Listen to the little voice
As someone with anxiety and ADHD, I’m not a big fan of the idea of “trust your gut”, because mine doesn’t necessarily indicate shit, LOL.
HOWEVER.
When I first started therapy I realized how much I experienced thoughts, desires, questions, etc, as being on the “edge” of my brain - not front enough that I consiously register them, but still with influence, and often hidden away by the dismissal of “should”.
“I want this thing but I shouldn’t get it because ______” translating to “I can’t decide if I should get this thing”.
Part of me knows I want it but is confused by the weight of a thought I’m not hearing enough to actually address. It can be positive or negative, but it’s usually pretty important to recognize, however small the context may be.
Since then I’ve worked more and more over the years on listening to what I’ve got going “peripherally”.
“What am I thinking but not saying (even to myself)?” has been extremely helpful/important for me with art, conflict, decision making, and more.
With this photo I realized that I kept feeling an itch when my brain registered elements like the birds on the water and a bunch of the white blips in the black tree section. I kept dismissing it with the idea that me avoiding messing with the original composition itself would make it better. Like, the more real/recognizable I left things, the more authentic would be, maybe? Less “fake”?
I know I’ve had that specific peripheral thought a number of times when working on art. Today I decided to just try out making the edits and compare using the “save as copy” feature.
And man, surprise surprise, taking away the little bits that bothered me made the picture look much cleaner, with the major color sections easier to take in.
In my marketing and web dev work I recommend people look at something (an ad, a post, a page section) and squint, to ask: what stands out? What distracts you?
When I look at this one and squint, I’m much happier that the sections are more distinct and the simple contrasts are stronger.
