Beginning in the mid-nineteenth century, with the establishment of an association between language and brain regions within the left cerebral hemisphere, there has been a trend in neuropsychology to link specific behaviors with discrete regions of the brain. This has largely been accomplished through studies of fractionated cognition following acquired brain injury in neurological patients. The neuroanatomical location of the damage, together with the consequent behavioral breakdown, opened windows on mind–brain associations, particularly those involving language, perception, knowledge, concepts, problem-solving, memory, motor skills, personality, and what are generally considered to be higher cognitive functions. The linking with the brain assumes that the components of the behavior in question are defined. By contrast, the association between art production and brain has proven difficult because art’s components are elusive. What abilities of Michelangelo’s mind went into painting the Sistine Chapel or sculpting Moses or the Pietà? What in Monet’s mind controlled his water lily paintings, or in Gauguin’s his Ancestors of Tehamana painting, or in ancient artists’ paintings on the cave walls at Lascaux and Altamira? Similarly, what were the components of Verdi’s mind when he composed Aida? And what brain mechanisms were at work in the great plays, poems, novels, and ballets that continually remain sources of attraction and fascination? The answers to some of these challenging questions can be explored with the perspectives of neuropsychology.
While practically everyone can learn to speak and comprehend language at an early age, only a select few in modern Western society can create art with qualities that elicit aesthetic reactions and appreciation universally for many centuries and even several millennia. The compositions of such artists seem to incorporate special and unique abilities. Neuropsychological methods, neuroimaging techniques, and physiological recordings provide only a partial view into the “neuro-map” of art production. To gain further clues and insights we need to uncover deeper roots and wider perspectives on the nature of art. We need to consider the life of early humans, their immediate ancestors, the evolution of the human brain itself as well as evidence and discussion from diverse fields such as archaeology, evolutionary biology, anthropology, sexual and mate selection in nature, the fossil record, and ancient art.
Symbolic and abstract thinking is the hallmark of human-unique cognition, and it is only humans who create art spontaneously. Interestingly, despite the fact that anatomically modern humans first surfaced around 200,000 years ago, in Africa, hardly any archaeological evidence for art is associated with them. There is, however, evidence linked to expressions of symbolic cognition in configurations and organization of early human living sites (Wadley et al., 2011), and to earlier trickles of art-relevant expressions from Africa (McBrearty, 2007; McBrearty & Brooks, 2000). The influx of visual art began to emerge only around 45,000 years ago, and this happened in Western Europe (Bahn, 1998). What determined the change from trickle to abundance? Any changes in the morphology of the human brain could not have been sudden. The underlying neuroanatomy and neurophysiology evolved slowly, well before that “abundant” period (Lieberman, 2015). Other conditions coalesced to explain the influx of art productions. This topic is covered in Chapter 10.
The relationship between art production and the brain needs to be charted through the study of artists with localized, focal brain damage. The relationship could benefit a great deal from exploring deficits as well as artistic patterns in established artists after they have sustained the damage. Documentation of their artistic endeavors post-damage helps reveal aspects of the anatomical and functional underpinning of art and brain. The effects of dementing diseases on artists are enormously useful in this regard and such cases are described and discussed (Chapters 2 and 4).
Not all of the arts can be covered in this book. Neurological disorders have been described and published predominantly in visual and musical artists, and to a lesser extent in the writing and dancing arts (Chapter 2). Dance choreography, in particular, is hardly ever treated in the context of neurological brain damage; the one exception known to me is Agnes de Mille, who suffered a stroke, and a description of her case is in Chapter 2. Dancing has been studied a bit more extensively in the context of the aesthetic reaction to it (covered in Chapter 9). Much of what is known about dance and brain activation comes from healthy subjects, and not from the fractionation of behavior following brain damage. Thus, the visual and musical arts dominate the explorations here.
What is art? For the most part, art does not seem to have a direct utilitarian or obvious biological purpose, and, yet, it includes paintings, drawings, sculptures, pottery, jewelry, music, dance, theater, creative writing, architecture, film (cinema, movies), photography, and many additional formats. The list is long. A myriad of examples of art works throughout the world complicates the imposition of clear-cut, precise, or logical boundaries on art as a category of human creation. By and large there seems to be a consensus that art is a human-made creation that communicates ideas, concepts, meanings, and emotions, and in this regard it has a social anchor; that art represents human-unique talent, skill, and creativity; and that art gives rise to aesthetic response.
Indeed, the wide range of possible human activities that express art is described by anthropologist Ellen Dissanayake (1988):
Perhaps the most outstanding feature of art in primitive societies is that it is inseparable from daily life, also appearing prominently and inevitably in ceremonial observances. Its variety is as great as the kinds of lives (hunting, herding, fishing, farming) and the types of ritual practices (ceremonies to ensure success in a group venture or to encourage reunification after a group dissension; rites of passage; accompaniments to seasonal changes; memorial occasions; individual and group displays). All these may be accompanied by singing, dancing, drumming, improvisatory versification, reciting, impersonation, performance on diverse musical instruments, or invocations with a special vocabulary. Decorated objects may include masks, rattles, dance staves, ceremonial spears and poles, totem poles, costumes, ceremonial vessels, symbols of chiefly power, human skulls; and objects of use such as head rests or stools, paddles, dilly bags, pipes and spear-throwers, calabashes, baskets, fabric and garments, mats, pottery, toys, canoes, weapons, shields; transport lorry interiors and exteriors; cattle; manioc cakes and yams; or house walls, doors, and window frames. Songs may be used to settle legal disputes or to extol warriors as well as for lullabies and the expression of high spirits. A large part of the environment may be rearranged and shaped for initiation or funeral rites; theatrical displays may go on for hours or days. There may be painting on a variety of surfaces (ground, rock, wood, cloth); piling up of stones or pieces of roasted and decorated pork; considered display of garden produce; body ornamentation (tattooing, oiling, painting). Many of these occasions for art have counterparts in the modern developing world.
(Dissanayake, 1988, pp. 44–45)
As this description shows, art can be many things. We in Westernized societies typically think of art as something viewed in museums or seen in the theater or heard in a concert hall or read in a book. By comparison, the list of artistic expressions provided by Dissanayake demonstrates the motivation, need, and drive as well as the capability that humans possess to create boundless expressions of art. Language, the prime example of the human mind, is characterized by its combinatorial power and infinite potential to create units of meanings through vocabulary, syntax, and prosody. In this regard, art and language share the same human cognitive endowment, namely symbolic and abstract thinking. Art can be infinitely combinatorial, too. It should thus not be surprising that the art of many human societies is nearly limitless in creativity and skill.
Neuropsychological understanding of art must consider early artistic expressions in the course of human evolution (discussed in Chapter 10). The early art forms provide windows onto further insights. An underlying assumption concerning the beginnings is that biological mechanisms were in place to support cognitive abstraction; both art and language are modes of social communication that rely on abstract expressions. The artist and the viewer need to share the same neural substrates in order for abstract concepts to be communicated. Some ancient creations consist of only a few engraved lines grouped to form a simple pattern while others are complex and detailed depictions; similarly, some incorporate colors while others do not. These are all considered to be expressions of symbolic thinking. Prehistoric surviving art rarely depicts stories in scenes, emphasizing instead individual objects such as animals, faces, hands, single dots, figurines, or geometrical shapes. Perhaps, however, the grouping of the individual figures meant something specific in those early societies. Modern viewers ponder even the simplest depictions, attempting to interpret and explain them, whether accurately or not. These attempts reflect the fact that art is a communicative system between artist and viewer. Art is meant for human consumption, to be understood and interpreted by observers whose minds are equally shaped by the brain that houses them.
Regardless of the true reasons behind painting animals on cave walls in prehistoric Western Europe, the caves’ ancient occupants could have experienced an aesthetic reaction not unlike our own as we view these “galleries” nowadays. The driving force behind the depictions could have been social and symbolic, and the satisfaction of viewing symbolic objects could have been purely intellectual (we derive satisfaction from ideas). While artistic expression is broad, and as limitless as language, it is nevertheless a cognitive characteristic of the human brain. The aesthetic response to art seems to cut across human epochs, cultures, mediums, and art styles.
The fact that the practice of art is ubiquitous in all human societies supports the notion of the common origin of Homo sapiens and certainly points toward shared mechanisms for brain and cognitive growth. European artists around the beginning of the twentieth century were greatly influenced by Polynesian and African art. The fact that they were drawn to art from non-Western cultures, incorporated their forms and designs, and, under its influence, willingly changed their own artistic style of representation, illustrates the universal communicative value of art (Snapper, Oranç, Hawley-Dolan, Nissel, & Winner, 2015). Unlike language, which needs to be learned in order to be understood, works of art produced by talented individuals trigger reactions in any and all viewers with no prior training required. Still, the symbolic aspect of language and of representation in art share a common form of cognition unique to humans. Although the two forms of expression take separate routes in what they accomplish and in the effects of their communication, it can nevertheless be said that, with the possible exception of the bowerbird (an avian species known for designing and building complex architectural marvels), only humans create art spontaneously. Since only humans have elaborate syntax and a rich vocabulary, it is only logical to assume that the communicative nature of art has neuroanatomical underpinnings, too. The benefit of communicative systems is that they promote survival through social bonding, and this in turn maximizes survival of the group.
Neither humans nor animals can construct anything unless their physiological reality permits it. This applies both to brain and body development. The developmental course of the brain after the anatomically modern humans emerged from Africa approximately 100,000 years ago (or maybe even earlier, according to some views; see Mithen & Reed, 2002) was predicted by its neuronal flow-chart. But actual art (symbolic, representational, and nonfunctional) appeared in substantial quantities in Western Europe much later, as mentioned above. From a purely biological perspective, it is hard to conceive that new neurotransmitters and extensive new neuronal pathways with new relay nuclei and projections had abruptly emerged in the brains of Homo sapiens whose art managed to survive compared to those anatomically modern humans whose art did not survive. Rather, it is more reasonable to assume that the development was a gradual adaptation to the environment, one where symbolic cognition led to successful survival (see Chapter 10).
Possible reasons for the emergence of consistently produced art are speculative. In one scenario, possible factors could lie more in the reality of the environment in which early humans found themselves than in any sudden major changes in their brains. Some environments are friendlier than others, meaning that for some it could have been easier to capture and eat the kinds of foods that would further enhance the brain’s biochemistry (Mirnikjoo et al., 2001). Possibly, the presence of the Neanderthals played a pivotal role in ways not yet understood, even if not directly linked to the development of symbolic image-making (Conard, Grootes, & Smith, 2004). However, with everything else being identical, the modern human brain, once formed, had to follow a common path of development and change, and it is likely that it is still evolving. All healthy humans have language no matter where they reside geographically. The brain that supports language is the same one that gives rise to the production of art. Thus, it is not surprising that art is ubiquitous, with similar running motifs, even if artworks are separated by huge bodies of water or impassable mountains, and nor is it surprising that humans share aesthetic reactions (see Chapter 10).
Although, as stated above, anatomically modern humans in Western Europe created art in greater quantity beginning 45,000–35,000 years ago, there is evidence for visual art predating this European period. A small volcanic stone figure, sculpted by human hands and estimated to be around 220,000 years old, was discovered in the Golan Heights of Israel. Careful examination of this figurine supports the practice of symbolic art (d’Errico & Nowell, 2000; Marshack, 1997). Predating that by 130,000 to 180,000 years are some 300 pieces of color pigments and paint-grinding instruments believed to possibly be implements for the decoration of the body and other objects, found in a cave in Twin Rivers, near Lusaka, Zambia (McBrearty, 2012; Wadley et al., 2011; Zaidel, Nadal, Flexas, & Munar, 2013). Did early hominins use these pigments to paint their bodies in order to symbolically resemble animals, either to appropriate their power and agility or possibly for deception, or for socially symbolic reasons, or for all of those reasons and others (perhaps medicinal purposes)? Humans and their immediate ancestors were creating paint to represent ideas well before written language developed, although speech too existed well before writing.
One fascinating feature of the widespread practice of art is some running motifs in creations across distant geographical regions, so far apart that it becomes difficult to imagine the role of direct influence or shared ancestral memory. Consider the pyramids of ancient Egypt and those of the Mayas and the Aztecs—is it coincidence? Did the Mayan and Aztec peoples know of the Egyptian pyramids through legends related by ancestors who originated in Asia and perhaps heard such tales from earlier African ancestors? Consider that the reasons for constructing such monuments were probably the same: a need to construct something colossal in size that had symbolic and religious significance and would serve to impress as well as demonstrate strength and power (regardless of whether or not someone was buried inside). The cognitive processes required to conceive and execute stone constructions of such magnitude are mental properties of a natural biological evolution propelled by genetic control, selection forces, development, and growth of the brain unrelated to where the various humans lived. Human constructions in widely dispersed locations bespeak a shared brain neuroanatomy as well as common cognitive processes.
The most important lesson regarding artwork from ancient, prehistoric times is that its original intended meaning eludes us but its aesthetic appeal does not. This suggests that there is dissociation between the meaning and the aesthetics of art, implying that the latter has a stronger biological basis than the former.
Perceiving and judging art are not the same as producing it. Extracting beauty from art through the perception of art requires separate brain pathways from producing the art. Beauty in art plays a prominent role in attracting us to it and in enticing us to consider its contents (Zaidel, 2015b). It attracts us to directly ornament our homes with it, listen to it, visit museums and galleries to view it, read it in poetry and prose, and think of it as symbolic of our time and culture. Even without decorations, a single architectural structure can elicit beauty reactions. Paintings, sculptures, pottery, films, and architecture—all elicit neural as well as conscious reactions supposedly through their beauty. Art, however, conveys a meaning independent of its beauty, and this meaning could also play a major role in attracting us to it (covered in Chapter 9).
There seems to be no convincing evidence of spontaneous art creations by non-human primates or any other animal, although there is some evidence of purposeful, artful, and three-dimensional creations by some birds. The best known avian in this context is the bowerbird. The idea behind the creations is attraction of the female to be followed by mating (see Chapter 10). It is hard to determine whether the female is attracted by some kind of a “beauty notion” in the male’s creations or something else. Thus, although humans may not be the only beings responsive to beauty, currently there is no evidence, or even the means, to measure aesthetic responses in animals (Zaidel, 2015b).
Early humans could have been inspired by the beauty of nature and animals, or have derived benefits from constantly being surrounded by aesthetic sources (notwithstanding the dangers that would be present in real life), at the same evolutionary period that they wanted to communicate with each other, either verbally or non-verbally, through abstract symbols. Pictorial art could have followed the practice of body decoration for social identification reasons. Equally plausible is the idea that the original reasons for the early steps in the direction of art creations were purely symbolic with the beauty aspect being an emergent property as opposed to an element purposefully included in the artistic formula. Beauty now is considered an emergent property in the brain of the viewer rather than a separate entity that the artist “puts” into it (see Chapter 9).
How are we to understand the neuroanatomical and neurophysiological underpinnings of all of the artistic expressions? A unified behavioral expression represents a complex conglomerate that is more than the sum of its parts, with several brain regions simultaneously involved in its execution. Art production is not alone in this regard. Mere observations of psychological phenomena or theorizing alone are not sufficient to uncover the components of complex behaviors, abilities, and talents. At the same time, the ability to create art is just as susceptible to breakdown and fractionation following brain damage as other behaviors, which suggests that some of its units and mechanisms can be unmasked. Similarly, sensory deficits in artists, particularly in vision and hearing, can throw additional light on the final artistic product. A painting by Vincent van Gogh, for example, is a unified product, the execution of which required multiple components from diverse functional domains including visual perception, color vision, creativity, fine finger dexterity, motor control, eye–hand coordination, conceptual understanding, spatial perception, problem-solving, reasoning, and memory—to name but a few requirements. And, of course, it is the fusion of the elusive attribute of talent with training and expertise—the unique decision-making apparatus determining the nature of the composition, the colors, the lines, tilts, angles, and so on—that needs to be understood against the background of the neuroanatomical substrates. Currently, given the available data, rather than a single brain region or pathway, it would appear that art production engages multiple neural regions and their interconnections.
Exceptionally useful insights into the neuroanatomical underpinnings of the complex process of creating art can be gleaned from the consequences of brain damage in professional artists whose works have been exhibited, appreciated, studied, sold, discussed, remembered, and admired prior to the injury. It is clear that they have artistic talent, creativity, and skills. The more localized the damage is to a specific region, the more valuable it is for reaching conclusions regarding these underpinnings. The main neuropsychological interest lies in the presence or absence of alterations following the damage, and, if alterations do occur, explanations of them. The cognitive underpinning of art production is under-explored, largely because localized damage in such artists is rare. Even in laboratory conditions where healthy subjects with intact brains are studied, the cognitive underpinning of art has proven to be quite complex and has yet to fully explain such important issues as talent, skill, and creativity.
It should be kept in mind that art conception and construction following the damage are outcomes of the combined activity of both healthy and diseased tissue. Or, viewed in another way, the work is a reflection of the brain’s reaction to neural irregularity; even in non-artist patients with brain damage, behavior reflects the resulting neural irregularity (Calabresi, Centonze, Pisani, Cupini, & Bernardi, 2003; Duffau et al., 2003; Kapur, 1996; Ovsiew, 1997; Rossini, 2001). Functional reshaping of the brain consequent to damage is currently under increasing scrutiny with neuroimaging techniques (e.g., diffusion tensor imaging), particularly with respect to language (Duffau et al., 2003; Geranmayeh, Brownsett, & Wise, 2014; Zipse, Norton, Marchina, & Schlaug, 2012). Functional reorganization is an issue that should be considered in contemplating the neural support for art (and this is discussed in the last section of Chapter 4).
Artists with sensory problems in vision or hearing highlight a main argument of this book, that art is a complex expression of experience, conceptual and memory systems, talent, skill, and creativity. Artists with seriously compromised vision due to disease, for example, are able to continue painting (see Chapter 3), while musicians with extremely poor hearing go on composing (see Chapter 5). A blind artist, Lisa Fittipaldi, untrained in art before the onset of her blindness, was nevertheless able to paint competently in color (Fittipaldi, 2010). Artists with progressive debilitating motoric effects of Parkinsonian tremors are often able to hold and control a paintbrush. The latter artists and their various conditions are discussed in Chapter 2.
Similarly, musical compositions for the piano or organ are shaped by the structural and motoric health of the composers’ hands as well as by the musicians for whom the compositions are written (Altenmüller, 2015; Young, 1986). A well-known example is that of Paul Wittgenstein, the famous Viennese pianist who lost his right arm in World War I (Boller & Bogousslavsky, 2015; Drozdov, Kidd, & Modlin, 2008; Tatu, Bogousslavsky, & Boller, 2014); several composers wrote piano pieces especially for him, to be played by the left hand, notably Maurice Ravel, Sergei Prokofiev, Benjamin Britten, and Wittgenstein himself.
Consider, too, the musical works of the famous composer for the harpsichord Domenico Scarlatti: he is well known not only for writing for the harpsichord but also for playing it (Newmark, 2009). For many years his compositions included segments where the left and right hands crossed the midline, but at one point he stopped composing sonatas with these “crossings.” Careful analysis of the timing of this stylistic change by Ralph Kirkpatrick (a famous harpsichordist) revealed that the uncrossed hands in Scarlatti’s new sonatas coincided with the increased obesity of his long-time student, the Queen of Spain, who when she was Princess Maria Barbara de Braganza, and much slimmer, in the royal court of Portugal, had been able to do the crossings (Kirkpatrick, 1983). When she became overweight, such midline crossings became difficult, hence the change in style.
Neurological patients with damage to either the left or the right hemispheres are often required in clinical and laboratory settings to interpret, manipulate, organize, arrange, match, or name pictures. Indeed, using pictures in neuropsychological testing is a widespread practice. Inferred function from the outcome of these tests is useful to explorations of the neuroanatomical underpinnings of the visual arts. The pictures may depict realistic objects or simple geometrical shapes. Damage to either hemisphere does not necessarily result in apictoria (the inability to derive meaning from any type of pictorial material). Behavioral impairments may also be seen depending on the nature of the task. Similarly, damage to either hemisphere does not obliterate the ability to draw some basic, common visual objects. The laterality of the damage does, however, affect certain characteristics of the drawings as well as the depiction of depth.
Production of art works recruits activity of several brain regions, their functions, and neuronal interconnecting pathways. The list includes planning ahead, working memory, and decision-making (frontal lobes); motor control (frontal lobes); hand–eye coordination (occipital, parietal, and frontal lobes); memory (hippocampal formation); long-term memory (temporal and parietal lobes); concepts (temporal and parietal lobes); semantic knowledge of the world (temporal and parietal lobes); emotional circuitry (limbic system); the control of meaning and space; global and detailed perception; disembedding strategies; sustained attention; and several other widespread neuronal networks. Put another way, the arts exemplify neuropsychology in action.
Acquired brain damage can impair the perceptual process and the attainment of meaning from visual percepts. This could lead to visual agnosia (the loss of knowledge of previously known things and thus the loss of meaning), a condition in which patients have an irregular understanding of the world (Farah, 1990). However, across individuals, an unusual perception does not necessarily stem from an identifiable agnosic disorder; there is variability in the mechanisms of perception and the attainment of percept meaning in the first place. Artists’ creations reflect their unique perceptions of the world, while non-artist viewers frequently do not comprehend, appreciate, or identify with those depictions. Perhaps it is a unique neuroanatomical arrangement of their perceptual and meaning-association mechanisms together with talent that allows artists to produce works of beauty that fascinate and inspire.
Realistic visual depictions of, for example, nature scenes, still lifes, animals, and human figures and faces all require spatial cognition; such figures can also be depicted in abstract forms. Both the right hemisphere and the detailed, analytic, and sustained attention of the left hemisphere are simultaneously involved in the production. In the visual arts, the tilt, angle, size, shape, form, height, or depth of the elements in relation to each other constitute the theme of a picture.
In a rare case of an artist drawing a portrait while his eye and hand movements were being monitored by a specialized tracking device, it was found that, rather than starting with a global contour of the visual model—something associated with the right hemisphere and its cognitive style—the artist, Humphrey Ocean, nearly always began with a detail first, working his way from the inside outwards (Miall & Tchalenko, 2001; Tchalenko & Chris Miall, 2009). The attention to local details is precisely the cognitive style associated with the left hemisphere. A similar observation was made regarding the drawing approach of Nadia and EC, two autistic savant artists with exceptional graphic abilities for depicting realistic figures (see Chapter 4); they started with the details within the containing form and proceeded from there to complete the contour frame (Mottron & Belleville, 1995; Mottron, Limoges, & Jelenic, 2003). This strategy demonstrates that both hemispheres concurrently play significant roles in the production of visual art.
Sometimes, to achieve a particular effect, artists, in their depictions, violate the rules of natural physical space. It is the left hemisphere that specializes in processing pictorial incongruous combinations of reality (Zaidel, 1988a; Zaidel & Kasher, 1989). The best known genre where realistic objects, or their parts, are juxtaposed incongruously so as to violate physical rules of reality is that of the artist René Magritte, and other artists in the school of Surrealism; prior to that school, artists such as Manet and Cézanne experimented with established notions of spatial relationships.
Magritte’s real-world forms, figures, and shapes all have depth, do not appear flat, appear to be highly realistic, and have the visual quality of a photograph in some sense. This is true regardless of whether the details are part of a body or part of a landscape scene. The realism of the individual parts making up a whole theme in his paintings is greater compared to other Surrealist artists. It seems to always be the case in Magritte’s work that individual forms are depicted according to physical and logical rules of nature, and what are altered in his paintings are their relationships to each other. What is truly creative is his juxtaposition of the details in the composition as a whole entity. It takes an exceptional intellectual ability to rise above the known physical rules of nature.
In Asian and ancient Egyptian art we find abundant examples of an absence of three-dimensional representations. Viewers find such art pleasing despite its incongruities and disregard for depictions of natural physical laws. The society in which the ancient artists of Egypt depicted flat worlds devoid of linear and convergent perspective is the same society that built magnificent three-dimensional architectural structures, the plans for which had to require excellent three-dimensional visualization and spatial cognition. Similarly, viewers of abstract art find it pleasing and meaningful. Thus, illusionary depth and the physical rules of spatial relationships are sometimes ignored in the practice of two-dimensional art (drawings, paintings).
An enormous amount of visual art is in black and white. Consider the sketches, engravings, etchings, lithographs, and illustrations of Rembrandt, Leonardo da Vinci, and Michelangelo, films by Fellini and by Bergman, pottery and marble sculptures by Bernini and by Rodin, buildings by Frank Lloyd Wright, the ancient Egyptian pyramids, the Taj Mahal, and so forth. Consider, too, the fact that there have always been color-blind artists as well as artists who are nearly blind (see Chapter 3). We do not necessarily need to think of color and art in the same mental instance when attempting to analyze variables that enter into the brain’s artistic processes. Colors do indeed have an evocative effect on human perception, emotion, and appreciation, and they have considerable meaning in nature, too; without a doubt their incorporation adds to the complexity, abstraction, and beauty of the final product (Zeki, 1999). Colors display yet another feature of artistic talent; they provide an additional layer indicative of the artist’s subtle understanding. The painters Henri Matisse and Marc Chagall were considered by Pablo Picasso to be “great colorists”—that is, to apply colors in ways that drew admiration from fellow artists. Some exceptionally skilled autistic savant artists, such as Nadia and EC, rarely incorporated colors into their graphic productions, suggesting that a special artistic cognition is required for the application of color (see Chapter 4).
Rather than the eye, it is the mind that largely shapes displays of the visual field into coherent forms. What constitute visual forms are features such as line orientation, tilt, edges, boundaries, and contrast. Their unification into a meaningful whole is under cortical control. Given normal perception, the meaning of forms is then derived from long-term memory, where experience and formal learning accumulated from infancy onward are stored. Indeed, new perception is driven by long-term memory and aided by attentional mechanisms searching for known forms in a constant, active manner (Zaidel, 1994). Most cognitive psychologists would say that reality is constructed in the mind of the perceiver (Kalat, 2002).
Musical sounds fade away in thin air and disappear without a trace unless recorded by human-made machines or written in a notational system designed to represent the sounds. We do not have records of musical or linguistic sounds produced by ancient humans and cannot easily trace the acoustic arts with respect to their relationship to the evolution and development of the brain. However, we do have evidence, unearthed by archaeologists in Slovenia, France, and Germany, of ancient musical instruments—flutes—believed to be 30,000, 43,000, and 53,000 years old (Conard, Malin, & Münzel, 2009; Fitch, 2006; Gray et al., 2001; Tramo, 2001). Neanderthal people, who preceded anatomically modern Homo sapiens in Europe, are assumed to have created flutes from bear and deer bones. There is a recent argument, however, that what appeared to be flutes were simply bones bitten through by spotted hyenas (see Chapter 10). With the visual arts, on the other hand, there are numerous actual examples of created works from prehistoric times to the present.
Accumulating evidence on music and the brain supports the notion of a wide spectrum of brain regions activated by music and of many responses to music, in both musicians and non-musicians (discussed in Chapters 5 and 6). Consequently, there is no strong support for a hemispheric laterality or specialization for musical composition; evidence from brain-damaged composers suggests the likely involvement of both hemispheres. In non-musicians, the left hemisphere is maximally involved in perception of timing and rhythm while the right hemisphere specializes in pitch and timbre perception. But neuroimaging studies of music are revealing subtleties in ongoing research (Angulo-Perkins et al., 2014; Popescu, Otsuka, & Ioannides, 2004; Trainor, 2008)
Dancing and music are intimately linked. Rhythmically dancing to musical beats is a unique human ability; it is done spontaneously even by crawling babies and by toddlers just beginning to walk. Because humans are readily responsive to music early on through expressive body movements, the choreographed dance has been neglected as an example of symbolic and abstract thinking. Consequently, most discussions about art concern the visual, musical, and literary arts. Dances reflect conceptualized and planned choreographed movements in spatiotemporal sequence. The fluidity of the dance, the reaction to it, the effort put into it by the dancers themselves, and its intended symbolic and communicative value depend heavily on its choreography.
The creative process is traditionally associated with artists, but scientists in fact need to be just as creative, as do medical doctors to successfully diagnose and manage their patients; economists and mathematicians in their theories and solutions; teachers to educate their difficult students and stimulate their bright students; politicians to shape resolutions and win elections, avoid or end wars, and improve the lives of their constituents; and business people to expand their profits (Zaidel, 2013b, 2014). Because creativity is more obvious in art than in other fields, we have come to commonly associate the two terms. However, the neuroanatomical and neurophysiological underpinnings of artistic creativity need not be wholly different from creativity in other human endeavors.
Given talent, neurochemicals in the brain can influence artistic expression. The role of neurotransmitters in shaping creative art might be gleaned from considering special neurological cases where newly administered medication heralds artistic output; such a case could be patients suffering from Parkinson’s disease (described in Chapter 11). We should also consider that people in the middle of a major depressive episode, a period when levels of the neurotransmitter serotonin are particularly low, are not creative or productive. Creativity is expressed when the episode is over, or even prior to the episode. But there would have to be talent and predisposition to art, in its various formats, in the first place. Random imbalance in neurotransmitters is not a prerequisite for artistic or any other creative expression. Upheaval or lability in mood in artists can have its origin in mechanisms related to attachment whereby a psychological sense of loss with the work’s completion is followed by neurotransmitter imbalance and the concomitant mood lability.
Artists are so creative at times that their works predate formal scientific discoveries (Shlain, 1991). Indeed, visual artists have often inspired scientists to view their research projects with a fresh perspective (Ainsworth, 2008; Root-Bernstein, 2000). Unbound by the rigid rules of controlled empirical investigations, successful artists are free to let their minds soar, and this, in combination with their talent and intellect, enables them to produce highly original works. Ultimately, art in all its formats—literature, poetry, music, paintings, film, sculpture, dance, theater, or photography—reflects the mind of its producer, whether he or she has a normal brain or is an autistic savant, a person with frontotemporal dementia, a patient who has had a unilateral stroke, or an exceptional artist such as Picasso. The artist’s studio, whatever and wherever it is, is where the workings of the creative mind are continuously tested. The benefit of understanding art from a neuropsychological perspective is no different from the benefit of understanding foreign languages, physics, biology, neuroscience, medicine, mathematics, or financial investing. In particular, by studying accomplished artists with brain damage or with various sensory deficits, we stand to gain insight into the elusive issue of artistic talent and its representation in the brain (see Chapter 11).
After all, art is not merely an expression of talent, expertise, and creativity. It is limited and constrained by genetic and biological inheritance, by what the mind is occupied with around the time of production, and by the artist’s cultural context, education, training, and social affiliation. All else being equal, art depicts that artist’s era, what is important, talked about, discussed, believed, and known by the society. Indeed, as Bahn (1998) points out, in agreement with Dissanayake (1988), what we in the West classify as art is, in many other cultures, considered a mere extension of cultural, religious, and experiential events. An example of the latter is the aboriginal Australian attitude toward their own rock and shelter paintings, carvings, baskets, mats, and other similar productions; other examples can be found among the many Native American tribes. They view their works as representing their culture.
The cognitive basis of art consists of symbolic, abstract, and referential capabilities, as does language. This explains why humans are the only species that creates art. Although there are examples of symbolic cognition in some animals, those are uncommon and never reach the necessary threshold for art production. Only humans produce art spontaneously, and only humans have a sophisticated recursive, combinatorial language, the critical centers for which are localized in the left frontal lobe. While Broca’s area homologue is present in chimpanzees, in humans this area is larger and noticeably asymmetrical (Rilling, 2014). Language is not independent of other cognitive abilities, namely symbolic and abstract thought. Art, too, is dependent on such abilities. The principal role of language is communication and therein rests its social value; art’s beginnings suggest a social purpose, too.
The early use of red ochre on some objects and not others, for example, is considered by some scholars to be an expression of early symbolic capability, although it is not the only example (Duarte, 2014). Art expression, particularly the visual and musical arts, could have evolved parallel to language, in the same human evolutionary window, without artistic representations necessarily being the precursors to linguistic communication (see theories on the evolutionary emergence of language in Chapter 10). That evolutionary window could go back to 500,000 years ago, and could include the common ancestor of Homo sapiens and the Neanderthals (Florio et al., 2015; Lieberman, 2015). In other words, the non-verbal or non-linguistic aspect of these arts does not necessarily imply “pre-language.” Art reveals the mind in much the same way that language does, and the cognitive apparatus for both forms of expression could possibly share basic, though not identical, neuroanatomical features, all of which could have emerged with ancient hominins approximately 350,000–500,000 years ago in Africa (McBrearty & Stringer, 2007; Zaidel et al., 2013). The visible footprints of early language emergence could lie in the purposeful use of colors (ochre) used originally perhaps for group identification, symbolic decoration, or camouflage or burial practices (see discussions in Chapters 9 and 10).
Although writing, as spoken language, is specialized in the left hemisphere, there is a continuum between writing and pictures. Writing probably saw its beginnings in realistic pictorial representations that eventually evolved into formalized notational systems. The pictorial approach to non-verbal communication would seem to be the preferred mode as recently as 1000 years ago, when the Bayeux Tapestry, depicting the 1066 Battle of Hastings, England, was created. This is a long tale told elaborately through embroidered human figures, animals, plants, objects, and buildings, in a variety of colors and spread over 70 panels. Pictures are sometimes much more effective for conveying messages than words; the common adage that a picture is worth a thousand words is exemplified by the huge advertising billboards dotting roads and highways. Indeed, the neuropsychological impairment of simultanagnosia (the inability to derive the theme of a pictorial scene), which follows focal left hemisphere damage in the posterior temporal lobe, indicates a neuroanatomical underpinning for the interpretation of complex pictorial scenes.
Unlike language comprehension, speech, writing, and reading, functions for which there are known brain localizations, there is no neural network localization for the control of art production, no current evidence for its laterality or hemispheric specialization. Figure 1.1 illustrates the key language areas in the left (language) hemisphere. Nor has the lateralization of art appreciation and criticism been established. The popular notion that art is specialized in the right cerebral hemisphere has never had a sound scientific basis (Zaidel, 2013e, 2015a). The notion originated with an early theory formulated as an initial working hypothesis pending further research. The balanced evidence has suggested otherwise. The case studies and discussions in subsequent chapters of this book illustrate that art is a “whole brain production.” Similarly, art is not there simply for pleasure, just as language is not simply for pleasure. Both are human communicative social systems.
Representing figures on rocks, in caves, in cliff shelters, on canvas, in films, in musical melodies, in dance routines, and on the body itself—all are meant to convey specific ideas and concepts. Art represents the capacity to abstract and in this way to facilitate communication between the producer of the art and the viewer. We may disagree at times about precisely what is being conveyed, but we would more likely find common agreement precisely because of our ability to interpret abstract concepts.
Clinical and empirical studies for over 150 years have consistently shown that the main language functions of speaking and comprehension, and writing and reading, are specialized in the left hemisphere in the great majority of people (Saffran, 2000). Damage in the left hemisphere typically leads to various types of language disorders (aphasia). The classic functional regional map, derived largely from patients with aphasic disorders, distinguishes between speech production (Broca’s area in the left inferior posterior frontal lobe) and language comprehension (Wernicke’s area in the left posterior superior temporal gyrus; see Figure 1.1). Since the mid-1970s, however, this classic cortical map has expanded thanks to evidence from neuroimaging techniques and additional experimentation (McAvoy, Mitra, Coalson, Petersen, & Raichle, 2015). Engagement of both cortical and subcortical regions in the whole language process is now implicated (Lieberman, 2002; Wallesch, Johannsen-Horbach, Bartels, & Herrmann, 1997). Some, though limited, right hemisphere involvement is seen, particularly in comprehension (Code, 1987, 1997; Zaidel, 1988b) and various other subtle aspects of language (Lindell, 2006), and the role of intra-hemispheric white matter lesions has been pursued (Groot et al., 2000). Moreover, documentation of the range and refinement of identified aphasic syndromes and their neuroanatomical underpinning has increased (Caplan, 1987; Whitaker & Kahn, 1994). Neuroimaging techniques, physiological recordings, and neuroanatomical studies in recent years have confirmed that the nexus for language expression and comprehension is specialized in the left hemisphere (see Chapter 10 for evolutionary scenarios of human language emergence).
Figure 1.1 Schematic side view (lateral) of the left hemisphere showing the frontal, temporal, parietal, and occipital lobes. The right hemisphere has the same lobes, sulci, and gyri. But the main language centers are lateralized to the left hemisphere. Broca’s area controls speech production and Wernicke’s area controls comprehension of language. The left hemisphere specializes in the brain’s main language system, including expression and comprehension, speaking, writing, and reading. Damage to the posterior and inferior regions of the left frontal lobe results in Broca’s aphasia, a non-fluent type in which speech is hesitant, incomplete, and lacks syntax; damage in the posterior left superior temporal gyrus results in Wernicke’s aphasia, a fluent aphasia in which speech is well articulated but does not make any sense and language comprehension is absent. Damage to other regions within the left hemisphere leads to other disturbances in language.
The current view is that a left neuronal network involving most of the peri-Sylvian region (Figure 1.2) constitutes the crucial language processing area (Scott, Blank, Rosen, & Wise, 2000; Simmonds et al., 2014). This includes speaking, comprehending, writing, and reading. Following observations of neuroanatomical individual variability (Whitaker & Selnes, 1976), the exact boundaries of Broca’s and Wernicke’s areas have been re-evaluated and expanded (Blank, Scott, Murphy, Warburton, & Wise, 2002). Hillis and associates (2004) suggest that the orchestration of speech articulation, a complex motoric function, not only involves the Broca’s area complex but also reasonably engages neural representations of the cortical face and mouth areas (in the pre-central and post-central gyri). In other words, a network of interconnected regions in the left hemisphere is involved in speech articulation. The great variability in the size of the Wernicke’s area complex has been raised as well (Bogen & Bogen, 1976), and several neural subsystems within the area have been identified (Wise et al., 2001).
Figure 1.2 Diagrammatic lateral view of the left cortex showing the peri-Sylvian language areas in the left hemisphere. Hidden deep inside the Sylvian fissure is the insula, an area also important for language.
Systematic investigations of neural support for language comprehension in the right hemisphere have also been undertaken (see Friederici & Alter, 2004; Gernsbacher & Kaschak, 2003; Ullman, 2001; E. Zaidel, 1976, 1978, 1979). Aphasic disorders, their subtleties, and their measurements are described in detail elsewhere (for a review see Saffran, 2000). The enormous literature covering all of these findings is beyond the scope of this book (but issues of functional reorganization following unilateral damage to the left hemisphere are discussed in the second half of Chapter 4).
There is debate regarding whether artistic talent is a reflection of inherent biological (genetic) capacity or the combined effects of such capacity plus guidance, training, and practice (see discussion in Chapter 11). The general issue of talent in various domains, whether it is a reflection of nature or of nurture, has been reviewed and discussed by Howe and his colleagues (Howe, Davidson, & Sloboda, 1998). Artistic talent, however, regardless of its origin, and no matter in which of the arts, is not universally endowed. In any given society throughout the world, there are only a few individuals who possess remarkable artistic talent. This would imply that talent is subserved by a specialized neuronal system whose wiring diagram is laid down from birth. The careful observations by Oliver Sacks (1995) and other researchers of skilled autistic savant artists (discussed in Chapter 4) support the notion of either a specialized neuronal system or dedicated brain regions as the neuroanatomical underpinning for some types of art production. Only a select few autistic individuals are graphically skilled artists despite their severely malfunctioning brains. What is missing in the productions of such artists, however, is what could uncover clues to the artist’s mind (see Chapter 4).
The health status of the sensory organs of artists can provide extremely useful clues to each individual artwork’s components (see Chapter 3). In the visual arts, for example, it is critical to consider the health of the artist’s eyes and vision in evaluating colors and clarity of paintings, or, in the case of sculptors, the health of the arm muscles. Regardless of how experienced, talented, skilled, and creative an artist may be, the final drawing, painting, etching, sculpture, or film reflects the functioning of the eye. In the musical arts, it is similarly useful to consider a composer’s level of hearing. Changes in vision or hearing can occur normally as part of the aging process or abnormally as part of a disease process, and the age at which they occur in relation to production can be extremely useful for understanding underlying brain processes.
Thus, in the search for the neurological components of art, we need to consider the following: the sensory reality of the producing artist and its influence on production; the genetics and influence of artistic talent on the final product; obvious or subtle brain damage, or alterations in the health status of the brain; the timing of these brain injuries or alterations, whether sudden or slowly encroaching; and the cultural, educational, and intellectual atmosphere present during the period of production, including early hominin evolution, and the biological roots of art.
The years 2005–2015 have seen an unprecedented upsurge in studies investigating the brain’s responses to art and other beauty-related sources. Aesthetic reactions in the brain are now discussed in terms of neuroaesthetics (Chatterjee & Vartanian, 2014; Pearce et al., 2015). Just as the production of art recruits the functionality of multiple and widely distributed brain areas, to involve several interconnected neuronal pathways and to engage both hemispheres, so do aesthetic reactions to art. The two aspects of art, the production and the aesthetic reaction, do not necessarily overlap in the brain. The principal ways in which aesthetic reactions to art have been measured are through neuroimaging and physiological recordings of brain waves. On the whole, the results have shown that there is no specific region or pathway that specializes in aesthetic evaluation of art. Aesthetic reactions appear to involve sensory, motoric, perceptual, and cognitive areas, in widely distributed and interconnected pathways (discussion of neuroaesthetics and beauty issues is in Chapter 9). A recent meta analysis based on fMRI studies has confirmed this conclusion (Boccia et al., 2015).
Moreover, art is not for pleasure alone, although subjectively we think and feel a sense of pleasure. Art, as stated above, is a communicative system with a social purpose and origin, and is not produced for the sole purpose of eliciting pleasure, much as the purpose of language is not for pleasure. The primary goal for both art and language is to communicate facts, ideas, emotions, and intentions (see elaboration and discussion in Chapter 10).
The definition of art and its practice have been discussed, and the main topics and issues described in the rest of the book have been introduced. The chapter discussed the early beginnings of art production; beauty and its role in art and brain evolution; the consequences of brain damage in established artists; the role of sensations such as seeing and hearing in the production of art; the basic nature of visual artistic depictions and their relationship to the brain; the relationship between the use of color and visual art; music, dance, and the brain; art creativity and art talent; the common underpinnings of language and art; language lateralization and disorders of language (aphasia); sensory deficits as clues to the neuropsychology of art; and neuroaesthetics (aesthetic reactions to art in the brain). Being that art is a complex behavioral expression of the human mind, and that only humans produce it spontaneously, gaining insights into all these issues can help elucidate the brain–art relationship.
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