Geeking Out on Intuition and Insight

Night Spin. Gouache and aquatint on paper, 24” x 18”, 2010.

People often ask if I plan out my paintings, and they’re surprised when I tell them that I rarely do, preferring to work intuitively. In fact, I’ve never made one from start to finish without modifications. Intuition and insight have long fascinated me, and I've learned to think of them as powerful mental tools in the studio, and in life.

Everyone has experienced the feeling that something isn’t quite right, but you can’t put your finger on it: that’s intuition. And everyone has also experienced solving a vexing problem suddenly, the answer seemingly coming from nowhere: that’s insight. That’s a bit oversimplified, yet illustrates the point. But where do these wise internal guides come from?

I wrote an article for Sport Aerobatics magazine back in 2009, where I talked about insight in art and flying:

“When the mind is under its guidance, we rely on both the analytical language center known as the left brain as well as the synthesizing center of the right brain, known for its ability to make distant and unprecedented connections. Flying involves both hemispheres at the same time: You must be able to see the forest and the trees. Not surprisingly, painting also involves both”.

In that article, I talked about the famous story from the 1970’s of aviator Neil Williams, who had the misfortune of observing his left wing fold up mid-aerobatic flight, causing his airplane to become uncontrollable. The wing remained attached, however, and this was witnessed by several people on the ground. There was no way to land the plane like this, and the ensuing crash seemed unavoidable. He would surely die!

Williams had only a moment to figure out how to fix this problem and stay alive. At high speed, his left brain rifled through reams of data while his right brain processed it in a high-view manner. Then, the split-second, precise connection was made, and the solution was formulated. It was insight that caused him to roll inverted to unbuckle the wing. He was able to control the plane upside-down, descend inverted to a wingspan above the grass, until he rolled hard upright, just above the ground, and landed with a thump. Unhurt. Unbelievable, but true.

“Our minds have access to masses of information” I wrote. “They can link, surmise, and intuit so well that we are able to handle situations we couldn’t ever predict, sometimes even with finesse. In art, insight leads an artist to make many decisions.”

Stages of G-LOC. Gouache and aquatint on paper, 24” x 18”, 2010.

I don’t have any personal heroic flying stories about insight, although I did G-LOC myself one time, flying alone, while practicing aerobatics.

G-LOC is "gravity induced loss of consciousness". Pretty terrifying.

I'll save that story for another time, just suffice it to say that-- like all of you-- I've had a multitude of more subtle experiences over a lifetime, which when considered together, create a unifying voice. But I think that’s how intuition is developed: one experience at a time, by probing our inner wisdom for a hint of “am I warmer, or am I cooler? What’s my intuition telling me?”

When I taught painting at Alfred University, I often gave my students an article from The New Yorker entitled “The Eureka Hunt”, by the author Jonah Lehrer. I felt it was important to think about insight and intuition relative to the creative process, because they are so involved with decision-making. Lehrer writes about a story of forest firefighting, and another recent article by Luke Williams cites that same story.

Firefighter Wagner Dodge was caught in an uncontrollable fire in Montana in 1949. Thirteen other smoke jumpers died trying to flee the fire, but Wagner was saved by a sudden insight: he lit the ground around himself on fire, threw himself in the embers, breathing the layer of oxygen hugging the ground, and hoped that the fire would jump over him. Although he had no experience with this, and had never heard of it, his insight worked!

According to Williams, “insights are the sudden realizations in which you interpret the observations and discover patterns”, and we unconsciously recognize those patterns, which enable us to see something in a different way. Albert Einstein said insight "comes suddenly and in a rather intuitive way”.

Carl Jung says, “intuition is perception via the unconscious that brings forth ideas, images, new possibilities and ways out of blocked situations”.

Let’s think about the language here: insight, intuition, perception, observations. We use so many words relating to vision to describe these two phenomena! The origins of the word insight stem from circa 1200, meaning sight with the 'eyes' of the mind, mental vision, understanding from within.

And if you look up the etymology of intuition, you find this in the Online Etymology Dictionary:​

“mid-15c., intuicioun, "insight, direct or immediate cognition, spiritual perception," originally theological, from Late Latin intuitionem (nominative intuitio) "a looking at, consideration," noun of action from past participle stem of Latin intueri "look at, consider," from in- "at, on" (from PIE root en "in") + tueri "to look at, watch over".

In an article in Frontiers of Psychology which studies the distinction between insight and intuition, the authors conclude: “most people “intuitively” know what an intuition is… it’s an experienced-based process resulting in a spontaneous tendency toward a hunch or a hypothesis.” However, like insight, it’s a non-analytical thought process. It’s also undeniably connected to a body sensation, and many people use the language of the gut— trusting my gut, a gut-feeling— to describe intuition.

So I think it’s a sort of seeing with the gut, or the heart.

I listened to a Huberman Lab podcast recently in which the host, Dr Andrew Huberman and his guest Dr Diego Borhórquez discuss the gut-brain axis, and how the gut and brain integrate sensory cues, leading to our intuitive “gut sense” about food, people, and situations. The gut is often called the second brain and is interconnected to the central nervous system via the vagus nerve, which also runs through the heart.

So the body has a wisdom that is not separate from the brain at all—and how could it be? Science and psychology have taught us that mind and body are not disconnected, but rather they are interconnected. Insight and intuition are brain-body processes, both deeply rooted in the way we internally make sense of the external world.

Now let’s talk about the creative process. As I mentioned in my last newsletter, Fear of Flying, often the blank page or the blank canvas can be a handicapping moment. How do you start? Where does the first seedling of content or subject come from? I would argue that this is the intuitive part… you have a feeling or idea that comes from within. It may be more, or less conscious, but it feels right. Or at least, right enough to start, which is a very key point about creativity.

But what does feeling right actually feel like? I would say it’s an expansiveness, a feeling of wanting to lean in, and it comes with a certain positive, relaxed energy. Most times, all you need is that tiny start, and then the ink starts flowing, and pretty soon, it’s like a big, fat snowball rolling down a slippery hill: unstoppable!

Often when I’m painting, I feel unsatisfied with the painting, but I don’t know why. Is it the color relationships? Is it the composition— too static? Is it the way I painted those flowers, is there not enough movement, is it one element I’ve been holding onto since the start, but it needs to go? This type of intuition in the body can be a gnawing feeling in the stomach, a slight contracting sensation, a wince, a subtle feeling of irritation or resistance.

I cannot tell you how many times I’ve solved a painting while I was away from it— usually running. I would stare at the painting for hours. I would glance furtively at it while walking past it to the next room. I would take pictures of it and look at them upside down. I would free-write about it in my journal, making sketch after sketch of ideas. But none of these worked, so I’d get fed up, and go for a run, not even thinking about the painting, when suddenly— wham! There was the insight, front and center, seemingly obvious, a sudden clarity. Excited, I’d race back to my studio to get to work, making the change I envisioned.

So I think of insight as a strong wind, rifling through the brain and moving all of that mulling, stagnant, left-brain energy out of the way. Then it exits through the back door of the right hemisphere, and-- there's your eureka moment!

Intuition and insight are such crucial aspects of the Self to get in touch with, and can give us really good guidance, if we learn to tune in. For me, the best way is through the body, not the mind. Focusing on my body, I am learning to discern these subtle sensations of resistance or excitement. As long as you’re not tuning into fear, I think intuition will never steer you wrong, because it has a wisdom that isn’t tainted by overthinking, or outside voices/influence. It is what you know, in your body, to be true.

Thanks for reading, and as always, thanks for your support! I have one request of you: please share this blog with anyone you think would enjoy it!

Lise