People waiting in a clinic, a cat stretched out in sunlight, a girl waiting at traffic lights as my car slowly glides past her. I see them all differently now. It seems that I had never really looked at the world before.
My perception has evolved—and my Subway Diary has done that to me .
When I sketch, I observe:-- postures, expressions, colours. I try to remember them if I do not have any paper on hand ,and then recreate them later ---it seems to help me keep my memory exercised too.
There is no dearth of subjects to draw or paint. There is art all around us. So many things to draw, to capture, to recreate. I want to do them all and it is wishful thinking
The trees, what grace, what strength - the flowers, what beauty, what fragility - the clouds, so light so soft-the little boy who peeps from behind the open door, so cute so happy …. I find myself questioning - who made all this? Who was this Great Artist I can only try and copy. Is it Nature? Or some force even greater than Nature?
My friends laugh and comment that I am becoming a philosopher –maybe they are right. Doing Art has changed me in someway, I have become observant, contemplative and patient.
There is a girl standing at the crossroads holding a chicken. I notice she has shabby well-worn clothes and the chicken she is clutching could be her pet, or is stolen from the nearby market. She has a shy but also a sly look when she sees me watching her. The light turns in her favour and she sticks her chin out and walks proudly across the road. I am left with a memory of her and the chicken
I rush home and grab my diary to sketch that gesture that look, her clothes, the chicken. The sketch is untidy and does not look accurate but it does not matter I know I will always remember her .
It is so much fulfilling than trying to find the right words to describe her ---I am happy.
 |  |
RSS Feed
