Phenomenal Forms and Transcendental Shadows (1): Prior to Perception

Phenomenal Forms and Transcendental Shadows (1): Prior to Perception
Sometimes, we are not observing the world but rather a shadow of it. But where does that shadow come from? From light, from objects, or perhaps from within ourselves? Before watching, maybe we should learn to doubt what we see.

Translated by AI

In this age of information—dense, relentless, leaving no room to breathe— we believe we are seeing the world. But in truth, we are merely receiving images that have already been filtered. Algorithms decide what you should see. Media trims the edges of every story. Your perspective determines what you’re willing to believe. And so, what we call “truth” becomes a layering of projections— like fog, like shadow, elusive and ever-shifting.

Perhaps that’s why a seemingly simple meme circulates the internet: a cylinder, illuminated by two light sources, casting two entirely different shadows— one smooth and round, the other sharp and rectangular. Is it merely a trick of light and geometry, or is it something deeper? You might think it’s just a clever coincidence. But look again— you may find that it reveals not just a physical illusion, but a misapprehension of dimensions, of perspective, and of our most basic assumptions about what is “real.”

From a two-dimensional viewpoint, the shadow appears definite, unquestionable— a clear result of light interacting with form, objective, undeniable. Yet this way of seeing flattens a three-dimensional world, compresses its wholeness, reduces it to a fragmented outline. The truth is: a shadow is never absolute. It is a byproduct of dimensional reduction— constrained by the angle of the light, and shaped by the gaze of the observer. And yet, we so readily believe in the shadow, mistaking it for the whole, thinking what we see must be the thing itself.

But what if we go further?

What if we don’t stop at the second dimension, but compress these shadows even more— blurring the boundaries between circle and square, until all that remains is a single, slender line? Would those stark contrasts finally disappear? Or would there remain some trace of difference, too subtle for us to perceive? Perhaps the real question isn’t “Where do shadows come from?” but rather— Is the shape of a shadow determined by the object itself, or by the way we choose to look at it? When you stare at the silhouette before you, can you truly say you see the essence of the thing? Or is it merely a momentary shadow, cast by coincidence and light?

And so we begin to wonder: Does “reality” have a fixed form? Or is it always shifting— bending, refracting, dissolving as our perspective moves? If this meme leaves you uneasy, it may be because it exposes a difficult truth: what we call reality might be nothing more than a shadow, accidentally thrown onto the wall, a shape frozen for a fleeting instant. We think we grasp the world, but the world has never stood still. It is always in motion, always just beyond the reach of our gaze.

And so— we must learn to see again.

Not just to recognise forms, but to notice the empty spaces around them. Not just to study light and shadow, but to sense the places they fail to reach. Because at the boundaries where light meets darkness, every step we take may bring us closer to the truth— or cause us to brush past it entirely.