Oh, the power of art on our capricious human hearts. And by art I mean the music, theater, dance and poetry that sends shivers down our spines. The gorgeous meal, film, novel or haute couture hanging off a model during Fashion Week that feels like a muse whispered words of sweet inspiration directly into the artist’s ears. I have been moved to tears solely by the power of a performance. It was New Year’s Eve a decade or so ago, during a Colorado Springs Philharmonic concert featuring a few vocalists, including Jennifer DeDominici, who caught me off guard with her exhilarating expression of a Puccini song from an opera I can’t remember. The pure emotion that poured forth from her vocal cords took the wind out of me. Tears fell. It hasn’t happened before or since while watching live opera, though I keep trying. I crave to be moved in such a way again. The sounds of jazz trumpet player Chris Botti felled me years back within the dark confines of Pikes Peak Center. He stood on that stage, his shiny instrument held aloft, his blonde locks glowing. Like a snake charmer luring his reptile from its basket, the sweet sounds of trumpet conjured tears from my dry ducts.
More recently I wandered the halls of the Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center at Colorado College and peeked into a dark room where a video installation by Abdi Osman played on a large screen. The foreign voiceover paired with footage of Venice filmed from a boat, drew me in, and I sat, captivated. And what are the feelings stirred up by watching something you don’t understand, like modern dance? I can’t claim to know what any of the pieces meant at a recent DanceAspen performance at Ent Center for the Arts, but according to the dancers I’ve interviewed through the years, it doesn’t matter. What matters is how it makes you feel. And maybe that it simply makes you feel. We can be so cut off from our emotions. Life can deaden us. But art can bring us back to life. It rustles up feelings, even if you can’t always identify them. I am not alone in my leaky eyeballs. A 2015 study found crying is a typical biological response to what can happen when you encounter something your brain finds aesthetically pleasing. While art can create an emotional tumult in my body, I’ve yet to experience symptoms resembling a panic attack when I see a mesmerizing painting or cathedral. But apparently there are those among us who have, who report increased heart rates, chest pains, dizziness, fainting, hallucinations and even loss of consciousness when faced with a work of art.
This beauty-induced panic attack is known as Stendhal syndrome. No, not Stockholm syndrome, a different theory about why hostages sometimes develop psychological bonds with their captors. Though perhaps we could blend the two and feel an odd bond to a particular piece of art? Stendhal syndrome is the intense physical and mental symptoms one might experience due to viewing great art. The term, first coined in 1989 by Italian psychiatrist Graziella Magherini, comes from the name of 19th century French writer Marie-Henri Beyle, who was better known by his pen name, Stendhal. In 1817 Beyle described having one such high-intensity art interaction during a visit to the Basilica of Santa Croce in Florence, Italy. However, author Julian Barnes disputed this story in his 2008 memoir, “Nothing to Be Frightened Of,” after going through Beyle’s diary entries and discovering the man never mentioned an art-related episode; his feet hurt and he wanted to leave Florence and get on the train to Rome. Despite the syndrome’s sketchy beginning, it also became known as the Florentine syndrome after Magherini treated more than 100 people at a hospital in Florence after they visited the city’s art galleries and museums.
Which brings me to my point. Yes, I have one. Even though sometimes I like to just tell you about things that strike my fancy as I stumble around online, mostly looking for celebrity gossip, which does not, for the record, bring tears to my eyes with its beauty. My intention is to encourage all of us to seek out art with the hopes it moves us to tears or gives us a case of Stendhal syndrome, though of course I don’t really wish a panic attack on anyone. Those are no joke. But to find art that makes us feel is a gift. Even if you’re not moved to sobs or you don’t particularly like or understand something, it doesn’t matter. Because that experience now lives inside of you forever and makes you a more well-rounded human. And if you do happen to find yourself feeling dizzy after a glimpse of Van Gogh’s “The Starry Night” at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City or hearing Giuseppe Verdi’s “Aida” at The Metropolitan Opera, at least you’ll know it might be more than indigestion. Contact the writer: 636-0270
Oh, the power of art on our capricious human hearts.
And by art I mean the music, theater, dance and poetry that sends shivers down our spines. The gorgeous meal, film, novel or haute couture hanging off a model during Fashion Week that feels like a muse whispered words of sweet inspiration directly into the artist’s ears.
I have been moved to tears solely by the power of a performance. It was New Year’s Eve a decade or so ago, during a Colorado Springs Philharmonic concert featuring a few vocalists, including Jennifer DeDominici, who caught me off guard with her exhilarating expression of a Puccini song from an opera I can’t remember. The pure emotion that poured forth from her vocal cords took the wind out of me. Tears fell. It hasn’t happened before or since while watching live opera, though I keep trying. I crave to be moved in such a way again.
The sounds of jazz trumpet player Chris Botti felled me years back within the dark confines of Pikes Peak Center. He stood on that stage, his shiny instrument held aloft, his blonde locks glowing. Like a snake charmer luring his reptile from its basket, the sweet sounds of trumpet conjured tears from my dry ducts.
More recently I wandered the halls of the Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center at Colorado College and peeked into a dark room where a video installation by Abdi Osman played on a large screen. The foreign voiceover paired with footage of Venice filmed from a boat, drew me in, and I sat, captivated.
And what are the feelings stirred up by watching something you don’t understand, like modern dance? I can’t claim to know what any of the pieces meant at a recent DanceAspen performance at Ent Center for the Arts, but according to the dancers I’ve interviewed through the years, it doesn’t matter. What matters is how it makes you feel. And maybe that it simply makes you feel. We can be so cut off from our emotions. Life can deaden us. But art can bring us back to life. It rustles up feelings, even if you can’t always identify them.
I am not alone in my leaky eyeballs. A 2015 study found crying is a typical biological response to what can happen when you encounter something your brain finds aesthetically pleasing.
While art can create an emotional tumult in my body, I’ve yet to experience symptoms resembling a panic attack when I see a mesmerizing painting or cathedral. But apparently there are those among us who have, who report increased heart rates, chest pains, dizziness, fainting, hallucinations and even loss of consciousness when faced with a work of art.
This beauty-induced panic attack is known as Stendhal syndrome. No, not Stockholm syndrome, a different theory about why hostages sometimes develop psychological bonds with their captors. Though perhaps we could blend the two and feel an odd bond to a particular piece of art?
Stendhal syndrome is the intense physical and mental symptoms one might experience due to viewing great art. The term, first coined in 1989 by Italian psychiatrist Graziella Magherini, comes from the name of 19th century French writer Marie-Henri Beyle, who was better known by his pen name, Stendhal.
In 1817 Beyle described having one such high-intensity art interaction during a visit to the Basilica of Santa Croce in Florence, Italy. However, author Julian Barnes disputed this story in his 2008 memoir, “Nothing to Be Frightened Of,” after going through Beyle’s diary entries and discovering the man never mentioned an art-related episode; his feet hurt and he wanted to leave Florence and get on the train to Rome.
Despite the syndrome’s sketchy beginning, it also became known as the Florentine syndrome after Magherini treated more than 100 people at a hospital in Florence after they visited the city’s art galleries and museums.
Which brings me to my point. Yes, I have one. Even though sometimes I like to just tell you about things that strike my fancy as I stumble around online, mostly looking for celebrity gossip, which does not, for the record, bring tears to my eyes with its beauty.
My intention is to encourage all of us to seek out art with the hopes it moves us to tears or gives us a case of Stendhal syndrome, though of course I don’t really wish a panic attack on anyone. Those are no joke. But to find art that makes us feel is a gift.
Even if you’re not moved to sobs or you don’t particularly like or understand something, it doesn’t matter. Because that experience now lives inside of you forever and makes you a more well-rounded human.
And if you do happen to find yourself feeling dizzy after a glimpse of Van Gogh’s “The Starry Night” at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City or hearing Giuseppe Verdi’s “Aida” at The Metropolitan Opera, at least you’ll know it might be more than indigestion.
Contact the writer: 636-0270
Contact the writer: 636-0270
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