Lewis Carroll suffered from migraines, and many speculate that Alice in Wonderland stems from his experience with the pain/absurd world of this disorder.

Carroll first noted the appearance of migraine hallucinations in an 1885 diary entry, where he wrote that he had “experienced, for the second time, that odd optical affection of seeing moving fortifications, followed by a headache.” Because this phenomenon appears to have only happened once before, and because the ‘Alice’
books were published in 1864-1865, most experts had discounted the theory that the works were based on the often bizarre ‘dreamscapes’ of migraine hallucinations.

However, Podoll and Robinson believe they have found “two pieces of evidence” that might change experts’ views.

They first cite a sketch produced by Carroll sometime between 1855-1862. The sketch is dominated by an elf-like figure “meticulously drawn except for the fact that that he is missing the right side of his face, as well as portions of his right shoulder, wrist and hand.

This odd omission appears to suggest a “rounded border defect… similar to that seen in a negative scotoma,” according to the researchers. Negative scotomas, where patients cannot see objects that fall on certain parts of the retina, can occur in migraine auras.

The second piece of evidence involves a diary entry from January 1856, when Carroll wrote, “Consulted Mr. Bowman, the oculist, about my right eye: he does not seem to think anything can be done to remedy it, but recommends me not to read long at a time….” Podoll and Robinson speculate that the author consulted Bowman to find a cause and treatment for the negative scotoma that produced the defective drawing.

Both the drawing and the diary entry suggest that Carroll experienced migraine hallucinations (probably without accompanying headache) in the years leading up to his creation of “Alice’s Adventures Underground” and “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.” The recurrence of increasingly familiar hallucinations over time
might “explain the otherwise inexplicable similarities between the experiences described in the two Alice books,” the researchers conclude.SOURCE: The Lancet 1999;353:1366

His books were heavily influenced by his Migraine experience. For example, a well-accepted interpretation of the Cheshire Cat is as a symbol of the Migraine disease itself. The Cheshire Cat has a tremendous influence on Alice’s adventures and only reveals itself to Alice. Remember: Migraine is an “invisible” disorder. “Well! I’ve often seen a cat without a grin,” thought Alice; “But a grin without a cat! It’s the most curious thing I ever saw in all my life!” Like Alice’s Cheshire-Cat who sat in a tree revealing himself only to Alice, he nonetheless had great impact on her daily travels, as Migraines do on individuals who suffer from them. As anyone knows who suffers from this disease, Migraine, as aggressively debilitating as it is, is often not readily visible, and is often called the “invisible handicap.” Other references in Carroll’s adventures include Alice being blinded by the moonlight (Migraine sufferers are extremely light-sensitive), and the many references to hallucinations and drugs: “One pill makes you smaller, one pill makes you larger, the pills mother gives you do nothing at all,” observed the Cheshire-Cat. -from migraines.org

Vincent Van Gogh, the awe-inspiring Dutch impressionist, suffered from violent Migraines, or “sick headaches,” as they were then called. Migraines at that time were perceived as mild insanity. Therefore, treatment of his Migraines was both ineffective and debilitating, and, in fact, worsened his condition. Van Gogh’s famous painting, “Starry Night,” was painted at the St. Remy Asylum in France in 1889, where he was being treated for his “Migraine personality.”

As far back as grade school, award-winning fine art photographer and MA.G.N.U.M. founder Michael John Coleman recalls the beautiful, but ominous, storm clouds looming through the vaulted classroom windows at times when he was stricken with severe head pain from his Migraines, brought on, in large part, by the changing atmospheric pressure of the stormfront itself…Coleman noted that “After having Migraines monumentally disrupt my life on two occasions, namely an ended marriage and studio-closing, I decided enough was enough. I remember severe attacks that lasted for 19 days, and the acute pain was so intense that I couldn’t sleep for four days. These are nightmarish memories, and it became very important for me to fight back. The logical weapon to use was my art, and, as an artist, I intend to use visual art skill to uncover the stealthy nature of this invisible disease.” And allied with his best friend of the past decade, they set out to do just that.

“As a lifelong Migraine sufferer, and artist, I ponder just what role living with Migraines has played with regard to my work. I have always created imagery of women and it is clear to me that the figure is presented monumentally. She is massive and I wonder at my own need to create such an image of strength. Certainly, anyone who has experienced Migraines, or loved someone who suffers from them, knows how helpless you feel when they strike. Mine come in blinding strikes of pain, in two or three beats of pain, in one spot. They feel like lightening that has gotten trapped in my head and is trying to flash and burn its way out. During these attacks, motion is impossible because movement brings the flashes on, worse. The eyes react by becoming like sandpaper and my head heads downward toward by shoulder, for warmth, comfort, support, I don’t know why. When I was a child, a little girl, my family told me I had ‘brain fever’ when these attacks would come on, yet I was never taken to a doctor. I was told I brought my brain fever on myself because I did not like to wear hats in the winter, so I have felt since childhood that I was responsible for the pains I would get in my head. As I look at my work from the perspective of living with Migraines, I see imagery that appears impervious to many things. The subjects seem to be more than capable of preventing anything from hurting, altering or dominating them. Perhaps in some respects I’ve built them, whether in paint or clay, in the way I’d like to be, too powerful to be altered by many things, blinding ‘beats’ of pain being one of them.” -Janet McKenzie, artist