Smelling the Color 9: When Numbers Take Shape and Color

In English, the expression to smell the color 9 describes something completely impossible…

And yet, some people have the unusual ability to mentally visualize colors or spatial patterns when thinking about units of time—or more broadly, numbers. This phenomenon, known as synesthesia (from the Greek syn, “together”, and aisthēsis, “sensation”), occurs when stimulation of one sense involuntarily triggers sensations in another. It’s not a figure of speech—these perceptions feel very real to those who experience them.

The first documented case in medical literature appeared in 1710. Dr. John Thomas Woolhouse (1650–1734), an ophthalmologist to King James II of England, reported a blind young man who claimed he could perceive colors induced by sounds.

Neuroscientist Vilayanur S. Ramachandran and his team at the University of California, San Diego, observed that the most common form of synesthesia links “graphemes“—letters or numbers—to specific colors. Since my work bridges art and mathematics, I’ll focus here on number-based synesthesia.

People who experience synesthesia in its pure form are relatively few. However, many report strikingly similar associations between numbers and colors or spatial layouts, suggesting these perceptions aren’t just products of imagination or attention-seeking. For example, number–form synesthesia may result from cross-activation between brain regions in the parietal lobe that handle numerical and spatial processing. In contrast, number–color synesthesia likely stems from an overabundance of connections between adjacent areas that interfere with each other when triggered (see fig. 1 below).

brain synesthesia

Figures 2 and 3 illustrate common synesthetic patterns—either as color associations (fig. 2) or spatial arrangements (fig. 3, based on observations by Sir Francis Galton). Statistically, people often associate the digits 0 or 1—and sometimes 8 or 9—with black or white. Yellow, red, and blue are typically linked to smaller digits like 2, 3, or 4, while brown, purple, and gray tend to be tied to larger ones like 6, 7, or 8. Curiously, it’s not the idea of the number but the visual form of the digit that seems to trigger the sensation. For instance, when the number 5 is shown as the Roman numeral V, many synesthetes report no color at all.

color number synesthesia

And you—do you see numbers in color or arranged in space? Feel free to share your synesthetic experiences with me.

The Woman Who Painted the Future—Then Hid It

Hilma af Klint portrait

In 1906, Hilma af Klint, a Swedish artist and trained painter, began creating a groundbreaking body of abstract work—years before Kandinsky, Mondrian, or Malevich touched the genre.

Guided by her deep interest in spirituality, geometry, and nature, she produced hundreds of paintings that seemed to belong not to her time, but to the future. Vivid colors, spirals, symbols, and complex structures filled her canvases, forming a visual language meant to communicate the unseen.

Yet she kept these works largely hidden. Convinced the world wasn’t ready, Hilma left instructions that they not be shown until at least 20 years after her death.

She died in 1944. Her abstract paintings—more than 1,200 of them—remained in storage until the 1960s and were only brought to wider attention decades later. It wasn’t until the 2010s, with major exhibitions, that her place as a pioneer of abstract art was finally recognized.

Hilma af Klint didn’t just anticipate the future—she painted it, quietly, with visionary clarity.

Hilma af Klint painting 1

Julio Le Parc – Nihil novi sub sole…

Although I’ve been working in the field of Op Art since the mid-1980s, it’s important to recognize that the movement itself has a deeper history. It began to take shape in the 1960s, led by pioneering figures such as Victor Vasarely and Bridget Riley.

However, the artists who truly captivate me—the ones who expanded the language of perception—are often the outsiders. One such figure is Julio Le Parc (b. September 23, 1928), an Argentine-born artist whose practice bridges Op Art and kinetic art. Le Parc studied at the School of Fine Arts in Argentina and went on to co-found the Groupe de Recherche d’Art Visuel (GRAV). His work, honored with numerous awards, holds a prominent place in Latin American modernism.

Le Parc’s recurring themes—color, light, and movement—have always resonated with me. During the ’60s and ’70s, he explored light not just as a visual element but as a living, dynamic material. Yet by the late ’70s, his presence in the art world had faded; his output became sporadic, and for decades his work slipped quietly out of the international spotlight.

 Fortunately, recent years have witnessed a renewed appreciation of his explorations in light and movement, bringing his contributions once again to the attention of a wider public.

Artist’s Website: http://www.julioleparc.org

Book: Catalog of the artist’s first solo exhibition, Paris, November–December 1966. Text in French by Frank Popper.

Trama – A Strategy Game with an Artistic Twist

trama boardgame 2

Back in the ’90s, my board game Trama made waves for its fresh take on strategy and design. Imagine the logic of chess, but with a twist: neutral pieces that both players can use. The board—plexiglass with screen-printed art—echoes the feel of an Op Art piece, while the Galalith tokens add tactile charm.

There are several design variants, with boards featuring different color schemes and patterns. Some versions include holes or extruded circular reliefs to securely hold marbles instead of tokens—offering a fresh, sensory-rich experience.

· Curious? The full rulebook (in French) is 👉 here.
· More about 👉 Trama.

If you’re a manufacturer interested in bringing Trama back to the table, feel free to reach out.

trama news

Misdirection → Illusion → Aha! Moment…

How misdirection, illusion, and wonder shape my creative process.

The path from misdirection to revelation is at the heart of how illusion and wonder spark insight. Misdirection steers our attention—often subtly—away from what truly matters. It disrupts our expectations, creating a gap between what we see and what is. Within that gap lies the illusion: a crafted discrepancy, a visual or cognitive sleight-of-hand that unsettles our perception.

But the magic doesn’t end there. When the illusion is cracked—when the mind shifts, recalibrates, and sees—the famous Aha! moment erupts. That flash of understanding isn’t just delightful; it’s deeply educational. It rewires how we interpret the world.

This sequence—misdirection, illusion, revelation—mirrors the creative process itself. It shows how confusion, when carefully designed, can be a gateway to clarity. In the right hands, illusion is not deception—it’s a tool to awaken curiosity, stretch perception, and provoke insight. Wonder, in this sense, becomes a powerful cognitive catalyst.

That’s why my art and, I believe, my writing, revolve around this sense of wonder—arguably the most direct and playful route to that pleasurable, often conflicting moment of insight: the sudden discovery of something previously unknown.

Reality Map… or a Carefully (Un)folded Illusion We Mistake for the Real?

The diagram offers just one interpretation among many: a visual way to suggest that every element in a hierarchy contains its own mini-hierarchy, and so on—an endless, anastomosed structure of nested systems. The names may shift, but the core idea stays the same. It’s our knowledge that draws the lines and defines the extent of this vast, branching tree.

Today, we think we’ve mapped the boundaries where the infinitely large and the infinitely small end. Yet with each scientific advance, those borders are pushed ever further.

But some philosophical questions arise: is our reality fractal in nature? Not necessarily. It may be that each entity, each element within this hierarchical branching structure, is fundamentally different from the others. And more than that—borrowing and reworking an idea from Aristotle—the whole is not merely the sum of its parts; it is something else entirely… and, in a way, the reverse is also true.

Yes, the branches may indeed extend infinitely, forming a structure that resembles a bridge stretching endlessly, anchored to no shore—a true paradox. Strange, perhaps. Stranger still: although our reality may not be fractal in the strict sense, we might consider it holographic in nature. From any single, distinct element, it is possible to reconstruct a part—or even the whole—of what surrounds it.

This phenomenon has a name in Latin: pars pro toto—a part that reflects the whole. In this sense, everything is contained within each of us, even in our differences.

I’ll end with a thought: if we perceive an ordered world amid the chaos of complexity, it is likely due to our remarkable ability to intuit patterns and to organize what we call reality according to the logics we ourselves invent. That, perhaps, is the most beautiful illusion of all.

reality map

Hands-On Wonders: A Mathemagical Collection

Ever wondered what happens when math puts on a magician’s hat? These books are the distilled magic of my hands-on math workshops across Europe — from Paris to Palermo, Geneva to Ghent — where paper folded, minds twisted, and logic sparkled in English, French, and Italian!

Impossible Folding Puzzles

1) “Impossible Folding Puzzles and Other Mathematical Paradoxes” — a playful dive into mind-bending problems where nothing is quite what it seems. Can a puzzle have no solution… or too many? Dare to fold your brain.

Still available on Amazon.

2) “Pliages, découpages et magie : Manuel de prestidi-géométrie” — where math meets illusion to spark curiosity and creativity.
Perfect for teachers, students, and curious minds: touch, fold, cut… and let the magic unfold!
Available on Amazon.

2) “Pliages, découpages et magie : Manuel de prestidi-géométrie” — un livre où maths et illusion se rencontrent pour éveiller curiosité et créativité.
Pour enseignants, élèves et esprits joueurs : touchez, pliez, découpez… la magie opère!
Dispo sur Amazon.

Pliage decoupages

3) “MateMagica” —  They say there’s enough carbon in the human body to make 900 pencils… but just one is all you need for these clever puzzles!
Fun, surprising, and thought-provoking — because, as Martin Gardner put it, “Mathematics is just the solution of a puzzle.”
Now on Amazon.

3) “MateMagica” —  Si dice che nel corpo umano ci sia abbastanza carbonio per 900 matite… ma per questi rompicapi ne basta una!
Sorprendenti, divertenti e stimolanti — perché, come diceva Martin Gardner, “la matematica è nient’altro che la soluzione di un rompicapo.”
Disponibile su Amazon.

I write and illustrate my own books in five languages: English, French, Italian, German, and Spanish.
If you’re a publisher or literary agent seeking original, high-quality educational content that blends creativity with clarity, I’d be pleased to explore potential collaborations.

Unveiling the Ancient Unicursal Labyrinth

Ancient labyrinths, known as unicursal, were also referred to as “Cretan” labyrinths, drawing from their roots in Greek mythology. In Great Britain, similar turf mazes based on the same pattern are called ‘caerdroia‘—a Welsh term meaning “City of Troy.” These mazes can still be found in a few remote villages and rural hamlets.

They were typically built around a central core—often shaped like a cross resembling a ‘gammadion’. With the help of the diagrams below, you’ll find it quite straightforward to construct one yourself.

(There are two main historical variations of the Cretan labyrinth, as you can see in Figures. A and B.)

The image is taken from my article “Parcours et détours,” originally published in the French journal MathÉcole.

You can read the full piece here (in French).

The Word: From Incantation to Influence

In the beginning, whether real or invented, certain words—many from a distant past—formed a bridge between humans and the great Mystery. One such word that survived the ages, still cloaked in a strange aura of power, is Abracadabra. Even today, magicians use it to conjure effect, echoing its ancient weight.

Originally, Abracadabra wasn’t just theatrical. It was an apotropaic charm—spoken or inscribed to ward off harm. The earliest record, from the 2nd century CE in a medical treatise by Serenus Sammonicus, describes it as a remedy for fever. Written in a tapering triangle, the word visually dissolved with each line, symbolizing the illness retreating. Its origins are uncertain. Some link it to Aramaic or Hebrew—“I create as I speak” (אברא כדברא). Others see it as a coded sequence from the Greek alphabet (ΑΒΓΔ), or a variant of another potent name: Abraxas.

An incantation born of another—what a journey through a world woven in magic.

Abraxas (Greek: ἀβραξάς), central to the Gnostic teachings of Basilides, named a powerful being ruling over 365 heavens. Engraved on amulets, Abraxas was thought to hold innate power. These stones, often cited in magical texts, show a belief system where sound and symbol merged—where the right word could invoke protection, healing, or cosmic order. Its earlier spelling, Abrasax, likely morphed through transliteration. With seven letters, the name was also tied to the seven classical planets, deepening its cosmic charge. Whatever its true roots, one idea persists: properly arranged, words carry force.

Across time, this belief shifted but never vanished. Ancient incantations gave way to new forms of verbal power.

Antiphon of Athens (5th century BCE) stripped speech of ritual but kept its essence. Considered a forerunner of psychotherapy, he used dialogue to ease emotional suffering. His method wasn’t mystical—it was precise, rooted in rhetoric and clarity. Where once words summoned the divine, now they served insight and balance.

Language, even without the trappings of magic, remains transformative. In the 20th century, thinkers like Paul Watzlawick showed how communication doesn’t just reflect our world—it shapes it. A change in phrasing can shift perception. A word can open or close a mind.

From Abraxas to Abracadabra, from spell to speech, the thread continues: words influence, connect, heal. What began as incantation lives on as conversation—still crafting reality, still carrying power.

The Interrogation Mark: From Greek Semicolons to Spanish Twists

In ancient Greek, questions were marked by a semicolon (Ερωτηματικό) rather than a question mark. This practice faded over time, and no special punctuation indicated questions in antiquity. The modern question mark emerged in the Middle Ages when scribes used “qo” (from Latin quaestio). To avoid confusion, they stacked the letters, turning the Q into a curl and the O into a dot, creating the question mark (“?”). In Spanish, the question mark was placed only at the end until 1754, when the Ortografía de la Real Academia introduced the inverted opening question mark (¿), as in: ¿Qué edad tienes? (How old are you?).