Neuroplasticity and the Pursuit of a Story to Tell

Today I received a note from an old friend. Usually his notes are about his thoughts regarding my essays either on my literary blog or the one on photography. After more than 30 years of friendship, it is a delight to read his notes, no matter the topic.

But this time he went further. After reading about plasticity in one of my essays, he searched the topic as it relates to photography. And sent me a write-up about it he found useful to understanding how a photograph thinks about plasticity and how the finished product, a photo, affects our appreciation of the author’s message by affecting our brain through neuroplasticity.

Indeed, every artist shapes an encounter to make it his or her own. A stone becomes a statue, clay becomes a pot, words become poetry, and colour becomes scenery. Thus the artist sees reality as a plastic encounter and transforms it through the je ne sais quoi that we call artistic impulsiveness.

A photograph cannot reshape a models face before taking a photo. Nor can he stop an event in the street to organize people according to a choreography he has in mind. Instead, he picks angles, shades of light, shadows and selective focus to enhance and give a meaning to what would be unnoticeable to many others.

Thus he uses plasticity to tell a story not to reshape what already is.

… At some point, plasticity seems an abstract concept. But it is not. For me, it is the conscientious pursuit which over the years has become a subconscious act. After all, a street photographer has a millisecond to click and capture – the luxury of planning the plasticity of things does not exist for me.

Here is a concrete example of how unconsciously one develops a sense for looking at different angles and light effects.

I was in a hotel room where the wall moldings were rather opulent. It was a historic building transformed to a hotel and part of the attraction was the anachronism itself.  As I sat down and looked at the wall, the carved shapes of the molding looked as expected  for an 18^th century interior design.

Then, just to challenge that feeling, I looked at the shapes from different angles. And when the light cast enough shadows on the wall, suddenly the molding got transformed, even metamorphosed!

I took a few photos. Here is the sequence.

First, the ordinary look of the wall and molding – nothing special.

Then, from an angle of view from the left, I started seeing a face.

And with the right shadow, the face became a warrior. Maybe a Native American warrior with piercing eyes, pronounced forehead and determined lips.

Finally, the face metamorphosed into an unknown man, almost from ancient Greece, with a head cover.

And my room became a special place!  

Was it neuroplasticity to see that face in a molding? Was I thinking about reshaping the rather boring environment of my hotel room? Will others who look at these photos see it too?

December 14, 2016

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2016