OUR PERCEPTION of the world depends, to a surprising degree, on intelligent guesswork by the brain. An oval-shaped white image exciting your retina could be produced by an egg, or a perfectly circular, flat tilted disk, or an infinite number of intermediate shapes, each angled to the right degree. Yet your brain “homes in” instantly on the correct interpretation of the image. It does this by using certain unconscious assumptions about the statistics of the natural world—suppositions that can be revealed by visual illusions.

The manner in which the brain deals with inexplicable gaps in the retinal image—a process called filling in—provides a striking example of this principle. You can demonstrate this using the blind spot of your eye.

Examine illustration a. With the right eye shut, look at the center of the lower white box. Hold the page about a foot away from your face and slowly move it toward you and away from you. At a certain distance the disk on the left vanishes. It has fallen on the blind spot of your left eye, a small patch of retina called the optic disk that is devoid of receptors (an imperfection caused by the optic nerve piercing the retina as it exits the eyeball).

Victorian physicist Sir David Brewster was struck by how when the disk disappears, you do not experience a dark shadow or gaping hole in its place. The region corresponding to the disk is “filled in” by the background color. He attributed this process to God, the “Divine Artificer.”

Even a straight line running through your blind spot is not lopped off in the middle, as you can see by doing the same exercise but this time looking at the higher white box in a. The missing segment of the line appears complete. It is as if the brain regards it as highly unlikely that two short lines could lie on either side of the blind spot simply by chance. So the cells in the visual centers fire just as they would if the bar had been complete, and you therefore see a continuous line. You can try coloring the two segments differently (for example, red and green) just for fun. Do you still complete the line?

The blind spot is surprisingly big, almost the size of nine full moons in the sky. Try closing your left eye and then look around the room with your right. With some practice, you should be able to “aim” your blind spot on any small object to make it disappear from the visual field. King Charles II of England used to aim his blind spot on a prisoner’s head to “decapitate” him visually before an actual beheading. We often enjoy doing the same thing to rivals at faculty meetings.

How sophisticated is the filling-in process? If the middle of a cross falls on the blind spot, would it get filled in? What about repetitive wallpaperlike patterns? With just a few colored felt-tip markers and sheets of paper (or a computer graphics package), you can explore the limits of filling in and the “laws” that govern the process. I will describe a few examples here, but you can invent your own.

In b, on the preceding page, your blind spot falls on the center of an X made of a long green line crossing a short red one. If you are like most people, you will see that only the longer of the two lines is completed across the blind spot. (Whereas there is no difficulty filling in the missing part of the short line if it is presented on its own.) This simple exercise demonstrates that, under some conditions, filling in is based on integrating information along the whole length of the line rather than information that is spatially adjacent.

In other circumstances the brain fills in only what is immediately around the blind spot. If you aim your left eye’s blind spot on the center of a yellow doughnut, you will see a yellow disk instead of a ring; the yellow fills in. Even more remarkable, the same thing happens in c; most people will see the yellow disk pop out conspicuously against a background wallpaper of yellow rings. Instead of extrapolating the repetitive ring patterns, your visual system performs a strictly local computation. It fills in just the homogeneous yellow immediately around the disk.

Yet this is not always true, as you will see from d. Notice the vertical illusory strip running through the parallel horizontal lines. Aim your left eye’s blind spot on the blue disk to make it vanish. Now the question is, Do you fill in the missing segments of horizontal lines running through the blind spot? Or do you fill in the vertical illusory strip? The answer depends on the spacing of the lines.

Why does filling in occur? It is unlikely that the visual system evolved this ability for the sole purpose of dealing with the blind spot (after all, the other eye usually compensates). Filling in is probably a manifestation of what we call surface interpolation, an ability that has evolved to compute representations of continuous surfaces and contours that occur in the natural world—even ones that are sometimes partly occluded (for example, a cat seen behind a picket fence looks like one whole cat, not like a cat sliced up). Physiologists (especially Leslie G. Ungerleider of the National Institute of Mental Health, Ricardo Gattass of the Federal University of Rio de Janeiro and Charles D. Gilbert of the Rockefeller University) have explored the neural mechanism of this process by monitoring the manner in which single neurons in the visual centers respond to objects partially covered by the blind spot or by opaque occluders.

If you get bored playing with your natural blind spot, try this. Toward the right side of your TV screen tape a tiny (half a centimeter in diameter) bit of white cardboard with a black spot in its center. Next, turn the TV to a channel that isn’t broadcasting so that you see just twinkling “snow.” Affix a two-centimeter-square patch of thick gray cardboard (about the same color as the TV snow) 12 centimeters or so away from the white cardboard. Stand a meter away from the TV set. If you open both eyes and stare at the small black dot steadily for 15 seconds, the large gray square will vanish completely, and the region “vacated” by it becomes filled in with the snow—you hallucinate the snow where none exists! Remarkably, if you now look away at a gray wall, you will see a square patch of dots twinkling in the region where the filling in occurred. Even a solitary red blob seen against a background of green blobs will disappear in the same manner—the green blobs fill in. The brain, it would seem, abhors a vacuum.

These experiments show how little information the brain actually takes in while you inspect the world and how much is supplied by your brain. The richness of our individual experience is largely illusory; we actually “see” very little and rely on educated guesswork to do the rest.