How Much Are We Influenced by Context?
WALKING THROUGH A MARKET IN MARRAKESH
Have you ever heard about the Ebbinghaus Illusion?
It’s a classic, often popping up when we talk about how our minds play tricks on us.
You see two identical circles, but depending on the size of the circles around them, one can look much bigger or smaller.
It's a neat visual trick, and a good metaphor for how much context shapes our perception, often without us even realizing it.
Baffled as usual, when double checking that indeed the inner circles are the same size I find myself faced with the question often visiting me lately:
How objectively do we actually see the world?
What if much of what we perceive as “truth” is simply a reflection of the frame we're looking at it with?
A famous artist we worked with at his home outside of NYC once, had his most valuable pieces worth several millions in a huge shed in the back of his garden.
He explained that in the context of the main house's ongoing movement, he couldn't fully appreciate its immeasurable beauty there.
Then chuckling he added, that it was the most secure place to have it, as potential burglars expect the precious art collection to be in the gated main house.
Think about your own contextual outlook:
For all of us there are countless daily touch-points where context changes the way we perceive things:
A person in a Bikini will likely seem more expected at the beach, while not necessarily in a restaurant. It´s lead to lots of hustles in beach bars and a sign saying “no shirt, no service, no discussion” in a lunch place on a beach in Mallorca by exasperated staff.
It can take a moment to actually “recognize” a person we know from work, when we meet them in a different surrounding.
Visiting a city for work or leisure can be two entirely different experiences.
Gym clothes so far were rather a sight in the gym, but change in leisurely softening of dress codes, the pandemic and home-office culture made jogging bottoms, or leggings styleable for many occasions.
When visiting a friend of mine in Taipei we chuckled, when we spotted an apple for 20 times the price it costs in Europe, while the wildly beautiful exotic fruits were cheap, as they were local.
My moms sister brought Irish salted butter to Munich when she visited the other day as in the context of German habits, where unsalted butter is the norm, the price tag is matching its rare existence.
While all of these examples are rather subtle, I do wonder if we can reverse the process to our advantage:
What if recognizing the power of context also makes us aware of a powerful creative tool we can use?
Take a Brancusi wood sculpture, for instance. Placed reverently in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, people will line up, pay an entrance fee, and gaze at it with knowing nods, acknowledging its immeasurable worth.
But what if you took that same masterpiece and plonked it down in the middle of a garden center, nestled between potted plants and outdoor furniture?
How many passersby would take note of it? Would you notice?
It’s ironic how the object can be the same, but its perceived value has plummeted through the framing.
Upping the value is often tried to achieve with the world famous LVMH logo on the fake-market products, like the branded soccer balls I snapped a photo of on a moroccan market.
When working with factories that produced luxury goods – back when I was in the luxury fashion industry – managers frequently pointed out that the same production lines running the “real” goods by day were often churning out “fakes” as a side hustle during the night.
It put the illusionary aspect of “branding” right on the table in a way that made it hard to ignore how easily we are influenced:
We're incredibly susceptible to how and where we encounter things.
The Washington Post once orchestrated an experiment with Joshua Bell, the world-renowned violinist. He played his $3.5 million Stradivarius in a bustling subway station, and after a sold-out concert hall just days before, he barely made $32 in tips.
Most people rushed past, caught in the rhythm of their day, oblivious to the beauty and talent before them.
Interestingly enough it was mainly kids that stopped, seemingly not conditioned yet, to expect the depth of musical talent merely in the official setting of a concert hall.
It makes me wonder to what degree we truly recognize beauty and talent for what they are.
What are we overlooking as we are merely not expecting it?
How does the space we leave around things highlight them?
Give it a try:
A few intentionally placed pieces of furniture in a large room can suddenly appear far more valuable than they actually are. The airy presentation helps them gain an aura of exclusivity.
It's a neat trick if you're a bit short on cash but want to evoke a sense of high-end design.
I know an entrepreneur who once built a thriving business by selling a single, exquisite flower in a huge, lavishly wrapped box.
The price tag was exorbitant, but the New York socialites snapped them up as the ultimate "It" gadget for a few summers, as they needed a socially impressive gift when venturing out to the Hamptons to garden parties.
The empty space, the extravagant wrapping – it was pure contextual wizardry.
As Nassim Nicholas Taleb brilliantly puts it in The Black Swan: “We react to a piece of information not on its logical merit, but in the basis of which framework surrounds it, and how it registers with our social-emotional system.”
This echoes that bewildering illusion we can easily fall for, that things have to be expensive to be taken seriously.
We can easily save our sanity and quite some cash by questioning the belief that a high price tag equates to higher value.
A personal favorite are the countless exquisite falafel places we regularly frequented the years I was living in Berlin. I would choose this over an elaborately decorated and priced lunch menu I've come across on countless business trips, getting tangled up in the cutlery to use more than in the flavor at times.
Ask yourself:
What Are We Willing to Pay For?
This phenomenon is rampant in certain sectors, especially fashion. People are shelling out over 500 Euros for plain cotton T-shirts with spray-painted brand names, simply because high-profile celebrities wear them.
The context of who wears it, and where it’s seen, completely shifts our perception of a simple garment, making us willing to part with outrageous sums. It’s a fascinating, and at times amusing, human quirk.
And what about tattoos?
Once associated with specific subcultures, they've now gone mainstream, gracing red carpets and boardrooms alike.
The same ink that once might have raised an eyebrow due to its association with a specific cartel or prison now signifies artistic expression and individuality in a shifted context.
It’s entertainingly ironic how our perception of body art can flip entirely based on who's wearing it and the context in which we encounter it.
Redefining Richness: The Context of Sufficiency
The examples above highlight how we often strive to "upgrade" ourselves by emulating those we admire, chasing what seems to be more and to "make us more.”
Lynne Twist, with over 40 years of work as a global activist and fundraiser empowering people to end hunger and poverty, offers a profound shift in context in her book, The Soul of Money.
She reminds us that true fulfillment comes from recognizing sufficiency.
Twist emphasizes that when we live in the context of sufficiency, we realize there truly is "enough," and perhaps even more powerfully:
"We are enough."
She bridges spiritual principles with practical financial and social issues, beautifully illustrating how: “When we live in the context of sufficiency, we find a natural freedom and integrity. We engage in life from a sense of our own wholeness rather than a desperate longing to be complete.”
It’s a radical, liberating re-framing of our relationship with material things and our own sense of worth.
The Context of Time: Invisible Rulebooks
Our perception of time is another “reality” shaping example of contextual influence:
I can amusingly admit that I get far more annoyed when a German friend is late than when a South American friend is.
With a Colombian friend of mine, we often playfully joke about whether we're operating on "Colombian time" or "German time," when planing to meet up.
I still smile thinking about a wedding speech for a German-Spanish couple, where the speaker humorously highlighted their different approaches to social gatherings: the bride usually planned an outfit a week in advance, while the groom was usually still ironing his shirt after the party had started.
We carry our own individual invisible rulebook of expectations that context provides.
Reframing Our Experience
On a personal note I remember a painful breakup years ago that made me avoid the mountains where my partner and I had shared many experiences. Memories felt too raw; the landscapes seemed tainted.
But one day a wise older friend encouraged me to reclaim the mountains, urging me not to let the context of my memories take away the vastness of the Alps.
The irony isn’t lost on me that I had allowed the context of a past relationship prevent me from enjoying those majestic landscapes that don't care about the frame we arrive with.
The mountains are masters at being fully themselves, standing unapologetically in their grandness, inspirational to do the same.
Reclaiming those giants in a new phase of life was a powerful reminder:
We can use the impact of context and perspective as a creative tool to experience something with fresh eyes.
It turned out to be a healing journey, not just for my heart, but for my perception.
The Power of Conscious Context
Have a think about it:
What specific things in your life seem appealing as your context to view them is favorable?
In my case the smell of burned toast and intense black tea is linked fondly with the home of my Irish grandmother, due to an old fashioned toaster and the tradition to not remove the tea bags from the cup.
While the visual isn't necessarily the most polished, for me it´s linked with my love for that house and my experiences the, still making my heart stir.
The other day, I met a woman and her dog early in the morning. He refused to go past where an electric fence temporarily kept the cows to one side of the huge field we were crossing.
The dog wouldn't get a ball, despite offered treats and the fence no longer being there, because he once got zapped by it.
For us humans this kind of realisation presents a chance:
As much as context can keep us from moving freely, realizing its subconscious power can be our key to reframe our experience.
As we navigate through life, it’s crucial to recognize the profound impact context has on our perceptions and judgments.
From art galleries to subway stations, from celebrity culture to personal relationships, context subtly and dramatically shapes our experiences.
By becoming more aware of these contextual influences, we can learn to see beyond the immediate frame, challenge our assumptions, and perhaps, discover more freedom.
It's like becoming the artist who chooses the frame, rather than the viewer accepting unconsciously what frame he is facing the world with.
Give it a thought:
How has your awareness of context shifted your perception of something you once took for granted?
Can you recall a time when changing the "frame" around an experience completely transformed it for you?
How do you think cultural differences influence your understanding of time, value, or relationships?
What's one way you could consciously shift the context of a daily routine to create a new feeling or experience?
How might embracing a mindset of "sufficiency" change your approach to your desires and aspirations?