Tall, Dark, and Gloomy

Psychologists are tricksters, not because they are evil beings like “I-sent-Macbeth-round-the-murder-bend” Iago, but because the only way to get a straight answer out of most people, especially if it’s buried deep in the subconscious, is to take the long way around questionly speaking. This is true of therapists but even more so of researchers, who set up elaborate schemes to misdirect their subjects into thinking they are doing one thing while revealing something totally other about themselves that would have never seen the light of day otherwise. Psychologists also excel at inventing tools to help them delve into the human psyche, some like the Skinner box seemingly cruel and some like the Rorschach test seemingly straining the bounds of credibility.

With the Rorschach, the psychologist or psychiatrist asks the patient/subject to stare at inkblots and relate what they see there. It’s a projective test, meaning the person unconsciously reveals his or her hidden emotions or internal conflicts by projecting them onto the inkblot via the images they, well, imagine they see in the abstract inkblot. Then there’s the TAT, the thematic apperception test, where the patient/subject does the same by making up dramatic narratives about ambiguous photographs of people, supposedly revealing their underlying motives, concerns, and the way they see the social world. Here’s a TAT example. Have at it, if you like.

But I’m a trickster myself. This blog is not about psychology or projective tests. It’s about tenebrism, a style of painting that uses profoundly pronounced chiaroscuro (contrasts of light and dark). The term comes from the Italian word tenebroso, which means “dark, gloomy, mysterious.” Some dubbed this approach the “candlelight tradition” because the images contained a single candle as illumination, as in Adam de Coster’s A Man Singing by Candlelight below. Looking at this work took me the roundabout way to remembering psych tests like the Rorschach and TAT.

If this painting were part of a TAT exam, the therapist would want to know these things:

• What led up to the event shown?
• What is happening at this moment?
• What is the character feeling and thinking?
• What is the outcome of this story?

When you think about it, these are excellent writing prompts. What the heck. I’ll have a go.

As I see it, this is the story of Rodolfo, a once-wealthy merchant driven to theft and murder to sustain himself. Having gone to the dark side, it was only a matter of time before the shadow creatures we know so well from Ghost came to drag him to hell. There’s one with him now. It’s that weird black shape obscuring part of his body and the candle.

Rodolfo knows from his witch grandmother that candlelight and singing will keep the shadow ones at bay and that if he can last until morning, the shadow will depart and he will live another day. As he sings all the tenor parts from the opera Faust, Rodolfo thinks about how much he used to enjoy karaoke, worries about that scratchy feeling that’s growing in his throat, and wonders if the candle will last until daybreak since he only had money to buy a cheap tallow one that afternoon.

Suddenly, Rodolfo feels the urge to sneeze coming on. He tries to repress it while continuing to sing, which degrades the quality of his song and brings a “get-the-hook” look into the eyes of the shadow one. At least he imagines it does since he cannot see its eyes, in fact does not know if it even has eyes. With a valiant effort, he forces back the sternutation without missing a beat of “Quel trouble inconnu me penetre.” He relaxes just a bit then and this is his undoing.

The sneeze returns with a vengeance, explodes forth on a high C, and snuffs out the candle. Everything goes black, and, as the shadow one proceeds with its own snuffing, Rodolfo has time for just two words. You’ve probably figured out what they are.

There. Done. I could send this to a psychologist friend and ask him to interpret my projective narrative to uncover my hidden emotions and internal conflicts. Then again, I could leave well enough alone. I think I’ll go with that.

[Image: A Man Singing by Candlelight, by Adam de Coster. 1625–1635. Public Domain.]