Numbing Phantasmagoria and Overwhelming Complexity
Numbing Phantasmagoria and Overwhelming Complexity
I recently read Susan Buck-Morss’s Aesthetics and Anaesthetics: Walter Benjamin’s Artwork Essay Reconsidered. A point struck me about the intoxication of phantasmagoria becoming a normalized focal point. Shopping malls, theme parks, movie theaters, and even airplanes can function as immersive, sensory-controlled environments, making experiences that feel real but are technically manipulated. Like drugs that isolate individuals in altered states, phantasmagoria creates a shared altered reality. Within these spaces, multiple individuals are situated in the same manipulated sensory environment, making the altered reality appear objectively real. This normalization of altered realities leaves little room for authenticity, as artificial experiences dominate.
This idea of phantasmagoria led me to reflect on the art exhibition experience. Does an art exhibition render the same numbing, altered reality as other immersive experiences? For me, it does not.
An exhibition experience resists the numbing effects of other immersive environments. Rather than immersing oneself entirely in a particular narrative or controlled setting, an art exhibition invites movement, thought, reflection, and personal interpretation. While multiple individuals occupy the same physical space, there is no collective consensus about the art. Each person engages with it subjectively, generating fluid, diverse interpretations.
However, a trend toward making art experiences more immersive is evident. In today’s attention economy, immersive experiences are seen as antidotes to distraction, capturing public focus by submerging viewers into a singular narrative or environment. This approach aligns with engagement marketing strategies pervasive in consumer culture. Brands now offer “experiences” and “tell stories” to evoke emotional responses and foster connections. Yet, how often are we merely immersing ourselves in a contrived narrative that triggers self-induced sentimentality? In such cases, emotions are manipulated to drive actions, such as making a purchase or supporting a brand. How much of our lives are lived within artificial narratives? Does it matter? Can authenticity exist within simulated experiences? And is this form of control acceptable?
Art exhibitions seem different due to their layered, diverse, and multifaceted narratives. Art today often resists being encapsulated in a singular narrative; complexity is crucial. Yet, this complexity can also be overwhelming. How much capacity do we have to process these layers within a single exhibition? Museum fatigue is a real phenomenon, yet we seldom question the mode of the experience itself. On the other hand, the way complexity is presented in art exhibitions can sometimes feel formulaic. Diversity of artists, multiple interpretations of a theme, and alternative historical narratives all contribute to complexity, but they often follow predictable frameworks—not unlike other cultural products. In the visual and conceptual overload, our attention becomes fragmented. We feel something in the exhibition experience, yet often leave unsure of what to make of it.
I’m not suggesting one mode of experience is inherently better than the other. Instead, I’m struck by how these experiences, despite seeming oppositional, often generate similar dilemmas. On one end of the spectrum, we are numbed by the phantasmagoria of immersive environments; on the other, we are overwhelmed by the complexity of art exhibitions. Both experiences leave us in a Catch-22 of sorts: caught between focus in a manipulated reality and distraction in a curated complexity.
This tension reminded me of a recent visit to a hot spring with friends. It was one of my first experiences with a cold plunge. Initially, the cold was daunting; both my friend and I feared it. Yet, we became fascinated by it. She remarked, “I like feeling numb; I’m obsessed now.” We alternated between the hot spring and the cold plunge, noticing how each experience dulled our sensations in its own way. In the cold plunge, the body numbs as it adjusts, almost entering a state of hibernation. Returning to the hot spring was similarly numbing, with the body sizzling yet paradoxically desensitized.
Reflecting on this numbness, I saw parallels to the phantasmagoria embedded in daily life. With so much numbness already present, why do we seek more? Perhaps numbness allows us to feel alive—the comparison reconnects our awareness of what it means to feel. We crave both numbness and stimulation, oscillating between the two as if searching for balance. Have we lost the ability to discern because life is simultaneously too numb and too triggering? Or is this oscillation itself a way to navigate an increasingly artificial and overwhelming world?
1. Buck-Morss, Susan. “Aesthetics and Anaesthetics: Walter Benjamin’s Artwork Essay Reconsidered.” October 62 (1992): 3–41. https://doi.org/10.2307/778700.
