I’d never really thought about this in any detail but this piece has really widened my thoughts on this. I had no idea about the widows watching for loved either. This is such a great, detailed piece, thank you.
The idea of dancers focusing on a consistent point to avoid feeling dizzy and dislocated-- i found this VERY interesting. This seems like a metaphor that could be useful for a lot of things.
Decades ago, at band rehearsals, I would sing into a microphone and stare at the PA speaker my voice was coming out of. I remember at the time it was like a kind of self-hypnosis; my gaze at that speaker helped me learn how to bring out my voice, a personal sound I didn’t have before I started doing that. That’s still my sound today.
That rehearsal space was dark and filthy, filled with junk and rat droppings. But I didn’t stare at those things; I remember it as a romantic place where I found my sound.
Loved, loved, loved this Kate. I'm not hugely savvy across artwork, so you selecting those pieces to highlight in context of this post was really enlightening. I keep tabbing away to look at the Francisco de Goya painting (even more so when after clicking through to the Velázquez one). It's stunning.
Can absolutely relate to the need to pull the focus away and simply gaze. Doing so out into nature is ideal, but I think it's actually also why I quite enjoy (and can be productive) when writing/working in a cafe. The low bustle around you but also the way you can just observe without observing. I find it immensely calming and reinvigorating.
Thanks for all the information on the drishti. I learn something yet again!
(And thanks for the shoutout in the Note just now. I must be drawn naturally to gaze/be observant of it, because I don't think it's something I've consciously tried to weave into my writing 😊)
I also like to look up from my screen and stare out the window when working, whether in a public space like a coffee shop or at my home writing space (the other morning I was rewarded with a squirrel looking back at me!) Staring at the horizon always makes me think about that first moment when you spot the sea on a drive to the coast.
On a similar note, I liked Claire Dederer's interpretation of the term "Pratyahara" when reading her yoga memoir 'Poser' several years ago - have you read it? I think the term in sanskrit actually means to withdraw from the five senses, but she says her yoga teacher explains it more simply as keeping the gaze within your own practice, which I liked.
I am a stare into the distance person too. I do it when I'm talking to people, whichust be frustrating for them. My goodness what a terrific essay. I loved the deep dives into the links too. The gaze is something I think about a lot in my work, although I had not called it that. I'm writing about people who are like me, migrants, Sicilian, Australian, women, etc, and I wonder if I'm creating a true character or a composite that I have created via observing many people. I don't have an answer.
I know I'm coming to it late (trying to catch up on my Substack reading!) but I loved this piece, Kate. I, too, have to remind myself to look up / out from my screen at times throughout the work day. I'm lucky in that I have a lovely view of Puget Sound from my living room, so that's where I often look. It also reminded me of when I'd walk my kiddo to daycare in the AM and how at a hilly intersection my gaze would always drift west, where the Olympic Mountain Range would come into view. In the winter it's grey here nearly every day so oftentimes behind the clouds the range would remain. But, on rare days when it's clear and I can see them covered in snow, I get a jolt -- energy? Joy? I'm not sure what.
Your exploration of the role of gaze and vision in art and literature is fascinating. It’s amazing how artists, including writers, can convey so much through the eyes and perspectives of their characters. Keep delving into this captivating subject—it’s a window into a world of depth and meaning within art and storytelling.
Thanks for this! I use that Casper David Friedrich painting in class to discuss all sorts of things: the gaze, perspective, subjectivity, the sublime--all of which are connected. Great piece!
Loved this too!!!! I love the connections you made between the action of gazing, the art and the yoga.
I often gaze off into space. If I do it when in conversation with people they will often look around to see what I am looking at. I am never looking at anything...just gazing...sometimes thinking and sometimes just trying to grasp a thought.
I have a flowing yoga practice where I don't take my gaze off my hands...one or the other or both depending on the poses. It is incredibly centring.
This is such a fascinating and eye-opening (!) read, thank you. I love the ideas of horizon and relate to feeling calmness descend when I am able to see the point of where sky means land or sea. It is something I crave deeply when I am home (in London) as it is extremely rare to experience that in my everyday life. Though I just looked beyond my laptop in the cafe I am sitting in and confirm that this gaze has a similar effect (a great tip)!
In yoga, finding a drishti point has always been helpful in finding focus but the one I love the most is when I think of turning the drishti inwards. In contrast, I also love the idea in yoga of my body being a vessel between earth and sky and looking out towards a wider view in Tadasana or another standing pose feels expansive. Thank you for your insights and the brilliant array of artworks which I loved discovering.
I’d never really thought about this in any detail but this piece has really widened my thoughts on this. I had no idea about the widows watching for loved either. This is such a great, detailed piece, thank you.
The idea of dancers focusing on a consistent point to avoid feeling dizzy and dislocated-- i found this VERY interesting. This seems like a metaphor that could be useful for a lot of things.
Decades ago, at band rehearsals, I would sing into a microphone and stare at the PA speaker my voice was coming out of. I remember at the time it was like a kind of self-hypnosis; my gaze at that speaker helped me learn how to bring out my voice, a personal sound I didn’t have before I started doing that. That’s still my sound today.
That rehearsal space was dark and filthy, filled with junk and rat droppings. But I didn’t stare at those things; I remember it as a romantic place where I found my sound.
Loved, loved, loved this Kate. I'm not hugely savvy across artwork, so you selecting those pieces to highlight in context of this post was really enlightening. I keep tabbing away to look at the Francisco de Goya painting (even more so when after clicking through to the Velázquez one). It's stunning.
Can absolutely relate to the need to pull the focus away and simply gaze. Doing so out into nature is ideal, but I think it's actually also why I quite enjoy (and can be productive) when writing/working in a cafe. The low bustle around you but also the way you can just observe without observing. I find it immensely calming and reinvigorating.
Thanks for all the information on the drishti. I learn something yet again!
(And thanks for the shoutout in the Note just now. I must be drawn naturally to gaze/be observant of it, because I don't think it's something I've consciously tried to weave into my writing 😊)
I also like to look up from my screen and stare out the window when working, whether in a public space like a coffee shop or at my home writing space (the other morning I was rewarded with a squirrel looking back at me!) Staring at the horizon always makes me think about that first moment when you spot the sea on a drive to the coast.
On a similar note, I liked Claire Dederer's interpretation of the term "Pratyahara" when reading her yoga memoir 'Poser' several years ago - have you read it? I think the term in sanskrit actually means to withdraw from the five senses, but she says her yoga teacher explains it more simply as keeping the gaze within your own practice, which I liked.
I am a stare into the distance person too. I do it when I'm talking to people, whichust be frustrating for them. My goodness what a terrific essay. I loved the deep dives into the links too. The gaze is something I think about a lot in my work, although I had not called it that. I'm writing about people who are like me, migrants, Sicilian, Australian, women, etc, and I wonder if I'm creating a true character or a composite that I have created via observing many people. I don't have an answer.
I know I'm coming to it late (trying to catch up on my Substack reading!) but I loved this piece, Kate. I, too, have to remind myself to look up / out from my screen at times throughout the work day. I'm lucky in that I have a lovely view of Puget Sound from my living room, so that's where I often look. It also reminded me of when I'd walk my kiddo to daycare in the AM and how at a hilly intersection my gaze would always drift west, where the Olympic Mountain Range would come into view. In the winter it's grey here nearly every day so oftentimes behind the clouds the range would remain. But, on rare days when it's clear and I can see them covered in snow, I get a jolt -- energy? Joy? I'm not sure what.
Your exploration of the role of gaze and vision in art and literature is fascinating. It’s amazing how artists, including writers, can convey so much through the eyes and perspectives of their characters. Keep delving into this captivating subject—it’s a window into a world of depth and meaning within art and storytelling.
Thanks for this! I use that Casper David Friedrich painting in class to discuss all sorts of things: the gaze, perspective, subjectivity, the sublime--all of which are connected. Great piece!
Loved this too!!!! I love the connections you made between the action of gazing, the art and the yoga.
I often gaze off into space. If I do it when in conversation with people they will often look around to see what I am looking at. I am never looking at anything...just gazing...sometimes thinking and sometimes just trying to grasp a thought.
I have a flowing yoga practice where I don't take my gaze off my hands...one or the other or both depending on the poses. It is incredibly centring.
This is such a fascinating and eye-opening (!) read, thank you. I love the ideas of horizon and relate to feeling calmness descend when I am able to see the point of where sky means land or sea. It is something I crave deeply when I am home (in London) as it is extremely rare to experience that in my everyday life. Though I just looked beyond my laptop in the cafe I am sitting in and confirm that this gaze has a similar effect (a great tip)!
In yoga, finding a drishti point has always been helpful in finding focus but the one I love the most is when I think of turning the drishti inwards. In contrast, I also love the idea in yoga of my body being a vessel between earth and sky and looking out towards a wider view in Tadasana or another standing pose feels expansive. Thank you for your insights and the brilliant array of artworks which I loved discovering.