Fuel for the fire: the art of observation.

(Winter, 2023) It’s a cold winter this year, fingers are frozen and your breath vaporises, resembling the gentle puff of a dragon. Our fireplace keeps us warm, tiny embers that grow into roaring flames, heating our toes and comforting our soul. It’s in these quiet, almost mundane times that we can observe best.

Sometimes, I view my physical body as a machine or a system, in which there are sensors that relay critical information about the world around me to the central processing unit. Our feelings of sight, sound, touch, smell, taste, even humidity, temperature and the general “vibe” of the room are important to us because there are the primary sources of truth for our mind to use in making decisions. That is why, as artists (and creative people in general) it is imperative that we observe. Utilise the sensors and really hone in on these individual sensations. How is the look and smell of a glowing fireplace on a cold winter morning, what is the texture of the clothes we wear and how does the bird sound when it greets the world in a new day? To capture the essence of these sensations is what draws the audience in, giving meaning to our creations, as the audience, through your art is able to feel and observe as you once did.

But where to begin in this rapidly digitising age?

1. First and foremost is to look away from the screen. Technology is not inherently bad, but the smartphone or computer screen has a way of drawing us in with cat videos and niche topical memes that we tend to ignore everything else around us. Think about using your phone while driving, it’s a distraction that becomes unsafe because your eyes and concentration that should ideally be focused on the road is now elsewhere. Try to ditch the screen for a few minutes each day and notice something you hadn’t noticed before.
2. Deliberately focus on a single sense at a time. Action heroes like Zattoichi and Daredevil are shown to have supernatural levels of sensory perception because they have been limited in a sense and must enhance the others. When we observe, we too can do this to improve our senses. Close your eyes when you touch the clothes at the store or smell your breakfast. Wear earmuffs and feel your blood pumping through your body.
3. (Summer 2026) Embrace the mundane and zoom into the tiny details. Try to notice something in your usual environment that may have been there the whole time, but never in the forefront of your attention. Maybe a chipped mug or some peeling paint from the walls. Imagine you have a camera lens set only to zoom, what would you like to see at a microscopic level?
4. Finally, distil the unique sensation into your creative medium. How can you translate your memory or moment into a painting, song or fabric? This is most effective when done in situ. The often crude sketches that were done at a location conjure up the exact sounds and smells of that scene. Catch the way your senses are flooded with information, and where does that information embed itself in your creative practice? It is the outcome of this sensory concoction that pulls the audience in and forms a true, meaningful connection with the art.

When the start of this post was written, AI was not commonplace. But now, in this wasteland of numbness and cold technological detachment, please, I implore you to reach out to the senses that have been dulled and reclaim again.