Why Seeing Is a Neglected Enterprise

Everyone in the dermatology office waiting room was glued to their smartphones.

Apart from the pleasant voice of the receptionist taking a few phone calls, the room was quiet. So quiet, that I could hear the sounds of air bubbles percolating within a large fish tank next to me.

When I turned to look, a fish was studying me intently.

I took a photo of the beautiful fish and stared back at him. We stared at one another for some time before my eyes grew tired and I blinked.

The fish never blinked, but then fish don’t have eyelids, so I was doomed to lose the staring contest.

I wonder what the fish was thinking?

Gratitude, perhaps, that someone finally noticed the fish tank, with its serenity and beautiful inhabitants? Or maybe frustration, that I was the only one who appreciated this watery world of floating marine creatures?

Seeing is a neglected enterprise. — Saul Leiter

Either way, the experience was pleasant for me. It left me relaxed and reflective.

It even led to this essay about the importance of seeing simple things. All because I took the time to notice.

The most uninteresting things can be very interesting

Saul Leiter was born in 1923, in an era vastly different from today’s frenetic world of technology, social media, and blinking smartphones.

Saul’s father was a rabbi and Talmudic scholar. Despite Saul’s teenage interest in painting, he followed in his father’s footsteps and attended theological college.

But the creative muse was too strong.

Saul left college in 1946 and moved to New York City to study painting. There he met the Abstract Expressionist painter Richard Pousette-Dart, who was exploring photography.

Photo: John P. Weiss

Saul met other photographers, attended exhibitions, and was particularly inspired by Henri Cartier-Bresson’s exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art in 1947.

While Saul’s colorful abstract paintings stand on their own, he is best known for his innovative photography. According to the Saul Leiter Foundation website:

By 1948 Leiter had begun to experiment in color, largely using Kodachrome 35 mm film past its sell-by date. His main subjects were street scenes and his small circle of friends. Leiter made an enormous and unique contribution to photography with a highly prolific period in New York City in the 1950s. His abstracted forms and radically innovative compositions have a painterly quality that stands out among the work of his New York School contemporaries. His earliest photographs in black-and-white and color show an extraordinary affinity for the medium.

I learned about Saul Leiter after stumbling upon one of his beautiful black and white photographs.

The photo is titled “Shoes of the Shoeshine Man.” The shoeshine man’s shoe is tattered and split open, revealing an equally worn-out sock. There are remnants of a cigarette nearby, and in the background, we see the elegant legs of a woman whose shoes the man is shining.

The photo says volumes.

About the working poor. The privileged. Hardship. The dignity of work. All this, in one black and white photo. You can view the photograph here.

I happen to believe in the beauty of simple things. I believe that the most uninteresting things can be very interesting. — Saul Leiter

The thing is, to capture photographs like this, you have to pay attention. You have to become a student of your environment.

You have to see the simple things.

The internet is a drunk librarian who won’t shut up

Modernity and technological advances have certainly improved our quality of life in many ways.

We have conquered or slowed the progression of many diseases, as evidenced by the novel recombinant technologies that led to COVID-19 vaccines.

We communicate instantaneously and access information and videos about nearly anything online. People stay in touch with loved ones via social media, meet others with similar interests, and even date online.

But today’s technology also steals our attention and degrades our focus.

I see couples in restaurants, eating while they stare at their smartphones. Folks on buses and in waiting rooms infrequently enjoy conversations. They’re busy scrolling Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, TicToc, and all the other addictive attention magnets.

It probably started long before the Internet age.

Radio brought people inside, off their front porches, and away from their books to listen to news and programs. Then television, the narcotic of the masses, came along.

Cartoon: John P. Weiss

So we’ve had entertainment distractions for a while, and when used in moderation, they provide relaxation and escape from the trials and tribulations of life.

But increasingly, we’re losing touch with the pleasures of personal interaction and quiet observation.

We want instant gratification and lost our patience for slowing down and seeing the little things. The simple bits of beauty that are all around us, like a delightful fish saying hello from inside a fish tank.

If television’s a babysitter, the Internet is a drunk librarian who won’t shut up. — Dorothy Gambrell, Cat and Girl Volume I

In many ways, modernity has destroyed our focus and creativity.

Thus an entire cottage industry of products and solutions has emerged to rescue us from our technological distractions. There are simple devices like The Light Phone to liberate our attention and help us digitally detox.

Or you can book a monastery retreat to rediscover solitude and silence among modern-day monks.

And there are authors like Cal Newport, whose book Digital Minimalism: Choosing a Focused Life in a Noisy World, can help us simplify our lives and make room for greater focus and creativity.

My greatest creative breakthroughs and ideas never happen online or watching TV. They come to me on walks, in the shower, or quiet times when I’m enjoying my creative passion.

It seems the more I turn off the noise, the more I see, feel, and create.

Artists need luck

If you’re a creative person, most likely there’s a compulsion deep within you to bring life to your artistic visions and ideas.

Despite the seemingly disparate and discursive influences that feed our creative expression, we need a way to make order of it all. A process or pathway that ties everything together.

I believe that there is something in you that strives for order, and within that order, there’s a certain kind of mishmoshy confusion, and you bring this mishmoshy confusion, if you succeed, into some kind of order. There’s an element of control, and there’s also an element that just happens — if you’re very lucky. Artists need luck. — Saul Leiter

For me, that process and pathway involve shutting off the devices and digital noise. I turn to silence. Walks. The garden. Nature. Watching the sunset.

It’s the divine moments of solitude and peace where I finally reign in my “mishmoshy confusion.” Where I finally produce my best writing, artwork, and photography.

So do yourself a favor.

Simplify your life as much as you can. Turn off the noise. Make time for solitude. Slow down. Notice the small things.

Do this, and you’ll free your spirit, increase your luck, learn to see again, and experience greater peace and fulfillment in your life.

Before you go

I’m John P. Weiss. I draw cartoons, shoot black and white photos, and write elegant essays about life. To follow along, check out my popular Saturday Letters.

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This post was previously published on Medium.com.

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Artworks by John P. Weiss