What makes us visible? Perception vs the physical

My friend Katie recently posted a link to a tutorial on how to make your own light-up cycling jacket.  You basically sew a load of LEDs into a(n otherwise perfectly wearable) jacket, hook them up to some batteries, and wire an on/off button into the cuffs. 

This got me thinking about what it is that makes you visible to others on the roads.  Is it simply about some part of you being brightly lit?  Or is there some interpretive element to how we see, and respond to, other road-users?  How does your ‘physical visibility’ relate to your ‘interpretive visibility’?

Katie’s hi-vis jacket provides the wearer with two light-up arrows, pointing left and right, which can be switched on independently, allowing the wearer to signal when they’re about to turn left or right, in the same way as a car’s indicator lights. 

Or does it?  Although the designer and wearer of this contraption knows that the arrows mean ‘I’m turning right’, what does the car-driver see?  I suspect that – at least initially – they’ll just see some flashing lights.  Maybe if the cyclist is slowing down and approaching a junction, the car driver will – in a few seconds – put two and two together, and consciously think “Oh, they’re signalling”.  But this calculated mental reaction is very different to their response to a car’s orange indicator light, which all drivers the world over know – without even consciously processing it – to symbolise ‘I’m turning’.

I think the ‘arrow jacket’ also contains a second barrier to the process of realisation, as the driver has to process the symbolic meaning of the direction of the arrow.  Car indicator lights, kind of ingeniously, don’t require the observer to make this mental calculation – they just rely on the orange light being on the side of the car that the vehicle is about to move towards.  Arrows require an extra layer of decoding – and if the observer isn’t expecting to have to do any decoding of new languages invented by other road-users – which they’ve never seen before – then I wonder what impact it will be on their perception of what they’re seeing.

This is no criticism of the jacket or its designer.  I think it’s quite a clever idea in many ways, and I find something about the craftivist / hacking element kind of aesthetically appealing.  But I do think it raises interesting questions about visibility in urban space.

I think similar issues are at play in other new lighting contraptions I’ve seen emerge recently.  Revolights insert hoops of LEDs into the wheel rims, which are synched to the speed of the bike to only light up only the front half of the front rim, and the back half of the back rim. 

But what do your eyes and brain do when they see two 2-foot high arcs of light glide along the road surface?  What does it mean? 

More prosaically, a friend recently pointed out how weird it looks when you see orange pedal reflectors bobbing up and down.  Similarly, we’re used to seeing jackets, bags, lycra gear etc, with all sorts of patterns of silver reflective material built in.  We suppose that it makes us more visible.  But when I ride along wearing my black leggings with the silver writing on the calves, what message does it send to someone behind me when they see the disembodied word “Altura” bobbing up and down in front of them?  Maybe they correctly interpret this signal, and perceive a cyclist whom they should treat with caution and respect.  Perhaps they muse upon the spectacle of a ghost whose only connection the earthly realm is a shining brand name? 

Admittedly these symbols are never static – if enough people start adopting these technologies and forms, they will over time become their own visual language.  Perhaps one day everyone will become used to seeing a red and white arc, or a flashing LED triangle, as ‘cyclist’ without thinking about it, just as we see a pair of disembodied headlights and think ‘car’. 

But I think that in the meantime, the cracks in the continuity and clarity of this language can act as useful tools to help us consider what it is about our physical form that allows us to be processed as symbolic forms.  This in turn will help us to think about how we can start to construct cyclists not just as objects that can be seen, but citizens who are treated with respect and humanity.