Learning to practice the violin without my eyesight was an incredible experience. While I was usually focussed on all the visual instructions on a musical score, all of a sudden, I was able to focus 100% of my attention purely on how something sounded.

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As musicians, we're naturally trained to constantly be criticizing ourselves and reflecting on what we're doing; to think about how a physical movement can contribute to the successful execution of an auditory result and to experiment with different technical movements in order to achieve the ideal result of a sound that would be respectful of a certain composer's instructions.

When I was able to direct my attention away from what I was looking at and instead focus on listening, I found that it was easier for me to focus on what I was working on. Listening with intention and clarity was something that I thought I was always doing, but didn't truly realize the difference it would make until I was forced to close my eyes and shut out the visual noise. You know when someone advises you to 'really listen"? Whether it's during a conversation, to another person, or for a musical score, there's quite a distinct difference between being on 'auto-mode', as opposed to concentrating on what you're zoning in on. A good example would be when one attends a crowded party, and through the sea of random conversations and noise, to be able to deliberately pick up on the frequency of one particular person or ongoing conversation. 

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What was fascinating for me during that period was not only the new-found focus I had when listening, but the gradual appearance of mental images that occurred when I started practicing. Although I could not see through my eyes, the musical phrases that I practiced slowly formed shapes and lines inside my head. I suddenly became much less concerned with how I was technically going to execute a passage or articulation, and instead started visualizing the character of the notes. What did a long, sustained note mean? Why were there short, abrupt notes here, and at this particular time? How long was the phrase, and what could I do to sustain the line?

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Once I regained my vision, I started noticing sounds and images I once took for granted. For instance, when walking through an intersection on a busy street, one is usually accustomed to focusing on all the visual information: looking at all different directions in order to prevent being hit by a passing vehicle! But we usually tune out all the 'dead noise' of cars running by, unless a startling horn or ambulance out of nowhere alerts our attention and makes us jump. But what does a busy city intersection feel like to a blind person? What if we were to close our eyes when walking through the city? (I am not recommending this by the way; and am not responsible for any injuries as a result of reading this post!) Would we start to notice our own footsteps more? Perhaps the hurried rustling of fabric on the clothing of pedestrians passing by; the clink of boots on steel grates; the low-frequency vibrations of a passing trunk, or even the whistle of the wind. This all became so painfully aware to me when I could not see, and relied on all the auditory information around me. After I regained my sight, I noticed all this information around me that I once took for granted.

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The same concept was apparent when I revisited old movies. I noticed how the difference in colour choices and music affected the mood and atmosphere - and ultimately the emotion and meaning - of a particular movie scene. Pixar and Disney films have been consistently doing this exceedingly well for so many years. As an example, one can see the vast colour changes associated with the different emotions from the opening scene of Up (2009):

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