphors. But I do suggest that the distinction is irrelevant for the study of culture. This is a question of methodology. As a cultural historian, neurohumanist, and literary and sensory studies scholar, I argue for a modernist genealogy of synaesthesia. Color-hearing was first scientifically recorded and flourished precisely because of the multifarious psychological, mystical, historical, and aesthetic discourses associated with it and thanks to the artistic experiments it fostered at the fin de siècle. Therefore, to understand synaesthesia as a constellation, we need to study the networks of culture and natural phenomena out of which it emerged as a felt experience” (p. 236)

This is a timely conclusion since the concept of constellation is a prominent term in the Humanities today. The concept is derived from a comment of the 20th century philosopher, art critic, and literary and cultural theorist Walter Benjamin (1892-1940) who said that “ideas are eternal constellations.” These words are interpreted as denoting that no one thought prevails. The gist of this is that it is important to recognize that ideas are incomplete and that grouping them allows us to find resonance in our efforts to get a sense of the whole of thought. Thus, framing the study through “constellations” offers a way for Dimova (and other theorists) to discuss things without establishing an analytically exhaustive definition because with a constellation we can avoid a univocal use of the term. The idea is that a “constellation” allows us to add more room for our comprehension of it. As Adorno wrote: “By gathering concepts round the central one that is sought, they attempt to express what that concept aims at, not to circumscribe it to operative ends” [7]. Her point in this respect is that the according to Benjamin and later Adorno synaesthesia,

“…could either allow us to recover a primordial human perception, or it veiled the capitalist conditions of inequality and injustice by transporting us into a technologically constructed, artificial aesthetic world that poses as nature. Yet Benjamin's notions of the artwork's afterlife and of history as a constellation of ideas that continuously reshape the past can also help us understand the intellectual history of synaesthesia leading to its second rise around 2000. They will allow us to make sense of the current debates on what is and what is not synaesthesia” (p. 229).

One can see Dimova’s writings in terms of a re-defined synaesthetic constellation, but admittedly I did not see it as giving full value to examples that do not verify her hypothesis in terms of artistic synaesthesia and the scientific studies.  The constellation she presents, in my view, falls short of addressing the amalgamated qualitative and quantitative research of the nineteenth century and how it has led to what we know in the twenty-first century. How the seeds that were planted earlier have since spawned studies focused on imprinting, epigenetic, and environmental factors; the range of commentators who have offered anecdotal reports; artistic projects that communicate the experience; and both clinical and nonclinical population studies. To be sure, some recent findings overlap with historical investigations and others revisit long-standing debates, but we now also know more about classical synaesthesia and have a growing repository of cases documenting lost or acquired synesthesia. So, whereas it is useful to acknowledge metaphorical and cultural examples that span the ages, I would argue that any useful constellation has to include a fuller range. I would also argue that even when looking at the arts there is much to be gained in looking beyond introspection, metaphor, and emotion.

Finally, given my interest in the interface of synesthesia with both science and culture, I must admit that I expected to like this publication more than I did. As it turned out, the author and I bring disparate foundational understandings of how the scientific studies of synaesthesia inform art, cultural dimensions and our understanding of the senses. Consequently, our sense of how synaesthesia and cross-modal artworks co-exist differs tremendously. Dimova, who places her publication within the rising field of Sensory Studies, offers a work that aligns intermedial art projects with synaesthesia, with an emphasis on how philosophy, spirituality, and theosophical ideas were integrated. To be sure, these ideas captured the imagination of many at the end of the nineteenth century. Her approach to this aspect of art repeatedly reminded me of Maurice Tuchman’s 1986 exhibition catalog for The Spiritual in Art: Abstract Painting 1890-1985 [8]. Indeed, many of the articles in the catalog for that exhibition are cited throughout the Crossroads book. Readers interested in the aspect of art she presents may want to also visit the Tuchman tomb, which expands the litany of twentieth century examples.

References

[1]The digital companion is at https://scalar.usc.edu/works/at-the-crossroads-of-the-senses.

[2] Ione, Amy. Neuroscience and Art: The Neurocultural Landscape. Springer, 2024.

[3] Galton, Francis. Inquiries into Human Faculty and Its Development. Macmillan, 1883, p. 47.

[4] Holden, Edward S. “Color and Other Associations.” Science, vol. ns-6, no. 137, 1885, pp. 242-43; “Colour-Associations with Numerals, etc.” Nature, vol. 44, no. 1132, 1891, pp. 223-24; “Color Associations with Numerals, etc." Science, vol. 10, no. 255, 1899, pp. 738-38.

[5] Holden, Edward S. “Color and Other Associations.” Science, vol. ns-6, no. 137, 1885, pp. 242-43, p. 242.

[6] Ione, Amy. "Klee and Kandinsky Polyphonic Painting, Chromatic Chords and Synaesthesia." Journal of Consciousness Studies, vol. 11, no. 3-4, 2004, pp. 148-58[7] Adorno, Theodor W. Negative Dialectics. Translated by E. B. Ashton, The Seabury Press, 1973. Negative Dialectics, p.165. [8] Tuchman, Maurice et al. The Spiritual in Art: Abstract Painting 1890-1985. Abbeville Press, 1986.