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Have you ever wondered what it might feel like to see music or to hear colours?

Are you aware which of your senses—or combination of senses—are moving or inspiring you the most? From the Greek meaning ‘union of the senses’, synesthesia refers to one sense that triggers another sense, which has moved scientists, philosophers and artists for centuries.

Although I am a visual artist, my inspiration doesn’t primarily come from what I see.

In recent years, I have delved deeply into the multi-sensory nature of experience and how it inspires and shapes my creative process. To my surprise, I learned that this sensory interconnection stands at the core of our perception, not just for creative people, but for everyone.

Synesthesia has become a guiding force in my creative process, where I explore the harmonious connection between the senses. One beautiful way I personally experience this multisensorial state occurs when I hear certain kinds of music. Patterns, often complex, appear in motion in front of me, as if the structures of the sounds are translated into moving patterns. These entwined experiences between sound and sight have deepened my way of thinking and my desire to ‘visualise the invisible’ through my work.

The French philosopher Merleau-Ponty argued that synesthetic perception is not an exception but rather the rule of human experience. He illustrated this interconnectedness by providing examples of how different senses inform each other. For example, he described how someone can perceive the hardness of glass not just visually but also through sound when it breaks, indicating that synesthetic perception is the rule. He emphasised that our perception of objects involves a synthesis of sensory information, where we do not merely see or hear but also feel the qualities of objects through our entire sensory being. This perspective encourages us to understand synesthesia as a natural part of how we engage with the world, rather than viewing it as an anomaly. His philosophy explains my own vision that my creations are not merely visual objects but ‘embodied sensory experiences’.

When I started my maison 18 years ago, I wanted to inspire people merely visually. Over the years, however, I moved beyond this perspective to create what I call ‘sensorial geometries’ or ‘embodied ambiances’.

Philosophers like Merleau-Ponty have long illuminated the idea that we are multisensory beings, so it’s no surprise that, in recent decades, neuroscience research has revealed that viewing or engaging with art can activate multiple sensory regions in the brain. MRI and EEG studies have demonstrated that visual stimuli, like paintings or sculptures, can activate many aspects of brain function, like auditory or tactile regions of the brain. This shows that our brain naturally integrates multisensory information even when only one sense is directly stimulated.

For example, when viewing textured art, people often ‘imagine’ the tactile sensation of the surface, engaging both visual and somatosensory areas.

The mesmeric image (page 208-209) is shot by Tim Walker inside the atelier of sculptor David Altmejd and embodies this neuronal ‘cross-talk’, as if multiple dimensions of the same experience could unfold simultaneously. To me, it is one of the most emotional images ever taken of my work, as it seems to translate her body movements into a visual and sensoric rhythm.

All the body parts that you see in this photograph, aside from the model Kiki Willems herself — the floating faces, the echoing eyes, the ballerina bodies that are transforming through crystallisation — are sculpted by hand by David, creating a sensory cascade.

The image (page 214-215) is also reminiscent of a mythological scene, seemingly expressing her subconscious, while playing with symbolism and surrealism to question the way we perceive ourselves in the world.

In this photograph, the model Duckie Thot embodies the perpetual transience to which we belong, a cyclical process that nature is continuously creating.

I’ve only come to realise in the process of working on my Sculpting the Senses exhibition that I am not creating couture, a dress or a sculpture — but that I am creating atmospheres. Rather than being objects, they are landscapes of sensory — and therefore emotional experiences.

Can I dissolve sensorial boundaries through my designs? Can I merge the senses in people’s experiences, perhaps even heightening their awareness?

I’ve come to realise that whenever I feel moved; inspired, it’s often a combination of two of my senses that are working together, like touch and sight, or sound and sight for example. Synesthetic experiences open a gateway to what the French philosopher Gaston Bachelard calls ‘reverie’ — a state of daydreaming that bridges sensory reality and the imagination.

In his book The Poetics of Reverie, Bachelard explains reverie as a state of deep, imaginative daydreaming that transcends ordinary thoughts and a way to engage with a deeper, more meaningful layer of reality that cannot be accessed through rational thinking alone. Reverie allows individuals to reconnect with their inner selves, process emotions, find beauty in the mundane and fosters a sense of connection to the world.

Out of this multisensorial focus and the concept of reverie, came my emphasis to work on my Sculpting the Senses exhibition, challenging the audience to question where one sensory domain ends and another begins. By interweaving visual, tactile and soundscape elements, I hoped to create atmospheres that resonate to a more holistic embodiment. I aimed to evoke an experience of synesthesia and perhaps even a sense of reverie by sculpting their senses.

Without seeking a definitive answer, I continue to explore whether I can dissolve sensory boundaries through the sculpting of the senses. Gradually, I discover the possibilities of merging, moving and stirring our senses through a delicate balance of atmospheric textures, shapes and colours.