Synaesthesia – the unbidden association of certain differing
senses – seems to be a fairly widespread phenomenon.
If, as the old cliché has it, bulls are angered by the sight of a red
rag, then, in unconsciously associating colour with emotion, all bulls are synaesthetes.
And if music affects the mood of those
who hear it, it follows that all who appreciate music are also synaesthetes; is
not the “feel good” factor of Mozart or the sense of national pride inspired by
Wagner a manifestation of synaesthesia? (And,
to take it to extremes, is not my desire to strangle anyone who plays Chopin or
Liszt with excessive emotion, indicative of synaesthesia within myself?) But, when it comes to music, we tend to
reserve the label Synaesthesia to those who inadvertently associate certain
tonalities with certain colours.
Rimsky-Korsakov, who clearly had a mild form of the condition,
suggested that all Russian musicians experienced synaesthesia, and without doubt the most famous musical synaesthetics
was Skryabin for whom various keys created such strong colours in his mind that
he devised the colour keyboard (see above) which bathed the hall in the appropriate light
during a musical performance. At
university we did a performance of Prometheus
with the colour keyboard, and very thought-provoking it was too - unlike the
simply hideous attempt by the American pianist Evan Shinners to convey his synaesthesia
in a video of the colours he feels while playing, with extraordinary
ineptitude, a piece of Bach - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9PxsEFSlqU&feature=player_embedded.
For me this is both distracting and
confusing, seeming more like a student disco than a serious musical
illustration.
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A Sussex Cottage in E flat major |
A discussion after the Skryabin performance revealed a
number of my fellow students also experienced synaesthesia to a greater or
lesser extent, usually inadvertently associating colours (or, in one case, a
strong taste) with certain keys. For my
part I had no sense of colour/key linkage then, but, whether as a result of
thought stimulation or growing aural experience, I find I have developed it
very mildly indeed since. I don’t feel
or experience any colour sensation when I hear or play music, but as I read
scores in certain keys, very specific colours impinge on to my
consciousness. D minor, for example, is
purple (the ecclesiastical colour for Lent and Epiphany), E flat (my favourite
key), a rich golden yellow not unlike the tablecloths in expensive Chinese
restaurants or the colour used to paint the doors and window frames in the
houses belonging to the Cowdray Estate in Sussex. D major is red and F major a very fresh
green. But some keys have no colour association
whatsoever. When I read through the
score of Bach’s Toccata (BWV540), I
sense green throughout the F major bit, but when it lurches into C major, any
sense of colour disappears totally from my mind.
Beyond synaesthesia, colour and music do have some linkage,
subconsciously or otherwise, and many of the problems which have befallen Dewan
Filharmonik PETRONAS can be dated to the time when the faded green of the original
upholstery was replaced by a faded maroon.
Coincidence? Perhaps, but I have
my doubts. Certainly many have claimed
that the dusty, sandy shade used for carpets and upholstery in London’s Royal Festival
Hall created an unwelcoming ambience, while when the Royal Albert Hall went for
rich maroons and dark reds, it suddenly seemed a much more rewarding place in
which to hear music.
Musicians’ black and white is considered important, since
other colours would detract from the performance, and it is interesting to note
that when certain female violinists and singers appear on stage in lavish
gowns, critics will often comment on the colour before the music; a sure sign
that the colour is a distraction – and many choose to dress this way
deliberately for that reason. When it
comes to musical instruments, there is no real reason why they should not now
be cast in a whole range of vivid colours, but, matters of uniformity aside,
there are important reasons why musical instruments need to retain their brown
or black hues, and that goes back to synaesthesia. If music creates colours in the minds of
listeners, then the sources of the music need to be as neutral as
possible. So the very deliberate choice
of an orange piano by a German cabaret pianist, Stefan Aaron, is clearly sending
some kind of a message.
For those unaware of the fact, Aaron was yesterday playing
his piano on the Great Wall of China. He
has made something of a specialism of playing his piano in weird and wonderful
places, and has earned a place in the Guinness
Book of Records for the highest piano performance when he played, in August
2011, on the peak of a Swiss mountain at an elevation of 4206 meters.
So why does he choose an orange piano? Parsons in Hong Kong currently has both a
totally transparent piano and a “Ferrari” piano – a grand piano shaped like a
Ferrari and coloured dazzling scarlet. I’m
quite sure that if Aaron was out to create a purely visual spectacle, these
would have done him much better than the humble orange upright depicted below. Similarly, a white piano to blend in with the
Swiss snow or a grey one to match the Great Wall, would have made sense. But no, he is insistent that the piano he
chooses for these ventures into stratospherically improbable venues is orange,
and the clue comes from his own comment when asked why he does it; "I want
to put my orange piano, whose colour fits the positive energy of my songs, in
unusual places and see what happens". He creates a new piece to suit the location,
but sees the orange of the piano as an essential means of communicating “positive
energy”. Is this a further manifestation
of synaesthesia?
Certainly Aaron’s choice of orange fits in with what Psychology Today suggests are the subliminal
messages sent out by the colour; “Orange calls to mind feelings of excitement,
enthusiasm, and warmth. Orange is often used to draw attention, such as in
traffic signs and advertising”. But how
do other musicians see orange? Scriabin
associated orange with G major (see below), a key which many also associate
with strength and conviction (the British national anthem, for example, is
always played in G major).
C
|
Db
|
D
|
Eb
|
E
|
F
|
F#
|
G
|
Ab
|
A
|
Bb
|
B
|
Red
|
Violet
|
Yellow
|
Steel
|
Pale
Blue
|
Dark
Red
|
Bright
Blue
|
Orange
|
Purple
|
Green
|
Steel
|
Pale
Blue
|

It would be interesting to know whether Aaron was playing
his “song” in G major to reinforce the orangeness of the piano, thereby
associating himself with the Skryabin’s view, or with a prominence of minor
3rds, thereby following the Newton theory.
My guess, however, is that he had read this on www.empower-yourself-with-color-psychology.com
; “The colour orange relates to social communication, stimulating two way
conversations. A warm and inviting colour, it is both physically and mentally
stimulating, so it gets people thinking and talking!” As, indeed, should all
music, wherever it is performed and on whatever coloured instrument.
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