Ever since I was about 6 years old, I was considered a "highly sensitive person" (or HSP). There are books about this, one of which I read in my early 20's, in an attempt to tame this "handicap".
It pointed out that an HSP can be effected by things non-HSP's wouldn't even think to notice, or be effected by. Some examples include being sensitive to the color a room is painted (or otherwise decorated)—how that can effect and change your mood, or the layout of a city—how much grass is present, do the buildings' height block sunlight—can these things cause an HSP's mood to shift, where a non-HSP wouldn't think twice about these details.
Sometimes if I walk into a room and the art on the walls is hung at random, without thought to height from ceiling or floor, or placement in regard to each other—this can make me physically uncomfortable, disjointed feeling. Often times I'll walk into a room, or space, and feel something—maybe nothing I can put into words, other than "sensitive" to the light, or color, or sound, or smell, or number of other bodies in the room, or a person's demeanor. I pick up on all of this stuff, which is often times overwhelming.
It wasn't until a few years ago that I began understanding that my sensitivities weren't actually handicaps, they were tools—a real gift. As designers, we are hardwired to feel and sense visual stimuli. That ability is crucial to what we make, and without it we couldn't do what we are all so good at. Colors in relation to each other, how different typefaces interact with each other and with color and mood, how the placement of one small detail can effect an entire design—these are just a few things we are wired to notice and sense.
It took 30 years, but I am finally grateful for this handicap/gift. It doesn't always work in my favor in regards to life outside the studio, but when it comes to designing, my sensitivities own me.
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