In the 1990s getting time on Hubble Space Telescope was rare.
And so astronomers used it the obvious ways.
They pointed it at something already interesting or studied what they already knew was out there.
But in 1995, astronomers flipped that on its head…
They pointed the Hubble Telescope at a tiny patch of sky that looked completely empty.
Trusting that something might be there.
Waiting patiently…
And ten days later, when they finally processed the image, what they found was reality-breaking.
That patch of sky (about the size of a grain of sand held at arm’s length) contained thousands of galaxies.
This discovery expanded our sense of existence overnight.
All because they were willing to look at “nothing” longer than everyone else.
To me, this is the artist’s gaze.
Most people glance.
The artist lingers.
Most people see emptiness.
The artist senses depth waiting to be revealed.
Attention is not passive.
It’s an act of devotion.
It’s how the invisible becomes visible.
This is why we fall in love with characters in stories.
A writer doesn’t just tell you who someone is.
They show you the backstory.
The contradictions.
The wounds.
The desires.
The parts that don’t make sense yet somehow feel true.
And as a reader, we step inside that gaze.
We begin to understand the character so deeply…
that even their flaws don’t repel us.
They pull us closer.
We don’t love them despite their darkness.
We love them through understanding it.
That’s the power of attention.
But here’s the strange part.
We extend this grace to fictional characters…
and deny it to ourselves.
We look at our own lives the way most people look at that patch of sky.
Quick glance.
Surface judgment.
“Nothing here.”
Or even worse…
We fixate on our flaws without the patience to understand them.
We see our contradictions without the compassion to hold them.
We observe ourselves but we aren’t patient with ourselves.
The artist’s gaze isn’t just something we should use on the world.
It’s something we can learn to turn inward.
What if you studied yourself with the same curiosity you give a character in a book?
What if you traced your patterns like we trace the plot?
You are not empty.
You are unexplored.
And the same way galaxies reveal themselves to those who are willing to look a little longer…
So will you.
Attention is what pulls something out of the blur and into existence.
Every moment you give to something is a moment you take from everything else.
So when you’re fully present with something, you’re choosing it over the world.
Attention is one of the highest forms of love.
So turn your artist’s gaze inward.
Notice your beauty.
Stay creative,
Way Walker