It was just another evening. I was having an idle moment. Not thinking about anything as such. Then I saw a message from a friend. He wrote, what is art to you? Well, he was the artist! It should be my question to him. But he persisted. With the festival season underway, he was picking my brains. After a while, I put some immediate thoughts to pen.
What does art mean to me?
Art is the whiff of perfume while taking an evening walk in a garden.
Art is the last chirps from the trees at dusk.
Art is the cool breeze on your face as you open the windows at daybreak.
Art is the euphoria and ecstasy which remain after a hard day’s work.
Art is the refinement of one’s sensibilities. It sensitizes us to people, situations and surroundings. It’s the expression of all the inner joys, pain and cynicism which we encounter in life.
It’s poetry, it’s philosophy, it’s also political. It’s sometimes a message, sometimes an utterance. Sometimes satirical, sometimes comical.
But to be convincing, it has to be at all times honest. Fake subjects don’t evoke emotions.Artifice revolts people.
Simplicity in expression is of paramount importance to the final work.
When an artist dips her fingers into the paint, and breathes life into a blank canvas, she puts a piece of herself there, a fragment of her life.
Art has to be individualistic. But it can evoke universal reactions.
That is its miracle. That is its character.
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