Sense and Spirit
by
Mengduo (Dream) Zhang

A THESIS IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE
OF
MASTER OF FINE ARTS
in
VISUAL ARTS
EMILY CARR UNIVERSITY OF ART + DESIGN
2019

© Copyright by Mengduo (Dream) Zhang, 2019

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Abstract
My art practice is based on the study of sensory perception. How can the representation of
synesthesia function in an art context, specifically painting? Further to this, what is the role of
sensory perception in relation to Chinese cosmology and cosmic consciousness in my artwork? I
explore synesthesia, Chinese qi, cosmic consciousness to approach and understand my painting
practice, and the potential for artists to visualize ineffable aspects of perceptual experience. My
work is influenced by both Eastern and Western painters, including Cai Guoqiang, Qiu Shihua,
Timothy B. Layden, Pia Fries, and Elizabeth Neel. The large-scale paintings produced in this
thesis make significant use of layering and marks that look like they were accidentally created;
however, the paintings are composed intentionally using synesthetic experience and an
abstract vocabulary. I am trying to approach a state of reconciliation between control and noncontrol and apply it into the gestures and marks of painting. I experiment with gestural and
abstract painting approaches to develop a perceptual space of emptiness. I am inspired by both
the concept of qi, which literally means “breath “and is the soul of Chinese landscape painting,
and Richard M. Bucke’s definition of cosmic consciousness, which he connects to ‘intuitive logic’
and a highest level of mind. My desire is to explore a topography of spirituality that I associate
with consciousness in order to reveal where sensorial experience can lead.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Abstract

2

Table of Contents

3

Acknowledgements

4

List of images

5

Introduction and Positionality

6

Method

9

Synesthesia

11

Chinese Cosmology-Qi

18

Artistic Influences

21

Cosmic Consciousness

33

Conclusion

42

Bibliography

43

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Acknowledgements
I would like to express my sincere gratitude to my supervisor, Mark Igloliorte, for his immense
support, enthusiasm and guidance throughout the program. I would also like to extend thanks
to Ben Reeves for his contribution as my internal examiner; Kim Phillips her generosity as my
external examiner. Dr. Randy Lee Cutler for her thoughtful conversations and advice; Dr. Trish
Kelly for her continuous support; Dr. Jamie Hilder for his unwavering encouragement and
suggestions. I am very grateful to my family and friends for their love and support. I would like
to extend a thank you to my classmates for their company during MFA study, thank you for
such a great time.

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List of images
Fig 1 –Untitled, 7” x 11”, watercolour, ink and pigment on paper, 2018
Fig 2– Floating in Strawberry Milkshake, 5” x 7”, watercolour and ink on paper, 2018
Fig 3— Enjoy Apple, 7” x 11”, watercolour and ink on paper, 2018
Fig 4– Scented Tea, 7” x 11”, watercolour and ink on paper, 2018
Fig 5— Cai Guoqiang, Light Passage–Winter, 230 x 462 cm, gunpowder on paper, 2007.
Fig 6 – Timothy B. Layden, The Shape of Sounds, 22.5 x 26cm, mix media on paper, 2008.
Fig 7 – Untitled, 23” x 30” (5), watercolour, ink and pigment on paper, 2018
Fig 8 – Untitled, details, 2018
Fig 9 – Qiu Shihua, Untitled II, 150 x 292cm, Oil on canvas, unknown.
Fig 10 – Untitled, 11” x 14” (49), watercolour, ink and pigment on paper, 2018
Fig 11 – Untitled, details, 2018
Fig 12 – Untitled, details, 2018
Fig 13 – Immersed in Pure White Cotton, 59“x 96” (4), watercolour, ink and pigment on paper,
2019
Fig 14 Immersed in Pure White Cotton, details, 2019
Fig 15 Immersed in Pure White Cotton, details, 2019
Fig 16 – Pia Fries, Weisswirt, 170 x 145 cm, oil and silkscreen on wood, 2008
Fig 17 – Elizabeth Neel, The Builder, 188 x 119.4 cm, acrylic on canvas, 2015
Fig 18 – Elizabeth Neel, ADBC, 241.3 x 198.12 cm, acrylic on canvas, 2015
Fig 19 – Untitled, 5ft x 5ft, watercolour, ink and pigment on canvas, 2019

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Fig. 1 Untitled, 7” x 11”, watercolour, ink and pigment on paper, 2018

Introduction and positionality
As an individual with roots in China, when I left my country and started studying in
another country, Canada, I realized that the mutual influence among different cultures are
subtle. When I was in China, I was more interested in the West than I am now. Because at that
time, my understanding of the Western culture only came from books and the media. Since I
didn’t have any experience of living there, this made me full of curiosity and imagination about
the West; it was mysterious for me. However, I am living far away from China, so I am more
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interested in Chinese thoughts as the result of being in a very different place. I want to explore
aspects of Chinese philosophy, specifically Taoist theory, that may be less familiar to
westerners. Because I am living in a Western context now. I feel more freedom and less
limitations to follow my own way of making art than I did in China. But sometime in this relaxed
atmosphere, I hesitate, swinging like a pendulum between Chinese and Western ways of
making art. But I enjoy being placed in this state, because this allows me to be at a crossroads
of Chinese and Western cultures, and to look for a new perspective in my work. In order to find
it, I need to take things from here and there and fuse them to frame new structures. This
experience of being at a crossroads has greatly developed my understanding about how I
transform things from one context to another, and restructured my perspective about how I
show those relationships.
When I was very young, I could see the colour on around people: the people who I liked
and who were familiar exuded pink; light pink on strangers who I liked; black for people who I
didn’t like and white for strangers I didn’t know. I remember my friend’s brother who I liked
very much, around his body I always saw pink and purple, like the colour quality of amethyst. As
the result, I preferred him more than anyone else. While with others I might refuse their touch
because I saw colours that weren’t so appealing to me. But when I grew up a bit, this ability
seemed to disappear quietly, and I didn’t notice it right away. However, when I hear a sound, or
smell and taste something, I continue to see some particular images or colours that no one else
can see the same way. When I said to my mother, the whistling sound of the train is an N
shape, and the piano keys are multiple beating triangles; the taste of a strawberry is red, but
the taste of a pomegranate is chocolate. She was shocked and looked at me, then she touched

7

my forehead, she thought I had a fever, though I was totally fine. Because of these experiences,
I am often misunderstood by people, I seem to be a someone who is not quite normal. I
remembered when I was in kindergarten, I was criticized by teachers for refusing to put celery
in my meals. In fact, it was not because I was picky about what I ate, but because the colour it
smelled was light yellow with a black pepper was duck red; it really didn't match the colour in
my bowl. My abnormal experience made me think about the uniqueness of each person’s way
of perceiving the world. I was thinking that everyone was processing information and creating a
personal map of their environment, which is based on a personal coding system. Therefore, it is
not just synesthetes, but all people experience the world around them in fundamentally
singular ways.

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Method

Fig. 2 Floating in Strawberry Milkshake, 5” x 7”, watercolour and ink on paper, 2018

I use watercolour, ink and pigments, with watercolour as the main material. I want to
create a natural atmosphere and mystical in my painting, and I believe watercolor is the best
medium to accomplish this. American visual artist Lawrence C. Goldsmith says, “watercolour
exceeds all other media in its marvellous ability to capture the essence of atmospheric space”
(Goldsmith 33). Watercolour has a large range of tonal values, both subtle and intense, it comes
alive in the clear transparency. The tones appear like looking through stained glass, which
creates depths that are luminous and never opaque. Paint runs or spreads promptly,
sometimes unpredictably, which is largely responsible for the possibility of those ethereal and
9

mystical qualities, those outbursts of lyrical feeling and poetic effects (Goldsmith 12). These
characteristics of watercolours allow me to depict the perceptual space of synesthesia and the
ethereal, mystical and illusory atmosphere of the spiritual world.
The colour in my synesthetic visions do not match the colour of unmodified tubes of
paint. They are rarely pure or solid colour, especially as the synesthesia produces colours that
are very sophisticated, and I need to find the most accurate description by experimenting with
a variety of colour combinations; How much water or white are added in colours and how much
other colour ratios are involved in it. In addition, I used the pigments that I made myself. Maybe
because of the machine, the pigments directly purchased are too smooth and the colour is
relatively monotonous. Therefore, I make pigments that are closer to the texture that I want. I
put coloured chalk in a small bowl, and then used a thick stick, like mashing garlic, to crush the
coloured chalk into pigments. In this way, the pigments produced by hand has a particle size
which is not uniform. I can also add a different colour to mix or extend the fluidity of the
medium of the mix. These pigments are much better for my creative process. When there are
some larger particles of pigments in the wet area, the colour will be larger and darker to
precipitate and smudge on the image. The smoother pigments will flow freely into other areas
and coincide with the watercolour, creating a complex colour gradient. This is how I manage to
communicate the depths of synesthetic experiences.

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Synesthesia
All we have to believe is our senses: the tools we use to perceive the world, our sight,
our touch, our memory. If they lie to us, then nothing can be trusted. —Neil Gaiman
Synesthesia is normally understood as neurological phenomenon in which the senses
blend. In Synesthesia and the Arts, Dani Cavallaro explains, “When synesthesia occurs, the
stimulation of one sense triggers the inadvertent stimulation of other parts of the sensorium. In
other words, a stimulus perceived through one of the senses automatically activates another
sense” (Cavallaro 71). I have three kinds of synesthesia: sound to colour and shape, smell and
taste to colour and shape. Vladimir Nabokov wrote a poem about synesthesia in 1918:
A gift exists that is unclear to science.
One hears a sound but recollects a hue,
invisible the hands that touch your heartstrings.
Not music the reverberations that ensue within; they are of light.
Sounds that are coloured…
The beauty fades, transformed to simple tunes
a crystal ringing in dahlia’s fiery facets, I perceive,
on dry grass midst the cobweb’s motley weave (176).
Science can explain how the brain and body works and why it might react a certain way to
an experience, but I am more interested in expressing that inexplicable and intangible
perceptual experience through art. Synesthesia is a mode of sensory perception. I seem to be
placed in the space between the known and unknown; As writer and philosopher Aldous Huxley
said, “There are things known and there are things unknown and in between are the doors of

11

perception” (Huxley 2302). Our perception explores and reveals the most subtle and hidden
spaces and sensations.
With our senses so inherently tightly coupled, are we all silently synesthetic? The author
Jamie Ward, In The Frog Who Croaked Blue argues that multisensory perception is a norm,
although few people can enter the realm of synesthesia. But our senses are not independent,
combining sensory information is a key attribute of our brain, whether we are synesthetic or
not (Ward 58). In Wednesday Is Indigo Blue, American neurologist and author Richard E.
Cytowic explains, in daily encounters, we constantly experience sensory stimulation of every
kind, but never is one isolated from the others. The input is taken in by multiple senses about
the same object or situation, and is then heavily influenced by the other senses. As an example,
when watching a film, the voices seem to be coming from the figures on the screen, even if
they originate from the surrounding speakers. It is an illusion that occurs, and it is compelling
without the need for attention (Cytowic 106). In The Man Who Tasted Shapes, Cytowic argues
that “synesthesia is actually a normal brain function in every one of us, but its workings reach
consciousness in only a handful” (Cytowic 221). Generally, few people are aware of how often
cross-sensory perceptions occur in the sense of smell. “In a technical sense, we might say that
everyone is synesthetic” (Cytowic 128). For instance, people have always said that the aroma of
vanilla is sweet, although sweetness is a taste. In fact, "sweetness" is the most common
description of odors. One researcher asked 140 subjects to describe the smell of a strawberry.
79% said it smelled sweet, while only 43% said it smelled like strawberry, and 71% said it was
fruity. Whenever a smell is heard, most people perceive taste-like qualities like sweetness

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rather than explicit ones like strawberry-likeness (128). Thus, synesthesia is a fundamental
perception, but might usually occur below the surface of awareness.
Most of the time we have a preconceived notion when we look at a thing, but sometimes
those preconceptions block the subtle perception from our senses. French phenomenological
philosopher Maurice Merleau-Ponty has pointed out that when language is imposed on
perception, humans initially split the single experience of the world into different categories,
and then divide those into five separate sensory organs and their respective domains.
Whenever the senses regain their natural power, they interact spontaneously and involve the
whole body in the experience. In his own words, “synaesthetic perception is the rule, and we
are unaware of it only because scientific knowledge shifts the centre of gravity of experience,
so that we have unlearned how to see, hear, and generally speaking feel” (Merleau-Ponty 266).
We are used to following common sense, which is like a default rule for everyone. If others
think that way, then it seems we should think that way as well, so that we won’t be regarded as
different. This also makes us lose sight of our more subtle sensations.
Socialization changes our perspective in how we perceive the world around us. In Blue
Cats and Chartreuse Kittens, Patricia Lynne Duffy, synesthete and author, proposes that “an
individual’s personal coding falls away as it is replaced by the socially endorsed standard code
of society” (Duffy 650). A person's increasing ability to conform to social codes or socially
accepted understandings about their circumstance and socialize erode their subjective modes
of perception. This erosion can be illustrated by a typical example, which most children “lose
much of their ability to visualize as they get older” (650). For young people, getting a common
and socially recognized signifying system is crucial, but that doesn’t mean abandoning their

13

personal code altogether. As Duffy wrote, “Just as we never want to lose our first language
when we learn a second one (as there are obvious benefits to knowing both), so might we
discover the benefit to keeping our personal code alive even after we have learned the shared
one” (Duffy 138). Cavallaro describes the persistent requirements for individual cognition: even
if the synesthete’s process involves sensory cross-activation, and the non-synesthete’s code
largely separates the senses, each person’s code is ultimately self-contained (Cavallaro 657).
Synesthesia helps us to know that “all percept[ion] is ultimately idiosyncratic” (Cavallaro 627).
All of our personal brain system is uniquely filtering out the external senses. Therefore, our
senses are a very subjective and personal experience, and it is precisely this uniqueness that
highlights the differences in the way people see the world.
Is synesthesia working outside consciousness? The difference between someone with
synesthesia and someone without seems to awareness about they perceive the world. The
difference between someone with synesthesia and someone without may be the consciousness
level about how they perceive the world. In The Man Who Tasted Shapes, Cytowic argues that
for most people, cross-sensory perception constitutes a subconscious experience (Cytowic 166).
Marcia Smilack is a synesthetic artist, who similarly believes that the fundamental difference
between synesthetes and non-synesthetes “might merely be a thin layer of unawareness … my
synesthesia allows me to lift up and see through perceptual layers giving me access to more
layers of consciousness than are available to most people” (620). It might be argued that if a
person has “more layers of consciousness”, they can observe the world through more angles
and more comprehensively, and transcend the limits of overall perception to break
preconceived notions.

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When we are experiencing the world, there is an immeasurable amount of information
that the brain has to absorb and translate for us to understand. When we see an apple tossed
to us, we might think of it as a single object, but it is actually composed of bundled information.
All the different systems in our brain see that the apple is something red, round, edible, and
moving to conclude an answer of an apple in motion. (Cytowic 202). Within the limbic system1,
Cytowic describes “the hippocampus as the main node that makes synesthesia possible,”
because this is the only area in which it is “possible to bring together information that was
processed in functionally and geographically separate parts of the brain” (Cytowic 166). In this
aspect, synesthesia shows how much more information than what is normally perceived is
bound together. For instance, when I taste an apple, it is more than red, round, crunchy,
succulent, and sweet with acid which I represent in my work, Enjoy Apple (see fig, 3). In the first
bite of the apple, I see a large oval with mint green, and a purple thin line passing through the
right side. After I crush the apple and start chewing, I see an ellipse comprised of a number of
small squares, they are different shades of blue; Irregular pale yellow shadows extend below
them. Apple juice overflows satisfyingly in the mouth, accompanied by the sweet and sour
flesh. A light green arc passes through an irregular yellow shape. When the sweetness was
greater than the sour taste, a pale pink halo passes through the yellow.

The limbic system is a complex set of structures in the brain. It contains the hypothalamus, the hippocampus and
the amygdala etc. The limbic system is responsible for our emotional life and plays an important role in the
formation of memory.
1

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Fig. 3 Enjoy Apple, 7” x 11”, watercolour and ink on paper, 2018

All too often subtleties of experience are lost to perception. According to Merleau-Ponty,
“The senses intercommunicate by opening on to the structure of the thing” (Merleau-Ponty
265). The geometrical shape of an object is not its only form, we also take clues from other
senses and sights for it. For example, folded linen cloth has a dryness of the fibre, and the
temperature of the material (Merleau-Ponty 266). The author Dani Cavallaro has pointed out
that a culmination of this sensory collaboration is that we must pay attention to the subtle, or
hidden properties of an object, not just accepting the immediately perceived form as the true
essence (Cavallaro 679). Using the senses, we are able to recognize an object’s hidden qualities,
and its connections.

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In a way, synesthesia helps me to largely detect this hidden quality. In my work, Scented
Tea (see fig, 4) the visual picture of sensorial perception is triggered by smell and taste of a tea
called White Sky. The crystal-clear aroma of white tea reminds me of the fragrance of ylang
ylang flowers from the Indian Ocean Islands, sweet and delicious. Its front notes are lightly
sweet, the middle notes have slightly astringent smell, after that the tone that is a bit acidic and
fresh. The pale red bean paste is shown through a light-yellow mist, and aquamarine blue
shadows are embedded from the pale red edges. Working with watercolour, I wet the areas in
which I want colours to flow in order to let the next layer of colour (light yellow) blend more
naturally with the newly added colour (pale red bean). Some parts of the paper remain dry, so
the wet paint does not flow into those sections. The pigment pools give the impression of a
more concentrated area to show the presence of obvious components in the odour. Because
the first application of colour saturation is not high, I increased the intensity of the paint with
overlays of colour glazes, that I sprayed with a spray bottle. This helps me to present the
complexity and the layering of the picture in order to better convey the state of different odour
components throughout the whole scent, and express the ineffable character of this perceptual
experience.

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Figure. 4 Scented Tea, 7” x 11”, watercolour and ink on paper, 2018

Chinese Cosmology-Qi

The critic Kuiyi Shen describes that, the concept of qi is at the centre of Chinese
cosmology, literally meaning “breath”, qi actually refers to the constantly moving essence of life
and vital energy. It courses constantly like a flowing gas, a natural fluid, animating all living
things, including the landscape (Kuiyi 68). Qi is the soul of Chinese landscape painting and
calligraphy. Through the act of painting and writing, the artist opens themselves to
communication with the natural world, allowing their qi to merge with that of the cosmos. This
is a spiritual exchange. In “Six Canons of Painting”, Chinese painter and art theorist Xie He

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points out the most essential law was to “engender movement through spirit resonance” (qiyun
shengdong). The movement in the painting is thus that of qi. Because of this underlying
harmony, all elements within the painting are expected to be full of vitality. At the same time,
the placement of empty space is equally crucial, as the qi resides everywhere and contains
everything. Proper arrangement of the negative space gives a place, an entrance and exit, to
support the flow of qi (68).
Philosopher and educator Al Chung-liang Huang describes “wu-wei” in his book, Embrace
Tiger, Return to Mountain, Qi embodies wu-wei, which is the subtlest principle of Taoism.
Literally, wu-wei refers to “not doing,” and actually means to move following the flow of
nature’s course that is signified by the word Tao (Huang 2). At the same time, qi is energy, it is
subtle and strong, and circulates constantly in one’s mental and physical self. It is like breathing,
it is an unconscious action, basically undefinable but makes everything become forceful and
powerful (2). For me, synesthesia is also a subtle and powerful energy. It constantly affects my
sensory experience and my inner spirituality. Synesthesia happens naturally like breathing, and
I am absorbed in this sense of spiritual exchange. Therefore, synesthesia has the same function
as qi for me. Qi is the Chinese concept for the essence of life, it is a universal, spiritual thing. Qi
refers to wu-wei which can be also defined as emptiness or nothingness which is parallel with
the highest level of the mind—cosmic consciousness.
The space of synesthesia is vivid, and it makes me feel energetic. When I completely let
myself into this space, I seem to walk into an infinite galaxy. I am dragged forward by a vague
and mysterious force. I see multiple colors and shapes; my sight is a bit tired. My vision begins
to blur. I sit down and admire the constellations of these special patterns, which have no clear

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outline, like clouds and fogs dimly discernible in front of me. I reach out and try to touch the
shapes in the sky that seem to be close at hand. These shapes are organic form, natural and
freedom. When I reach out to touch them, they disappear instantly in front of my eyes, like
bubbles that were punctured by my fingers. At this moment, I am wrapped in an infinite void,
my spirit is completely quiet. I reached the limit of perception; my senses began to recede after
experiencing the climax of perception. This is a kind of sensation that occurs when I see enough
things, I will forget what I see, because the experience is in my consciousness. In other words,
when I master a tool, I will forget how to use it, because they have been transformed into a
powerful and innate energy that acts on an unconscious level. As the artist Kazimir Malevich
illustrates, “There is no existence either within or outside me; nothing can change anything,
since nothing exists that could change itself or be changed” (Malevich 191). I seem to access
the state of emptiness; a mute space of liberation, somewhere between stability and chaos.
The making process seems like a spiritual practice that I associate with consciousness. In
the Chinese principle of Tao, this higher consciousness is hard to attain, but it is still possible to
be achieved. However, the Western postmodern perspective believes it not possible to reach.
Standing at the crossroads of east and west, I bridge different cultures. When I paint, I am
trying to comprehend the highest state of consciousness. My Western mind tells me that I will
never achieve it, but my Eastern mind tells me every step of the painting process brings me
closer to it. In both my minds, the passion doesn’t fade, because I keep trying to reach for that
state of higher consciousness.

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Artistic Influences
There are a few artists that influence my practice; they are Cai Guoqiang, Timothy B.
Layden, and Qiu shihua. Cai is a Chinese painter and calligrapher. In Cai Guoqiang: Ladder to the
sky, Kuiyi Shen points out that Cai uses gunpowder as a signature medium in his work (see fig,
5). Cai feels the accidental and uncontrollability of gunpowder creates vivid new worlds and
gives power to his art. He experiments with the dangerous materials and imagines what effect
they would have, but there are always unexpected results. In this confrontation between
controlled and uncontrolled, between fire and canvas, unexpected effects produce new results
(Kuiyi 73). There is a similar making method in my process of painting. Cai’s use of gunpowder
inspired me to employ watercolor as the main medium in my work. Gunpowder needs to work
with fire, and watercolor needs to work with water. As Lao-tzu said, although water is soft and
weak it invariably overcomes the rigid and hard (Lao 2). Water has the property of being able to
contain all things. I attempt to incorporate water to express an all-inclusive mind, which is also
in line with the ideas conveyed by Chinese cosmology and cosmic consciousness. Cosmic
consciousness is being connected with all things, and water connects everything. Watercolour is
able to create unexpected results. I want to embody the experience through the quality of
unexpected results that synesthesia creates a visual space beyond our imagination. This
unexpected result is often more consistent with the free state of the shapes I see, and it is also
an expression of the ineffable perceptual experience.

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Fig. 5
[Figure 5 has been removed due to copyright restrictions. The information removed is Cai
Guoqiang, Light Passage–Winter, 230 x 462 cm, gunpowder on paper, 2007.]
For Cai, the explosions create the illusion that the universe is close to us and is in a
perceptual state of being born. The explosion physically produced qi. However, the most
significant thing is this qi carries the spiritual transformation. The explosion turned the desire to
merge into the universe into dust and fragile paper, as if they were transferred to another
spiritual field (Kuiyi 74). Similarly, synesthesia effects my inner spiritual dimension; in this way,
synesthesia acts as qi for me. In the process of painting I use negative space to release qi. In
Negative Space: Orbiting Inner and Outer Experience, the artist Antonia Hirsch describes that
the negative space in art describes the space around objects. This empty space becomes its
own object of focus, creating something new to contemplate. Calling a space negative tends to
invoke a blackness, a feeling of nothingness. Yet, this nothingness, as soon as it is given a name,
becomes something. The blackness becomes a stretching infinity, like the night sky. The feeling

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of emptiness is such an abstract, yet very present concept, that it often inspires metaphors
which struggle to define it (Hirsch 3). In White, Japanese graphic designer and curator Kenya
Hara proposes that, in some cases, white denotes “emptiness” (Hara 23). White as a non-color
transforms into a symbol of nonbeing. This ‘nonbeing’ is predictive of a condition that will be
filled with content in the future. Thus, negative space can create a powerful communication
energy (Hara 35). The emptiness becomes a space to extend our potential, providing an area
where our imagination is able to run free, granting a more versatile perception (Hara 38).
According to these concepts, negative space causes a feeling of nothingness, and qi similarly
refers to emptiness or nothingness.
Timothy B. Layden is an interdisciplinary artist who experiences synesthesia. Cavallaro
point out that, Layden uses recordings to capture special sounds that give him a strong
reaction. Through these recordings, he creates soundscapes. When the editing of a soundscape
is done, he creates a mixed media study that he uses to externalize the colours and shapes of
the sounds, like creating a landscape. At the end, he makes larger mixed media paintings, which
gives snapshots of the experience of movement frozen in time (Cavallaro 1654). His work The
Shape of Sounds (see fig, 6), consists of a series of small drawings on paper developed while
editing eleven soundtracks. Layden explains each of those sketches “was produced though a
process of automatic drawing during successive listening of the soundtracks in various stages of
their development with the purpose of loosening up the hand and the sensitivity for drawing
the synesthetic experience in the moment of its occurrence” (Layden 13). There is a similar
strategy that I use in my painting.

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Fig.6
[Figure 6 has been removed due to copyright restrictions. The information removed is Timothy
B. Layden, The Shape of Sounds, 22.5 x 26cm, mix media on paper, 2008.]
I try to create a landscape that is rooted in the visual images of synesthesia. In the
creative process, I applied mapping strategies that are similar to Layden’s works. For example,
in the work untitled, I painted a series of images to represent the different stages of olfactory
experience visually. At every different stage the smell has a different shape, but in the end they
all integrate together into a whole scent and then form a complete and comprehensive image.
Thus, there is a small gap between each piece displayed on the wall to emphasize a trend at
different stages. These images are arranged according to the intensity of the scent, like the
three stages of perfume––a top note, a body note or a middle note, and a base note. In my
work, Untitled (see fig, 7). The first piece presents a top note, the next 3 pieces show a body
note, and the last piece embodies a base note. In the article, The Complete book of Essential
Oils and Aromatherapy, Valerie Ann Worwood describes that, the top note of the perfume can

24

only be maintained for a short period of time, which gives the initial overall impression. The
body note of the perfume is closely followed by the top note, which gives off the main
fragrance of the perfume. So, it is considered to be the most important part – it is the
embodiment of the theme of the perfume (Worwood 319). Thus, I used more images to show
the middle note of the perfume. In this fruity fragrance, the top note is accompanied by a
strong ginger flavour, visually unfolding from a huge pattern similar to the shape of a tornado.
On the opposite side is a dark green shape resembling a crescent moon. Middle notes of
sweetness are mixed with the fruity aroma of lemon, and a scattering of pale pinks peek
through different layers of blue and green. The smell of the middle note has similar shapes and
scale without much variation, and the colour becomes lighter than that of the first smell. The
finished flavour, final smell or note is fresh grapefruit peel, the smell is mild and the colours
lighter; the texture of the shapes are hazy, like clouds and fog. Along with the disappearing
smell, the shapes become less defined in the picture.

Fig.7 Untitled, watercolour, ink and pigments on paper, 23” x 30” (5), 2018

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Fig.8 Untitled, details, 2018
Another artist who influences my practice is Qiu Shihua. He is a Chinese landscape
painter. Qiu believes the visage of the soul reveals itself as it is in the state of wu-wei or
emptiness. At first glance, his paintings seem to be a monochrome white canvas, but upon
closer inspection, the viewer realizes that the complicated layers of paint create a landscape
flourishing with details, depending on the viewpoint of the audience. A couple steps in another
direction, and the detail fades back into the canvas. The artist uses this effect to call the
moment of visibility of his painting into question. This influenced my treatment of the paint
layers. When I want the next layer of paint to pass through the upper layer of paint, I will add
more water-infused pigment to the first layer of paint to reduce visibility.
Yang Gallery describes his work as a combination of Western abstraction and the Eastern
Taoist theories of emptiness (see fig, 9). Qiu paints an inner world. In the emptiness, the
atmospheric perspective allows the viewer to admire and travel across this new world (Yang
Gallery). According to Qiu, “his working process grounds on the premise of forgetting about

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such painterly matters as motive, technique, emotion, thus achieving pure sensuality in the
void space from which the image must emerge rather than construct itself” (Qiu). This is a kind
of conscious painting that forgets all of the rules, just like a state of white paper, emptiness.
When Qiu integrates himself into painting, the picture under his brush is an expression of a
purest self-consciousness. At this moment, what appears on his canvas is not the ignorance of
lacking experience, instead it is a natural expression of the soul through the rich inner
knowledge that is transformed through an invisible powerful force and is acting on the
unconscious. It is the highest state of consciousness—cosmic consciousness. This is also the
spiritual dimension that my synesthetic experience has helped me comprehend. Thus, Qiu
applied this consciousness to his working process in painting, which inspired me to deal with
gestures and marks in my painting process.

Fig.9
[Figure 9 has been removed due to copyright restrictions. The information removed is Qiu
Shihua, Untitled II, Oil on canvas, 150 x 292 cm, unknown.]

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I'm trying to find a state of reconciliation between control and non-control and apply it
into the gestures and marks of painting. The synesthetic experience feels like a direct
conversation with an invisible energy source; synesthesia has the same function as qi for me. Qi
embodies wu-wei that is the subtlest principle of Taoism. Wu-wei can also be defined as the
state of emptiness and nothingness. Critic and curator David Elliott describes in Western
existentialism, the void, or emptiness, as a figment of terror or alienation. While, in the Eastern
theory of Taoism, the emptiness is a silent space of liberation, somewhere between stability
and chaos” (41). My synesthetic experience allows me to achieve this state of emptiness; I
attempt to present this state through the gestures and marks between control and non-control.
I make marks that look like they were accidentally created, however they were an intentional
action, a movement trying to follow the flow of nature's course.
Yang Gallery states that many of Qiu’s works are untitled, much is left to the eye of the
beholder, and the viewer needs to use their personal apparatus of associations in order to
make sense of the pieces. Disoriented, the viewer is forced to slow down, and it sets a special
mood that is a prerequisite for entering the world within his works (Yang Gallery). There are a
similar strategies and intentions in my painting as well. For instance, in the work Untitled (see
fig, 10), I didn’t give it a title to leave the viewers free to let their imagination and personal
experience fill the gaps of connecting the pieces. This work consists of 49 images to make up
the whole piece. Synaesthesia is time-based, and the images I see in this timeline are usually
similar, but none of them are exactly the same. This is similar to how you cannot find two
completely identical clouds in the sky, even though they appear so much alike. Meanwhile, the
images that I see are static – not moving pictures such as in animation. But they do have a

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dynamic tendency, similar to how before making an animation; animators draw original
manuscripts with key frames. I want to illustrate the state of the image I see in my synesthesia
by using the intent of deliberately assembling a picture. In A Natural History of the Senses,
Diane Ackerman states that, our senses tear the reality into pieces of vitality and recombine
them into a significant pattern. They take swatches, negotiate a reasonable version through
subtle deals. These pieces of information are sent to the brain like a ‘piece of a jigsaw puzzle’
(Ackerman 5). Once enough "pieces" come together, the brain gives a definitive answer, such
as, I see a banana (5). Therefore, in order to demonstrate the operational form of sensory
perception in the brain, I use many pieces to collage a whole painting. At the same time, each
small image, when combined together, becomes a large-scale painting. A large-scale work
encourages the audience to see the whole image from a distance. And if they want to see the
detail in each image, they need to get closer to the painting. When the viewer gets closer to the
painting, they can use each image is a piece of information that can travel through to track
another message and find the interconnections. To some extent, this is also in response to our
brain using similar processes to perceive information from the senses. Either way this form of
display allows the viewer to choose their viewpoint.
In my work untitled, I attempt to reveal a topography of the ineffable space of perceptual
experience, in which my synesthesia ultimately affects my inner spiritual dimension. The palm
tree candle’s odour is a prelude to my inner spiritual dimension. I smelled what looked like
grass mixed with a hint of bamboo charcoal after a heavy rain, which immediately made me
feel relaxed and calm. I saw different shades of blue, some with a pale orange yellow, some
with a faint purple, and some with a faint light shade of mint green. I used those complex

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colours in different layers. At the same time those colours are organic in shape with soft edges,
like clouds and fog drifting away, evoking the natural atmosphere created by landscape. I
created the gestures and textures to approach this quality. I seem to be absorbed in the state of
emptiness that synesthesia helped me get to. The central area of the picture is a circle which
has exploded. I want to express that synesthesia has a point of release, which is released from
this central area, and also implies the infinite movement and dynamic energy from our
perception and consciousness. The circle, as a form, echoes the layout of a mandala, a form
found in Buddhist, whereby a square with four gates includes a circle with a central point. Our
senses are in the centre of the picture, and this is more like a spiritual context in which the
circle is used to focus the senses, so as to create a silent space of liberation; aiding meditation
and Immersion in order to invites people gradually move into deeper levels of unconsciousness
and highest level of the mind–cosmic consciousness.

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Fig.10 Untitled, watercolour and ink on paper, 11” x 14” (49), 2018

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Fig. 11 Untitled, details, 2018

Fig. 12 Untitled, details, 2018

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Cosmic Consciousness

The prime characteristic of cosmic consciousness is,
as its name implies, a consciousness of the cosmos,
that is, of the life and order of the universe…
Along with consciousness of the cosmos there occurs
an intellectual enlightenment or illumination
which alone would place the individual on
a new place of existence—would make him almost
a member of a new species (99).
—Richard M. Bucke

According to Canadian Psychologist Richard M. Bucke, in his study Cosmic Consciousness:
A Study in the Evolution of the Human Mind (1901), cosmic consciousness arouses emptiness or
the sensation that nothing exists. Bucke declared “aesthetic intuition occurs at the highest level
of the mind—cosmic consciousness— and that the most highly evolved minds are those of
artists and poets” (Bucke 99). With frequent references to Bucke’s cosmic consciousness, the
Russian esotericist Peter Ouspensky wrote an extensive treatise on the mind, Terbium
Organum, which described how to attain the highest state of consciousness by “intuitive logic—
the logic of infinity, the logic of ecstasy”. Ouspensky believed, “art is a path to cosmic
consciousness” (Ouspensky 221). He argued that cosmic consciousness is like a soul suspended
in a void until even void fades. There is only the constant division and dissolution of infinity that

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remains. The feeling of that never-ending abyss, the essence of infinity, is a continuous
illogicality (221).
In order to merge with cosmic consciousness in the painting process, I create division and
dissolution through marks and layers; for instance, in my work Immersed in pure white cotton
(see fig, 13), I try to make the marks represent a natural explosion and outburst. For the sake of
presenting such an effect, I consider the work by painter Pia Fries. In Vitamin P: new perspective
in painting, a director Dana Friis-Hansen describes how Fries utilizes a boisterous amount of
colour and texture in her paintings, giving her work a high energy level (see fig, 16). Fries uses a
variety of tools in her mark making, from classic ones such as palate knives and spatulas and her
brushes, to more obscure things like syringes and tools she crafts herself. She then alters the
consistency of her oil paints by adding resin or other mediums. When scrutinized at close range,
the viewer will find many interesting marks within the work, celebrating her painterly
skirmishes (Friis-Hansen 110). I used similar techniques in this work; I don’t use the
conventional brushes to paint, because the brush is limited to fineness and exactitude rather
than enhancing that bursting quality. I employed other devices and objects, such as a spatula,
sponge, squeegee, roller, watering cans and my fingers. These objects can activate a sense of
natural release. I have also made a special custom brush; it consists of different materials of
brushes that are bound together to form a newly invented brush with varying degrees of
density and softness, which creates a floral and layered splash effect. Also, sometimes I add
matte medium to watercolour to make it more viscous and able to carry the tiny gold leaves. I
intend to let the audience who see the whole painting from a distance experience the work as
the remnant my spiritual practice. But up close, I attempt to lead them to see every detail

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closely; the details show the process of my mark-making. When they get close to the painting,
they can find many interesting marks in there: and I as a painter am ecstatic when these marks
are found by the viewer.

Fig.13 Immersed in Pure White Cotton, 59“x 96” (4), watercolour, ink and pigment on paper,
2019

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Fig. 14 Immersed in Pure White Cotton, details, 2019

Fig. 15 Immersed in Pure White Cotton, details, 2019

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Fig.16
[Figure 16 has been removed due to copyright restrictions. The information removed is Pia
Fries, Weisswirt, 170 x 145 cm, oil and silkscreen on wood, 2008.]
Another painter Elizabeth Neel influenced my gestures in painting. Art historian Kathleen
Madden explains Neel’s work creates a tension between figuration and abstraction (218). She
uses excess fluids and dynamic gestures that are driven by narrative (Ibid). Historically, it is
common for gestural markings to be associated with emotion. Neel is aware of this and uses
her knowledge of the historical significance of gestures to direct the emotion into a narrative
within her work. There is a performative aspect of her art that brings to mind painters like
Jackson Pollock. In some cases, like her work The Builder (see fig, 17), she folds her canvas in
half, resulting in a symmetrical work that could be interpreted in many different ways, from a
figure to a landscape. There is a willful purpose to her work that is optimistic, but also chaotic in
a way that could be considered destructive. She utilizes this style to create an opportunity for
her work to have meaning, but it remains an unsolved mystery (Madden 218).

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Fig.17 and Fig.18
[Figure 17 has been removed due to copyright restrictions. The information removed is
Elizabeth Neel, The Builder, 188 x 119.4 cm, Acrylic on canvas, 2015.]
[Figure 18 has been removed due to copyright restrictions. The information removed is
Elizabeth Neel, ADBC, 241.3 x 198.12 cm, Acrylic on canvas, 2015.]

My work has some similar attributes. There is a tension between control and non-control
involved in my work; the balance between planning and instinct in the process. I rely on a
higher consciousness – ‘intuitive logic’, I trust my instincts, my actions and responses. The
gestures Neel applies in her paintings are rooted in emotion, while I employ gestures based on
my intuition or instinct. I try to diminish arrangement of the specific details of the pattern, in
order to leave space for unintended results. These unexpected results become an illogical agent
in my making process. I consciously decide on the overall structure and a course of action, while
letting materials speak to each other, rather than dominating them. Sometimes before I begin, I
simulate the gestures of painting by moving my hands along in front of the canvas, just as if I
were painting. Each action grows under the guidance of instinct and spontaneity. Working back

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and forth, painting, repainting, discovering, rediscovering, thinking, not thinking. The sense of
self dissolves, a fusion occurs between me and the painting. So, in a sense I become the
painting. Neel’s work ADBC (see fig, 18) is like a representation of history, half formed moments
swirling out from the source of the Big Bang and patched together to give it those progressive
and regressive tendencies (Madden 218). Neel is not restricted by the belief of newness as the
goal artists should strive for; she utilizes history, and the knowledge gained from her
predecessors and by making the conscious choice to reuse that knowledge, she is making it
relevant once again (218). I employ the concept of qi and cosmic consciousness that draws on
history and previous knowledge. By consciously choosing to reuse these knowledges, I make
them relevant now.

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Fig.19 Untitled, 5ft x 5ft, watercolour, ink and pigment on canvas, 2019

Synesthesia influences my spiritual dimension, which eventually helps me comprehend
cosmic consciousness. Disillusionment and immersion are the bridges in these experiences.
Synesthesia is bound by time. Once the sound stops or the taste disappears, my synesthesia will
disappear as well. So, when I am in synesthesia, I feel that I see infinite possibilities in a limited
time. I am not capable to predict or imagine what I am going to see, because synesthesia is
involuntary, and the visual picture it triggers is beyond all imagination. As the writer Dani

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Cavallaro states in her book, Synesthesia in Art, “from the point of view of reception,
synesthesia inaugurates a textual space comparable to a limitless galaxy bound always to
exceed anything that might be imagined about it” (Cavallaro 2275). Thus, it could be said,
synesthesia is ‘beyond reason’. I am pushed forward by an indistinct and mysterious sensation.
I walk into a mystical galaxy and watch a splendid firework show. I feel emptiness when the
fireworks in the air burn out, but this state of emptiness is a kind of relief. Those gorgeous
scenes have ignited my heart and mind. When I embrace the world that synesthesia brings me
to see, even if that world disappears with time, it has an eternal influence on my consciousness
and perception. The emptiness that follows a synesthetic experience is a moment of calm after
experiencing chaos; it is an absorption after a wonderful and complicated experience, it is a
sublimation after the experience. This state of emptiness is not absence, but infinite possession.
In this emptiness, I seem to dance out of myself, I listen to the polyphony of my senses, I
come back to nature, back to the source, I return to the purity of emptiness. This is the
Buddhist idea, “all our sense of existence is mostly illusion, This world of illusion bursts, like a
bubble” (Huang 159). But after it bursts, the energy returns to us in some way; we go back into
the world, but not of the world (159). So, finally I come back into myself, but it is not my
original self. It is like I went to the top of the mountain after a series of climbs, and finally
returned to where I started. The starting point is still the starting point, but I am not the same.
My synesthesia is still my synesthesia, but my understanding of synesthesia is different.
Therefore, the expression of synesthesia in my painting is not just a transformation of sensory
experience, but is a topology of the consciousness I comprehend through synesthesia.

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Conclusion
Through my artistic practice, I have discussed synesthesia, qi, cosmic-consciousness, and the
potential for artists to visualize ineffable aspects of perceptual experience, as well as the way
invisible energy is internalized in or as consciousness. Our senses highlight the differences in
the way people see the world. Synesthesia can unblock our limits of perception, something I
leverage to create my paintings. I hope my work invites people to discover the subtle substance
in our sensory perception, and to contemplate the impact of sensorial experience. At the same
time, I attempt to draw the viewer out of their preconceptions and provide an opportunity to
let them see how we perceive and experience the world in a different way. Ultimately, I am
seeking a depiction of the topography of the ineffable space in perceptual experience, in which
my sensory perception both affects and effects my inner consciousness. In many cases, the
process is far more interesting than the result which is why I leave traces of my process in the
work. My work is an invitation for the viewer to accompany me through my process, providing
an opportunity to let them have a deep dialogue with themselves; to pay attention to their own
feelings, asking and understanding their own experience. Through my work, I hope they will be
able to notice and recognize their own sensory experience.

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