Visualcy
Filed Under (Autism and Intelligence, Autism and Learning, Communication, Development) by Estee on 16-05-2010
The nice thing about art is that it is a language without words. It’s why I believe strongly that it is an important (not nice and trite, isn’t-the-Autie-a-genius) approach to appreciating not only how autistic people may see and develop, but of course of understanding humanity — a very broad statement, I know, but art is a way to bridge the barriers of looking at people with neurological differences as “abnormal,” “retarded” and the like.
It is also highly ironic that I write about art and that the art world seeks so many words to critique and analyze it. Yet, at the end of the day, we have a gut response to art before we have an intellectual one.
I was thinking about this as Adam has turned to art. This is not just peripheral observation…it goes deeper. Adam studies all the elements of things with ferocity and concentration. He will hold any object in his hand — even a part of an object, turn it around and study it, tap it and consider all of it’s physical properties. He may or may not label it, as he has done since he was eleven months of age (labeling, that is), but I consider that his sharing in this manner is simply his way of sharing with me because he has trouble with words. Yet, his understanding goes far beyond the label.
W.J.T. Mitchell, in his essay Visual Literacy or Literary Visualcy? (excerpted from Visual Literacy edited by James Elkins) asks how seeing is different from reading. “Even more interesting, what would happen if we reversed the positions of tenor and vehicle in the metaphor, and treated reading as ‘tenor’ — the thing to be explained — and vision as the vehicle that might help explain it? What would happen, in other words, if we thought of our task as one of research and teaching in reading, based in models drawn from seeing and the visual system?” (p.11).
It is in this vein that I believe we can begin to explain our words about autism and challenge our very basic assumptions. For instance, consider the two drawings below. Adam, at the age of 8 has fine motor planning difficulties. It is very hard for him to hold a pencil or crayon, but in the first drawing one can see it’s coming and that he is trying extremely hard to express himself.
The drawing beside it, also a Lion, was executed by a same-aged “typical” peer. By contrast, one can see the marks in this drawing made with strength and certainty whereby Adam’s drawing seems a little tentative and soft by virtue of his motor planning difficulty. Take another look. Adam took great care and time rendering that drawing. So much so, he even walked away, came back to reconsider it and lightly put the finishing touches carefully on the tail several minutes after it seemed finished. It was so lightly drawn that it was difficult to photograph. Look at the perspective and how he tries to implement it. It is not a flat drawing. He can see how the body has several dimensions. Compare it to the “same-aged typical peer” drawing — wonderful in its own rite but by contrast, there is, as of yet, no conception of perspective. In one drawing the earth is round, in the other, flat.
Adam's "Lion King"
A drawing of a lion from a same-aged "typical" peer
It is interesting to me to watch Adam’s “visualcy” manifest. It is interesting because he does not fit into any developmental mold. While his hand his light, he is ahead of the curve by way of his perception. One might mistake motor-planning difficulty with Adam’s “retardation,” as it was formerly labeled. Now how dangerous is this when we consider how to teach an autistic person? What assumptions about his intelligence are we making? When I think of schools I get extremely nervous about moving him too slow or too fast. One simply has to SEE.
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Reference:
James Eklins, Visual Literacy, New York: Routledge, 2008.
ESTÉE KLAR
TORONTO, ONTARIO, CANADA
Writer.Curator of Art. Founder of The Autism Acceptance Project. Mother of Adam. I like to write about our journey, musings, attitudes towards autism.
I admire your ability to understand this form of communication. I understand what you mean. But, I seem to lack the insight necessary to interpret.
Willy’s drawings, wonderful as they are, are rarely a mystery. He either draws things he likes or tells a story with his art. “What is it?” is always an appropriate question and he has the words to answer.
Alex’s drawings are different. His perception is remarkable and complex. “What is it?” seems like the wrong question, though sometimes we ask. He lacks the words to answer, though. But, more than that, the question often seems to be “What does it mean?” Even when we know what it is, we cannot always figure out why he drew it precisely the way he did with the different “effects” he used. There’s meaning there, but sadly we don’t understand it.
I would suggest that it’s not that we are not capable of “understanding” it. We do. We have a response to it. Then our assumptions kick in and ruin everything (well, almost). Let me add from James Elkins introductory essay to the book I referenced on how complicated this is:
“Given the enormous literature on the visual nature of our world — I need only name Mithcell, Nicholas Mirzoeff, Martin Jay, Jean Baudrillard, and Lisa Cartwright to conjure the field — it is amazing that college-level curricula throughout the world continue to be mainly text-based, with intermittent excursions into visual art and culture.”
I believe that this sort of consideration within autism, in and out of scientific study on perceptual difference (I think that the discourse enhances each), could change the way we consider many things about autistic people and how we might teach.
I agree that changing the way we approach teaching is an important step. Some school systems are doing that. Luckily, my boys are in schools that are adjusting their teaching methods in response to differences in learning style. Not only do they adjust their instructional approaches to meet my boys’ specific needs, but in the general education curriculum they utilize teaching methods that reach a variety of perceptual and learning styles. This is a very important advancement in education.
This goes beyond autism, of course. Differences in perceptual and learning style abound throughout the human spectrum. An entire discipline of study (well, at least one) seeks to understand these differences and devise practical instructional methods to accommodate them.
I see advocacy of this as part of neurodiversity. In this sense, I mean neurodiversity in the broadest possible context–a context that includes all of humanity.
Instruction has been text-based for so long and the education system seems slow to respond to new discoveries in their own fields. Yet, learning styles do vary. Some people learn best through reading. Others learn best through “visual aids,” as we call them. Still others learn best from lectures and audio stimuli. Some people learn best through doing or while moving, and others require multi-media stimuli to reach their optimal absorption of material. The more we accommodate different learning styles in classrooms, the more we will be able to absorb and internalize the information we need to thrive in such an information-rich age.
And this isn’t just for kids. It’s for learners of all ages.