The power of everyday creativity | Emily Eisenhart | TEDxUTAustin
URL: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yhXxi6WYVUo Video ID: yhXxi6WYVUo ============================================================ Remember childhood? Back then, the world was full of creative possibilities. Sticks became swords, clouds turned into castles, and every blank page invited an adventure. Creativity is fundamental to who we are. Yet somewhere along the way, as we get older, we stop seeing the world with the same sense of wonder. But I know we can get it back. And it starts with something as simple as observation. I'm an abstract artist. My work invites people to pause, to engage, and to rediscover their own creativity. But long before I called myself an artist, I grew up in a home that valued curiosity. When I was a kid, I didn't just draw on paper. I painted faces on my knees and collected beach artifacts to make intricate sculptures. The world around me was my canvas. And I saw stories and potential everywhere. My mother was an artist and my father an anthropologist. They taught us how to look, I mean really look at the world around us. My mom instilled in me an exuberant love of colors and textures. Whether it was the newest flower in her garden or the details of her intricate mosaics, even the vivid sunsets in the sky. Have you ever seen the green in the sunset? You will now. My dad instilled in me a deep appreciation for the outdoors. In fact, on the day I was born, he planted a tree for me with the hope that I would grow up alongside this tree, learn from it, and develop an affinity for planet Earth. And that I did. Our family was always exploring. On our many adventures in nature, my dad would point out how the tides would go in and out, whether the moon was waxing or waning, the ways in which leaves signaled changes in seasons, how even a simple stone might actually be an ancient artifact. He showed me that the world was full of rhythms and patterns hidden only to those who weren't paying attention. Did you know that the human eye can perceive more shades of green than any other color? This ability likely developed as an evolutionary advantage for our ancestors as they were searching for sources for food. Nature became my first and my greatest teacher and my most enthralling source of inspiration. Science backs this up. In their book, Your Brain on Art, Susan Maximan and Ivy Ross describe nature as the most enriching environment and the most aesthetic of places because it is our original home. Nature is a place that stimulates our creativity, our imagination, and our minds. Before humans built cities, we made art. We painted on cave walls. We decorated pottery. And we crafted tools into forms that we saw in our natural environment. In fact, art predates written language by tens of thousands of years. It has always been our way of making sense of the world. For me, the power of everyday creativity comes from the details. The ways in which the ocean waves shape the sand. The intricate patterns of a vibrantly green leaf. The portals created in driftwood. Even a seemingly gray rocky beach is bursting with color if you take the time to look. But inspiration isn't limited to nature. Cities are full of creative inspiration. You just have to learn to notice it. I've trained myself to look up and see geometries between buildings. How looking down reveals light play on closed curtains. How even the movement of people creates a rhythm of its own. There my camera roll is proof I have over 300,000 photos and videos. And many of them aren't of grand landscapes or famous landmarks. They're actually just of small tiny moments like delighting in discovering squiggles on a scratch dumpster or on a bike ride. seeing very artful, whimsical road repair. I think they had fun doing this. Shadows have captured my attention these last few years. From witnessing myself in the sunrise or the sunset or the differing winter and summer light to even overhead wires that look like ice cream cones. Shadows are fascinating because they are created in collaboration with the force much bigger and more powerful than ourselves, the sun. Yet, they are fickle and fleeting. They're ephemeral. They're there one second and they're gone the next. Observing them has become a creative meditation and a way for me to tell time. Objects, even my very own body, become a time stamp or a a sun dial of sorts. The photo showing the exact position of the sun at that very moment. I've started creating sculptures that play with this interactive, you know, light and shadow work. I routinely post on Instagram what I'm noticing and inspired by because there's everything around me is inspiring. And what's fascinating is that this very simple act of sharing has inspired people to make up their own moments and send them to me. Including really interesting patterns and shadows on a cactus in Big Ben National Park or rippling wiggling shadows on fresh snow in Denver to even a very colorful rendition of a hawk by my four-year-old friend Allay on a nature walk here in town. Creativity is contagious. When we take the time to notice the world differently, we invite others to do the same. My journey to becoming an artist absolutely was not linear, very winding, in fact. I studied cultural anthropology, always fascinated by how people interact with their environments. I worked in design research, learning how observation leads to innovation. My years at IDO, the world's leading design firm, further showed me how deeply creativity is tied to curiosity. And then in one of those wiggles, I realized that art was my way of engaging with the world. The intersection of nature, the urban environment, and play is my sandbox. And if you're keen, you'll notice that art is not a word in this ven diagram. And that's because I see the whole world, I mean everything, with an artist's eye. I love public art. It invites participation and reflection. It gives everyone who happens upon it a chance to connect, to create together, to see new things. So much of my work is listening to others and telling stories. There's a wonderful community here in East Austin called Community First Village, which provides affordable, permanent housing and a supportive community to people coming out of chronic homelessness. I was invited to create mural artwork for their large streetscape and parking lot and their community pavilion. But to kick off the project, I wasn't going to do this alone. I invited village neighbors to a collaborative session where I prompted them to create collages that spoke to their life experiences, what they love about living in the village, and their future aspirations. Residents shared what they found special about their home, all the people that they had met, all the relationships they developed, and a lot of them talked about the surrounding nature that they adored. Their stories were brimming, full of hope, courage, and resilience. And the room was full of all types. Some who definitely identified as artists and others who had not considered themselves creative until they walked through those doors that day. And I promise you that each person created a vibrantly colorful layered mosaic piece of collage. Through our work together, they saw their voices woven into a captivating tapestry reflective of all. And in downtown Austin, not that far away, I created a mural as a tribute to music at Symphony Square and vibrant Waller Creek. The motifs are inspired by local flora and fauna and the historic music district that surrounds that area. The color palette which is quite vibrant and varied was actually inspired by hues found in nature within a half mile radius of that site. Truly every color. Nature and its stories and lessons show up in nearly all of my work. People and the way they interact with my work also inspire me deeply. On a recent large sport court mural I painted up in Flugerville, I witnessed kids inventing new games on the patterns I designed, a hopscotch route on the dotted lines. They were hopping back and forth. They made it their own. Or at my solo show last year, I overheard so many conversations about this painting, which is abstract and open to interpretation. What do you see? Some see an ocean, others a cityscape, another a dream. The power of art is not just about seeing. It's about sharing what we see. And when I say see, I don't just mean with your eyes. There are so many senses through which to observe and experience the world around us. Hearing, touching, tasting, smelling, feeling, imagining, perceiving. Here's the thing. The ability to see isn't something we need to learn. It's something we need to remember and to cultivate. Picasso once said, "Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up." Children are natural observers. They don't just see the world. They interact with it. They play with it. They get lost in its details. One of my favorite ways to reconnect with that sense of wonder is by spending time with kids. That's my three-year-old niece, Ida. On rainy day walks, she makes sure to jump in every single puddle, enjoying the sound it makes and the rippling reflections. It's honestly adorable. It was making a loud noise. And she, like me, loves searching for beach treasures. >> Hey, look at the snail, everybody. >> Hey, look at the snail. >> Hey, look at the snail. very adamant. She wasn't just excited about the snail. She was excited about discovering it and sharing it with all of us. And that's the magic we lose as adults. But it's still there. You just have to look a little bit closer. When I was a child, my father instilled that sense of wonder in me. And as I grew older, his influence on my creativity deepened in ways I never expected. When he was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease eight years ago, our walks that were once filled with bird calls and treasure hunts became slower and quieter. Now, he can no longer walk or talk at all. But even now, observation remains our source of connection. I collect flowers on the walks I take him on in his wheelchair. He enjoys the vibrant colors of our neighbors roses and the vivid scent of fresh lavender. That's his favorite. Those flower walks were the inspiration for an interactive art piece that people could move, creating their own art. I learned the most about my art and how other people interact with it, inspired and curious. You can see them playing here. This piece now hangs in my dad's room. It can be rearranged into infinite combinations, creating new patterns and possibilities and joy for every visitor that sees him. Although my dad no longer gets outside the way he used to, his love of observation continues to shape my work. It reminds me that even in the most challenging moments, creativity and connection can thrive. So, here's my challenge to you. Find one small way to be creative today. It doesn't have to be a masterpiece. It doesn't even have to be art. Take a different route home. Doodle in the margins of your notebook. Notice the way light moves through your window. By awakening our curiosity, we become more observant and thoughtful stewards of our planet, the people, plants, and animals around us. Creativity isn't something we outgrow. We just lose touch with it. But it's always there waiting for us to look up, to look closer, to give it permission to come out and play. And if you do, you just might see the world differently. And that is when the magic begins. Thank you. [Music] [Applause]