Oftentimes I open up my sketchbook and just start drawing and scribbling. These marks beget mountains and landscapes. Soon, cities are cropping up like moss or barnacles. A tidal wave of humanity rolls from the tip of my pencil. I paint an aerial perspective: dust storms in the distance or thunderheads overhead. Pointed pine trees give a sense of scale and scraggly manzanita suggest a non-specific locale.
If you put your ear to them you might hear dogs barking, children playing, car horns honking and birds singing. Or you might only hear the wind whistling through the branches of your crowded day. Listen some more ok?