Anna Püschel’s first book, published by The Eriskay Connection in 2017, takes its title from a condition she knows from the inside. Püschel is a synaesthete: certain images produce colour for her, involuntarily and consistently. Rather than illustrate the phenomenon, she tests it. Working from a large database of images, she records her own reactions and asks what they reveal about the way any of us assembles a stable world from visual information. The book is therefore both a personal account and a semi-scientific inquiry, and it declines to separate the two.

The photographic sequence sits within a broader apparatus. Sam Beekhuizen, a psychological researcher, contributes an introduction to synaesthesia; essays come from the psychoanalyst Erika Schippmann, the neuroscientist Olympia Colizoli and the philosopher Alexandra Spaeth. Four disciplines, four vocabularies, one stubborn first-person problem. Joy Phillips edited the texts, and the designers Rob van Hoesel and Carel Fransen shaped 256 pages at 17 × 24 cm. The volume is an exposed softcover with a French-folded dustcover, a construction that makes the book’s layers literal without overstating the point.

What distinguishes the project is the absence of spectacle. Synaesthesia is often treated as curiosity or affliction; here it becomes a method for interrogating perception itself. Püschel does not claim to explain the condition, and the essays do not resolve it. Instead the book holds a private sensation and a public research question in the same frame, allowing the photographs to function as evidence, diary and experiment at once.

For collectors interested in where photography meets cognitive science, or in the book as a considered object rather than a portfolio, this is a substantial example: rigorous in its editing, deliberate in its making, and generous in the company it keeps.