Today there were fireworks in my city.Not in the sky. But 8 explosions.
Yes, It didn't hurt. It could have been worse.
But it represents a drive that worries me.
I understand destruction.
With each drop of ink the space that was my canvas is broken.
with every syllable silence is dead.
But out of this death is born creation. the cycle continues.
(and on and on and on)
and there's so much love to give. there's so much love to give.Here we are. Poets.painters.philosophers.politicians. desperately trying to grasp what we're born into. All the immensity. trying to imitate. trying to emulate.
'but art can never imitate. It can only inspire.'
We cannot play god. through bombs. through paint.
The approach should then not be to imitate. To have 'creation' at your fingertips.
but to thank.
I could spend years painting a mountain. It will never be the mountain itself.trapped on paper. not so vivid.
in technicolour.
(It will never be the mountain.)
It only expresses love for that mountain.
It is not to make it mine. But to make it me.
Love is:Anterior to life.
Posterior to death
Initial to creation
the exponent of breath.
12 comments:
You Inspire me.
suuuuuuuuper FANATISTIC DAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!
miss you.xx
Brilliantly written. My anti-religious sentiments come in the way of appreciating your post but its very true. and very sad. very well done.
Bholenath and Anjaneya are the coolest of the lot. :)
somehow i think all of the brouhaha surrounding the blasts amounts to daedalian hubris. blown out of proportion if you please. to insensitive me, a bomb that kills and maims today is yesterday's malaria and small pox that somehow evolved into gelatin, nuts and bolts. all another chapter in the super gardener's giant book of accomplishments.
you inspire me too :P
that apart the art work is deadly...
luckily the bombs weren't
Yep yep. Luckileh teh bombs weren't.
They only seem bigger in our eyes because its a first in our littul city.
dundeeh- Yes, and like smallpox we must find a cure.
At anonymous- anti-religious is just faine. Look at em as stories/symbols without the heavyreligiousconnotations etc etc.
Thankoo :O)
bulbs flashed around in the night like maroon water of heaven in a spoon that puts you to sleep in
dreamscape skies
but these bulbs were no ordinary electrical bulbs that sat together. they didn't hang in the air from dangling
clips of blue and green.
they were bulbs filled with green star fear
like fish who jump in ponds with their black eyes searching for flight(that's why the moon runs through our hands like sand)
on dust river these bulbs sat and
a chicken died and her eggs too.
strange drawings but awesome at the same time!! ..
marvelous!
Your pictures are lovely!
: )
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