Let the senses speak, âBlueâ
by Tatjana Busch
Only occasionally it really comes to our attention that every thing, every being not only bestows a definable locality for orientation in space and time to our existence, but at the same time in a multidimensional way penetrates this locality in its very own manner. It comes to our attention only occasionally, because our senses are mostly concentrated on the power of the visual. An unquestioned dominance of the visual came slowly into being and expanded. It leads us to refrain from allowing an empathic engagement in and a synesthetic understanding of and seizing of the world through its effect of distance keeping and objectivating withstanding intuition.
It can only be an interdisciplinary synesthetic kaleidoscopic way of art that goes beyond a one-sided contemplative dimension, that leads us by means of a purely visual perception towards a tactile, acoustic, energetic and mental perception in the sense of a Gesamtschau, a synopsis.
When we embark now on an all-encompassing journey of consciousness, we perceive BLUE of Tatjana Busch. And we let the senses speak.
The eye (and we always start with the eye) shows us the pure outer physicality. This is a creased, folded, pressed metal plate covered with blue, dimly shining color. Depending on the incidence of light, depending on the angle of view we perceive completely different shadowy and sunny sides of blue. Blue never equals blue. Blue is grey, turquoise, black blue, petrol, dull or shiny blue, night blue, sky blue, baby blue or denim blue. In this description, with these associations, we already enter a new, additional dimension of perception. Our mind joins in, with memories, connections, descriptions, and subjective thoughts. The blue becomes a very personal ocean blue, that will probably never be similar to the perception of blue of another person. Certain special energies that leave the purely physical behind are set free.
Now the visual, the intellectual are joined by touch. And these touches of the hands feel the metallic (an acute nose could even smell the metallic), feel the smooth cool of the work of art. Touches reach deeply. They leave the surface behind and go inside. Because what happens while touching? You feel yourself in relation to the touched thing that presses itself into your fingertips. You smooth over the straight edges, that almost appear soft, almost frail. Emotions arise. The purely visual blue as expression of the neutral reaction of the optic nerve and the once subjectively experienced blue of an ocean mood combine themselves on the inside through the feelings that came about through touch.
What happens, if the fingertips not only stroke, but drum on the work of art? If they drum on all the small and bigger planes that resulted from the bending and folding? The ear awakens. Tinny, high and low, dull and jingling notes arise and penetrate. Varying highs and lows. Each tone penetrates the eardrum as a blast wave of air molecules via the auditory canal where it turns into a mechanical movement. Seemingly without order. But a trained ear recognizes a scale in the disorder. Even the note of the most minute plane that is drummed on, belongs to this scale. Now these notes can be turned into a melody. A chain of harmonies is formed, a rhythm is added and the formerly simple wave of air molecules enters â converted into the miracle of a tonal play of waves that is in harmony with itself â into the body, penetrates him and moves him in the literal sense of the word. And embraces her at the same time. The body is bathing itself in an ocean of tonal waves.
All those perceptions, acoustical, tactile, visual, energetic or spiritual, which have been detected during this journey of consciousness, blend into infinity. Again and again starting over. Every sense offers its very own aspect, an individual facet, to then still blend into a superordinate whole. A synesthetic whole, that separates itself from the pure form of matter and that is energy as well. A synesthetic whole, that underlies our entire being. A synesthetic whole, that actually has always been there. The senses, our intuition, tell us about it. We only have to listen.
Kat SchÃ¼tz, 2010