Seeing Dots: Does Kusama Have Visual Snow?

Yayoi Kusama, the renowned Japanese artist, is celebrated for her vibrant and immersive polka-dotted works. Her distinctive style has inspired countless artists and continues to captivate audiences worldwide.

As an artist who employs vivid colours and bold patterns - often focusing on dots and lace-like structures - I'm frequently asked if my work is influenced by Kusama. In fact, I'm often included in online collections with labels such as "Inspired by Kusama." While it's flattering to be associated with such an iconic figure, I was actually unfamiliar with her paintings when I first began exploring pattern and perception in my art. My inspiration stemmed from something I now understand to be Visual Snow Disorder (VSD).

Visual Snow Disorder is a neurological condition characterised by continuous visual disturbances resembling static or "snow" across the entire visual field. Individuals with VSD often see tiny flickering dots, similar to television static, especially in complete darkness. These dots can vary in appearance and for some may include larger polka dots.

My initial encounter with Kusama's art was experiencing one of her Infinity Mirror Rooms in the late 1990s. I noted in my art journal at the time that it was "a great example of what it looks like in the dark." Having been born with what we now understand as Visual Snow Disorder, at the time I was unaware that others didn't perceive the world this way; I assumed Kusama was simply depicting the ubiquitous "dots in the dark" that everyone saw. Today, when people ask what it's like to have Visual Snow, I often suggest they step into one of Kusama's Infinity Mirror Rooms or Obliteration Rooms, but just imagine the dots are in constant motion.

Over the years, as I've delved deeper into Kusama's work, I've become increasingly convinced that she may experience Visual Snow Disorder. This belief isn't without precedent. Kusama has spoken openly about her hallucinations from a young age, describing visions of fields of dots and nets that would engulf her surroundings. These experiences became the foundation of her artistic expression, with motifs like polka dots and net patterns recurring throughout her art. She referred to this process as "self-obliteration," aiming to dissolve the boundaries between herself and the universe through repetitive patterns.

In my own artistic journey, I've noticed that many artists with Visual Snow Disorder gravitate towards themes of repetition, intricate patterns, and a sense of veiling or obscuration in their work. These elements, while not exclusive to those with the condition, suggest a shared visual language born from similar perceptual experiences.

Reflecting on my personal experiences, I recall the challenges I faced when I first mentioned these visual phenomena to a doctor. I was told I was hallucinating and advised not to tell others what I 'thought' I was seeing. It was a disheartening experience. Fortunately, having close family members with the same condition helped me trust my reality. Kusama was told she suffered from hallucinations and has struggled with mental health her whole life. Might it have been different if doctors knew about Visual Snow Disorder then as we do now? With growing awareness and research into Visual Snow Disorder, it's validating to know that these experiences are recognised and studied.

While Yayoi Kusama has never been officially diagnosed with Visual Snow Disorder that we know of, the parallels between her own descriptions and the recognised symptoms are hard to ignore. In fact, it was during the 2014 exhibition of The Obliteration Room at GOMA that I first began to suspect a connection. I remembered explaining my visual disturbances to my friend at the exhibition and saying that Kusama must have the same thing as me. After that conversation I went down another research rabbit hole — something I’d done several times before -  but this time, I finally found it. “Visual Snow” had been described back in 1995 in migraine patients—I’ve never had a migraine—but in 2014 experts had just formally proposed “Visual Snow Syndrome” as a distinct disorder of its own. So I suppose I have Kusama to thank for finally helping put a name to my own experience. Intriguingly, a London gallery publication once called her condition “psychedelic schizophrenia,” so I’m grateful today’s medical community settled on “Visual Snow Disorder” instead - I certainly wouldn’t want to introduce myself as “an artist with psychedelic schizophrenia,” as the reactions to “visual snow” can be strange enough already!

I revisited this connection between Visual Snow and Kusama’s work at the Life Is the Heart of a Rainbow exhibition at GOMA in 2017 and even presented my case during as discussion of what influences her work at the YAYOI KUSAMA | AFTER-HOURS TALK, outlining how Visual Snow manifests. At the time, I don't think anyone took me seriously - I still remember the auditorium staring at me as if I’d lost my marbles.  Fortunately, awareness of VSS has grown since then, and I’ve become much better at explaining what it’s like to live with the condition.

In acknowledging this potential connection, I hope to shed light on the experiences of those with Visual Snow and offer a new perspective on Kusama's mesmerising art.