Where to find whimsy

in the arts and everywhere

Sometimes you watch or read or see something you like, and then you can’t just be normal about it. Suddenly you’re searching Substack and Google for reviews and interviews, engaging in a world that was previously distant from you.

On January 2nd, late in the evening, my dad decided to catch up on the rest of the New Year’s Day concert in Vienna that gets broadcast across a huge number of countries. I’ve watched many bits and pieces of classical music concerts over the years due to my dad’s prompting, and the New Year’s Day concert is a stand-out memory to me. I used to enjoy watching the dancing in particular, but I’ve never shown a significant interest in classical music despite growing up having violin and piano lessons, and it being such a large part of my parents’ lives.

This 2026 concert struck me though. Maybe it was because I have a better attitude these days and am more open-minded, creative, and curious. Maybe it was that this year’s concert genuinely was more engaging than previous years – or maybe it was a combination of both those things.

It was conducted by Yannick Nézet-Séguin, and he oozed a charisma seemingly born from a world I try to seek out. He conducted with care and grinned with a love for being alive. He kissed the neck of his husband – violinist Pierre Tourville, who was brought on to play for the Radetzky march – with pure and proud affection. Yannick possessed a kind of whimsy I wish to see surrounding me, growing in reality as bright floppy flowers.

And a couple of months later, I sit next to my girlfriend in one of Essex’s town halls, watching one of my closest friends since childhood perform as the female lead in her musical. A whole community has shown up to support the production and they don't hesitate to laugh and cheer for all the right moments. The comedy is certainly achieving what it desires to do, but when my friend appears on stage, I start to cry amongst the cackling crowd. I cry because she’s sensational and I’ve watched her come so far. I have pride pouring out of me and by the time I’m home, I’ve had the epitome of a good evening. There’s whimsy in friendship – and in theatre, creativity, community. Passion for passion’s sake.

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So whimsy is alive in the arts!!! Of course it is, how could it not be?! I think whimsy breathes in exclamations marks too. But where does art begin? Does it start when daylight breaks through curtains, or when eyes open to the sight of it, or with the way I stir my coffee, or choose an outfit, or queue the Spotify songs I want to listen to today? Is it as I click the button “Write an article” and let thoughts become written words? Is it as I edit them and craft something coherent? Is it when I lock eyes with strangers, smile at them? Embrace someone I love? Art is alive in people being people, and in the forest and in the wind and in the sky’s constantly beautiful paintings. I talk about the sky all the time, but it’s because it’s beautiful all the time. No words will ever be enough, and the way I try to do enough anyway is possibly art. Art is whimsical because we’re playing with time that’s gifted to us – we’re never getting over what it means to be here, and to try to have a good time.

Art is in performance but it’s also in what exists when nobody’s trying – glowing embers of authenticity. Find whimsy in your choices, kisses, and reminiscences. Find whimsy in the delight – and your right – to exist exactly as you are.