Introduction
This essay explores the common themes linking various works covered in a unit on sensory perception and human experience, including “Coming to Our Senses,” “Night Face Up,” two poems by Emily Dickinson, “Math Instinct,” W.H. Auden’s “Musee des Beaux Arts,” and Pieter Breughel’s painting “Landscape with the Fall of Icarus.” The central argument is that these works collectively highlight the interplay between sensory experience, perception, and the human condition, often revealing how individuals interpret reality through fragmented or subjective lenses. By examining these pieces, it becomes evident that they share a focus on the tension between internal and external worlds. Furthermore, this essay will delve into two specific works—”Night Face Up” and Auden’s “Musee des Beaux Arts”—which particularly resonated with me due to their profound exploration of perception and indifference. Through detailed analysis and personal reflection, I aim to demonstrate how these works altered my understanding of human awareness and emotional detachment, contributing to a broader appreciation of sensory engagement in literature and art.
Common Themes Across the Works
A unifying thread across the selected works is the exploration of sensory perception as a gateway to understanding reality, often revealing its subjective and unreliable nature. In “Coming to Our Senses,” the emphasis on physical senses as a means of grounding oneself in the present suggests a universal need to reconnect with immediate experience. Similarly, “Night Face Up” by Julio Cortázar blurs the boundaries between dream and reality, using sensory confusion to challenge the protagonist’s—and the reader’s—grasp of truth (Cortázar, 1968). Emily Dickinson’s poetry, with its vivid imagery, often juxtaposes sensory detail with existential questioning, while “Math Instinct” explores how innate sensory abilities shape cognitive processes. Meanwhile, W.H. Auden’s “Musee des Beaux Arts” and Breughel’s “Landscape with the Fall of Icarus” both depict the human tendency to overlook profound suffering amidst mundane sensory distractions, highlighting a disconnect between observation and empathy (Auden, 1938). Indeed, each piece, in its own way, underscores how sensory input—whether vivid, distorted, or ignored—shapes our emotional and intellectual responses to the world. This recurring focus on perception as both a bridge and a barrier to understanding unites these diverse works. Arguably, they collectively invite readers to question the reliability of their own sensory experiences in constructing meaning.
Reflection on “Night Face Up”
Cortázar’s “Night Face Up” struck me as particularly compelling due to its unsettling manipulation of sensory perception to blur the lines between past and present, dream and reality. The story’s protagonist oscillates between a modern hospital bed and a brutal Aztec ritual, with vivid sensory descriptions—such as the smell of blood or the sound of drums—making each reality equally tangible (Cortázar, 1968). I found this dual narrative deeply interesting because it challenged my assumption that sensory experiences are inherently trustworthy. Instead, the story taught me that our senses can deceive us, constructing alternate realities that feel authentic yet may be illusory. This realization shifted how I think about memory and trauma, as I began to consider how deeply personal experiences can distort objective truth. Furthermore, the story’s ambiguity forced me to engage actively with the text, questioning which reality was “real” and, by extension, how I define my own. Generally, this work deepened my appreciation for literature as a medium that can unsettle and provoke through sensory immersion. It left me with a lingering curiosity about the fragility of perception.
Reflection on “Musee des Beaux Arts”
W.H. Auden’s “Musee des Beaux Arts,” paired with Breughel’s “Landscape with the Fall of Icarus,” also profoundly impacted my perspective, particularly on the theme of human indifference. Auden’s observation that “everything turns away / Quite leisurely from the disaster” as Icarus falls, unnoticed by those nearby, resonated with me as a stark commentary on how sensory overload or desensitization can lead to emotional detachment (Auden, 1938). What I found most interesting was the juxtaposition of a tragic event with mundane life—farmers plowing, ships sailing—mirroring how often we overlook suffering in our daily routines. This poem taught me to be more attuned to the unnoticed struggles around me, prompting a shift in how I interpret seemingly irrelevant details in my surroundings. Indeed, Auden’s words made me reflect on my own moments of apathy, questioning whether I, too, turn away from others’ pain when it does not directly affect me. The visual reinforcement of Breughel’s painting, where Icarus’s fall is a mere speck in a vast, indifferent landscape, further cemented this lesson. It was a humbling realization, highlighting the limitations of human empathy in a sensorially crowded world. Ultimately, this work encouraged me to cultivate greater awareness and compassion in my interactions.
Conclusion
In summary, the works discussed—ranging from prose and poetry to visual art—share a central concern with sensory perception as a complex, often unreliable mediator of human experience. Whether through the disorienting realism of “Night Face Up” or the poignant indifference in “Musee des Beaux Arts,” these pieces collectively underscore the subjective nature of reality and the emotional consequences of sensory engagement or detachment. My reflections on Cortázar’s story and Auden’s poem reveal their capacity to challenge assumptions about truth and empathy, respectively, reshaping how I approach both literature and life. These works have broader implications, suggesting that sensory awareness is not merely passive but an active process requiring critical reflection. Therefore, this unit has instilled in me a deeper appreciation for the nuances of perception and the ethical dimensions of noticing—or failing to notice—the world around us. As I continue my studies, I aim to apply this heightened sensitivity to other texts and contexts, fostering a more empathetic and analytical mindset.
References
- Auden, W.H. (1938) ‘Musee des Beaux Arts’, in Another Time. Faber and Faber.
- Cortázar, J. (1968) ‘Night Face Up’, in End of the Game and Other Stories. Pantheon Books.
