Lend me your imaginations for second.
Picture a busy London train station. It’s the end of another surprisingly hot day in the city. Commuters shuffle through the station in their droves. It’s rush hour.
In the middle of the station there’s a bench. And on that bench sit three people waiting for their trains. They are all strangers to each other.
One of them is a dancer
One of them is a painter
The other is a writer.
From the other side of the station, a man in a suit comes out of the tube and runs full pelt through the busy station toward the platforms to catch his train which is about to leave.
A pretty ordinary scenario. Happens every day. What perhaps isn’t so ordinary is what’s happening on the bench.
The Dancer is looking at this man, weaving and diving through the crowds of people, like a bowling ball trying to avoid the pins, thinking - how do I capture instinctive agility and reactivity like that in my movement when i’m dancing?
The Painter is thinking - how do I capture fluid movement like that in a still image, simply through the stroke of a brush?
The Writer is thinking - I wonder why he needs to get this train so badly, as if his life depends on it? There’s another in 15 minutes.
That’s three creative perspectives of one very normal situation.
So I ask you: when you’re sitting on that bench, or when you’re looking out of the window at your desk at work or walking through the streets of some new city - what lens are you seeing the world through?