For me the jury is still out on such a view, namely that even imagination could be limited by language. And to use language for any reason other than the obvious - to understand and to be understood - that is, to communicate or even sometimes to obfuscate, I'm not so sure that one's imagination would be at all circumscribed. And yet. . . it occurs to me just now (particularly as an introvert) that I - and I can imagine others, possibly even extraverts - usually have a running monologue going in my head, and therefore I suppose these thoughts parading past my awareness would be 'limited' by my language abilities. However, the suggestion that all imagination and creativity would be limited in this way seems to preclude the possibility of ideas, emotions, memories, images, and so on, that are beyond words - visual, tactile, aromatic, musical, culinary, etc.
Furthermore, I think we all, even the young among us have had the 'tip of the tongue' experience: you are talking along when all of a sudden you stop and try to search for the word that would come next. You may end up making a poor substitution, or defining it, then your partner supplies it for you. My point: is this not a moment of knowing something - like really feeling it in your bones - but literally not having the word for it? Even if you once did, and may soon find it again? This strikes me as an experience that supports the idea that imagination and ideas might actually precede language and words. Or that at least sometimes they do.
How about this: do you need to know what 'synesthesia' means in order to have the literal sensation of the color blue when listening to Miles Davis's music? Or Joni Mitchell's? Or Muddy Waters's? Or, in my case, knowing what synesthesia means, how come I never experience it? Short answer, it is a rare person who can be called a synesthete. (For more information about this interesting phenomenon, including a definition, go here: http://www.bu.edu/synesthesia/faq/#q4)
And, even if a language does not have a specific name for the color yellow, couldn't a person say, or imagine, 'like the color of a lemon?' If you think it unlikely that such a language might exist - or did in the past - I recall learning of just such cultures and languages in anthropology class in 'antediluvian' times (a word from Latin, meaning 'before the Biblical flood'), a word I use to further illustrate my point. That is, that there was a time (not too long ago. . .) when I would not have known what this word meant. I would have understood 'back in the day,' or 'back before you were born,' or, 'in my college days.' My point is that I could imagine the concept of 'a long time ago' without knowing such a 'ten dollar word.'
But more fundamentally, what if I didn't understand the words in the phrase A LONG TIME AGO? Perhaps I was a feral child, raised by a pack of wolves. In other words without language, or without a culture that most of us would recognize. I think the very concepts buried in such 'basic' words - that is, their meanings - would elude me. Concepts such as the passage of time, time gone by, a small amount of time versus a long amount, present vs. past, etc. The concept of time is not so obvious at all. Even some modern physicists do not allow that such a thing as time even exists. (Seems to me that any 'proof' would necessitate the assumption that a duration of time had elapsed. A circular argument summarized by the statement 'time exists because it does.' E.g: yes, last night you put your reading glasses on the bedside table, and now they are missing. Just where is this thing you call 'last night?' This thing you call yesterday? These are leaps of faith we take. Anyway, this digression is, by definition, beside the point.) Yet, the feral child thought experiment does lead me to accept the premise that language and culture could indeed be limiting factors in not only our understanding, but also our very imagination, to some extent anyway. Or in more positive phrasing, that they further empower these human capabilities. Give them voice, as it were.
This post title has a word that I only fairly recently learned: fatuous, meaning foolish or silly. I knew the words foolish and silly, so learning the word I don't think did anything to expand my imagination - even as fatuous as I may have been. (When I explained the word to my son, he said, 'yeah, like infatuation maybe?' This can happen when your kids learn Latin in school. And sure enough, both words derive from the Latin 'fatuus'.)
Some words are so refined or arcane, or are just plain foreign, that when they are used in conversation they come across as an affront or reproach, as in 'look at me, I'm so clever.' (Which I fear this very blogpost may be sounding like. . . for which I beg your pardon, I honestly do not harbor any such illusion. However, it is true that I enjoy reading, learning new words, their etymologies, languages, and so on. I even make flash cards to practice them - how nerdy is that?)
Some words I've only learned in recent years like quotidian (from the French meaning daily, or ordinary like prosaic - think of the restaurant Le Pain Quotidien); nonpareil (from Latin via French, meaning unrivaled); sui generis (Latin, meaning unique, or literally 'of its own kind'). Not words I would normally use, but when I read or hear them, I will now know what they mean. Which might allow learning, or insight, even mirth on occasion. There are of course many words more commonly used from Latin, French, and other languages: détente, avant-garde, ad hoc, status quo, Gesundheit (German, meaning health), angst (G., fear), namaste (Sanskrit), pandit (S., same as pundit). . . ad infinitum, it seems. We may not use these often - or ever - but we probably understand basically what they mean when we hear or read them in context.
But again, does such vocabulary comprehension - hence, language - enhance our imagination? As I engage in these thought experiments, going from the feral child extreme to another extreme of üb-erudition (to coin a dorky word), I am coming to allow that to some degree it might.
What says the choir? The soloist, either alto or baritone (words from Italian)?
