Finding Access to Art From the Gut
How certain factors can change our approach to art and photography
Art from the Gut
What does it mean to make art from the gut – not from the mind, logic, or plan?
In painting, something similar happened in the 1950s, when a movement called abstract expressionism appeared. Artists like Jackson Pollock and Mark Rothko didn’t paint what they saw – they painted what they felt. Their work was raw, instinctive, full of energy. Paint was dripped, spilled, thrown with wild gestures. Everything was aimed at one thing: to transfer a moment of inner feeling directly onto the canvas.
Lately, I’ve felt more and more drawn to photograph in that same way – abstractly, unconsciously, without planning. Not as a rebellion against form, but as a response to something changing inside me.
Photography has always been an enjoyable experience for me – but now, it overwhelms me. In the best possible way. Like it’s pushing me to see the world from the inside out. Like this is what art from the gut means.
This is my attempt to describe how that shift happened. How my relationship with photography changed. What broke, what opened, and what reconnected inside me.
The Afternoon That Changed Me
A few months ago, on a regular afternoon, I took a dose of MDMA. Not to party – but to reflect on my life. To feel where I really was. To open a window inside myself.
At first, I didn’t plan to connect that experience with photography. But as the light outside grew softer, deeper, almost sacred, I grabbed my camera and went out – first into the garden, then down to the sea.
In that state – of clarity, openness, and sensitivity – I started to take photos.
I kneeled, crawled, entered scenes from strange angles. I shot hundreds of frames. I was so deep into it that I had to take breaks – not mental ones, but physical. It felt like I was absorbing the world through my whole body.
It was beautiful. And exhausting. But most of all – real. And unforgettable.
The Substance Opened It – But Something Else Made It Stay
This isn’t an ode to substances. Drugs like MDMA carry real risks. But when used with care and intention, they can open doors of perception. Sometimes they show us things we tend to overlook in everyday life.
But more important than that experience, at the same time, big changes happened in my personal life. Somehow, the universe freed me from certain obligations that had felt like a burden for years. Things I didn’t enjoy, things that made my body quietly resist – finally fell away.
As a result, today I can look at a simple spot on the wall and feel calm. The clouds seem more present and real. I often catch myself smiling for no particular reason.
And yes – now I take photos from the gut.
Feeling the Frame in the Body
I have always enjoyed photography. But now… I don’t just see the frame with my eyes – I feel it in my body. When I press the shutter, it’s like an impulse runs through my abdomen.
The frame happens from within.
For example, yesterday I went for a one hour walk with my camera. The sun had already set, and I came home. But the feeling of photographing stayed in me. Like I had done something physical.
At one point, I wondered – is this too much? Could this kind of deep presence be stressful for the body?
So I did some research and found something interesting:
When we are deeply focused on sensory experience – whether through intense creative flow or under the influence of substances – a system in the brain called the default mode network (DMN) shifts. The analytical mind quiets down, and the body takes over. We don’t just process what we see – we feel it. Especially through the solar plexus, which is full of neural connections linked to intuition, emotion, and what some call the “social brain.”
In other words: art doesn’t come from the eye. It comes from the nervous system.
That’s why it feels so real. So physical.
The Doors That Opened
I didn’t know that everything that happened to me lately at the same time – would open doors I didn’t even know were there.
But they did.
And the best part is – those doors still feel open.
That’s why I’m writing this.
Not because I had a great awakening. But because I feel like something inside me shifted. And made space.
Maybe space to breathe more freely. To see more clearly.
Or to create in a way that isn’t about form or purpose – but about feeling.
Maybe many of you have already been through something like this. I’m just beginning to understand it myself. But if you’re just starting to feel it too – know that you’re in good company.
All photos were taken with a Fujifilm X-H2 and a 70–300mm f/4–5.6 lens.
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About the Author: I am a passionate photographer and a philosopher of both photography and life, a TEDx speaker, a Master of Molecular Biology, and a product manager. I curate two newsletters: Lens of Perception, where I explore the intersections of photography, travel, and philosophy, and Thoughtful Corner, where I share ideas, reflections, and insights for curious minds. Thank you for taking the time to enjoy my work.
I’ve just spent a week in the company of a small group of photographic creatives where a similar thing occurs, an opening of channels that are normally closed by the need to function in the real world. Given the right circumstances they can remain open long after the group have dispersed. This is a super collection of abstracts Davor, thanks for sharing.
This resonates. I think of the feeling of a creative curiosity that doesn't get a chance to get to your brain before you are acting on it.