The Art of a Sneeze

It took me a while to notice that something had changed. But if I had to trace it back, I’d say that it started six years ago. This was during another life transition. I had just moved to Germany, unemployed and untethered. I hardly spoke the language and had very few connections, and I was also living alone for the first time in my life. Solitude had always been a friend but having my own place gave me a kind of freedom that I never expected. I danced with the curtains open. I rearranged my apartment on a whim. I saged the house and made popcorn at 3am without someone saying, what’s that smell? Living alone was a first step to becoming more myself, and as the years went by, I noticed it changed a lot about me – even down to the way that I sneezed. 

A sneeze is a very personal thing. It’s an embodiment of our individuality. Like an opera full of tenors, altos, and sopranos, the world is full of people who sneeze in a range of styles. There are Squeaky Sneezers and Muffled Sneezers. Sneezers that let out a trill of a sigh when their work is done. There are worrywart types who expel two, three, four sneezes in a row, like they’re unloading their troubles all at once. There are Wet Sneezers, the equivalent of people who chew with their mouths open, and my personal least favorite — the Silent Sneezers who fight against the opportunity to express themselves and push their sneezes down. I shudder to think about where all that energetic tension gets buried and what will happen when it inevitably erupts. 

But I get it. Sneezing is a pretty vulnerable thing, and it’s not so easy for everyone to let loose. In a way, how you sneeze says a lot about how you live your life, how comfortable you are with letting yourself unravel, even for a second. When a sneeze hits, you lose control of your expression, of your senses. For a second, you go blind. Sound is muffled. You can’t take a breath of air and forget about tasting or touching anything, please. A sneeze is a total surrender, one of the purest forms of letting go. It comes on with hardly a warning, barreling through you like a force. Then there’s a release, a clearing so overpowering that it’s like a spirit moved through the body.  

In many cultures, sneezes are considered spiritual. In India, sneezing before leaving the house is bad luck. Sneezing in Japan is a sign that someone is gossiping about you. One sneeze, and good things are being said. Multiple sneezes mean someone’s talking shit. In Ancient Greece, sneezes were good omens. There’s even one passage in Homer’s Odyssey where Telemachus sneezes, foretelling his father’s return.

The sound of a sneeze is also shaped by culture. Every language has their own version of what a sneeze sounds like, kind of like the way every dubbed version of Harry Potter has Voldemort evil-laughing in different languages with slightly different intonations. 

Here’s how sneezes sound around the world 

Hatschi! in Germany 

Hắt xì in Vietnam 

Apsik! in Poland 

Atschoum! in France 

Haakoo! in Somalia 

Hatsjoe! in Indonesia 

Achoo! in English

And so on…

But just saying the sound “Achoo!” or “Hatchi!” doesn’t encompass the full bravado of a sneeze. It’s not so easy to capture a sneeze. They’re wild, grotesque, unexpected, embarrassing – all things that make for great artwork – but take a look through the archives and you’ll notice a gap in artistic depictions of this human experience. 

A few artists have managed to capture the sneeze. Banksy’s Aachoo!! (2020) features an elderly woman, a pensioner, whose sneeze sends her dentures and handbag flying, a commentary of the fragile state of the world during the pandemic.

In Dana Schutz’s oil painting, Sneeze (2002), a woman is caught mid-achoo, frozen in an unflattering and uncontrolled state as blue-green guck shoots through her nose.

Dana Schutz, Sneeze (2002) via Contemporary Institute Boston

And then there’s Andy Warhol’s Sneeze (1978), a self-portrait that seems to poke fun at the whole idea of artistic control. Who does an artist think he is when he tries to wrangle something as involuntary and ephemeral (and spiritual) as a sneeze?

Andy Warhol, Sneeze (1978) via C/O Berlin

My favorite depiction of a sneeze is Kate Beckinsale’s performance on Jimmy Fallon. It’s rare to see a believable sneeze in movies or TV, but I think she really pulls it off. 

A real sneeze can’t be rehearsed but that doesn’t mean it lacks performance, something I learned through years of living alone. As I got to know myself better in solitude, I changed. I let myself be heard more, I showed my weaknesses more freely. And weirdly, the way I sneezed became a sort of symbol of this shift. 

I went from a Muffled Sneezer to a Roaring Sneezer, as I learned to ride out transitions and to find peace even in chaos. I still reign it in a little bit when I’m around people I don’t know that well, but when I get the chance to sneeze, I want the full catharsis and endorphin release. I go so big that once my neighbors called out, “Gesundheit!” from the hallway, on the other side of my closed front door.

And that’s another thing about sneezes, they are — and don’t get too grossed out by this – but they’re an invitation to connect. They invite a reply of salud or bless you — a well-wishing and a shared human moment. I really do believe that sneezing, when done appropriately, can inspire compassion. Even dogs sneeze as a way to show deference while rough-housing, as if to say, all good here, you can trust me, I’m sneezing. 

However you sneeze is up to you, but be sure your performance adheres to the golden rules: sneeze into the crook of your elbow and please wash your hands, ASAP. Proper form also extends beyond the elbow. According to medical professionals, “When you feel a sneeze coming on, tighten your abdominal muscles as hard as you can…and also bend your knees. This will help brace your spine against the force.” 

So practice safe sneezing. Make it your very own. Life is full of small, messy moments where we lose control, but every sneeze is a miniature exercise in letting go and embracing chaos. Just don’t forget to bend your knees.