The Art of Noticing
A musician. A financial securities trader. A management consultant. A government executive. I’ve been a lot of things.
Like all of us, I’m made from a long thread of moments—some luminous, others chaotic. All of them shaping the rhythm I carry now.
Yes, I have a couple of degrees in public administration and cultural studies. But I probably learned more from my musical training—in jazz composition and improvisation—than I did in any boardroom. In jazz, you listen before you play, adapt when the rhythm shifts, and lead without stepping on someone else’s solo. The art is in balancing structure with freedom — keeping the tune recognizable, but leaving room for something unexpected to happen. That’s how I try to move through work… and life.
A contemplative practice
I carry a notebook. And a camera. I try to capture the moments that pass unnoticed by most: a red toque flashing past on a bicycle; a single shoe beneath a streetlamp; a stranger’s glance that says more than words. I like to see myself as a purveyor of glimpses.
My writing is usually in fragments. Tight, layered, often sharp.
Sometimes they land as senryu. Sometimes they unravel into something else.
My photographs are usually glimpses of moments. Unstaged, attentive, left mostly as they were found.
Sometimes they resolve in a single frame. Sometimes they leave something open.
— Ian.
Ian Kenney 