Gathering Inspiration
(AKA Me Standing Still Staring at Fish)
Inspiration doesn’t usually show up for me in a big, dramatic moment.
It sneaks in quietly, usually while I’m standing somewhere longer than necessary, staring at something beautiful and pretending I’m being “very intentional.”
These photos were taken on a recent visit to Mote Marine Laboratory. What started as a simple outing quickly turned into one of those moments where I realized I wasn’t really looking anymore, I was observing. And once that switch flips, there’s no going back.
I found myself lingering. Watching. Studying the way marine life moves, how colors shift depending on the light, how patterns repeat without ever feeling stiff or overworked, how softness and strength somehow coexist without trying too hard. (Honestly, marine life has better design instincts than most of us.)
What struck me most wasn’t just the beauty, though yes, absolutely that, but how effortlessly everything worked. No forcing. No overthinking. Just design doing what design does best. Nature doesn’t ask if the palette is on trend. It just is.
This is often how ideas begin forming in my studio too. Not as fully baked plans, but as mental notes I don’t even realize I’m collecting. A color combination that won’t leave me alone. A pattern that starts as a sketch because it reminded me of how something drifted instead of how it looked. A palette influenced more by filtered aquarium light than anything in my art supplies drawer.
I’m learning (slowly) to trust these moments, the ones that look unproductive on the surface. The standing-still moments. The observing moments. The “I swear I’m working” moments. They matter just as much as the time spent actually making.
These trips, these pauses, always find their way back into the studio later, sometimes obviously, sometimes in ways only I recognize. But they’re always there, quietly shaping what comes next.
Art, for me, starts long before the paint hits the paper.
It starts with noticing.
With letting myself linger.
With giving myself permission to gather.
Also, with staring at fish longer than socially acceptable.
— Heidi