Travel like an Artist
A guide to slowing down and noticing more while traveling.
“The role of the artist is to ask questions, not answer them.”
When I travel, I’m not just looking for new places—I’m looking for new ways of seeing. I’ve learned that the most meaningful experiences often come when I slow down, stay curious, and let myself wander with no fixed destination. Over time, I’ve found that travelling like an artist - observing closely, documenting feelings, and embracing the little moments - makes each journey more soulful and memorable.
I photograph the small things - even (especially) the things others might think unworthy
I don’t travel with the goal of capturing “the shot.” In fact, I often find the iconic landmarks less interesting than the overlooked corners of a city… the broken blue shutters, the way vines crawl up an old stone wall, or the glimmer of sunlight reflected in a puddle after rain.
I take photos, yes, but more for myself than for anyone else. They’re like visual notes - reminders of how something felt in a particular moment. Photography helps me really see. It forces me to slow down, pay attention to shapes, shadows, and textures. Each picture, a souvenir of presence.
I keep a journal of feelings, not facts
I never want my travel journal to feel like homework. So instead of writing about where I went or what I ate, I write about what moved me. Maybe it’s a sense of nostalgia triggered by a song in a café in a Paris, or the unexpected peace I felt walking through a park in Luxembourg. Sometimes I just write down single words or phrases, little pieces of mood.
Journaling like this helps me hold on to the essence of a place long after I’ve left it. It becomes a personal record of how I experienced the world emotionally, not just geographically. And it reminds me that travel isn’t just something I do - it’s something I feel.
I let curiosity guide me
I used to over-plan my trips. I’d try to cram everything in, chasing experiences like items on a checklist. I still do make the most of my time in each place, but now I also try to leave space for the unexpected. If a street catches my eye, I’ll follow it. If I spot a tiny bookstore, I’ll go in, even if I can’t read the language. If I see someone painting by a canal, I might stop and watch.
Some of my favorite travel memories came from moments that weren’t planned at all, like saying yes to drinks with a hot barman in Paris, or discovering a tiny ceramics studio tucked behind a church in Florence, and letting the artist show me their process.
When I let curiosity lead, I find myself more open, more relaxed, and more in tune with what’s actually happening around me. It’s a softer, more intuitive way of moving through the world—and I always return home with a deeper sense of connection because of it.
I give myself permission to linger
I genuinely love sitting in cafés and doing absolutely nothing. I’ll find a spot by the window, order something warm, and just be. Watching people. Listening. Writing. Sometimes I have no idea how much time has passed, and that’s the beauty of it.
I think there’s something incredibly rich about watching life unfold around you. The way people interact, the tempo of their routines, the unspoken culture in body language or eye contact. It all fascinates me. I’ll often write little notes in my journal about the people I see or imagine who they might be.
I also make time for flea markets or old bookshops - places that feel like treasure hunts. I love running my fingers across worn fabrics, faded postcards, and objects that feel like they’ve lived other lives. These places are full of stories, even if you never know exactly what they are.
Questions to ask yourself whilst wandering
These are the quiet questions I carry with me when I walk through a new place. They help me stay open and grounded, even when everything feels unfamiliar:
What is the most beautiful ordinary thing around me right now?
A cracked teacup, a shadow on the pavement, a worn-out welcome mat… there’s beauty everywhere if you look for it.
If this moment were a painting, what would its mood be?
This helps tune into colour, light, and emotion. It turns the present into a still-life.
How does this place make me feel, and what does that say about me?
I reflect on why something moves me. It’s a gentle way of understanding myself better through my reactions to the world.
What detail might no one else notice here?
I love being a quiet witness to the unnoticed, the thread on a coat, the crooked smile of a statue, the dog napping in a doorway.
What story is hiding in this moment?
Every place holds a thousand little stories. Try to imagine them, write them, feel them.
For me, travelling like an artist is less about creating something for others and more about creating a richer experience for myself. It’s how I stay grounded, present, and inspired. It’s how I fill my life with moments that feel like art - even when they’re fleeting and quiet.
So if you ever feel the pull to wander, try it this way. Walk a little slower. Look a little closer. Let your heart, not just Google maps, guide you. You don’t have to be an artist to travel like one.
But the way you see the world just might change forever.
