Tag: painting

Forgotten Trinkets

During my recent move, I stumbled upon this sketch I made over twelve years ago, and it made me smile and sigh at the same time. I smiled because it whisked me back to my teens when I’d lock myself in my room gorging on Harlequin romances, and sighed because it still feels just like yesterday!

Mills & Boon books were my guilty pleasure at fourteen, filling me with butterflies, and probably some of the delusions I carry to this day! I remember deciding to recreate the book cover of “A Wife in Waiting”, and grabbed my 2B pencil, then moved to pencil colors, and then to a black pen. Halfway through an overwhelming urge to draw skeletons (instead of the protagonists “Josie” and “Dacre”) took over me. I resisted at first, but let it take over eventually. I couldn’t put the black pen down again.

I usually keep most of my sketches private, but I’m starting to embrace my style more and more. When people look at my sketches, they often react with concerns or counsel. Yes, it’s dark, and moody, and might ruin your day. But, I think that’s what I do best. Not ruining your day I mean, but capturing the darker emotions.

It is harder to make someone smile or laugh, hands down. But I don’t think I chose the art, the art chose me. And if I’m being honest, I love how deeply I can feel these emotions, and translate them into my art and my writing.

Original book cover

Of Art & Artists

Artists have earned a reputation over time. “The artist type” is a different breed- a crude, carefree, cocky, unschooled, impetuous, and volatile one. She might make you nervous or make you fall in love, but many a time, gut-punch you without warning.

You’re not scared of how grotesquely she dresses sometimes or how inconspicuously blends in the background. You’re scared of her mind. The intricate threads of thoughts twining through her being and the serpentine ravines of ideas meandering through her mind; her life force has sifted through ungodly dimensions. She has perceived nothingness and exuded the world. Her hunches have been so accurate, they’ve fostered superstitions and her eyes have locked with yours to make you feel violated.

Remember the last time you read something, and it reverberated so thuderously in the depths of your bosom you gasped? Or the last time you watched a live performance and forgot to clap because the reality of the artist seemed larger than your life? How many times did a painting remind you of your childish, forgotten dreams, and how many compositions have become a part of your personality, not because you grew up on them, but because you grew up due to them?

Artists are the ones feeling every raindrop melting on their skin and every crumb of sand singing their feet. She’s listened longer than you’ve spoken and seen farther than you’ve traveled. She has worn so many shoes quietly, hungrily, and inveterately; her soul has been the real “tramp” of the town.

So, are artists crazy or just a bit more human? In the world that we live today, we have succeeded to some extent, in normalizing getting in touch with our sexualities. I guess getting in touch with our soul should be normalized too. Oh, the faces you’d unlock and the world you’ll see! The best part is – a true artist always leaves the door open behind her. So, whether you follow her work or follow HER, you’re in for the revelation of a lifetime. And if you have a moment, take a long breath, think about what you’d do if you had infinite time and money was not a concern. Your heart already knows. This is just an echo from your heart to never lose sight of that again.