Method Notes No. 1: On Writing
A few days ago, I was sitting in a small café, surrounded by the sounds of everyday life – the clinking of cups, the murmur of conversation, the music playing softly in the background. Suddenly, someone caught my eye: headphones in, no smartphone on the table, instead a notebook and pen in hand. The seat diagonally opposite was free, and I sat down so I could observe him clearly. Line after line, paragraph after paragraph, he wrote without lifting his pen, except to take the occasional sip of coffee.
I recognized this state immediately – this intense clinging to a thought, so fixated that it absolutely must be "written down." In such moments, everything has to go on paper. Without regard for writing style, grammar, or the logical structure of the thoughts. It's an unstoppable flow of ideas, pouring directly from the head into the hand and onto the paper.
When someone writes by hand in a notebook today, in the age of note-taking apps and complex, AI-supported software solutions, what comes to mind? It might seem antiquated, even anachronistic, perhaps even a little romantic. In an era where every thought, every task, and every memory can be digitally captured, handwritten note-taking offers a very special form of mindfulness and personal expression.
Handwritten notes hold a certain magic for me. It's the connection between hand and mind that unfolds a unique charm through writing on paper. Every line, every letter carries the writer's personality within it. The small imperfections and individual idiosyncrasies of handwriting—spelling mistakes, corrections, scribbles—tell a story far more than the text itself. When I later pick up my notes and leaf through the pages, I can relive my feelings, impulses, and even my physical state at the time.
While digital notes often aim to be efficient, searchable, and easy to share, handwritten notes offer me a deeper connection to the thoughts and feelings I want to capture. Even purely factual things like project plans, meeting notes, or to-do lists come alive through handwriting and the little lines, dots, circles, figures, or comments. That's so much more important to me than a neat string of bullet points, paragraphs, subfolders, and keywords.
Taking notes by hand helps me to better remember experiences, thoughts, or feelings. The physical act of writing engages my brain in a completely different, more intense way.
Personal journals, even if kept only sporadically, are a place for reflection and growth. They offer an undistracted, almost therapeutic space. Writing is a conscious act that slows us down in an increasingly hectic world and allows us to delve deeper into our thoughts.
As a traveling photographer, I always carry my journal with me. It's my faithful companion on all my journeys, a place where I record my impressions, thoughts, and visions. Whether I'm wandering the streets of unfamiliar cities, enjoying the vastness of landscapes, or observing people's faces through my lens, it's writing that helps me preserve these fleeting moments. A picture may say a thousand words, but the words I write down give these images a deeper meaning, a personal touch that only I possess.
In a world increasingly dominated by digital technologies, handwriting offers a welcome change and a way to reconnect with myself. It's more than just writing. It's an art form, a practice of mindfulness, and a way to explore and preserve my identity.
Perhaps, no, probably this is the reason why I want to increasingly combine the written word with my photography in the future. Without wanting to influence the viewer's interpretation or thoughts too much, but subtly and in just the right amount and manner.
So, the next time you see someone deep in thought, writing in a notebook, enjoy it a little more than just glancing over. Think about when you last wrote something down, jotted it down, and what thought you "copyed" or "ticked off."