Psychoanalysis of a Sunset

There is no language in which the phenomenon of sunset is not referred to. Zakat in Russian, Sunset in English, Ghrub in Arabic, Atardacer in Spanish, Riluò in Chinese, Suryast in Hindi, Sonnenuntergang in German, coucher de soleil in French, jua linatua in Swahili, and so on. In essence, it is something that is part of the entire history of humanity. This means it cannot be ignored, nor can one claim never to have seen it, at least once in one’s life. It is a spectacle staged by the very nature to which we belong, under every flag and in the most remote latitudes, every time the day draws to a close. The timeless charm of this moment of the day unfolds before the eyes as a visual melody: it captivates and dazzles, draws us in and leaves us speechless, stimulates the imagination and fuels a variety of thoughts, softens even the hardest of hearts and brings lovers’ lips together, heralds the shadows and mysteries of the night, and leaves behind the weariness of the day that has passed.

For the ancient Greeks, sunset was not merely the end of the day but the moment when the god Helios left the western sky aboard a golden chariot to plunge into the ocean. In more recent times, however, the glorification of the sunset is evident in the frenetic proliferation, via social media, of photographs capturing sunsets in millions of images, as if to share something magical that the sky, with its brightest star, bestows upon human eyes – whether from Tierra del Fuego, or from Pizzo Catarineci in the Madonie mountains, from Cape Sounion or Venice, from Los Angeles to Istanbul, from Murlough Beach in Ireland to the Algarve, right up to the ramparts of Essaouira in Morocco – whose name, Al-Maghreb, literally means ‘where the sun sets’. And from there, millions of ‘likes’ and just as many followers in the blind rush to judge which is deemed the most beautiful, the most distinctive, the most evocative – to the point of sharing it endlessly or saving it on one’s tablet as a testament to an experience belonging to others but now made one’s own. As if that post represented something divine, beautiful, fleeting and irreproducible. So at this point, it is only right to ask a question of great fundamental significance: why is it that the allure of the sunset captivates multitudes, makes them dream, fills them with melancholy, evokes nostalgia, brings tears to their eyes and gives rise to tranquil imaginings, devoid of aggression and violence?

It is therefore worth understanding, without the need for captions, which colours of the sunset pierce our hearts and eyes, penetrating even the most remote recesses of our feelings, hidden within what we generally call consciousness, giving rise to emotional holograms, wonder, enchantment and a sense of estranged silence. We know that the colours of the sunset are produced by sunlight as it passes through a thicker layer of air, allowing warm tones such as red, yellow, orange, pink and purple to pass through. Yellow and gold – and thus brilliant light on the horizon – orange and red as the rays take on a fiery hue. Colours within the infinite sky, beyond the ordinary perception of a garden, a flower, a wheat field, a rainbow, a half-open window or the glint of a fish darting away beneath the water. It is the sunset.

In 1947, a psychologist from Basel, Max Lüscher, having observed the works of Michelangelo, Raphael, Veronese, Brueghel, Van Eyck, Van der Weyden, Antonello da Messina, Dürer, Turner, the sunsets in the Engadine and many other things, realised that colours harboured a part of the human soul, along with its associated personality structure. Consequently, at a world psychology congress held in Lausanne that same year, he demonstrated to participants the role of colours in human psychology. It was a success, and his work is still used today, known as the ‘Lüscher Test’. He argued that the colour red symbolises vital energy (see the god Ares), strength, the impulse to act and the desire for conquest. The colour yellow, on the other hand, is linked to optimism, positive anticipation, creativity, the need for change and a focus on the future. At this point, it is inevitable to consider how the end of the day, with its spectrum of colours, influences the human mind. Thus, green too – a very subtle shade within the spectrum of the sunset – signifies, according to Lüscher, calm and patience, the ability to listen to others, to recognise the feelings of a group and to appreciate the harmony of the whole. Finally, the colour blue – the most prevalent in nature, from the sky to the sea, from cerulean eyes to the flowers of borage and cornflower, gentian and wild chicory, bellflower, hydrangea and agapanthus. A fundamental colour that signifies calm, emotional fulfilment, tranquillity and inner peace, which, without the need for medication, reduces blood pressure and even slows the heart rate.

In 1882, Jules Verne published a novel entitled "Il raggio verde", which tells the story of a young Scottish woman, Helena Campbell, who refuses to marry until she has witnessed the rare optical phenomenon of the green ray at sunset, said to reveal the truth in love. A hundred years later, in 1986, a film by director Eric Rohmer, also titled "Il raggio verde", was released in cinemas and went on to win the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival. So what exactly is this light that is so inspiring, indescribable and, superstitiously, mysterious? In essence, it is a rare optical and atmospheric phenomenon that appears as a faint streak or flash of brilliant green light at the top of the sun’s disc, lasting just a few seconds, during sunset. Many speak of it, but very few have actually seen it. Yet the idea captivates and transcends all rational explanation. It is all about emotion when the sunset weaves its magnificent symphony.

All this is the sunset. A metaphor of indescribable beauty and the backdrop to existence. Signified and signifier, just like two hands that intertwine without knowing why all this is happening, destined for the eyes and the heart, when the sky and the ‘stellazzo’ – as they used to say in Sicily to refer to the sun – meet, struggling to exist and return to the eternal cycle of life. Just like the cosmic serpent Ouroboros, which knows it is dying but also being reborn. The serpent of eternity as a continuous cycle, also present in Tutankhamun’s tomb, where the sun signifies the cyclical nature of life and time within the sky. Mythology, symbolism, illness and distress all combined. As can indeed be seen in one of Saint-Exupéry’s most famous lines about the sunset in "The Little Prince": ‘You know… when you’re very sad, you love sunsets.’

At this point, it is inevitable to link this extraordinary celestial phenomenon to the psychology of sunsets for human beings. This deep-seated love for sunsets falls under the term ‘Opacarophilia’, which etymologically combines the Latin verb ‘opacare’ (to obscure or cast a shadow) and the Greek term ‘philia’ (love or friendship). Essentially, all those who love sunsets – with all their nuances and across all possible latitudes – derive a range of positive effects from observing the sky, affecting their minds on a strictly emotional level. One might say that these individuals are conscious connoisseurs of the concept of an ending. The warm light activates areas of the brain associated with a state of calm and relaxation, and these areas can be identified within a circuit linking the prefrontal cortex (which calms the mind), the hypothalamus (which reduces stress) and the limbic system. This emotional state is also linked to the production of very slow brain waves, known as alpha waves. In essence, by experiencing this emotional dimension – in which one is *cum sideribus*, together with the stars, from which the Italian word *considerare* derives, meaning to understand, listen and include – one experiences a magnificent state of inner well-being and hard-won peace. Watching the sun set, together with others, also fosters empathy, intimacy and a sense of sharing, helping us to experience the immanence of the moment – without past or future – as our thoughts are enveloped in the cycle of ending and rebirth, associated with the melancholic sense of time passing and the dawning of tomorrow. Contemplating twilight also reduces anxiety, allowing the tensions of the day that has passed to slip away, restoring a natural pause in which one can accept one’s inner experiences without the stress of having to resolve everything immediately, as is the case in the ordinary routine of daily life. This stands in contrast to "de sideros", from which the concept of desire—which is not a state of grace—derives. We may therefore concede that within those who love the sunset truly lies an enduring thirst for romance. A realm in which the irrational, mystery, dreams, imagination and awe at the grandeur of nature coexist within the same vessel of the individual self. Although in literature, figures such as Marcel Proust have admitted, ‘I loathe sunsets; they are so romantic and melodramatic’, or Roberto Bolaño, who described the phenomenon by declaring, ‘the sky, at sunset, looked like a carnivorous flower’.

However, alongside individuals drawn to the sunset like bees to honey, there are others in whom its colours produce adverse and harmful effects. These people experience what is known as ‘evening vulnerability’, whereby the transition to twilight triggers a sense of emptiness and increased anxiety linked to the approaching darkness. This is known as Sundowning Syndrome. It is a behavioural disorder that can cause confusion, uncontrolled anxiety, agitation, disorientation, sudden mood swings, irritability, false perceptions, and even auditory and visual hallucinations, and which can lead to a tendency to wander aimlessly and repetitive gestures. It should be noted, however, that this condition is, fortunately, relatively rare compared to the vast number of people who enjoy sunsets. It is observed with some frequency in people with cognitive decline, dementia or early-stage Alzheimer’s, in whom the mental fatigue accumulated throughout the day, combined with the reduction in natural light and the poor visibility of the sunset, can alter familiar points of reference and disrupt the circadian rhythms of the internal biological clock shared by all individuals on this sacred planet. More generally, it is an intensification of the sense of emptiness and the unspoken perception of one’s own imminent end, evoked by the outside world with its provocative colours. It is not quite the hour that turns longing; rather, each person stands alone at the heart of the earth, pierced by a ray of sunlight, and suddenly it is evening.

For the vast majority of human beings, therefore, sunset is a bond of intimacy and anticipation, of transformation and hope. It is an emotional pact between heaven and earth, made up of silence and a ritual of love for a scene that leads the eyes to imagine another world beyond that horizon, which swallows the sun’s disc and which, for millennia, has shaped the imagination of thousands of generations across the continents. A world without sunsets is unthinkable. Just as it is unthinkable, for as long as humankind inhabits the earth, that there could be a sky without stars or a moon, without the nights of Saint Lawrence and without the Milky Way, without the Northern Lights and without moments of solitary emotion. And so, through a photograph—no matter from which corner of the world it was captured—each of us, from our own intimate periphery and with the solitude of the internet in tow, shares on social media what our eyes have seen, in the hope that countless contemporaries might leave a ‘like’, a comment, or a question asking from where those colours of the sky were taken, as if to say: ‘My sunset, perhaps, is better than yours, which you shared a minute ago from the other side of the world.’ I would call it an absurd concert of expectations where aesthetics (aistesis in Greek, meaning ‘perception’ and ‘sensation’) rears its head once more via a mobile phone, stretching from Santa Fe in New Mexico to Izmir on the coast of ancient Ionia in Turkey.