Free AI web copilot to create summaries, insights and extended knowledge, download it at here

Abstract

eanwhile, creativity itself has also been <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/importance-creativity-positive-effect-your-brain-health-marobella/">shown</a> to boost feel-good chemicals in the brain, helping to continue the cycle (no pun intended.)I stayed at the shop for a short while, making small talk with the owner and a resident customer, enjoying a ginger cookie and a melon seltzer (it’s better than it sounds.) My bike helmet sat patiently in front of me on the communal table, designed for perusing and discussing the photo books.With my backpack armed with two photo zines that I purchased, and my belly full of mid-morning treats, I bid goodbye to the owner, and coasted on my bike past other local scenes.If I had been in a car, I would not have noticed the decaying storefronts that were tragically beautiful. I would not have seen the random signs in storefront windows, inviting me to stop and snap them with my <a href="https://readmedium.com/my-first-snaps-with-the-iphone-15-pro-camera-413c07350daa">new iPhone</a> (not a paid ad.)I would not have seen the genuine human interactions along the way, that I photographed with my mind this time. My bike took me down some side streets, guiding me along a route home without much conscious thought.During the pandemic, I started snapping photos from my bike (and from <a href="https://readmedium.com/how-to-commit-a-drive-by-shooting-in-photography-5e6968d0097d">passenger seats</a>) as a way to do street photography without much chance of interaction. I was very anxious during this time — I didn’t want to approach people too closely — but I still wanted to document how people in my city were acting during the height of the lockdowns.I’m still anxious, although I’ve improved a lot since the height of the pandemic. I’m back out on foot occasionally documenting street scenes, but I enjoy the freedom a bike affords me. It lets me cover a lot of area in a short amount of time (compared to walking), and gives a unique point of view of the city streets that you don’t get from the sidewalk.<figure id="428b"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*pL0-QBk7ktGmxXsV5ls0_g.png"><fi

Options

gcaption>The streets were a lonely place during lockdowns. Photo by author (on bike)</figcaption></figure>But it’s more than just a practicality. Being on my bike is naturally calming. The wind rushes around me, reminding me that I’m alive. There are no marked lanes for my bike – it has taken me down paths no motorized vehicles would dare to go, and I have been rewarded with some interesting views.The calmness (and quiet) of bike travel ties in beautifully with my photographic intuition. Unlike a motorcycle — which no doubt is exhilarating, but not for me — I can hop on and off the beaten path easily. I can ride through parks, along multi-use trails, and into the city chaos.At the same time, my legs get a better workout than they would from pressing pedals. My senses get temporarily sharper from identifying which obstacles to avoid, and which to photograph.<h2 id="5613">Keeping my distance helps me go further</h2><figure id="b63f"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*OSSsqFwZdc1ZZ_XVv81X-g.jpeg"><figcaption>I snapped this from my bike recently. She was too busy waiting for her ride to notice me. Photo by author</figcaption></figure>My camera hangs around my neck, sometimes over my shoulder, ready to fire. I rarely even look through the viewfinder. Knowing the scope of my 50mm lens, I can hold it to my chest and fire without taking my eyes off what’s in front of me. I usually capture what I intend to, but here’s the thing: sometimes I get something unexpected, better than I had envisioned in that moment.The feeling of constant movement on my bicycle moves me to take photos. I pass by many faces, oblivious to me and my ride, and I silently acknowledge their unique beauty. When I lift my camera, no one bats an eye. I don’t really know what I captured for sure until I get home, but I can feel in my soul that it’s something good.While riding my bike and taking photos are two things that can satisfy my soul individually, the mix of the two is a potent cocktail that is intoxicating. The natural rush may be short-lived — but luckily, I have the snaps to remind me of the experiences. And I plan to make more.</article></body>

Photography and The Zen of Bicycle Riding

How the two activities beautifully intertwine

A bicycle rider in her own world observes a shopper on foot during the pandemic. Photo by author

I have returned home from a brisk ride on my bicycle from one of our local coffee shops, which also happens to sell photo books. I flipped through a new photo zine, and took in a wall of printed scenes (I’m lucky enough to be part of both.)

However, despite my eagerness to see my work at one of the city’s hippest new hangouts for art-minded people, I would not have experienced the visit in the same way had I not rode my bike to it.

Since we don’t own a vehicle, that would’ve meant picking up a carshare on foot from the nearest lot, and then finding parking (which to be fair, is not that difficult in this car-centric city of mine.) But in the driving scenario, I would have walked into the coffee shop a little more on edge, probably wondering if I locked the doors on my rental.

Instead, after a fairly leisurely ride west on my bike, I coasted towards a bike rack directly in front of the shop’s front door. I could easily see it from the inside store window, but I didn’t feel the need to check on it. I was already too busy admiring the photographs inside the building.

Creativity and exercise are beautiful friends

I snapped this while rolling by these women during the pandemic. She was using her scarf as a makeshift mask (or to keep her face warm, or both.) Photo by author

I had a certain level of endorphins rushing through me from the short trek on two wheels. The natural buzz that comes from moderate exercise also helped me appreciate the art I was looking at more. Meanwhile, creativity itself has also been shown to boost feel-good chemicals in the brain, helping to continue the cycle (no pun intended.)

I stayed at the shop for a short while, making small talk with the owner and a resident customer, enjoying a ginger cookie and a melon seltzer (it’s better than it sounds.) My bike helmet sat patiently in front of me on the communal table, designed for perusing and discussing the photo books.

With my backpack armed with two photo zines that I purchased, and my belly full of mid-morning treats, I bid goodbye to the owner, and coasted on my bike past other local scenes.

If I had been in a car, I would not have noticed the decaying storefronts that were tragically beautiful. I would not have seen the random signs in storefront windows, inviting me to stop and snap them with my new iPhone (not a paid ad.)

I would not have seen the genuine human interactions along the way, that I photographed with my mind this time. My bike took me down some side streets, guiding me along a route home without much conscious thought.

During the pandemic, I started snapping photos from my bike (and from passenger seats) as a way to do street photography without much chance of interaction. I was very anxious during this time — I didn’t want to approach people too closely — but I still wanted to document how people in my city were acting during the height of the lockdowns.

I’m still anxious, although I’ve improved a lot since the height of the pandemic. I’m back out on foot occasionally documenting street scenes, but I enjoy the freedom a bike affords me. It lets me cover a lot of area in a short amount of time (compared to walking), and gives a unique point of view of the city streets that you don’t get from the sidewalk.

The streets were a lonely place during lockdowns. Photo by author (on bike)

But it’s more than just a practicality. Being on my bike is naturally calming. The wind rushes around me, reminding me that I’m alive. There are no marked lanes for my bike – it has taken me down paths no motorized vehicles would dare to go, and I have been rewarded with some interesting views.

The calmness (and quiet) of bike travel ties in beautifully with my photographic intuition. Unlike a motorcycle — which no doubt is exhilarating, but not for me — I can hop on and off the beaten path easily. I can ride through parks, along multi-use trails, and into the city chaos.

At the same time, my legs get a better workout than they would from pressing pedals. My senses get temporarily sharper from identifying which obstacles to avoid, and which to photograph.

Keeping my distance helps me go further

I snapped this from my bike recently. She was too busy waiting for her ride to notice me. Photo by author

My camera hangs around my neck, sometimes over my shoulder, ready to fire. I rarely even look through the viewfinder. Knowing the scope of my 50mm lens, I can hold it to my chest and fire without taking my eyes off what’s in front of me. I usually capture what I intend to, but here’s the thing: sometimes I get something unexpected, better than I had envisioned in that moment.

The feeling of constant movement on my bicycle moves me to take photos. I pass by many faces, oblivious to me and my ride, and I silently acknowledge their unique beauty. When I lift my camera, no one bats an eye. I don’t really know what I captured for sure until I get home, but I can feel in my soul that it’s something good.

While riding my bike and taking photos are two things that can satisfy my soul individually, the mix of the two is a potent cocktail that is intoxicating. The natural rush may be short-lived — but luckily, I have the snaps to remind me of the experiences. And I plan to make more.