We See What We Expect to See

This happened a number of years ago, in an apartment complex I lived in at the time. One day I went to the laundry room to wash some clothes, as I normally did about once a week. A week's worth of laundry takes a few washers at once if one doesn't want to wait and run several loads of laundry through a single machine.

On this particular day I needed four washing machines. I selected four adjacent machines and checked to make sure they were empty. The inside of each washing machine is colored grey, with white specks. I was certain that was what I saw when I looked in each machine. Empty. One by one I poured a measured amount of dry laundry detergent into each washer. I heard the dry detergent rattle against the bottom of each empty machine - except the last one, which made no sound when I poured in the detergent. Confused, I looked inside the fourth washer again.

Oh no! Inside that washing machine was someone's freshly washed laundry, all black clothing, now covered with my laundry detergent! After having looked inside the previous three washers, I was certain I had seen the same dark grey interior with white specks in the fourth as I had seen in the previous three machines. But I couldn't have.

I had expected to see an empty washing machine, grey with white specks, so I thought that's what I did see.

My first impulse was to close the washing machine lid and pretend it didn't happen. Then I realized I owed whoever the black clothing belonged to some money for a new wash. So I put some quarters into the coin slots and started the machine again. Then I found another washer (really empty this time) and went back to my own laundry.

A couple minutes later, two men walked into the laundry room. Both men were younger - and taller - than me. And both were dressed entirely in black. I continued to sort my laundry as they walked up to the newly started washer, which was right beside me. The first man had a confused look on his face as he looked at the now running washing machine. He turned to me and asked,

"Is this your laundry?"

With a convincing display of disinterest I glanced at the machine and nonchalantly answered,

"Nope."

And continued to sort my laundry.

The first man in black, after staring at the washing machine for another several seconds, opened it, revealing black clothing sloshing around in soapy water.

"Dude! How long do these washers run?!" He exclaimed to no one in particular.

"Dude! When did you put those clothes in there?" The second man in black responded.

I tended to my own laundry as if nothing was unusual.

Probably less than a minute passed before the two men left the laundry room, still wondering to each other how that washing machine could still be running after so long. I didn't feel inclined to tell them. I completed my laundry without further incident.

What might any of this have to do with painting?

Sometimes the brain uses experience to interpret a scene in front of it instead of relying solely on what the eye at the moment sends to the brain. I won't take time in this post to explain how that works, but you can do some research if you like, perhaps starting here, or this article here, to get a better understanding of what I'm referring to. That, I believe, is how someone can look at a painting, and instead of seeing blotches of paint, see leaves on a tree, flowers in a meadow, or the glance of a person gazing back at them. This is what painters depend upon to get their paintings to work, at least at that level. It doesn't even matter how large or small those "blotches of paint " are. if they are put in the right place, in the right way, it will trigger the mind to "see" depth, shape, atmosphere, and even life where there is really only a flat inanimate surface.

Or, how your brain perceives things might nearly get you into trouble...