Expressions of loss

Art truly imitates life with it being the only medium through which life can be expressed.  Art gives us, mere mortals, the power to create. It could be a painting on a sheet that was previously lying blank. The colours and imagination of the painter bring that paper to life, infusing it with an energy of sorts and in the process giving that hitherto blank sheet an identity. Isn't that what we are all searching for? An identity, an idea that defines us. We try to create these identities at multiple levels- in our work and in various relationships. Ultimately we struggle to unite these different identities under a single band and make sense of ‘us’.

Art gives us the ability to bequeath an identity on a lifeless object. No wonder artists are confused souls, grappling with bliss and anguish all at once. In the course of creating and defining, they tend to tread a meandering road. The art and artist often merge taking on fragments of each other.

Poets for example are adept at creating music by stringing together a series of ordinary words and connecting them with an idea, a story at times or just a call to society. In the process they render these words powerful and intangible. They leave an abstract notion of themselves out there and allow the world to interpret their thoughts. This is bound to affect their psyche as a constant barrage of inputs is thrown at them. A reader’s appreciation often comes with value judgment and minute dissection of what the poet has tried to convey in his piece. It is naive to imagine that such critique would escape the man in question. The concept of self is slowly eroded by a collage of comments and enduring remarks, rendering the poet unable to sift through the extraneous and retain elements of his being.