When You Can’t Picture an Apple: Discovering My Artist Mind Without a Mind’s Eye

Brittany Maki | April 13, 2025

“Picture an apple. Now try to rotate it in your mind.”

That’s what the Reddit post said.

I scrolled past at first, but something about it made me pause. I closed my eyes and waited for the image to appear. But… nothing.

I knew what an apple looked like, and I could describe it, but I didn’t see anything. No shine, no depth, no surface to turn or rotate. Just… black. Maybe a vague sense of “apple-ness.” A ghost of an idea. A memory of a dream.

Curious and confused, I kept reading, and discovered that what I was experiencing wasn’t unique to me. It had a name: aphantasia.

The “mind’s eye” is the ability to mentally visualize things, like recalling a loved one’s face or imagining a sunset.

People like me don’t see mental pictures. Not even of an apple. Not even when we try.

And suddenly, so many things about how I think, remember, and create clicked into place.

The Spectrum of the Mind’s Eye

I used to think everyone experienced thoughts the way I did: more like concepts than images, more like knowing than seeing, but that’s not the case. People fall on a wide spectrum when it comes to their “mind’s eye,” from vivid mental movies to total darkness.

I wanted a visual representation of what others across this spectrum see in their mind's eye. Disappointed by the results I found, I decided to ask Chat GPT to generate this image:

*This image helped me realize how differently people visualize, and where I fall on the spectrum.*

While some people see an apple as clearly as a photograph (hyperphantasia), I don’t really see anything. I remember that apples are red and round, and I can describe them, but I can’t picture them.

And yet...I make visual art for a living.

So What Does That Mean for My Art?

Here’s the surprising part: even without a mind’s eye, I create from a deep well of emotion, intuition, and memory. I can’t plan paintings by visualizing them ahead of time. I feel my way through.

I start with a mood, a texture, a color palette, or a symbol — not a finished image.
My compositions evolve on the canvas through experimentation, layering, and instinct.
When I try to sketch something out ahead of time, it’s rarely what ends up on the canvas anyway.

In my research for this post, I came across a line that resonated to my core:

“One of the key strengths of ‘type’ thinking is its focus on the essence rather than the details, on the universal rather than the particular.” - The Power Of Abstract Thinking In Aphantasia, Aphantasia.com

This describes me exactly.

My aesthetic preferences — both in my work and the spaces I create — have always leaned toward the universal, the timeless, the essential. I’m not drawn to hyper-specific or literal depictions. Instead, I’m interested in archetypes, emotion, and energy; the feeling of something, rather than the thing itself.

Using AI as a Bridge, Not a Shortcut

Why I Use a ‘Taboo’ Tool as an Artist with Aphantasia

Here’s something I’ve hesitated to share, but I want to — because it’s part of my truth.

As an artist with aphantasia, I can’t visualize images in my mind. That makes it difficult to translate internal ideas into visual form. In recent months, I’ve started using AI as a tool to help bridge that gap.

I know AI is extremely controversial in the art world, but for me, it isn’t a shortcut. It’s a starting point. I’ll describe a concept in words, explore many iterations, generate a rough reference, and then adjust the composition in Photoshop before mapping it onto the canvas by hand. Every choice, every brushstroke is still mine.

For someone with a visual mind’s eye, this internal reference comes naturally. For me, I’ve had to build it externally, and AI has become one of the tools that helps me do that.

Why I'm Sharing This

I’m sharing this partly because I wish I’d known sooner. But mostly because I know I’m not the only one.

For most of my life, I thought I just wasn’t imaginative enough, or that something was wrong with me for needing visual references. Learning there’s a name for it (and that I’m not alone) has been both grounding and empowering.

Whether you’re an artist, a thinker, or someone who’s ever felt a little out of step with how you “should” create or think — maybe this resonates.

Your way of seeing (or not seeing) the world is valid.
Your creativity doesn’t need to follow anyone else’s blueprint.

And sometimes, what feels like a limitation is actually a deep well of perspective, abstraction, and clarity.

There’s no one right way to make art, or to be human.

Want to Explore This Yourself?

If you’re curious, try this:

Close your eyes and picture an apple. How vivid is it?
Can you mentally “see” it? Hear a voice narrating? Or do you just know it’s there?
Want to go deeper? Try the VVIQ (Vividness of Visual Imagery Questionnaire)

If this sparked something for you, I’d love to hear about it. Drop a comment below or reach out on Instagram — especially if you’re a fellow non-visual creative. You’re not alone.

About the Artist

Brittany Maki is an Austin-based artist and founder of Fox + Fern. Her work draws from feeling more than form, guided by mood, texture, and symbolism rather than mental images. After discovering she experiences aphantasia — a condition that affects visual imagination — she began sharing more of her creative process to connect with other non-visual thinkers and artists. Brittany creates from a place of intuition and abstraction, with pieces rooted in nature, emotional memory, and quiet resonance.

You can find her latest pieces on Etsy, follow along on Instagram, or visit foxandfernart.com.