Most of the content that is being generated in research, art, literature, etc. is not new, but a re-statement of old concepts. This does not mean that re-visiting old ideas is a useless exercise. In fact, calling something an “exercise” implies that the activity has some intrinsic value.
My three-year-old daughter and her friends like listening to the same stories, watch the same cartoons and play the same games day after day. Of course, their preferences change periodically, but it is still fascinating to see how much children like repetition. Naturally, this is part of their learning process. Similarly, perhaps, re-visiting old ideas helps us learn the underlying concepts and even shape the ideas themselves.
Similarly, photographing or painting a familiar subject, such as a still life or a landscape, not only refines the technique, but opens up new dimensions of the subject. Perhaps, this is why the old works of art are sometimes entitled “studies.”
Timing is an important aspect in Japanese calligraphy (shodo) and martial arts such as kendo. In the latter case, it is, perhaps, not surprising. In calligraphy also, I found that timing of individual brushstrokes is so important that learning the technique from the books, without a teacher, is nearly impossible.
The inspiration for doing these experiments came partially from listening to an interview with Chase Jarvis, who talked about the importance of striving to be different, not just better, at photography as an art. This doesn’t mean to be different just for the sake of it or pursuing attention for the sake of attention. Instead, Jarvis talked about exploring the limits of combining the elements of other artists’ work (he referred to the work of 
Completing projects, whether it means delivering the photos to the clients or simply clearing the mental RAM by declaring the project finished, is very important for moving on to new projects. I find that it is the latter case, where there is no deliverable per se, but only some vague plans for a certain set of images, that are difficult to mentally resolve and set aside.
Recently, I heard Brian Koppelman, who co-authored screen plays of “
,” among other hit movies, mention in an interview that the value of reading fiction, as opposite to non-fiction, is that people evolved to learn by association and metaphor. Consuming ready-to-use information is efficient for computers, but not necessarily for humans. I believe that there is some fundamental truth in this comment. Besides their entertainment value, artistic images teach us about communication. More generally, infusing information with emotional content, which is what art does, effectively transforms this information into knowledge, which is what 
In the 1940’s, a term “narrowcasting” was introduced as the opposite to broadcasting (of radio and TV programs). It refers to transmitting messages aimed at a narrow audience, not the broad public. Many of the modern-day podcasts are examples of narrowcasting. Their authors are counting on the fact that the Internet-based audience is so large that it contains a significant number of listeners, who have common interests, views and tastes. This enables the podcasters to focus on the specifics on the niche area without spending time on explanations and justifications for the broader audience. In contrast, broadcast programs can reach larger numbers of people, but they are necessarily less personalized, more watered-down.
” and “
” by Oliver Jeffers. Because she likes them so much, I started paying attention to them myself and became fascinated with the illustrations and how masterfully they complement the story.
At first, I could not quite put my finger on what makes Jeffers’ images so special. Now, I think that it is how he uses negative space. Both in his text and pictures, what is not shown (or said) is at least as important as what is.
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I think the common skill that is important to both artists and scientists is the skill of observation. Learning to observe one’s environment and people within it is the core of the artistic training. There is a book by Alexandra Horowitz called “