- Sarah Kraning, 31, has a unique sense that helps her create beautiful art
- It was when she was studying psychology that she learned she had synesthesia
- Her synesthesia allows her to see music, and now she paints the sounds she sees
Here Sarah shares her story in her own words.
Putting on my headphones, I picked up the paintbrush.
As electronic music filled my ears, I closed my eyes and could see hot pink tones exploding like powdered fireworks.
Splashing fuchsia acrylic paint from the brush onto the canvas, my vision was coming to life.
‘A kaleidoscope of colour erupted in my mind.’
Every artist has their unique flair, and mine happens to be my sixth sense – the phenomenon of synesthesia.
It’s an overload of senses that crossover. For some it can be words and letters that are linked to certain colours or tastes. For me, sounds trigger colours, patterns, textures and movement in my mind.
Growing up, I loved dancing, music and art.
Me and my mum, Barb, loved when my dad, Max, played classical music for us on his piano.
When I was six, he played a beautiful piece by composer Gustav Holst.
A kaleidoscope of colour erupted in my mind as I listened to the different notes and pitches.
The sensations I felt would often spark inspiration, which I channelled into abstract drawings using my crayons.
When I was eight, I was watching the animated film Bambi with Mum. In one scene, it showed chimes dancing in the wind.
‘I love how sparkly they are when they move and make that lovely sound,’ I twinkled.
‘That’s a fun and imaginative way to see it,’ Mum smiled.
I’m not imagining the sparkles, I thought, bewildered. They’re right there!
But Mum couldn’t see what I was talking about.
For a long time I thought my senses were like everybody else’s – and that sounds, songs, and even people’s voices had certain colours, shapes and textures attached to them for everyone.
‘I couldn’t turn them off or down.’
At school, I told my friends what hue their voices were, and what textures I could see when we played our favourite music.
‘We don’t believe you!’ many rolled their eyes.
Realising I was different, I kept my special ability to myself, scared that I’d be bullied for it.
But sound was three-dimensional to me. Some noises were rough or crumbly, while others could be round. And for electronic music, I could feel tingles in my hands!
At home though, I’d unleash my superpower, painting in my room as I listened to pop tunes by Coldplay or The Veronicas.
‘That’s beautiful,’ my parents smiled, looking at the artwork.
But even with my family, I didn’t speak much about my superpower.
While it allowed me to be creative, my special sense wasn’t always helpful. In class and the schoolyard, I was often overstimulated by the fusion of jarring sounds such as screaming, clapping, sports whistles and laughing, all creating visions in my mind’s eye.
And I couldn’t turn them off or down.
Sometimes I found the senses that were competing with each other so intense, I’d be cupping my hands over my ears and avoiding crowds.
As I was struggling to concentrate, my parents had me medically examined. Doctors tested me for autism and ADHD, but the results came back negative.
As the years rolled on, I continued painting what I’d see in music. Piano sounds are like multicoloured raindrops – high notes are cooler toned like light yellows and purples, while low notes are warmer like dark magentas.
Electric guitar appears to me in ribbons of colours. The base notes in electronic dance music look like puffs of colourful smoke, and the synthetic notes have a glow.
Meanwhile the sound of a cymbal looks like particles from a metallic explosion, and the deeper, bassy drum tone looks like the ripples from a stone thrown in water.
After graduating from high school, I went on to study speech pathology and psychology.
It was during one of my classes that we learned about synesthesia.
‘People who have it experience more than one sense simultaneously,’ my lecturer explained.
That’s what I have! I realised. I finally felt the validation I’d been yearning for.
Back home, I took the official assessment online to confirm my diagnosis.
And since, I’ve worked through my synesthesia with neuropsychologist.
For the first time in my life I had the confidence to speak up about my experiences of synesthesia with friends, family and anyone who’d listen.
‘ I posted videos of my paintings.’
And in 2020, aged 26, I tarted a TikTok account @sarahkraning where I posted videos of my paintings, and explained how synesthesia played a part in my process.
I was gobsmacked when my videos quickly amassed millions of views.
What you see makes a lot of sense to me, people commented. I feel seen, other synesthetes said.
People were fascinated by my story and many requested to buy my work.
With the overwhelming support, I sold over 150 paintings that year.
In February 2022 I came across an Australian composer named Sam, then 29. Listening to his piano compositions online, I saw waves of sunset colours that spilled like wine from a glass.
‘This is beautiful,’ he said when I painted a piece of his music and gave it to him. The painting was filled with beautiful reds, yellows and oranges.
Before long, we fell madly in love and now split our time between his home in Melbourne, and Minneapolis, US, where I’m from, as well as LA.
Since sharing my story, I’ve had opportunities to paint onstage while artists perform music, and I’ve even hosted a Ted Talk.
And I’ll be going to Tasmania in Feb to paint the sounds of wildlife in the Tarkine Rainforest.
Finding friendships and love through synesthesia is one of my biggest blessings. I’ve grown to love my superpower, and nobody can take that away from me.
