
THIS year, University College London made the worldās first professor of neuroaesthetics. In recent decades, he has used brain imaging techniques to pioneer the modern study of visual perception, as Nobel laureate Eric Kandel writes on the jacket of , and his earlier books include an impressive written (in French) with the painter Balthus. His new book aims to bring these two areas of expertise together by applying the neuroscience of creativity to artists, writers and composers such as Michelangelo, Dante and Wagner, and so it arouses high expectations. Unfortunately, the result is disappointing.
Consider his treatment of CĆ©zanne, a painter celebrated for subtle colouring of natural scenes. Near the beginning of the book, Zeki quotes CĆ©zanne as saying: āColour has a logic and the artist must always obey that logic, never the logic of the brain.ā Zeki disagrees: āThere is, in fact, no logic to colour except the logic of the brain.ā Yet much later, in an admiring chapter on CĆ©zanne, he remarks: āThough knowing nothing about the visual brain [CĆ©zanne] was nevertheless remarkably insightful into its workings.ā How, then, does CĆ©zanneās understanding of visual perception differ from Zekiās? If CĆ©zanne was wrong, why were his insights fruitful? The book never resolves this apparent contradiction.
Zeki subscribes to the argument that colours do not exist independently of the way that our brains perceive them. For example, the brain preserves our perception of colours regardless of lighting conditions, by cleverly keeping constant the ratio of red, green and blue light reflected from an object and from its surroundings. āA green surface, for example, remains green whether viewed at dawn, at dusk, or at noon on a cloudy or sunny day,ā Zeki writes. Leaves on trees do not appear to change colour with changes in weather. Indeed, he claims āthere are no colours but constant coloursā.
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Surely, the truth is more complex. A leaf certainly looks green to us whether in bright sun or shadow ā but it is not the same green. The apples in CĆ©zanneās iconic 1873 painting Green Apples (below) contain at least half a dozen identifiable shades of green carefully contrived by the artist. Moreover, the greens change appearance under natural and artificial light. Anyone who has tried to choose a paint colour from a house decoratorās colour chart knows how sensitive the brainās perception of colour is to light and shadow. What looked right on the chart often looks wrong on the wall.
Zekiās theory of perception, unless I have misunderstood him, is that reality derives from the brain creating synthetic concepts, such as āgreenā, ābeautyā and āloveā, from sensory data. He thus stands in opposition, he says, to the idealist theory of the ancient Greek thinker Plato, who banished artists from his model republic on the grounds that art can gain only partial access to reality through observation and thought.
The āsplendour and the miseryā of his title (borrowed from the novelist Balzac) refer to the brainās effortless ability to generate concepts, set against the failure of daily experience to live up to these concepts. Creativity is the product of this conflict, writes Zeki, and a great creator is energised by the desire for a perfect match between art and life. āIt is this great insufficiency that drives him on,ā the painter Lucian Freud once wrote. The creatorās inevitable frustration is why Michelangelo, CĆ©zanne and others left so many of their works unfinished, according to Zeki.
āA great creator desires a perfect match between art and lifeā
The last third of the book tackles concepts of love. Zeki has published much on neural correlates of love and includes several brain scans from his journal articles. They display particular sites in the brain that are activated when a subject views pictures of a loved partner; they also show that romantic love and maternal love activate different sites, though with considerable areas of overlap. Intriguing as they are, however, the scans cannot make the case for an inherited brain concept of āunity-in-loveā found throughout the worldās literature and art, as Zeki maintains. To write of Act 1 of Wagnerās Tristan and Isolde that āthis love potion is perhaps best understood metaphorically, as a concept unleashed in the protagonistsā brainsā sounds more ridiculous than sublime to my ears, and hardly scientific.
For all Zekiās evident scientific expertise and love of the arts, he does not really succeed in using each to illuminate the other.
Splendors and Miseries of the Brain: Love, creativity, and the quest for human happiness
Wiley-Blackwell
- Andrew Robinson is the author of five biographies in the arts and sciences