Discovered something that qualifies to be as nonchalant as a toy truck.
Of course this is personal collection and very sweet.
1. Words like splatter, sherbet, Lollapalooza.
2. Sentiments like Bombay.
3. Apples, persimmons and lemons, lemon grass and fire flies.
4. New books, fresh smell, paper, print, pictures, antique pictures, vintage art, rustic creativity.
5. Reading about writers, their habits, eccentricities, struggle.
7. Clothes, lipstick, Kohl and supple skin smoked by Kohl.
8. People, characters.
While I was in a bus looking out the window my eyes fell on leaves of a tree and I felt a sheet of warmth around my soul. I am adamant on believing that it was soul. There must be thousands but I could still notice their patterns. All of them had the same shade of green spreading across a heart shaped body – not the shape of the heart that is in congruence with the theories on our anatomy – the shape of the heart we find on letters and those in cards. The leaves appeared glossy with moisture from the rains. They fluttered and blushed in the presence of the gentle wind. In their pure simplicity, the leaves left on me an impression that art is in the heart and will always remain there. Art, I felt, rests in the perception and then in its depiction. If I ever thought that art was about designs, patterns, fresh ideas and complexity I better think again. One day all regions of beauty would be explored and all ways of its depiction will perish. One day we will be left with nothing new. We will then come back to simplicity as the purest form of art and will embark upon a mission for satiating our hunger for art. Art will meet vicissitudes in its definition and will, ambitiously, see transition from valour to warmth. I cannot, today, cut the long story short and simply say that you might some day find art in simplest of the things because it doesn’t read as though it’s creative enough to be art. But trust me from the time we started looking at nature and other things with the hope of finding art we have seen it all. We have seen a painting of yours as art; when photography emerged as a potential competitor, we assumed that bringing out the best from your photograph could be art; when that too became common we again turned our faces to the simplest forms of art and found solace in it. When we portray the simplest of the things in simplest of the ways which human mind is capable of we fumble upon more than a few things we never found as beautiful. There was a time when we took the bold decision of having art wed diligence. Art was being worked over. The more complicated it was, rather the more confusing it was, the deeper the art is believed to be. I doubt we were fools enough to confuse intricacy with complexity.
The world has always been crazy in quest of art. Everybody is in love with art and everyone is craving to put a new art on the show.
Then there has been art that was vulgar, art that was commercial, art that was serene, art that was silly and mediocre, art that was thoughtful and art that was innocent. In essentially all these cases, art was loved madly by science and commerce and that that was neither. Sometimes it’s simply crazy, some times it’s bewilderingly simple. Both ways, it’s always simply art. Which art do you find attractive?
P.S. I cannot guarantee I was able to convey my point, but that’s what art was all about, right?
Never ask a writer how that story popped up into his mind, for you will never be able to believe it.