Rorschach

They call it the Rorschach technique.

During the test, the subject is presented with a series of cards one at a time and in a certain order. Upon each is printed an image; blots against a canvas. They are perfectly bilaterally symmetrical. Five of the blots are in black ink. Two are of black and red ink and the last three are multicoloured. All are presented against a white background.

The idea of the test is to analyse the way in which a subject responds to the images. The way in which they perceive these images will discern a subject's personality or cognitive behaviour. Through this, the tester is able to decipher a person's emotional problems and possible mental disorders they may or may not possess.

Today I interviewed a young girl named Kathy. Dark-haired like myself.

It was standard procedure. We sat in an office, nothing too grandiose as that was the idea. The room itself had a surreal quality to it I couldn't quite put my finger on, a reason I didn't use it often. The only thing overly lavish was a pot of flowers on the black desk she and I sat behind. Snapdragons: the golden specked lavender blossoms stirring gently in response to the wind from the nearby open window.

We sat next to one another, me sitting slightly behind her. As most subjects tended to be, she was nervous, so this was a bid to generate a more casual but controlled atmosphere. With little ceremony we introduced ourselves and we got on with the test.

I placed the first of the cards in front of her and after a moments hesitation she picked it up. I assumed she had been told prior what she was supposed to do until placed it down again and asked me how she was supposed to proceed. I explained the procedure and after a quick nod she picked the card up again. A few seconds passed and she glanced up at the flowers in front of her, swaying in the breeze.

And then she turned the card over.

Immediately I told her to focus on the image and that while she was allowed to rotate the card, she was not supposed to turn it around. A look of confusion passed across her features before she nodded again, apologising, to which I replied there was nothing to be sorry for and to focus at the task at hand. 

After another few seconds she placed the card down on the table again, and asked for the next card. I gauged that I should ask her what she thought the inkblot looked like after we had gone through the rest of the cards and so didn't press the matter. I handed her the next card and again noted she glanced up at the flowers. I debated moving them but decided against it. They were the only source of colour in this otherwise bleak office.

And again, she turned the card over.

As we proceeded through the rest of the cards she repeated this action with each card. Always she would glance at the flowers for a moment and always she would then turn the card over, despite my reminding her that she was not supposed to.

After the final card I was a tad exasperated but didn't press the matter, assuming that it would contribute towards the data we were collecting. I placed the first card in front of her again and asked her what shape she had seen in the inkblot and where she had seen it.

She looked me dead in the eye, jade meeting jade. "I didn't see anything."

I frowned. "Nothing?"

She confirmed. I looked down at the image and sure enough the inkblot was there. The typical responses was that it looked like a bat, a butterfly or perhaps a moth. I asked her to look again and to tell me if she saw anything. She did as she was told, picking up the card for a moment.

She glanced at the flowers before turning it over.

"Why do you do that?" I asked, slightly annoyed.

To my further annoyance she simply shrugged, offering not further explanation. I asked her to try again and again she glanced at the flowers before turning the card over.

I took hold of the pot of flowers and moved them off the table. To my surprise they were artificial.

"Why did you do that?" She asked, seemingly annoyed.

I ignored her. "Again."

This time she picked up the card and immediately turned it over, placing it face-down on the desk. 

A sheet of silver against a dark canvas.

She looked at me again, and I looked back, feeling a little incensed. She herself seemed galled, though I wasn't sure why. With an annoyed sigh I told her to wait in the office before I left the room, intending to ask a colleague what else I should try, or at the very least get them to deal with this insufferable girl.

She reminded me of another girl I had known once. A younger me, before things had changed. Perhaps that had been what had riled me but I wasn't too vexed by the thought. I just needed a breath of fresh air and maybe the inhalation of tobacco smoke.

When I eventually returned to the room, having failed to consult a co-worker, I found it empty. The plastic snapdragons were on the desk again, and I could have sworn they were in the exact same position they were in before.

Panicked, I rushed over to the desk. On the table top was the first of the cards, the inkblot facing upwards, leering at me like a mocking face. Despite myself, I picked it up.

And then I turned the card over.

"What did you see?"

"I didn't see anything."

They call it the Rorschach technique.

The idea of the test is to analyse the way in which a subject responds to the images. The way in which they perceive these images will discern a subject's personality or cognitive behaviour. 

To test the way in which a subject sees.