Can You Picture Things in Your Mind? I Can’t | Alex Rosenthal | TED

So in 2015, a bride-to-be uploaded a picture of a dress to the internet

-- (Laughter) And we all lost our minds.

If you see this as blue and black, say “Team blue.”

Audience: Team blue!

If you see this as white and gold, how?

How do you see that as white and gold?

(Laughter) Why does this break our brains so much?

It's because it puts us into confrontation with the fact

that two minds can perceive the same reality entirely differently.

I'd like to talk to you about two things.

One, our minds are much more different than we think.

And two, you should seek out minds that are different than your own,

because that's where the magic happens.

I get to work with a lot of diverse minds by virtue of what

I do.

I write and produce scripts for animation on a wide variety of topics,

and I create puzzles and games.

And a few years ago,

I had my own dress moment where I realized

that my brain works differently than almost everyone I know.

And I'd like to show you how.

So if you'll indulge me for a second, please visualize the following.

You can do it with your eyes open or closed,

whichever gives you the most vivid mental imagery.

A rocket ship crash lands on an alien planet.

A creature comes up to the hatch and knocks.

And someone opens it from within.

So now I'm going to ask you some questions about what you just saw.

What color was the planet?

What kind of creature was it?

And who opened the hatch?

I'll show you what I see.

Nothing.

That's because I have a condition called aphantasia,

which is where I don't have access to my mind's eye.

It turns out that the mind's eye is a spectrum.

On one end are about two to four percent of us with aphantasia.

And at the other extreme is hyperphantasia.

That's where you can visualize in exquisite detail,

sometimes even able to superimpose what you're imagining on reality.

That's about three to six percent of people.

Everyone else is somewhere in between.

But there's a huge range of experience here.

Everyone I do this with not only describes something different

but describes the experience of experiencing it differently.

So I went through most of my life assuming

that most people were

or everyone was like me,

that a visualization exercise like this is a figure of speech

that no one could actually do.

So imagine my surprise and fascination and apprehension when I learned about aphantasia,

the last, because it raised some scary questions like,

have I been working in entirely the wrong careers my entire life?

(Laughter) So aphantasia changes the way

that those of us who have it perceive information

and consume and process information.

So, for example, most people I speak to who have a mind's eye describe

the experience of reading a novel

as seeing scenes play out in their mind

and casting characters.

I can't do either of those things.

It's a much more conceptual experience for me.

And when something is out of sight, it's very much out of mind.

I have a five-year-old daughter.

I can't in this moment imagine her face.

That has a big effect on my memory.

And it's also not just my mind's eye, it's also my mind's ear,

though I think I have a little bit of a mind's ear,

but I don't have a mind's nose or a mind's mouth.

I can't, for example, imagine the taste of peanut butter.

And what's it like to think in the absence of a mind's eye?

It's a really tough question that's not

that far off from asking what's it like to be a dolphin

or a spider?

And in the absence of being able to inhabit each other's consciousnesses,

we can communicate about them.

So for me, I'm generally much more aware of something's skeleton than its skin.

I'm very attuned to structure.

When I'm creating a game or a puzzle,

I'm first dreaming up the mechanics

and figuring out how they relate to each other,

how they map to a story structure.

And the details come later, often in collaboration with other artists.

I realize there's a leap of faith here in this idea

that our minds can be

so alien to each other,

and I struggle with that, too.

I can't understand what it's like to visualize any more than I can see

the dress as white

and gold.

But what's become increasingly apparent is

that the mind's eye is just one of many constellations we're starting to draw

in a night sky full of neurological diversity.

That includes having or not having an interior monologue.

It includes the autism spectrum, ADHD, dyslexia and a lot more.

Probably a lot of things we have yet to even give a name to

because we're just figuring all of this out.

The norm is to pathologize these experiences into a list of conditions

that depart from a so-called “normal” functioning of the mind.

I think we're thinking about this completely wrong.

There is no true normal out there, and difference is not deviance.

Rather, these are all clues towards a vast

and profound star field we're each individually blinded to

because we only have our one cozy,

inescapable mind as a single reference point.

It's no secret that different people think differently.

Many people on the autism spectrum excel at pattern recognition and logical deduction.

Multiple studies have shown students with ADHD outperforming, on average, their peers,

at creative problem solving and divergent thinking tasks,

and there are very similar findings for dyslexia,

especially when it comes to advanced spatial reasoning.

So if difference is in fact the norm, what do we do with that?

I say seek out minds

that are different than your own

and make something incredible together.

There's a wealth of research

that shows that teams of people from diverse backgrounds produce superior outcomes.

I'd like to propose a corollary to this:

diverse minds working together can produce wonders.

This comes with challenges and opportunities.

So in the last decade or so, companies such as SAP,

Hewlett Packard and JPMorgan have started programs designed to recruit neurodivergent talent.

And in the time since, they've reported corresponding gains in productivity, morale,

innovation and quality.

I see this in my own work as well.

Again, by the serendipity of working in visual fields without being able to visualize,

I wind up working with a lot of minds who are very different than

mine.

And that results in some weird and wonderful work,

such as a film noir animation about fractals

that I coauthored that was brought to life by a brilliant hyperphantasic animator named

Jeremiah Dickey.

Or this is one of my pride and joys.

It's a game that's a hybrid jigsaw puzzle and escape room in a box.

And the way it works -- yeah.

(Laughter) The way it works is you first assemble a jigsaw,

but you're missing big sections,

so you have to unlock them by solving puzzles

that are embedded in the illustration

and artifacts that you unlock along the way.

This was made in collaboration with two incredible artists, Rita Orlov and Senne Trip,

and our minds can be found in very different corners of the galaxy of

neurological diversity.

So am I working in the wrong fields?

No, I don't think so.

I think I'm exactly where I should be.

In fact, some of the greatest joy

and fulfillment in my life has been from coming to terms with the initially

jarring realization that my mind works differently than the people around me,

and recognizing that for what it is -- dazzling.

Thank you.

(Cheers and applause)