Yesterday I wrote a text for my ‘Do You Need a Friend’ project and I have the feeling that it is important to share it here as well, since it really explores the core of my thinking, being and working.

I am working with a shift of seeing. A way to see the creative work as something that goes beyond creating and making.

Because at the essence, we are looking at the relationship we have with the world around us, at this constant shifting between what we perceive as an object and what we allow to become a subject, something we feel with, something we recognize.

Some things are very clearly objects to us, but also some living beings are, even if we don’t like to admit that, because it sounds harsher than it feels in everyday life.

You might think that this is not true, but I promise you, it is, and it is simply how our brains work, because we cannot possibly have an emotional relationship with everything around us.

If we did, we wouldn’t be able to move through the world the way we do, we wouldn’t be able to pass people, animals, things, without constantly stopping, without constantly feeling, without being overwhelmed.

If people had an emotional bond with the animal on their plate, they probably wouldn’t eat it.

Neurodivergent brains tend to work a little differently in that regard, because the filtering is not as strict, which can be a curse, but also a very useful quality.

I know that I wouldn’t be able to do the work that I do if I could shield myself from feeling as much as I do for creatures, but also for inanimate objects.

I can look at a chair in my kitchen and imagine what it would tell me, about its life, about what it has seen, about how it experiences being there, and from that moment on, it is not just a chair anymore.

I remember a Christmas when I was around six years old, when we had to watch a film in school about a Christmas tree and its whole journey, and from what I remember, it was told from the tree’s perspective, how it was taken from the forest, away from where it belonged, then the hope and joy when it was decorated by its new family, and finally the sadness and loneliness when it was thrown out onto the street after the holidays.

I remember very clearly how that made me feel (bad) and I still feel bad for all the trees lying on the streets after Christmas.

small observation.

I want you to find something that you would never look at twice on a normal day, and then sit with it for a moment and think about where it came from, what it is made of, how it was made, and how it ended up where it is now.

Did it see a lot of people before it came to you, did it travel, was it handled, ignored, used, forgotten?

And how does it feel about you, about its life, about its current state?

Then take ten minutes and write it down.

This time you are not becoming the object, this time you are speaking for it.

My example is a baby pigeon, which is something that most people don’t look at twice, or actively avoid, or even dislike.

I see people almost stepping on them without noticing, not thinking about the fact that this is also someone, a creature that might be hungry, or scared, or sick, or simply trying to exist in a place that is not made for it.

When I found this baby pigeon in the streets of Vienna, it had only one eye left, it was covered in dirt, and many people had already walked past it.

I took it with me and brought it to an animal shelter that takes care of pigeons, even the ones that will not be able to return to the city, which are, in my opinion, the luckier ones.

Sitting down to write about what it might have seen and experienced was difficult, but it also helps me with my work, because it trains me to see life in more places, and to recognize that there is meaning in every life, and even in objects.

You can, of course, choose something less emotional.

A chair will do, an ant in your garden, a fly in your room, a plush toy that keeps you company. Or, if you are very brave, try it with the food on your plate.

Just let it be something that would normally remain an object to you, and for a moment, let it become someone.