No, no! I don't think she is really following me. That is a paraphrase of an old Grateful Dead Bumper sticker. But, it fits. A week ago, I decided to find out what all the buzz in the Asperger's community was about. Temple Grandin-- the books, the movies, the conferences and speeches. Intriguing to say the least. I borrowed a copy of Thinking in Pictures from the library. Within the first couple chapters, I got it. Not necessary the fame and notoriety, but the similarities. It was like reading the recipe for a batch of chocolate chip cookies you've baked over 100 times. When she ran through some comparison with visual thinkers "seeing" churches, I saw a flying buttress and remembered their historical significance. As much as we are all unique, the similiarities can be disturbing and comforting.
When I first starting working with someone about my own diagnosis, certain analogies started coming up for the way I think: a Rolodex or a filing cabinet. Every time I think of something or someone, there is a backlog of information that is quickly scanned before the new interaction can begin. However, it isn't just reading the files themselves. It is more like replaying the information, fast forwarding a video or DVD. I used to think this was some bizarre form of what people refer to has "holding grudges". Yet, I never really conjured any emotion out of the information. Just the facts, ma'am. One problem with seeing things in your life as a two dimensional slide show is this-- the context is often lost. If I am replaying a scene from a family reunion at the lake, I can see the insects hovering close to the ground on the bank of a muddy lagoon. But, I can't always remember what my father asked me while we were standing there. Or I can remember talking to my cousin from Delaware only because she was wearing an enormous hat. But, the face under the hat is like a smudge mark. And, if I think about her hat for too long (a matter of seconds) I start to think about straw and caning chairs and weaving and looms and...
This leads into another facet of my thought process. Everything is possibly connected in my mind. It is sometimes overwhelming because I have to be sure to keep myself directed. But, other times, it is a blessing because it allows my to have new and better ideas. When I was in "gifted" classes back in grade school, we were able to come up with our own projects. And, as long as they were approved by the teaching staff, you could muck about with them all day for days. One of my first projects was to redesign the cataloging system for the program's library. I understood the Dewey decimal system, having been a frequent visitor to my local library. But, I didn't think it was a enough. Sure, you can categorize a book by it's main topic and even list a couple cross referenced topics or each cited work on the paper card. But, there was no code. Nothing that actually tied the other subtopics to a grid. Mind you this was before the Internet even existed. And, I was just learning how to program a PC with DOS or monkeying with simple games on a MAC. I was given a room full of empty shelves and boxes full of books. I knew what I need to do. And, it was completely possible-- if I was given enough time to read every single book in its entirety. The project was abandon because the advisers got tired of coming in to see me just sitting and reading books. In my mind, I saw a very elaborate web of lines connecting books one to another. However, at age eight, I don't think I had the resources available to truly dig my heels in.
The web that existed in my mind for the project was three dimensional. I could spin it, looking at it from bottom to top, side to side, any angel, etc. But, another part of my visual thinking is being able to take 3-D objects and make them flat. When I was a child, my uncle lent me a copy of Flatland. I still consider that a very important book to my developing mind. I can see forms and outlines in everything. I like to look to the place where objects position themselves against the sky. Trees, birds, telephone poles, mechanical cranes, and on. I am also able to make my mind go from standing in one spot to repositioning itself above an object or any terrain to make it appear like a map. I still get very excited about dioramas (various flat fields positioned in a box to create depth) and salt maps (maps that show location and elevation). When I was a child trying to relax at bedtime, I would visualize myself flying above specific routes. I would see the landscape like you would if you viewed a miniature train display from up on a ladder. And, I would test myself by picking new places to "fly".
My ability to do these things has allowed me certain degree of marginal personal and professional success as an illustrator. When working on a piece, 90% of the project is executed in my mind. By the time I sit down in front of a piece of paper, I know exactly what I want the blank piece to become. And, by teaching myself the simple mechanics of drawing, I am able to make it appear. Usually, by the time the physical drawing begins, I have drawn and redrawn the piece numerous times in my head. When you do the work in your head, many negatively think you are procrastinating. I am able to do that to some degree with writing as well. But, the reigns need to be a little bit tighter. I can take a paragraph like the one you are reading and somehow, in my mind, rationalize why it would be okay to also discuss dip pens and ink with varnish. That type of fishnet thinking makes me create metaphors that may seem a little off the wall. If you think about it, or if I explain the train of thought-- most often others will reach a lighting bolt moment. And, those who know me well (for over decades) have acquainted themselves enough with my thinking to see the humor in what first appears like nonsense.
This thinking translate over to other senses as well. Someone once told me that odor carries weight. Imagine "seeing" the particles of everything you smell if you were to let yourself. Each scent having distinct shape, size, and color. I have to stop myself from doing this or some things become less enjoyable. And, with sound, there are two ways I see it. Each sound has a shape that I can see either as a wave of varying height and density or as a different shaped and colored wooden building block. One moment I can see a Stockhausen piece coming together with varying levels of colorful blocks, stacking into 3-D shapes, becoming longer and longer as the song progresses. And, other days, I can see a song by Brian Eno come together in waves like looking at many oscilloscopes running all at the same time. It looks like scribbles on top of scribbles, but each waves remains separate and easy to identify. This is what I think composers and song writers "see" when orchestrating. And, some touch has color and sound. A lot of the senses move back and forth between each other, but all can be visualized.
Sometimes, my visual thinking can be like trying to contain a tornado inside a house. But, then, I am grateful I can visually every album cover and book cover I own. I appreciate my personal internal clip art collection. I may not be able to draw your portrait without making it look somewhat like me, but I can draw a hundred different hands from memory. I am lucky that simple things like looking at old advertising logos and icons bring me enjoyment which can be saved for later reference in the library I keep in my head. I like taking conversations or ideas and applying symbolic logic to them. If (p) then (q) but greater than (r). Although, it may contribute to my black and white thinking, it is engaging. I love that I can walk into some one's home, knowing I could recognize the handle to their front door in a line up (here's where I recommend the book Poetics of Space). I am never overwhelmed by my brain's perpetual motion... just grateful.
