Thursday, November 11, 2010


A conversation on the go…a friend tells me that he thinks that artists of any kind must be such content people. They have the luxury ofnot only venting their desires in their art but also the privilege of seeking their fulfilment in its expression. This would make them truly content people as they wouldn’t have any expectations from a relationship beyond the one they share with their art. The freedom to create from their current state of mind or heart, without having any judgement made on them. So you could paint a grey picture or write a sad song or create a twisted sculpture in your blue moments and still cherish that as your creation, without remorse or guilt. Or you could pick the most vibrant hues from your palette and randomly throw them on a canvas, strike the highest and lowest notes and string them into an incredible symphony and raise it up as the expression of your most joyous moments. “If only we had a special skill too..”

A pause and my response..who says we can’t, each one of us, be an artist too? We have been given a canvas called life and a palette full of colours called time and each one of us can paint a picture every day, all the days of our life. True, sometimes the picture would be just sepia tinted(when life is stuck in rote) or plain old black & white (to reflect our sombre moments) , at others a charcoal sketch (emanating from sad thoughts) and sometimes a radiant depiction of our inner joy. But we do have a choice to do with it as we want to; To be able to feel the luxury of being the creator of our own story, to find fulfilment in the honest expression of our responses to each of destiny’s (?) twists and turns..

Perhaps where we go astray and lose this sense of wonder is when we start looking to others for confirmation of our own needs and desires. The Physical interdependence of society or family can not be negated unless one chooses to be a recluse but the emotional dependence is often the albatross around our neck. Our palette loses color and our skills fade away when subjugated to the needs of others. It is here that the two mischief mongers of guilt and anger step in and start the process of creating discontment or resentment. By this, I do not mean to imply that one needs to be totally insensitive or self centred but yes, there is a line beyond which only the self remains and in order to be truly content, it is my belief, that each one of us needs to draw and respect our commitment to that border.

And it is possible to remain an artist, content and fulfilled, if one knows that secret place where one can retreat and paint as the heart feels or create as the eyes see or write as the mood comes..sans remorse or guilt..for each such creation shall then be mine and worth being proud of and shall liberate me evermore..

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