The Philosophy of Touch and Quantum Physics
Reality Is Not Given, but Happens
For centuries, classical thought viewed reality as something that “is”—independent of whether we see it or not. The world is constant, objective, separate from us. In this view, the artwork is also “something that is”—an object, a form, a meaning that can be observed, interpreted, understood.⁰
But quantum physics doesn’t see reality that way.
And neither does the philosophy of touch.
One of the core principles of quantum theory is this: observation creates reality. A particle does not have a defined state until it is observed. Until then, it exists only as a field of possibilities—a superposition. The world is not already given—it becomes an actual event through attention.
The philosophy of touch says the same about art.
A work of art does not touch by itself. It doesn’t possess guaranteed impact; it doesn’t “create” experience on its own. The touch of the artwork happens only if someone is present—not as a viewer, not as an interpreter, but through attentive presence.
In quantum physics, this is called collapse: possibility becomes reality when presence enters.
In the philosophy of touch, we call this Tactus: the work enters into relation when true attention meets it.
This is the shared insight:
> Reality and the work of art are both events, not objects. And every event requires presence.
This is the meeting point where quantum physics and art don’t illustrate each other—they think together about reality.
This is where we begin. From here, we unfold how particles and forms relate, how superposition echoes in the absence of touch, how the observer becomes a witness—and how the world and the artwork become co-emergent.
Three Key Principles of Quantum Physics – and What They Reveal About Art
Quantum physics does not offer a new description of the world—it questions the very way we’ve understood it. Three fundamental principles are especially important—and they resonate surprisingly well with the perspective of the philosophy of touch.
1. Superposition – Reality Is Not a Single State
A quantum particle does not have definite properties until it is observed. An electron is not “here” or “there”—it exists in many possible locations and states simultaneously. This is called superposition.
Artistic parallel:
A work of art does not carry a single meaning. It is not “what it wants to say.” Prior to the viewer’s presence, the artwork is a field of interpretive possibilities. It is not a closed message but a potential. Until a connection occurs, the work remains only a possibility—not a fulfilled form, but a vibrating openness.
2. The Observer Effect – Attention Creates What It Observes
In quantum mechanics, the observer is not a passive spectator. Attention enters the system and changes its behavior. The act of measurement itself produces the outcome.
Artistic parallel:
The viewer does not simply observe. The viewer creates the work—in the moment they are truly present. The philosophy of touch does not describe passive reception, but a shared event: where the artwork and presence bring each other into being. The work does not “exist” on its own—it becomes real only in connection.
3. Probability Fields – The World Lives in Possibilities
According to quantum physics, reality is not a predetermined story, but a probability field in which multiple outcomes are simultaneously possible. The future is not fixed—it is potentially present.
Artistic parallel:
The work does not emerge from something, nor does it lead somewhere. It is not a moral, not a solution, not a logical structure. The artwork is like a quantum state: it hovers, and in each moment, it may enter the world differently. The touch may occur—or not. And both are valid.
The world of quantum physics is not one of certainties, but of possibilities. Not of objective order, but of relational connections. Art—at least through the lens of the philosophy of touch—does the same: it does not state something, but enables a connection that may or may not happen.
And here lies the deepest similarity:
> The world and the work are not given—they emerge when we pay attention.
The Artwork as a Superpositional Field, the Viewer as Quantum Observer
If we accept that in the quantum world, reality is not given but formed through observation, we can no longer regard the artwork as a closed, objective entity. The artwork is not an object. It is a field of event. And this event only happens if someone is present.
The Artwork as Superposition
A work that has not yet touched someone, does not touch anyone. It does not open, it does not take form. It is only a play of possible touches. Like a quantum state that holds all possible meanings simultaneously, and collapses into a form only through attention.
Thus, the work does not “carry a message”—it is a space of resonances, where – light is not yet an image,
– a sentence is not yet meaning,
– a movement is not yet motion.
The work waits in superposition. Not passive, but open and sensitive. Like a silent instrument that vibrates only when someone leans close.
The Viewer as Quantum Observer
The viewer is not an external observer. Not an interpreter. Not a consumer.
The viewer is part of the event. When they are truly present, the artwork is no longer what it was before. Presence does not just perceive—it invites. Not just witness—but participant.
The quantum observer does not simply measure—they create reality.
The present viewer does not simply look—they summon the touch.
This kind of viewer does not wish to possess. Does not demand meaning from the work. They simply pay attention—and allow the work to happen.
And if it does not happen? There is no failure.
As in quantum states, here too:
> The event is not guaranteed. It is only a possibility.
A true work is always a risk. And the viewer’s presence is not a condition—but a chance.
The Relationship Between Work and Viewer: A Reality-Experiment
The work of art is not an object—it is an experiment. Not a displayed result, but a shared quantum state that may activate—or not. And each activation is different. Each viewer produces a different result. There is no fixed effect, no closed meaning. Only an open field—and a presence that steps into it.
Therefore we may say:
> The work becomes reality only when you are present.
And if you are present—you already participate in it.
Touch as a Quantum Event
If the artwork is not an object but a potential presence, then touch itself is not a concrete act. Touch is not an event in the ordinary sense—it is a transitional moment: a passage from possibility into actuality.
In quantum physics, this is called collapse of the wave function.
In the philosophy of touch, we call it Tactus.
In both cases, an unmoving field of reality becomes activated when attention arrives. The world and the artwork do not move first—they await someone capable of perceiving their presence.
Touch = Transition from Possibility to Experience
When touch happens, it is not simply a “reaction.” It is an ontological shift. Form is no longer just form. Light is no longer just illumination. Sound is no longer just sound. Something crosses over—and something within you is transformed as well.
This touch is not always visible. Often, it is barely perceptible.
But once it happens—it cannot be undone.
Like a quantum leap: the world shifts from one state to another—and so do you.
Therefore, touch is not the same as liking, understanding, or experiencing.
Touch is a subtle turning within. A silent yes to the world.
And this “yes” is often not even conscious—it becomes clear only in hindsight.
Retractus as Quantum Absence: When the Event Doesn’t Occur—but Was Possible
When touch does not happen, the work has not disappeared.
It has only withdrawn. The quantum system did not collapse.
The possibility was present, but not activated.
This is the state of Retractus.
And it teaches the same lesson as quantum fields:
> Reality is always more than what you are currently experiencing.
The fact that something didn’t happen does not mean it wasn’t there.
Touch, then, is not a fixed condition, but a sensitive field of potential.
A kind of openness, where something can always be more than what is perceived.
And this openness is presence.
The Artwork as Quantum Event-Body: A Vibration Awaiting Attention
The work demands nothing from you.
It does not suggest. It does not persuade. It does not try to impress.
The work simply vibrates. And waits.
Like a quantum system that only shifts when someone is quietly present enough to sense its movement.
Thus, touch is not what the artwork “provokes”—but what arises when the artwork and attention merge. This moment is not measurable, repeatable, or possessable.
It can only be lived—as reality, once, and only once.
Reality and Touch – Attention as a World-Creating Act
The universe is not fully formed before us. The world is not a fixed, closed structure—it is an open field of potential that continuously shifts as we become present to it. This is not poetic imagery—it is an ontological statement: reality is not independent from us, but happens with us.
Quantum physics already tells us this.
And the philosophy of touch experiences the same in art.
Attention Does Not Observe – It Summons the World
To pay attention is to create.
When you look, you do not merely perceive—you give form to possibility.
When you are present, the world is no longer the same.
You do not experience it from the outside—it becomes real in you.
This attention does not want anything.
It does not interpret. It does not control. It does not judge.
This attention is gentle enough to allow something to occur.
This attention is touch.
The Artwork as Condensed Potential – Attention Congealed into a World
The artwork is not meaning, not experience, not message.
It is condensed presence—which begins to vibrate if someone is truly there.
The artwork speaks when it is attended to.
And it falls silent when too much is demanded of it.
The work is not a guarantee. Not a tool.
It is a question to which there is no answer—only presence.
Thus, every true artwork and every true viewer form a shared event:
> a moment that cannot be repeated,
a form that will not return,
a reality that is born if you pay attention.
The world begins where you notice that it is looking back at you.
Attention is not light.
Attention is darkness—from which something begins to shine.
And this light is not outside.
It is right where someone is present enough to want nothing, only this:
That something happens—
that wasn’t,
and now is.
This is what we call touch.
And perhaps—this is what we call reality.
