They cannot be constructed, they serve no practical purpose; why would anyone make an Impossible Object? This points to a deeper, philosophical question: why does anyone, do anything?
The term ‘Impossible Object’ is applied to objects that can be drawn in two dimensions, but never physically rendered.
An example is the ‘Impossible Cube’, shown above.
Without knowing it, our subconscious is full of built in ideas about the way the world around us should look. That a line at a particular angle will always indicate ‘x’; height or depth or scale. Impossible Objects play with perspective and so confound these ideas, pitting what we can see against our assumptions.
They are optical illusions, and also a type of art. They have fascinated psychologists, physicists, mathematicians, graphic designers, and regular punters throughout the past century.
They are cool to look at.
Roger Penrose is one of the greatest minds of 20th century physics.
The British scientist was born in 1931 to an academic family, already prominent in a number of fields including psychiatry and genetics. Penrose himself would find fame in cosmology; in the 1960s he produced a series of papers that explained the curvature of space-time, and in the 1970s he collaborated with Stephen Hawking, analysing Black Holes and the Big Bang Theory.
But in the 1950s, when still an impressionable youth, he encountered the artwork of M.C. Escher.
Maurits Cornelis Escher was a Dutch born artist and graphic designer, who liked to incorporate mathematical principles into his work.
Born in 1898 in Leeuwarden, Escher was a sickly child, and something of a loner. He showed an aptitude for drawing, but was a lacklustre student.
Placed in a technical college when he was 13, Escher was to be trained as a draftsman. But he failed most of his subjects, and soon switched to the Haarlem School of Architecture and Decorative Arts, where he studied graphic design.
Escher travelled extensively through Europe in the 1920s, and his early works capture what he saw.
Using woodblock printing techniques, he created a series of landscape prints. They are striking, simple pictures, that still manage to convey a lot of visual information.
As Escher developed as an artist, he also began to add distinctive, stylistic flourishes; borderline surreal elements that moved his art away from a simple everyday depiction of a real scene.
While he never studied the subject formally, Escher had always been interested in mathematics.
Mathematical shapes, like the ‘Mobius Strip’, began to appear in his drawings. He also began to experiment with perspective, based on books he read about how the eye and brain interpret depth, and three-dimensional shapes.
In the 1930s and 40s, Escher’s works moved properly away from the everyday, and seemed to be set in some kind of hyper reality; an imaginary dimension with its own laws and logic.
The lithograph ‘Relativity’ gives a good example of Escher’s developing technique.
This picture presents a scene (or, possibly, scenes) from an everyday household. Only, rather than show the image from one perspective, Escher has rotated different sections of the picture on different axis’, so that none of them are aligned on one plane.
‘It is impossible for the inhabitants of different worlds to walk or sit or stand on the same floor, because they have differing conceptions of what is horizontal and what is vertical.
Contact between them is out of the question because they live in different worlds and therefore can have no knowledge of each other's existence.’
- M.C. Escher
Visually, the image is striking. Conceptually, it conveys the artists sense of loneliness, and the difficulty he had communicating with other people, outside of his art.
Roger Penrose first encountered Escher’s art at the at the International Congress of Mathematicians in Amsterdam, in 1954.
As a fan of puzzles and optical illusions, he was excited by what he saw, writing to his father that he was ‘spellbound’ by Escher’s drawings.
Returning to England, Penrose was inspired to try to create his own visual puzzle. Doodling absently, he created the ‘Impossible triangle’.
As you trace your eye around the shape, wherever you start, once you get to the third strut you are mentally forced to do something you know you could not actually do; using foreshortening and a cunning shift in perspective, the third strut twists the image, impossibly.
Penrose’s father, Lionel, was intrigued by his son’s creation.
Also an optical illusion hobby-ist, he used the Impossible Triangle as the basis for his own design, the ‘Impossible Staircase’; a set of stairs that appears to be going up, but somehow loops directly from the ‘top’ back to the ‘bottom’, closing the stairs in an endless loop.
Impressed by what they had created, the Penrose’s were nevertheless unsure what, if anything, to do with them.
Did Impossible Objects have any practical value?
They eventually collaborated on a scientific paper, detailing the psychological impact of Impossible Objects, citing Escher as an inspiration for their investigation. This was published in the British Journal of Psychology, in 1958.
A friend of Escher’s saw the article and forwarded it to the artist.
He was flattered to have been mentioned in a reputable scientific journal, but even more taken by the Impossible Objects the Penrose’s had created. Escher was immediately determined to incorporate these designs into a new work of art:
‘A few months ago, a friend of mine sent me a photocopy of your article... Your figures 3 and 4, the 'continuous flight of steps', were entirely new to me, and I was so taken by the idea that they recently inspired me to produce a new picture, which I would like to send to you as a token of my esteem.’
- M.C. Escher, letter to Lionel Penrose.
The new picture would be ‘Ascending and Descending’.
‘Ascending and Descending’ shows a building, a medieval looking structure, depicted from above. The top of the building is a Penrose Staircase, around which a series of men are walking, seemingly endlessly.
Thematically, the drawing reflects Escher growing bleak view of humanity:
‘That staircase is a rather sad, pessimistic subject, as well as being profound and absurd.
'Yes, yes, we climb up and up, we imagine we are ascending; every step is about 10 inches high, terribly tiring – and where does it all get us? Nowhere.’
- M.C. Escher
Escher would also use Penrose triangles as the basis for his picture ‘Waterfall’.
This again uses the optical illusion to create the impression of an endless loop; using the provided channel, the water somehow flows ‘up’, which seems both logical, based on the design of the image, and impossible, based on your own knowledge of gravity.
While Escher saw these endless loops and visual paradoxes as a pessimistic reflection of the meaninglessness of existence, they have proved enduringly popular.
The gallery opened at 8am. I got there at 8.15. There were already 100 people lined up for tickets.
It was the last weekend of an exhibition of Escher at the NGV, and Escher has become one of the most popular names in contemporary art.
All of his major works were on display, including ‘Ascending and Descending’, ‘Relativity’ and ‘Waterfall’, as outlined above. Huge crowds moved through the rooms, looking at these curious puzzle pictures with rapt wonder.
A woman standing next to me, looking at ‘Relativity’, said, ‘Isn’t it wonderful? I just… love it, so much.’
Escher’s works have also inspired other artists, in other mediums; The Goblin King’s Palace, in the movie ‘Labyrinth’, and the dream staircase, in Christopher Nolan’s ‘Inception’, are just two examples of how Escher has inspired other creative visions.
His works today are seen as playful, and inventive. Fun. A far remove from the moody, pessimistic design genius who created them.