Why I look out of the window

A 6-minute read.

It was a classic pandemic pivot.

I left my consulting room on March 17th 2020 and never went back. Yes, I know lockdown wasn’t until the 23rd―but I was an early adopter! 

The pivot, from therapist to artist, was later followed by the clichéd move to ‘the country’. Or in my case―a wee Scottish island.

I packed up my Glasgow studio, Jonathan put away his suit and his big calculator (he did something in finance) and in January (possibly the worst month to move to a wee Scottish island) we picked up the keys to our new home, took the 8-minute ferry ride from the mainland and just like that―life changed! 

We’ve gone from a city flat with no view and constant traffic noise to a place that’s quiet, open and free. 

And we love it! 

The house is a weird configuration of tiny rooms, an extension built around an extension, a bed platform atop a shower room, one rather grand traditional living room, and a long narrow kitchen with south-facing windows that run end to end. 

It gets so much sun―on a good day it could double as a sauna. 

But it opens onto a long sloping garden and much to our delight, rather than the back of another building we now have the sea, the horizon and acres of ever-changing sky to greet us each time we walk into the room. 

We also have a decommissioned nuclear power station in clear sight across the bay―but somehow that doesn’t matter. 

Power station or no power station―the view is quite mesmerising. We can hardly keep our eyes off it and I’m convinced it has had a positive impact on our psyche―and particularly our creativity. 

Jonathan, who not so long ago spent his time bashing numbers into Excel docs and randomly cursing inanimate objects is gradually morphing into Tom from the ‘Good Life’―the 70s TV sitcom about a cheery (some might say delusionally optimistic) couple who turned their suburban home into a self-sufficient homestead. 

He spends his time seeding veg, stripping wallpaper, painting floors and lugging wheelbarrows of soil and gravel around in an attempt to turn the house into a home―and the neglected garden into something we’re at least not ashamed of. And at best could give us a bowl of leek and potato soup 6 months from now! 

When not being Tom Good, Jonathan plays his guitar or sits at his desk in the living room window, where he quietly taps out his first novel―frequently looking up to take in the view. 

I’ve set up ‘camp studio’ in a space off a corridor. It does have the benefit of a big window but is so small you couldn't swing the proverbial canvas in it! Yet I’ve been strangely productive, and happy with the art that seems to pour out of me. 

I’ve also begun to write again. Hence this blog post!

Friends visited last weekend and despite Jonathan’s delicious bhuna, and the lively chat over dinner, we sat―heads tilted towards the window―often with a far-away gaze in our eyes. 

It was as if we were in one of those restaurants which has (for reasons I’ve never been able to fathom) a telly the size of a billboard! Even though you’ve got no interest in second-division football your eyes are uncontrollably drawn towards it. 

I started to get curious about why we’re so attracted to this view―it is lovely―but not spectacular. I wanted to know why (despite its obvious drawbacks) we love this place so much and feel so gawdamn happy to be here. 

And is there something about it that’s enhanced our creativity or is that thought just down to my (now) overactive imagination? A win/win either way!

So I did a bit of research. Aka Googling. And discovered that, according to the rather extraordinary Andrew Huberman PhD (a Stanford neuroscience professor with an armful of tattoos and a colourful back-story) there IS a link between our vision and our emotions.

Our eyes (brace yourself for this) ‘are parts of our brain that got squeezed out during early development … the only two parts of the brain that are outside the cranial vault.’ 

Nice! 

They’re linked to our central nervous system. We use them to see (obviously). But we also use them to ‘tell the rest of the brain whether to be more―or less―relaxed’. 

When we relax, our pupils dilate and our vision shifts into ‘panoramic mode’ to take in our full environment. 

On the other hand, when we’re stressed or excited, the opposite occurs. And although we’re not aware of it―our visual window shrinks and we get a ‘soda-straw view’ of the world instead. I’m not convinced that’s the scientific terminology but it’s out of the mouth of Dr Huberman so it’s good enough for me! 

If the ‘eyes being popped-out parts of the brain’ wasn’t fascinating enough, it turns out that the link between relaxation and a panoramic view works both ways―which simply means we can make ourselves more relaxed by deliberately looking into the distance. 

Relaxation is linked to the release of endorphins―the feel-good hormones. So it makes sense that when I lived in the city, the view straight into the back of a building made me feel strangely uncomfortable. And why I feel so much more at ease now that I look out over the sea. 

But whoa! Hold on. What’s this got to do with creativity and making art? 

Quite a lot as it happens. 

Here’s the thing! If you’re even just a little bit stressed you’re essentially in a dialled-down version of the fight or flight mode―and although you might think that won’t affect your ability to create―it will! 

When people are in a full-on fight or flight response they often forget how to do the most basic of things. Never mind being able to knock out a sensitive watercolour portrait―just stringing a sentence together can be a challenge when adrenaline and cortisol are pumping through our veins. 

Although to be fair, I doubt I could knock out a sensitive watercolour portrait no matter how relaxed I felt. Watercolour portraiture is just not my thing! 

Think about how often we look at something close up. I’m doing it right now as I type this and you’re doing it right now as you read it. Once I hit ‘post’ I’ll no doubt turn to my phone and spend more time than I care to admit―face to screen―as I check Instagram, Facebook, Slack, Kajabi, Whatsapp, texts and 3 email accounts! 

I loved working in my studio in Glasgow. I’d spend hours there each day but there was a point when I’d get too intense. I’d feel the free spontaneous creative part of me become overwhelmed by the part that felt the need to ‘work it out' … ’find a solution’ … ’get to the finish line’.

I knew it was time to step away and take a break. Come back later when I felt more refreshed. But knowing and doing are two different things―so I’d press on.

I can now see that the move to the seaside combined with a studio space in the house I can dip in and out of―has boosted my creativity. I’ve found more joy in my art. Yet also been more productive.

Both consequences of being more relaxed …?

Both consequences of regularly looking into the distance …?

I’d say so.

So if you become intensely focussed on your work (whatever form that takes) it certainly makes sense to step back every so often to get a change in perspective. Or just to take a break. But it also makes sense to take time to step outside and look as far into the distance as you can. 

We all have the ability to calm our nervous system and use our eyes to connect with our creative souls. And you don’t need a sea view to do that.

Because even in the most hemmed-in environment―we all have access to the sky! 

If you'd to hear more about the use of vision to trigger relaxation, and a whole ton of other fascinating stuff about neuroscience that can help enhance life and creativity here are some links to Andrew Huberman’s website, his Instagram and a mega (but hugely accessible) 2-hour long interview with him on the Tim Ferris podcast. 

Enjoy!