Stesichoros tells the tale of Geryon in his Geryoneis, composed in the sixth century BCE. The details from that myth are the known facts that we have now, and which Anne Carson’s Geryon carries in her Autobiography of Red. For millennia, Geryon has lived that cycle repeatedly until Carson gave him the volition to change that.
Red is a bold color that draws attention to itself. Now, imagine being red. That is a particular feature about Geryon that is mentioned at the start of his autobiography but not pointed out to readers throughout the narrative. It is as if stating it plainly is enough. The specific hue is never given; he is red. But what does that mean for him?
Is Geryon inherently red, or do the conditions surrounding him cause him to be perceived as red? Perhaps it is akin to color temperature; a color is only warm or cool when compared to another. Alone, it is neither.
Philosopher Jonathan Cohen writes in his essay, “It’s Not Easy Being Green:”
That said, it is worth emphasizing that relationalism is not, by itself, a theory of the nature of color. It is a theory about what sorts of properties colors are, namely, that they are relational properties; but it does not say which properties of that sort—which relational properties, in particular—colors are.
Reviewing Cohen’s The Red and the Real and the anthology Color Ontology and Color Science, which Cohen edited, for Philosophy in Review XXXIII (2013), no. 4, Michael Rossi starts:
183 pages into The Red and the Real: an Essay on Color Ontology, Jonathan Cohen introduces his readers to the telepathic tomato. Like many other tomatoes, this one is round, juicy, and rich in lycopene – the chemical that gives tomatoes their bright red hue. Unlike others of its kind, however, this tomato has the powerful psychic ability to influence the perceptual experiences of anyone looking at it, forcing observers to believe that it is green, rather than red. What, then, can we say is the real color of the tomato? Is it really red, because we know that the tomato would ordinarily appear red, but for its paranormal trickery? Or is it really green, because that is the sensation that everyone reports when viewing it? What are colors, anyway – real properties of objects in the world? Or mental figments? Or both at once? Is this even the correct question to ask? How is one to know?
We could substitute Geryon for the tomato in the above passage:
Geryon has the powerful psychic ability to influence the perceptual experiences of anyone looking at him, forcing observers to believe that he is green, rather than red. What, then, can we say is the real color of Geryon? Is he really red, because we know that Geryon would ordinarily appear red, but for his paranormal trickery? Or is he really green, because that is the sensation that everyone reports when viewing him?
It is interesting to note that when Geryon begins his autobiography he chose to focus on “all inside things particularly his own heroism and early death much to the despair of the community. He coolly omitted all outside things.” Also, one of his sculptures as part of his autobiography (before he could write) was a tomato to which he glued a cigarette and paper money.
Again, we do not know what exactly is red about Geryon. Is it the color of his skin or of his personality? Is he red in comparison to others because he differs in some way? Is he red because he is a monster transplanted out of history into the present? He does not appear to deny his monstrosity, nor does he embrace it, but we glimpse a rage that seems to shock even him:
[P]eering hard Geryon made his way through the fires in his mind to where the map should be. In place of a map of the school corridor lay a deep glowing blank. Geryon’s anger was total. The blank caught fire and burned to baseline. Geryon ran.
What an intriguing journey it will be as we watch Geryon move through the different stages of life and observe what red means for him and/or how red shapes who he is.
Passing time caring for critters.
Creating while they nap.
