Proust on Perception, Memory, and Art

Throughout Swann’s Way, Marcel Proust contemplates the nature of reality and our interpretations of it. Whether Proust delivers a literary form of Husserlian phenomenology or responds to it with something new is an open question. Undoubtedly, Proust sees the importance of analyzing the process of experiencing: "When I saw any external object my consciousness that I was seeing it would remain between me and it… which prevented me from ever coming directly in contact with the material form” (Moncrieff 77). This experience of the world is pessimistic in a way: it doubts the objective and universal knowability of the world. Yet, as a writer, Proust turns examination of experience into something beautiful in itself, speaking about literature’s ability to angle one “towards the discovery of Truth” (Moncrieff 78). For example, when the narrator expresses that fiction allows him to become the subject of a book, he suggests that our interface with ideal forms and our examination of that interface might allow a more meaningful experience than what might be called the delusion of direct contact with the material world.

A perfect example are the narrator's reflections on Giotto's frescoes. Our narrator explains that what fascinated him about these frescoes is not what they represent, but rather the physical material object: “the special beauty of these frescoes lay in great part played in each of them by its symbols, while the fact that these were depicted, not as symbols (for the thought symbolized was nowhere expressed), but as real things, actually felt or materially handled, added something more precise and more literal to their meaning, something more concrete and more striking to the lesson they imparted” (76). Thus, perhaps in this case, where the method of art (the fresco) actually takes for granted the depiction and rather forces your eye to focus on the material, on the “concrete,” a sort of inversion of the real allegory takes place – where what is important in the artwork is the raw material, not the depiction.

Perceiving before understanding is highlighted by other experiences of art, including music and theater. In a discussion on understanding music, the narrator notes that it takes many attempts at listening to a piece of music to gain an understanding of it (Davis 104). This analysis of music highlights the question, fundamental to the novel, of whether it's possible to see reality as is or if our understanding and vision of the world is always flawed and inaccurate. Only over time can the listener come to understand what was meant; by then, it is often no longer relevant. Time is fundamental to understanding throughout Proust's work, but time also makes certain truths less important for those who initially seek them.

When our narrator first hears the Vinteuil sonata – the same sonata Swann has such a strong emotional connection with and the same sonata that bonds Odette and Swann – he feels he cannot fully experience its essence. Our narrator expresses that, when we listen to any great piece of music (or experience any great piece of art), we cannot fully understand it. This is not simply because the piece of music is complex enough that it requires multiple repetitions (although that is certainly an aspect). Rather, we can’t fully experience art for the first time because “what is missing the first time is probably not understanding but memory” (Swann's Way). In other words, the meaning behind any piece of art arises from memory. Swann has a more full and complete understanding of the Vinteuil sonata because he has memories associated with the piece of music.

The narrator also confronts a gridlock of the conceptual apparatus when he first sees Berma perform. He feels and expects that there is something fundamentally beautiful about her performance, but it evades his understanding. The narrator’s focus on experiencing her greatness and the attempt to capture it means that whatever beauty is present is totally missed. The narrator's consciousness (or overly conceptual attitude), his notion that he ought to be getting something profound out of a supposedly brilliant performance, prevents him from reaching his goal. The narrator describes this theater experience as “this strange life of the theatre which for a few hours had been [his]” (In The Shadow of Young Girls in Flower). The narrator knows that something beautiful is there, is hidden. He no doubt enjoys the performance, but his expectations are not met. Proust explores the divide between what is, and what we perceive. While the divide is vast, what we perceive is valuable in its own right. A later experience of Berma is much more positive, so once again, repetition and memory are key. If one is attempting to bridge the divide between perception and reality, Proust seems to suggest that time, memory, and even art, are key in this endeavor.