Aphantasia

When someone says to me, “Close your eyes and picture yourself sitting on a beach, with a calm blue sea in front of you,” I say, “OK” and dutifully close my eyes. What I didn’t realize was that when someone asks me to “picture something,” they literally mean it. I always thought they just wanted me to get the vibes of what it would be like to sit on a beach, and I could do that.

It wasn’t until I was 45 years old and YouTube’s algorithm served up this video that I realized something: we don’t all “picture” things in the same way. The majority of people actually can close their eyes and picture a shiny red apple, sometimes in a vivid three-dimensions with the same clarity as if they were actually looking at one in front of them. It never occurred to me that people actually see things when they close their eyes.

This condition where one has no “mind’s eye” is called “aphantasia” and was first described by English polymath¹ Francis Galton in 1880, but remained relatively unstudied until about ten years ago when the term was actually coined. Since then, a good bit of research has been done on visual imagery and its connection to memory, reaction time, autism, and brain injuries.

There is a scale that allows people to describe how vividly they see an image in their mind’s eye:

What actually happens when I try and picture something? I close my eyes and it’s black. That’s it. Ask me to picture something and I simply can’t–a 5 on the above scale. On a good day with a lot of concentration, I may get a very, very faint outline–a weak 4–but generally, it’s nothing.² How do I imagine things, then? It’s hard to explain, but it’s kind of like imagining the description of the object or scene, in words. I still get similar feelings–the vibes are there, so to speak–but with no corresponding image. This recent episode of Radiolab describes it another way: “It’s like an abstract knowing. Like I know I love someone. Like, I just know that an apple has a leaf. There’s a part of me that knows that that is true, but it’s not seeing it. Like, if I close my eyes and think about it, like—like, it’s really just black.”

Research has shown that people with aphantasia recall memories differently than those with a mind’s eye. Merlin Monzel, a doctoral student at the Institute of Psychology at the University of Bonn, wrote:

“We found that people with aphantasia have more difficulty recalling memories. Not only do they report fewer details, but their narratives are less vivid and their confidence in their own memory is diminished. This suggests that our ability to remember our personal biography is closely linked to our imagination.”

It does kind of pain me that I can’t have the sort of imagination or imagery associated with memories that most people have. I’d love to have a vivid visual memory of my grandparents by just closing my eyes and thinking of them. Instead, I have to settle on a memory of the feeling of sitting and being with them.

Additionally, I have what feels like a worse-than-average memory about movies that I’ve watched. I always attributed it to the fact I watch a lot of movies and figured that’s why sometimes I completely forget whether I’ve seen a particular one, even after reading a description. But, knowing that aphantasics have this degraded memory capacity, I wonder if it plays a role in my poor movie memory. Others have had a similar thought.

Of the 1-4% of people that have aphantasia, many also have “anendophasia” which means they have no inner dialogue (or “anauralia,” a similar term which refers more generally to mental sound versus anendophasia’s focus on mental speech). While not having an inner voice is more common in general (it’s been estimated to affect anywhere from 10% to 50% of people), one small study showed that 82% of people with no mental imagery also did not have an inner dialogue and were unable to imagine sounds. For me, this is definitely not the case. I can’t get my inner dialogue shut up most of the time, with self-conversations constantly bouncing around. Monkey mind.

Hank Green talked recently about having anendophasia and what it’s like.³ He described what happens when he thinks without an inner dialogue: “Imagine the idea of an internal monologue. I don’t have those words, I just have the thing that it represents, and it’s just, like, a sticky bubble. Then that sticky bubble might attract toward it [other ideas…].” It sounds very similar to how I think without images.

Many times when one has a decreased capacity in one area, they have increased abilities somewhere else. So, what are aphantasics' super powers?

A recent study found that “people with aphantasia experience less visual sensory sensitivity than people with visual imagery,” which could be spun positively in that there’s less chance of having sensory overwhelm. (Personally, I don’t necessarily find this to be the case.)

Additionally, there’s a line of thought that says we may have an advantage in areas where abstract thinking is beneficial. A study from 2020 specifically looked at people with a lack of visual imagery and found they “are more likely to work in computing, mathematics and science.” On the flip side, those with “hyperphantasia"–having extremely vivid visual imagery–“are more likely to be found in professions traditionally regarded as creative.”

And you know how they say it’s impossible to not picture something when someone tells you not to? Like, “Don’t picture an elephant!” Guess what? I actually can not picture an elephant! Total super power.

When all is said and done, aphantasia is not something I consider a detriment or personal failing. It’s not a deficient way of thinking, just different. And since it’s all I know, I don’t truly know if what I’m missing out on is any better.

For those that want to learn more, the Aphantasia Network and r/aphantasia are good resources that I’ve only just begun to dig into.