Image

Magic in Harmony

My interpretation of magic in the form of art.

Jpeg

Please do spare my childlike spirit of art. But these days I’m very much in the zone of painting.

With the word magic I could think of only this, where the green represents the earth and blue the sky or space. With the tiny specks of blue in one and chunks of greens in the other it represents harmony to me; and, hence magic in harmony.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/photo-challenges/magic/

Image

Life and Art

Life in all its form is the best artist.

green

An artist, when left alone, can imitate life.

Jpeg

fruits on table

Perhaps, that’s why Pablo Picasso said:

The artist is a receptacle for emotions that come from all over the place: from the sky, from the earth, from a scrap of paper, from a passing shape, from a spider’s web.

An artist to me is an aimless wanderer looking for things in plain sight and hidden as well. Who or what gives him that opportunity? The answer is – Life. An artist finds refugee at his home; home which is his mind; mind that takes him from here to there. In the process of travelling from here to there it cannot be certain if he imitates life or creates life or art or becomes one to show us both – life and art.
DSCN0438
I’ll leave you with a painting that I did other than the fruit one from above.
DSCN0664

3 days, 3 quote

First of all I would like to thank Millie Thom for passing the “3 days, 3 quote challenge” to me.

It is a new challenge in circulation and I’m glad to have been asked to participate. I love quotes. As a kid I had a diary in which I had written quotes. The diary would be circulated in the class and everyone would copy from it.

Quotes are the best way to motivate you during those sad and depressed moments of your life. Without much saying, it works like a best friend, guiding you through your trouble and also directing you to your desired path. I lost that dairy; I was careless in keeping it.

As I have always loved quotes, I again started collecting them when I started writing. This time I started writing my own quotes (you can read that in the thought matters section).

Day 1 Quote

Quote 1

Quotes are wonderful to read and fun to share. And so, I am opening the nomination to all my reader friends.

If you’d like to participate in this challenge then put up 1 quote each for three consecutive days. Please don’t forget to link your post back to mine. I’d love to hear your quotes. 🙂

He knew only one kind of love

His black blazer was kept on the bed along with a light blue shirt and a multi coloured tie. They all were arranged neatly side by side. Jacob came out of the bath and aimlessly threw his wet towel on a chair.

This chair was the only piece of furniture in his bedroom. His idea of this chair was – a companion. He was never a lucky man when it came to companions. The last time he thought of a companion, it was Lucy – a receptionist at his hotel.

Lucy was the exact opposite of his mom. Smart, shrewd, organized, outspoken and witty. He used these words to describe her, when he spoke to Richard about her.

Richard, was one filthy rich guy, who also happened to be his friend. Richard also liked to be called Rick or Richy instead of Richard. He thought it suited his millionaire personality.

Millionaires are of two kinds, only two, thought Jacob. They are either born or made. No third kind existed between the two.

According to him a lot of things didn’t make any sense. He thought that the maid should go on a leave every Sunday instead of a Monday. He thought that he could only tip at a road side eating joint as the waitress needed the money more than the waiters at his hotel. He thought the valet of all the five star restaurants were thieves. He thought that his gym instructor had some connection with the CEO of Google.

Google had dominated a part of his life. It was Google that helped him with his chatting, face book, YouTube and searching for and later translating most of the profanity in all the languages possible.

Profanity was used habitually at his home. Somehow it didn’t touch him when he was a kid but now it turned out to be his favourite pass time.

Passing time was never an option for him when he was growing up. His father died when he was only eleven. Mom stitched buttons in the denim jackets while he saw each blue jacket with lustful eyes.

He decided to work to have money that could help him give whatever he wanted. Wanted was a simple term for him. It meant – more than he needed. Need was…money, food, a nice pair of shoes instead of torn ones, able to read and write. What he wanted was a job, two meals a day, leather boots, education and the list kept on increasing each year.

Education was his primary goal till he became fifteen. For education he worked day and night. He did all that he could and went everywhere that said “Job, Available.” He had learnt to read and write a little when his father was alive. He knew what ‘job’ meant; although, words like available, vacant didn’t make any sense to him. Sometimes he got the job and sometimes he didn’t.

Slowly and steadily he grew to be a man with some money in his account. As a boy he started as a shoe shiner then sold flowers at a local market after which he took a job at a bakery and then he started delivering newspapers. After that he started distributing magazines to the stalls near the big offices. He was fascinated to see the people young and old all dressed in formals – coats, ties, blazers, suitcase, silver watches. He learnt quickly and progressed much quicker than he had anticipated.

He reached to a place where his anticipation had turned into a reality – from rags to riches, he said. He had a few degrees and knew a lot of people. He said, “Work can make a person but not knowing the right people in the business could break a person”. He occasionally came up with such one liners.

He loved one liners. He knew when to give what to the people. He also knew in what quantity and that’s why people loved him.

But he knew only one kind of love – love for his work. He looked at his adverts with loving admiration. The eyes that were filled with true love and passion – for his work.

What started as work for him, blossomed as an art and now had strengthened as love.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/the-butterfly-effect/

Art is where the heart is

painting_children_donaldzolan_59_backyardbuddies-500x500

I found myself gazing at a wooden frame which was at a display and had amazed the art lovers. It was not a work of some world famous artist; however, the novice artist had managed to gather some appreciation for his work, locally. The artist had played very well with the colours and made the canvas come alive.

The colours were playing in the garden of canvas as the children would play in the school play ground; each with a unique character of its own breathing the life in the wooden piece of canvas. Like others I found myself staring in admiration at this beauty. And as awestruck I was I just uttered, “What a piece of art”.

So, what is art?

Is it a mere canvas on a wall or only the work which is respected and paid in hefty amounts?

And, who is an artist?

Well, I simply believe that anyone and everyone have an artist at work within themselves.

Art doesn’t have a specific address. It can be born anywhere: on the streets, at shops, at homes just anywhere. I also believe that an artist can be born when true dedication burns in one’s heart.

A mother is a dedicated artist; she is the only one to take care of her children without wanting anything in return. Since the day she becomes aware of the fact that a life is being nurtured in her, she becomes an artist. Every day she might paint a picture of how her child might be. She gives an identity to her child by not only naming her but from now on she would dedicate her life in the upbringing of this child; the child who is her creation.

puff-pastry-33

A confectioner is really patient and passionate about the sweet delicacies that he makes. Ask me, how?

In the greased canvassed tin he would gently lay the sweet children of cookies. After years of perfection (or maybe he would still be new to the business) he would inspect each cookie, and then he would decorate it with rubied cherries. Finally giving them a gentle brush with egg glaze, which would give them the perfect smile for the baking photo shoot. At last when they march out, he would gently powder them with a little flour dust. Thus ultimately he has created an art.

I can see art and artists everywhere; the only thing is sometimes we are aware and the other times we are just oblivious of the fact that we are creating an art.

The truth is, everyone is creating an art form: from a simple gardener to a cook; from a school teacher to a copywriter; from a sculptor to an architect all are busy creating art.

If you ask me, “what is common between these renowned artists and disguised artists as common people?”

To me “the passionate heart” sounds as the only answer. A true artist would never worry about the returns (monetary or non-monetary). He/she would just create from the core of his/her heart. Driven by crazy ideas from the mind but fuelled by passion and dedication from his/her heart.

Hence, I believe that art can be found anywhere and everywhere. All the things that we see reflect some form of art;as a creator would have created it with a true dedicated heart.