Last December, I attempted to conjure an image of a potoo bird. My mental imagery coach described it as a tropical bird possessing a “round, somewhat pill-shaped head” and covered in brown feathers. Its disproportionately large mouth opens in a wide, smiling fashion, revealing a pink, fleshy interior, and its substantial irises can create the illusion of entirely black eyes. Perhaps a mental picture is forming in your mind, a soft outline of a bird or a distinct view of its features. For me, however, nothing materialized. I experience aphantasia, a condition where individuals lack a “mind’s eye.”
I had always recognized that I wasn’t a visually oriented thinker, yet the term “aphantasia” only surfaced when I reached my early thirties. For decades, it never occurred to me that people genuinely saw images internally. As we lack direct access to each other’s internal experiences, these individual differences often remain unnoticed. However, with the recent surge in research on mental imagery, media coverage has also increased. More individuals are discovering they are either low or non-visualizers and are motivated to take action. Online communities have emerged, such as the Reddit group Cure Aphantasia, where nearly 3,000 members share strategies to enhance their mental imagery.
These groups originated outside of academic circles, though some participants have connections to research. They are pursuing inquiries that many find compelling: can individuals with aphantasia improve their mental visualization? Is it possible to alter one’s mental imagery? While scientists emphasize that aphantasia is a cognitive difference rather than a disorder, understanding whether imagery can be enhanced could deepen our comprehension of the condition. For instance, if aphantasia can be reversed, it implies it might be a developed trait rather than an inherent, fixed characteristic. For others, possessing varying degrees of mental imagery, aphantasia training raises questions about whether their own visualization abilities can be modified.
Intrigued by this prospect, I contacted a well-regarded coach mentioned within aphantasia online communities to arrange for training.
The Nascent Field of Mental Imagery Enhancement
The endeavor to alter mental visualization is a relatively recent undertaking. This is unsurprising, considering that aphantasia itself was only scientifically identified 16 years ago. In 2010, Adam Zeman, a neurologist at the University of Exeter in the UK, and his team published a case study detailing a man who lost his ability to mentally visualize after undergoing surgery for his coronary arteries. Subsequently, individuals began contacting them, stating they had always been unable to form internal images.
By 2015, Zeman and his colleagues had published a study involving 21 individuals who had experienced aphantasia since birth, prompting tens of thousands of others to come forward. Since then, mental imagery has been understood as existing on a spectrum. Some people can recall vivid visual representations of childhood memories, their meals, or any object they are asked to imagine. A study conducted in the UK indicated that approximately 4 percent of the population has always experienced no visual imagery, similar to my own experience, with a significant portion falling somewhere in between.
Research on aphantasia faces the inherent challenge of articulating internal mental processes. Before commencing my training, attempts to visualize an object like an apple felt akin to being subjected to a prank. I perceived only darkness and found myself reciting the word “apple” or listing its attributes: round, red, firm. Yet, even when reflecting on my own imageless thoughts, I occasionally questioned whether aphantasia was a genuine phenomenon or if we were all simply describing the same internal landscape with different terms. Then, I would hear accounts of people experiencing vivid imagery on demand—manipulating a red, glossy apple, or visualizing picking its stem—and I knew this was beyond my capability.
The coach I met, Alec Figueroa, does not have aphantasia himself but developed an interest in improving mental imagery through his meditation practices. He offers his exercises without charge and provides individual coaching for a fee. Over 90 individuals have completed his program, and he reports 87 “breakthroughs,” which range from minor achievements, such as experiencing a few seconds of visual thought like recalling the colors of a sunset, to more significant ones, like forming a clear and complete mental image of a scene or object. Although he is not a scientist, he has participated in research studies on aphantasia.
Participants in training typically assess their imagery using the Vividness of Visual Imagery Questionnaire (VVIQ), a tool developed in the 1970s that asks individuals to rate the vividness with which they can picture familiar people, places, and general scenes. This scale relies on self-reported data, introducing the possibility that two individuals who visualize an object identically might provide different ratings. Figueroa notes that he has observed participants adjust their responses after receiving more information about the nature of mental imagery.
This has posed a persistent challenge for aphantasia researchers: to what extent is our subjective experience of our mind’s eye influenced by metacognition, our capacity to think about and evaluate our own thoughts? Joel Pearson, an aphantasia researcher and neuroscientist at the University of New South Wales in Australia, is developing more objective measurement tools. One such method is binocular rivalry, an optical illusion that requires the viewer to visually imagine a color. In this technique, two images, one red and one blue, are superimposed. Viewers are instructed to close their eyes and focus on a specific color, which primes their brain to perceive that particular image—but only if they possess mental imagery. Individuals with aphantasia do not experience one image dominating the other.
People with aphantasia exhibit no changes in pupil dilation when imagining light and dark objects, unlike individuals without the condition who respond physiologically as if actually perceiving these objects. Those with aphantasia also do not display fear responses when reading frightening narratives in a darkened room, presumably because they are unable to visualize the scenarios. These findings suggest that aphantasia represents a distinct cognitive difference, rather than merely an unconventional way of describing internal experiences.
Investigating the Potential for Change
While several individuals have reported that Figueroa’s coaching improved their mental imagery, such anecdotal evidence should be approached with caution, according to Reshanne Reeder, a neuroscientist at the University of Liverpool in the UK who has collaborated with Figueroa. No research has comprehensively evaluated methods for enhancing mental imagery. There are a few case reports documenting individuals gaining imagery after using psychedelic substances, but many others who have taken these drugs have not experienced similar effects. In one study, Pearson and his colleagues were able to increase or decrease the intensity of mental imagery by applying electrical currents to the visual cortex, but this effect was observed only in participants who already possessed some degree of mental imagery.
The ability to enhance mental visualization could potentially reveal different categories of aphantasia, according to Pearson. Some individuals might form imagery within the visual cortex of their brains, but “it remains unconscious for reasons we do not yet comprehend,” he stated. “The others represent 100 percent pure aphantasia, where there is no conscious image, no unconscious image, absolutely nothing.”
Pearson expressed reservations regarding the ethical implications of artificially inducing mental imagery. He questioned what might happen if individuals find they do not like the experience. Perspectives among those with aphantasia are divided. Harry O’Connor, one of Figueroa’s clients, conveyed a strong desire to visualize his loved ones’ faces mentally. “I want to fix it,” he asserted.
The consequences of struggling with visual imagery are varied. Individuals with aphantasia can sometimes exhibit poorer autobiographical memory and perform less effectively on certain memory tests. However, this typically occurs when those tests involve cognitive demands exceeding the memory requirements of daily life.
According to Merlin Monzel, a psychologist at the University of Bonn in Germany who studies aphantasia, there can be a degree of emotional blunting in individuals lacking a mind’s eye, potentially leading to diminished empathy. Nevertheless, there is no evidence to suggest that aphantasia results in overall intellectual deficits or precludes careers in creative fields; indeed, there are illustrators and fantasy novelists who have aphantasia. Furthermore, a lack of visual imagery renders individuals less susceptible to post-traumatic stress disorder flashbacks, visual hallucinations, and other intrusive negative thoughts such as severe depression.
Reeder attended a significant mental imagery conference in 2019 where individuals with aphantasia were asked about their desire for a cure. “At that time, approximately half of the audience raised their hands, but the other half was very vocally opposed,” she recounted. Zeman recalled some individuals expressing a wish to experience visualization, “just for a day.”
I approached the prospect of fundamentally altering my internal experience with hesitation. As a journalist, I routinely take photographs during my reporting to aid in describing individuals or settings. Physical attributes do not readily imprint themselves on my memory, nor do I find them particularly captivating. Rather than being a detriment, I believe my aphantasia enhances my sensitivity to people’s emotions and allows me to concentrate on abstract concepts. I harbored concerns that a flood of mental images might prove overwhelming and excessively distracting.
My initial training session commenced with a degree of apprehension, but Figueroa’s amiable enthusiasm quickly put me at ease. Over six hour-long meetings, our sessions comprised education on aphantasia and a series of similar exercises. He encouraged me to relax and attempt to visualize objects, my surroundings, or other scenarios. Subsequently, I would focus on an aspect potentially linked to visual or other sensory domains. At times, we worked from real-life observations, such as when I stepped outside my apartment building to describe my street, then closed my eyes and repeated the description. On other occasions, Figueroa provided detailed descriptions of images while my eyes were closed, as was the case with the potoo bird.
During our fourth session, prior to Figueroa presenting the image of the potoo, he asked me to identify any visual elements present in my mind. I considered this carefully. I was uncertain if I could perceive colors or the bird’s likeness. My response suggested a potential recognition of the bird’s physical shape. When Figueroa displayed a photograph of a potoo on the computer screen, I experienced a distinct sense of surprise. “Whatever I was visualizing in my head was oriented in the opposite direction,” I remarked. The bird in my mind was facing left, contrary to the actual image which was facing right. Figueroa expressed excitement, interpreting this as a positive indicator of progress in my visual acuity.
As the sessions progressed, my perception of spatial orientation, position, and movement seemed to strengthen. When visualizing my living room after having sold my couch, I could internally sense the absence of an object. I somehow “felt” the empty space in my mind. In another exercise involving listening to a random word generator, I had a strong reaction to the word “ceiling.” I noted afterward that I felt the “empty space above my head, leading to a cessation of space.”
Understanding the Results and Future Directions
Following the conclusion of my sessions, I contacted Zeman with further questions. I remained uncertain whether I had experienced any visual perception. How could I have known the bird’s orientation without a mental image? Was this the breakthrough I had anticipated? Zeman explained that my experience aligned with a prominent theory in aphantasia research. A leading model of visual processing posits a division into two distinct streams: one dedicated to object imagery, which handles the details of an object’s appearance, and another to spatial imagery, concerned with an object’s location in space and its movement. Individuals with aphantasia typically score highly on questionnaires measuring spatial imagery, often exceeding those with typical mental imagery. This suggests that aphantasia might stem from a deficit in the object-imagery stream, while spatial processing remains unaffected. Zeman indicated that my experience seemed to reflect an increased awareness of spatial imagery. “It doesn’t actually involve much visual content, does it?” he commented. “It relates to the arrangement of things in space and is quite closely linked to movement.”
Zeman expressed openness to the idea that individuals can enhance their imagery capabilities. In 2018, he and his colleagues examined the brain activity of individuals with high and low imagery abilities. They observed that the latter group exhibited more widespread brain activation when attempting to visualize, whereas the former group showed more focused activation in posterior brain regions, including visual areas. Zeman interpreted this to mean that individuals with strong visualizers process information more efficiently. If visualization is a skill, it could potentially be improved.
Nevertheless, he would find it surprising if a few training sessions could entirely transform a person’s internal experiences. “My intuition would be that if you possess some imagery, you should be able to enhance it,” Zeman stated. “If you lack it completely, that may indicate some biological, potentially inherited, limitation.”
Later this year, Monzel plans to evaluate Figueroa’s program in a formal study involving participants with and without aphantasia. If the training proves effective for those with no imagery, Monzel suggests it would indicate that aphantasia is likely not a structural anomaly in the brain but rather pertains to the utilization of brain networks. It is possible that individuals rely on alternative methods of internal representation, allowing mental visualization to become less active.
This research could shed light on the flexibility of imagery across the entire population, including those who do possess mental imagery. “We are uncertain whether individuals with mental imagery can indeed train their visual images,” Monzel noted. “It will be revealing to discover if it is truly a developable skill or if it remains unchangeable.” If mental imagery can be enhanced, it could theoretically also be diminished, he added, which might benefit individuals experiencing distressing mental imagery, such as those with PTSD. However, research on suppressing mental imagery suggests that such effects may not be permanent.
I remain uncertain whether my spatial processing genuinely improved or if my ability to perceive it better simply increased. My scores on the VVIQ before and after my training showed an improvement of three points. My inclination is that this increase is not due to an enhanced capacity for visual perception. Instead, I believe I became more adept at reflecting on my own thought processes and gained awareness of other sensory dimensions within my internal representations.
I am quite certain I will not continue to pursue training for my mental imagery. I do not anticipate ever being able to “watch a movie in my head,” as some describe it. However, in my attempt to improve, I discovered the intricate complexity of my internal representations of the world around me. An inner world can be profoundly rich with other senses and emotions, even one that primarily exists in darkness.