I just came across an article in The Chronicle of Higher Education – Poetry Makes You Weird. The author, Eric G Wilson, could equally be talking about visual art and artists – the way we look at the world, are taught to look, or choose to look.
The article references an Emily Dickson poem:
On winter afternoons,
That oppresses, like the weight
Of cathedral tunes.
Heavenly hurt it gives us;
We can find no scar,
But internal difference
Where the meanings are.
None may teach it anything,
‘Tis the seal, despair,-
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the air.
When it comes, the landscape listens,
Shadows hold their breath;
When it goes, ‘t is like the distance
On the look of death.
I found this through post 86 of the WetCanvas forum thread Being an artist and CHOOSING to be alone