IMMERSION

I See You: Entering the Image

On crossing the line between observation and expression

A windy day at the ocean. Photo by Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa on Unsplash

Look at a picture. A painting. A photograph.

Now describe it.

No. Not like that.

Like Bert and Mary Poppins jumping into the sidewalk drawings.

Immerse yourself. This is a visual prompt.

Start with what you are doing. An action. A perception. Roll that into the feeling at that exact moment.

Now look around. Smell. Touch.

Use all your senses.

Olfactory memory is one of the strongest we have. What does it smell like? Petrichor, as the first drops of rain hit the dust.

Yes. That’s it.

Ease into it. Expand. Like a meditation.

Become one with the picture. One with the story. Do not let it stop.

Imagine guided imagery. One drop of rain at the top of a mountain. It joins another. Then another. They gather, forming a shallow puddle. It overflows, becoming a thin rivulet. Gravity pulls it along. Water seeks its own level, gathering speed.

What does that mean?

Dripping from the source, it moves relentlessly toward the lowest point of its journey. The ocean.

Now the story opens. New lands appear. An infinite selection of where your narrative can go.

Forget structure.

Wander the seven seas. Emerge on the sands of an Arabian desert. Meet the people there.

Who do you see?

No. Not like that.

I do not care if they have blond hair or black hair. How do they make you feel? Are you drawn to them or repulsed? Instant chemistry, or deep-rooted fear? What does your gut tell you?

This is the response that matters. The visceral one. The knot in your stomach. The butterflies. Fight or flight. Run or hide. Stand your ground.

Ground your emotion. Feel it. Really feel it.

Tingle. Laugh. Cry. Sob.

My God, the painting has absorbed you, and you have absorbed it.

You are no longer observing. You are expressing.

This is storytelling.

Nature. Physiology. Psychology. The id.

From this comes a poem. Or a short story. Or a novel. This is where the words on the page paint the picture.

Do not jump out too soon.

Wander. Discover not only the image, but yourself.

Let it feed on your imagination as you feed on its colors. Rich primaries. Soft pastels. Or the absence of color altogether. Black and white. A kaleidoscope of psychedelics. Whatever your mind conjures. Whatever your heart feels.

Write it down.

I find it hard to extract myself from that world once I am caught inside the painting.

I see you.