In my last article, “The Peripersonal Space – Connecting Feldenkrais and Polyvagal Theory,” I described how closely the peripersonal space – that is, the immediate space around our body – is linked to our experience of safety, self-awareness, and the capacity for relationships. The Feldenkrais Method and Polyvagal Theory demonstrate, in different ways, that this space is not a static radius, but rather a dynamic field between self and world: a space in which the need for protection and the capacity for connection, distance and closeness, regulation and resonance are interrelated.
Corona and the peripersonal space
Since the COVID-19 pandemic, at the very latest, peripersonal space has taken on a new social dimension. What once signified closeness suddenly became a threat – and what was considered an appropriate distance shifted collectively. Peripersonal space was not only redefined but also emotionally charged: with uncertainty, mistrust, and longing. How deeply these changes are inscribed in our bodies is still evident today – in more cautious behavior, in subtle fear of touch, or in an increased need for withdrawal.
And this brings us full circle to another, more fundamental question: How does “we” actually come into being? We don’t simply arise from shared opinions or goals, but from lived connection – from embodied co-regulation, from subtle nuances within our shared space. But when this space narrows, is threatened, or even lost, then the “we” itself is thrown into precarious limbo.
In this article, I would like to further explore how our relationship to closeness, distance, and togetherness has changed – and how we might find ways to inhabit our spaces together again.
Space is created through control – not through possession.
D’Angelo et al. (2018) impressively demonstrate that peripersonal space is an active, dynamic construct. In their study, they investigated how our body and spatial perception changes when we take control of a virtual hand—without actually “feeling” it. Participants controlled a 3D hand on a screen using a tracking system. Sometimes the virtual hand moved synchronously with the real movement (i.e., “as I want”), and sometimes with a delay (i.e., “offset”). Afterward, the researchers measured how the participants perceived their own forearm and how far they believed they could grasp with their hand.
When the virtual hand moved synchronously, both the perception of arm length and the reach of the grasp changed. Interestingly, what was crucial was not the feeling that this hand “belongs to me” (body ownership), but rather the feeling of control over the movement—the so-called sense of agency. Our body image and our peripersonal space thus adapt not only to what we feel, but also to what we control. The body begins where we can intervene. Proximity becomes a function of agency.
What does this mean for the post-Corona era? Perhaps it is not the passive feeling of security that enables closeness, but the active possibility of acting in relation to others.
One body, many senses – one space
Holmes and Spence (2004) already demonstrated in their widely cited review that peripersonal space is not a product of a single sense. Rather, it is a multisensory representation arising from an interplay of sight, touch, hearing, and feeling – and is organized in body-centered coordinate systems. In the ventral premotor cortex and parietal areas, for example, specialized nerve cells respond to stimuli moving towards a body part – a mechanism that likely serves an evolutionary purpose of protection against threat.
But this representation is not rigid. It is malleable – through experience, context, and action. When we use a tool, the peripersonal space expands to the tip of the tool. When we see an arm in a mirror or a rubber hand is stroked, our physical self-perception shifts. Proximity, therefore, is not a fixed radius around our body, but an experiential space that reorganizes itself depending on our sensory state and expected course of action.
In pandemic times, when our physical self-perception was partly mediated visually and partly controlled by avoidance, precisely such malleable processes may have become permanently inscribed. Proximity as a multisensory space for negotiation is malleable – and therefore also (re)unlearnable or newly learned.
My foot influences my hand – from a multisensory perspective
A particularly intriguing study comes from Schicke, Bauer, and Röder (2009). They investigated whether peripersonal space exists not only around the hands but also around the feet – and whether these spatial zones interact with each other. In two experiments, they measured so-called crossmodal congruency effects, that is, effects in which visual stimuli influence tactile perception in other parts of the body.
The first experiment revealed that distinct peripersonal spaces exist around both the hands and the feet. Visual stimuli near the foot influenced tactile processing just as strongly as those near the hand. The second experiment proved even more interesting: when the participant’s own foot was visible (and not, for example, a fake foot), tactile sensitivity in the hand on the same side increased—even though that hand wasn’t directly involved. The peripersonal space is therefore not only local but also interconnected along specific sides—like a body schema with multiple departments communicating with each other. What can we learn from this? Proximity is not only relational between people but also within our own bodies. The body “knows” where its parts are—and sometimes one body part even knows what another is feeling.
Proximity in the imagination is sufficient.
Finally, Fossataro et al. (2018) tell perhaps the most astonishing story: A patient with severe proprioceptive impairment—he couldn’t feel his arm position—was asked to bring his arm in front of his face. During this, the so-called hand-blink reflex was measured: an involuntary blink reflex that reacts to perceived threats in the peripersonal space. Now for the surprising finding: The reflex didn’t occur when the hand was actually close, but rather when the patient thought it was. And it didn’t occur when the hand was close, but the patient believed it was far away.
In other words, the body reacted to the motor intention, not the actual position. Even without sensory feedback, the brain could trigger a protective response based on what it “wanted to do.” In a collective trauma characterized by distance, such as the pandemic, this might mean that we defend ourselves not only against physical proximity but also against the idea of proximity. Conversely, the intention to connect is enough to experience closeness, regardless of whether it is physically real.
One room, many functions
These observations are meaningfully expanded upon by the theoretical work of de Vignemont and Iannetti (2015). The authors raise the question of whether there is a single peripersonal space at all, or whether there are functionally distinct spaces, each serving specialized tasks. They differentiate between an action-oriented peripersonal space (e.g., for grasping) and a protection-oriented peripersonal space (e.g., for warding off threats). These two forms react differently to fear, tools, or movement intentions. This makes it clear that peripersonal space is not a unified construct, but rather a whole ensemble of embodied representations that can change depending on the objective and context.
Conclusion: The peripersonal space as a space for feeling and action
The studies presented here demonstrate that peripersonal space is not a biological minimum distance, but rather a dynamic, embodied system of relationships. It emerges from the interplay of action, sensory impression, and intention. It is capable of protection and action, context-dependent, and plastic. Proximity is not only experienced but also created—through control, multisensory coherence, interaction of body parts, and even imagination. Especially in a time when proximity has been coded as a threat, it is helpful to be aware of this plasticity. If proximity can be learned, then connection can also be restored. Peripersonal space is not lost—it is simply waiting to be inhabited anew.
Literature:
- D’Angelo, M., di Pellegrino, G., Seriani, S., Gallina, P., & Frassinetti, F. (2018). The sense of agency shapes body schema and peripersonal space. Scientific reports, 8(1), 13847. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-018-32238-z
- Fossataro, C., Bruno, V., Gindri, P., & Garbarini, F. (2018). Defending the Body Without Sensing the Body Position: Physiological Evidence in a Brain-Damaged Patient With a Proprioceptive Deficit. Frontiers in psychology, 9, 2458. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2018.02458
- Holmes, N. P., & Spence, C. (2004). The body schema and the multisensory representation(s) of peripersonal space. Cognitive processing, 5(2), 94–105. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10339-004-0013-3
- Schicke, T., Bauer, F., & Röder, B. (2009). Interactions of different body parts in peripersonal space: how vision of the foot influences tactile perception at the hand. Experimental brain research, 192(4), 703–715. https://doi.org/10.1007/s00221-008-1587-2
- de Vignemont, F., & Iannetti, G.D. (2015). How many peripersonal spaces? Neuropsychologia, 70, 327–334. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.neuropsychologia.2014.11.018
Feature Photo by Johannes Blenke on Unsplash