Learning to See

When you look around at the world, what do you see?

The sidewalk. The trees. The passing cars.

Or maybe you don't really look around at all. Maybe your eyes are trained toward the ground, or toward your phone, while your mind is already somewhere else—thinking about what happened earlier, or what is coming next in your day.

But have you ever stopped and looked up?

Halted your body for a moment. Cast your eyes around. Taken a deep breath and really seen what is happening around you?

Life moves so quickly. It amazes me how many of us rush from one thing to the next without ever really seeing the world we're moving through.

But seeing is something you can teach yourself to do.

You can slow down. You can observe. You can begin to notice the colors, shapes, textures, and little details that are hiding in plain sight. And once you start looking, you might be surprised by how much magic the world has to offer.

As a young artist, I was fascinated with Leonardo da Vinci, as I suspect most people are. As a pioneer in so many different fields, da Vinci needs little introduction. But it was his thoughts on observation and color that truly opened my eyes and helped me see the world in a much different way.

Da Vinci wrote:

“And do not after the manner of some painters who when tired by imaginative work, lay aside their task and take exercise by walking, in order to find relaxation, keeping, however, such weariness of mind as prevents them either seeing or being conscious of different objects…”

Source: Discovering Da Vinci

His point isn't simply, “Pay attention or you'll run into something.”

It is about observation.

I remember taking my dog for an evening walk in the late summer air. The sky was painted with yellows, oranges, and reds, casting the surrounding buildings in a beautiful golden glow. If I could paint the world as nostalgia, that is what it would look like.

I remember stopping to really take it in. The colors were so beautiful, and for a moment I wasn't thinking about where I needed to go or what I needed to do next. I was simply looking.

I would have missed that moment if I had been walking with my head in my phone.

You can walk through the world and technically see everything around you without truly seeing any of it. You can pass a hundred trees without noticing a single leaf. You can watch the sky without ever really looking at a cloud.

And as an artist, learning to see is everything.

Take a walk and look at the clouds.

What are they actually made of?

They may look fluffy and white at first, but look closer. There might be purples and blues hiding in the shadows. On a special evening, you might find pinks, oranges, reds, and deep violets woven through them. Look at their edges. Some are thick and heavy, while others are wispy and almost transparent.

Now look at the trees.

A tree isn't simply green and brown.

Look at the leaves. Greens, yes—but perhaps blues, yellows, and even little hints of red. Look at the trunk. Brown, but what kind of brown? Is there gray? Gold? Maybe even orange where the sunlight touches it.

The more you look, the more you see.

And the more you see, the more you realize that the world is not as simple as it first appears.

I challenge you to go outside today and really look.

Put your phone away for a few minutes. Lift your eyes from the ground. Stop thinking about where you're going next.

Look at the sky.

Look at the trees.

Look at the sidewalk beneath your feet.

Notice the colors.

Notice the shadows.

Notice the things you normally walk right past.

Because the world is full of color and beauty, but you have to slow down long enough to see it.

Things aren't always as they seem. Sometimes, you just have to look a little closer.