Wandering to Inspiration, pt. I
Part one in a series about the journey to build something, starting from the moment inspiration struck
It was a steamy June afternoon, and I just received another rejection email. My job search was dragging on, and with each rejection I felt more drained and deflated. So I did what I often did to cheer myself up: I went wandering. But this day called for a real pick-me-up. Not just a walk from my Upper East Side apartment over the Queensboro Bridge or though Chinatown, but one that provided an exceptional experience without the sounds of traffic or duties of dodging pedestrians. Tourists being present was non-negotiable, however — this was New York, after all…
While I describe walks like these as ‘wanders’ they often follow well-worn paths. From the Upper East Side to midtown Manhattan or lower, I typically stuck as close to the East River as possible, electing to be around fewer people and lean on my podcast or music to drown out the traffic noise. In my current neighborhood of North Hollywood in Los Angeles, I cross Vineland and meander through Toluca Woods, bearing toward the cash-splashed homes of Toluca Lake. The Metropolitan Museum of Art was no different.
After going in the side entrance (the main stairs are fun, but New Yorkers always crave an alternative to the ‘touristy way’), I make my way up to the mezzanine overlooking the Greek and Roman art. Eventually, I’ll head to the sculpture court via African art and if the light is good, I’ll snap a few photos (my Nikon F3 is often slung over my shoulder on my wanders). Beelining through the medieval sculpture hall and the massive Spanish choir screen, I end up in the large hall of the American Wing. I insist on visiting Emanuel Leutze’s imposing “Washington Crossing the Delaware,” pausing to study every inch. My eyes bounce from the man pushing the block of ice out of the way, or the man in the back struggling to hold the American flag, or General Washington anchoring himself to the boat upon bent leg. I can smell the cold air, feel the icy wind sneaking through gaps in their clothing to steal warmth. Finally, I’ll take a mental picture — capturing how it looks, how it makes me feel, and what it makes me think — warmth — before darting to the side stairs that spit me back out into the American Wing hall.
Snaking my way through less-deliberate visitors, I eventually arrive at the galleries containing European paintings and sculptures from the 19th and 20th centuries, where impressionists fill the walls. Monet’s lillies, Van Gogh’s sunflowers, Degas’ dancers. These artists saw the world through a unique lens, and when face-to-face with the thick oily brushtrokes on canvas, I don’t just see the cypresses swaying in the wind— I feel them. With just a paintbrush, impressionists can saturate your senses and ablute the soul. Facing Van Gogh’s “Wheat Field With Cypresses,” my body is in New York in 2020, but I am the south of France in the summer of 1889. My nose is full is wheat, cypress, and steamy summer air. Once I’ve had my fill, I head back the way I came, toward the grand staircase above the Great Hall.
On this visit in particular, as I approached the staircase leading down to the Great Hall, I realized that my time at The Met brought me back to life. I felt rejuvenated, recharged, and ready. Drinking in the masterworks refilled my tanks of creativity, confidence, and belief. My feelings about my career path and my outlook in general transformed. I wondered: ‘is there an app to track moods, so I can watch my emotions evolve happen over time?’ Despite there being many mood and habit tracking apps, none offered what I needed. So I got out my ever-present notebook and pen, and got to work.
I furiously scribbled ideas (‘it must have notification-based inputs,’ and ‘color-code-as-a-service HA,’ among others) from the balcony looking out over The Great Hall of The Met. Nothing about what I was doing was art, but the feeling of creative juices flowing was undeniably inspired by my surroundings.
In between dumping ideas on the page, I texted a trusted friend who is judicious and fair while being supportive yet not blindly. Beyond being a wonderful sounding board, he’s an exceptionally-gifted software engineer who has crafted superb app experiences and developed a keen eye for good ideas. He validated my idea, which gave me the blessing I needed to move forward.
Rough plan sketched, chicken-scratch notes assembled, and general idea peer-reviewed and verified as Not Dumb, I hurried to the exit. This idea needed to happen, and it needed to happen now. Even if I had no idea how to do it.
[to be continued…]
