The concept of the human fish bowl

There’s something oddly mesmerizing about eating alone, sitting by the window at a café, and watching life unfold on the streets outside. People rushing, others strolling slowly, the elderly, the young, couples, parents, friends, the hum of cars, the buzz of bikes, the flutter of birds, the bark of dogs, the rustling of trees—it’s a living canvas, a blend of movement, emotion, and the quiet beauty of the everyday.

I first encountered this curious phenomenon in Munich. As I sat at a café, enjoying my meal, I couldn’t help but notice the eyes of passersby. Some stared, while others moved along without a second glance. At the time, I didn’t have a name for this experience, but the sensation of being observed, yet so detached, lingered in my mind. It wasn’t until I had a similar experience in Prague that I finally gave this odd feeling a name: The Human Fish Bowl.

The concept is simple, yet profound. It’s the feeling of being in a space, seemingly alone, yet constantly under observation. You’re both the subject and the spectator. You’re part of the scene, yet distant from it—like a fish in a bowl, surrounded by life but not always part of it. It’s a reminder of how small, yet how vast we are. How intimate, yet how disconnected. We are always part of a bigger world, yet often isolated in our own little bubble.

This experience has stayed with me, continuously percolating in my thoughts, especially as I reflect on how to incorporate it into my art. The interplay between observer and observed offers a unique lens to explore our connection with the world around us—how we navigate through the noise, how we find meaning in the mundane, and how we are both seen and unseen.

What fascinates me most is how this concept transcends borders. In Munich, I felt it. In Prague, I felt it. The Human Fish Bowl is a universal experience, one that reminds us of our shared existence, our vulnerabilities, and our simultaneous desire for both connection and solitude.

In a way, this feeling of being both present and apart from the world could serve as a powerful metaphor in art. Whether through visual representation or interactive installations, there’s a rich potential to capture the essence of being both isolated and surrounded, seen yet ignored. It’s an exploration of the duality of human existence—the constant balancing act between participation and observation, between immersion and detachment.

For me, it’s an ever-present thought, a constant reminder of how art is all around us, even in the most ordinary moments. It’s the delicate dance between solitude and society, between being the viewer and the viewed. It’s a phenomenon I’m eager to explore further, and who knows? Perhaps one day, it will become the cornerstone of my next artistic project.