What You See Is Not Always What You Get

When Élisabeth Le Brun set up her easel on Hydra's upper terrace, accompanied by her young protégés—time-travelling artists from different centuries—one might have expected them to paint the stunning view before them: the town cascading down the hillside, the vibrant sea, and the distant silhouette of the Peloponnese. Yet, as their canvases took shape, it became clear that what they perceived was something entirely different.

These young artists, with their eyes still those of youthful dreamers, filtered reality through their imaginations and desires. Each artist had captured something uniquely his own, ranging from a naked Le Brun to a solitary sunflower, a spaceship, and a catamaran. Hydra's beauty perhaps paled against the visions in their minds for these young men from eternity, which surely piques our curiosity and engages our interest.

Read on to explore what we really see.

"What We See, What We Don't

We see the sky, so vast, so bright,
But miss the stars that shine at night.
We watch the waves caress the shore,
But fail to sense the depths they store.

We see the face, the painted grace,
But not the lines time can't erase.
A fleeting smile, a glance, a tear,
Yet what's beneath—too blurred, too near.

We see the world in sharp display,
Yet, the truth is lost along the way.
A grand façade, a golden hue,
But what's concealed, we never knew.

We see what's there, or so we claim,
Still, I miss the whisper in the frame.
And sometimes, what we shouldn't see,
Reveals itself—unwillingly.

Le Brun stood tall, her hat adorned,
With plumes and flowers, finely formed.
Her students painted—each his view,
But none beheld what she once knew.

A naked muse, a distant sail,
A flower bright, a ship's white trail.
A boy saw stars beyond the sea,
Yet missed the land's raw poetry.

What they beheld was worlds apart,
Yet still, it spoke of each one's heart.
For vision bends, and truth may stray,
Yet art will see its own true way."
Malmö, February 2025

WYSIWYG – When Reality Meets Expectation
One Never Ceases to Be Surprised – A Summer on Hydra

One never ceases to be surprised; that was precisely what happened last summer on Hydra. One of my favourite artists, the Time-traveller Élisabeth Le Brun, had been drawn to Hydra by the great Nikos Ghika, the leading Greek painter, sculptor, engraver, writer, and academic. She had also brought along a few protégés—young men who had left the earth before they could pursue their dream of becoming artists.

Le Brun and her students had set up their easels on Hydra's upper terrace near my house. The task was straightforward—the students were to paint what they saw: the timeless beauty of Hydra town, climbing up the mountain toward Mount Eros, a sight that never fails to inspire awe.

The view is never truly the same, even if it appears unchanged on the surface. Hydra is like the azure sea that flows around the island—constantly shifting, eternally changing. The seasons, the weather, and the wind blend the palette's colours in an ever-changing dance. Something is always happening—down at the harbour, in the air, or on the strait between Hydra and the Peloponnese. And so it was now. One only had to open one's eyes and take in the scene, for, as the phrase goes, "What you see is what you get," succinctly summed up in the acronym WYSIWYG.

However, the abbreviation can be misleading—for what you see is not necessarily what others see. A rubbish bin overflowing with waste might dominate the image in some eyes, despite taking up only a few insignificant pixels in a grand painting of beautiful Hydra. This is a classic case of 'not seeing the forest for the trees', which means focusing on small details and missing the larger picture. Understanding this concept can enlighten us and make us more aware of the bigger picture.

The Young Gentlemen from Eternity

Despite their age, the young gentlemen visiting from eternity were much like young men tend to be—full of themselves. Not even eternity could change that. They were the same personalities they had been when they were prematurely snatched from life, and so they saw what they wanted to see. Their unique perspective, shaped by their wishful dreams, was a source of constant intrigue for those around them.

The four young Time Travellers, returning to earth for the first time since they had left it, were still boys at heart despite all the time that had passed in eternity. Their unchanging nature, youthful self-confidence, unwavering belief in their excellence, and restless need to impress one another provided a sense of continuity and familiarity that resonated with those around them.

Metusalem, who should have matured after 400 years in eternity, had changed little since he, at seventeen, had been trampled by a runaway horse and left Holland behind in the 1600s. He still surrounded himself with other young men from various eras, bound together by their blissful immaturity and playful arrogance. They carried themselves as young men always have—laughing at foolish jokes, challenging one another in pointless competitions, and puffing up their chests with the certainty only youth can provide.

Eternity had given them endless time to reflect, gather impressions, and understand the course of history—yet none of it had shaped them the way years on earth would have. They had never become men, felt the heavy hand of time on their shoulders, or been forced to take responsibility for anything beyond their whims. They still saw the world with the same boyish eyes as when they had first left it—filled with curiosity yet devoid of the wisdom only experience can bring.

Time passed, yet for the eternally young, nothing much happened on a personal level. They did not age, change, or experience the growth and development that come with living a mortal life; they stayed with an incomplete soul forever, for better or worse. This prompts us to reflect on the nature of personal growth and development, fostering a sense of contemplation and reflection in our audience.

And so they stood there, four young men from eternity, on the verge of rediscovering a world that had long since moved on. The world had evolved, cultures had changed, and new ideas had emerged—but which, to them, remained exactly as they had left it.

Metusalem, the eldest among them, had lived at the same time as Johannes Vermeer in the 1600s, yet only now had he desired to follow in his compatriot's footsteps. Just like his companions, he saw what he saw—and it was not what their teacher, Le Brun, saw. Nor what I saw, for that matter.

One of the young men, inspired by something entirely beyond the horizon, had painted an erotic motif of Élisabeth Le Brun standing stark naked—save for the very same straw hat adorned with flowers and ostrich feathers that she wore that day. He had ignored the breathtaking view of Hydra in favour of an artistic interpretation that was, shall we say, more personal.

The young man in front of him had chosen something else entirely—he had painted a massive, solitary sunflower, which had caught his attention in a garden far beyond the sea of blooming red poppies and white daisies.

The man standing to Metusalem's right seemed fascinated by boats. His canvas depicted the catamaran that shuttled between Hydra and Piraeus, gliding through the azure waters.

The boy on the far left had ventured even further into his vision—he had painted what appeared to be a flying saucer. To my knowledge, no one has ever reported seeing such things over Hydra, though they tend to pop up elsewhere, often on blurry, grainy photographs. This painting is a clear example of how one's personal perspective can greatly influence what one sees and how one interprets it.

Lastly, the young artist to the left of the saucer-painter had ignored the landscape entirely. Instead, he had created an intricate study of the flowers in Le Brun's straw hat, meticulously capturing the petals, stamens, and pistils in stunning detail.

Not a single one of them had painted the view before them.

But of course, from a star at the heart of the cosmos, even the grandest of earthly landscapes may seem insignificant in comparison.

Anyone who has ever struggled with a computer or a digital system has encountered the term WYSIWYG – What You See Is What You Get. It sounds like a reassuring promise that what you see on the screen is exactly what you'll get. But we all know that's not always the case. There are many memorable anecdotes where WYSIWYG has gone from a promising vision to pure comedy – both in the digital world and in real life.

If one story perfectly encapsulates the flawed promise of WYSIWYG, it must be Hans Christian Andersen's "The Emperor's New Clothes." The tale tells of a vain emperor who, convinced by two swindlers, believes he is wearing the finest, most delicate garments—supposedly invisible to those unfit for their positions. Proudly, he parades through the streets, seeing himself clothed in splendour while the public sees him strolling stark naked.

In the 1970s, computers were reserved for enthusiasts, featuring massive screens filled with green numbers. When Xerox developed the first graphical computer and the concept of WYSIWYG, it appeared to be a revolution. Suddenly, people could see how their text would appear before printing! However, there was a slight problem—computers were not reliable.

Who doesn't remember the panic of university students submitting papers where page numbers shifted positions or footnotes suddenly took up half the page? One professor once remarked: "Your essay is a WYSIWYG nightmare – what you see is what I can't read."

When the internet took off and people started creating their websites with WYSIWYG editors like FrontPage and Dreamweaver, it quickly became apparent that "what you see" was a lie. Users dragged and dropped images, changed text, and adjusted colours, but when they opened the page in a different browser, it looked as if a five-year-old had gone wild with a colour bomb. This was not an isolated incident. WYSIWYG often led to websites that were visually appealing in one browser but a complete mess in another, undermining the very promise of the concept.

A poor entrepreneur created his first website using an early version of WordPress and a WYSIWYG theme, a popular choice for beginners due to its user-friendly interface. He carefully arranged everything pixel-perfect—or so he thought. When he opened the site in Internet Explorer, all images had disappeared, links were off-screen, and the text was suddenly in Wingdings. This incident is a clear example of how WYSIWYG can lead to unexpected and undesirable outcomes in web development.

But WYSIWYG has caused trouble, not just in the digital world. Who hasn't ordered a burger from a fast-food chain where the juicy, perfect burger on the menu turned out to be a sad, squashed sandwich with a lone piece of wilted lettuce?

Or online shopping? That elegant jacket that looked like a designer masterpiece on the website was a polyester rag sewn with a glue gun. When the buyer complained, they got the response: "You saw how it should look in the picture." WYSIWYG at its most deceptive. This is a stark reminder to be wary and discerning in consumer experiences and always to question what we see.

The conclusion must be that WYSIWYG can be utterly misleading, a dream and a nightmare. The idea behind it is beautiful—a world where what you see is what you get. But as we know, reality is more complicated. From digital mishaps to everyday disasters, WYSIWYG has the potential to be both a revolution and a reminder that we can never fully trust technology—or fast-food chains. This should make us more sceptical and critical in our interactions with WYSIWYG, and we should always be prepared for the unexpected.

So next time someone says, "What you see is what you get," remember: it's not always true. When it comes to computers, Word documents, a dress in a web shop, and hamburgers, always be prepared for a surprise. Stay cautious and alert in the face of WYSIWYG, as it often holds unexpected twists and turns.