Gray

How I want to be gray

Dull and Boring
Plane and Simple

Sometimes Debonair
Gauche it can seem

But
It is the culmination
It is End

It is the epilogue
Of brightest of the shades

Tinting it’s way to memories
Always lingering in the thoughts

In a way
All I want is,
To be your Gray

Why do we create Art?

What an intriguing thought.

Why do we create art…. I could scour through the internet to find a more concrete answer to this question but I think for me this question is more on a personal level rather than philosophical. For me art, which is painting, is a very intimate affair, something that never ceases to amaze. While painting, when each stroke of my brush transfers the paint on the paper, it leaves me with a kind of relish.

The movements of the brush are as messy as lightning in the sky to as beautiful as watching a dance performed. Each part of a process is a must watch – when you dip your paintbrush in water and the paint diffuses creating mesmerizing patterns, to the careful absorption of the paint on the paper… And when the painting is finally complete, it fills me with a sense of wonder, how fusion of different strokes and designs and movements which seemed unintelligible prior to that moment could create something so whole and so very complete. It is at that given moment that gives me a sense of accomplishment, makes me realize that how small my contributions might be, they all play a role in the big picture. But you not only feel a connection with the art you just finished but also with your other works as whenever I see my previous art, they make me smile, bringing me back to the time I painted them and makes me fall in love again with the inspiration of that piece.

But what I love the most in art is that state of mind when I am surrounded by my paints, brushes, art sheets and palates, out in an open ground or my terrace with sun kissing my face and wind twirling my hair, leisurely painting with peace and content, it is that moment in which I am myself, with no one’s expectations pressuring me or judging me, in my own solitude, not lonely but just alone with myself, the art which I am creating will be for me and forever mine.

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