My second pre-experience post for Global Scholars.
On my phone, I keep a photo album of over 1,000 photos of my favorite paintings and sink drains. In “Art Gallery,” I compile pictures of anything I find visually inspiring. Often, it’s a painting that I’ve seen in a museum or sometimes street art. Just as often, it’s little and silly things like the color of an oxidized sink drain, the way wilted rose petals fell into a dirty coffee cup in my sink, or sunlight falling on my friend’s rings as she sleeps in the car. The original purpose of this album was to build up a catalogue of inspiration for my own art projects, but it has trained me in something else entirely. Instead of building up a collection of ready-to-go compositions, I’ve built the skill of finding art in my everyday life.
Most of the photos I take will never amount to a painting, a drawing, or even a sketch. Instead, kitchen tiles sit next to cat eyes and Kandinsky and Cassatt, all forever suspended as ideas that will never see paper. Taking over fifteen years of traditional art lessons has taught me a thing or two about composition, color theory, and visual weight. Using those skills, I was able to find interesting things I encountered daily with the hope of transforming them into a piece of artwork. My collection of photos grows, but my collection of art I have made from said photos has not. Though it may seem futile to the average person to take all of these photos and for nothing to amount from them, I have found them a wonderful exercise in slowing down to notice the details I would have missed.
With an attuned eye for the artistic, I am spending more time as an observer. I delve into the shades of green as I walk under stippled light through trees, note rusty terracotta when I walk past powdered brick, find perfect symmetry in my parking garage as it sits empty of cars for the first time in May heat. In my quest for these minute details, more of my time has been spent in the present. On my walks to class across campus, I set down my phone and cast my eyes upward to take in everything around me. What began as a way to find inspiration is now my ritual to ground myself, and it’s helped me become far more in touch with myself and my surroundings in the process.
By allowing myself the time to be with my thoughts and what I see, I see the details I might have missed within myself and those around me. Since I am more focused on making sure the little things no longer go unnoticed, I have a better understanding of my own emotions and am far more aware of why I am feeling what I’m feeling. I spend more time focusing on being an observer and listener, so I find that I am understanding other people better as well. Nuances are now a central focal point of mine, and I use that to be a more empathetic friend and community member. What began as a small exercise to practice art is now how I interact with the world–I follow the philosophy that art and intention are everywhere if one only looks for them.
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