okay so after watching this video (which for some weird reason i did because i don't generally entertain such farce issues) i freaked out. like totally and in a majorly MAJOR way. it could be partly because of the fact that i'v been constantly having dreams of wild earthquakes and huge tsunamis rushing in my face for quite some time (read 2-3 years) now.
and because i was so hopelessly disoriented with fear -- i had the most beautiful dream. i was scared shitless in my dream too but i was with my family. umm, that's not exactly the beautiful part. like it or not, i'm with them everyday :P
the starting symptoms of the 'end' were begining to appear and it was like no movie i'v ever seen (and i'v watched quite a few).
the night sky was ridden with planets and moons, all the hues and shades of orange and red. they'd appear then hide behind dense clouds. the sky was in constant motion and soo transparent or perhaps these planets were. also there were these groups of small granules of yellow red lights strewn in the atmosphere that were not supposed to touch you because they could instantly set you on fire O.O i can soo not describe what my troubled brain cells conjured up so i'll stop :)
(above is an attempt at illustrating what i saw. not so successful though :S)
although i'll add that it was so real. the reality of it was characterized by our feelings of relief with the return of our bland starless sky and the onset of a startling panic of witnessing something extraordinary and fearful in it's improbability.
when i woke up, i naturally sought the refuge of my mother's unfailing wisdom and she squashed my fears like she bats down a fly. a single strike.
i reckoned in the end that it was all a matter of fate and who was man to decide or decode that, for that matter, a mere slave of destiny.
so if we die, then we die and if we don't, we live and we discover that perhaps the mayan-calender-disc-thing did run out of space to record any more time because, after all, as long as we exist in this world all is subject to an end.
..............................................and alwayz shall go on ,whether u want it to or not .....................:)))...................................................................................................................................................
So what do i want to progress with for my thesis, that is about a mere eight months from now? Not much of a clue besides a slight, whimsical inkling.
Looking back at my three academic years, i find in my works, a natural inclination towards a love for the form of the human body, it's motion. Besides that is my new found love for the effcts of sounds and music on our psychology and interpretation. SUGOUII....!! And then comes my ageless, primitive love for the artistic delicacy that is the japanese art of manga and anime.
It's is hard, almost impossible, to point out 'what' about this form of art appeals me so. The action sequences( flawless!), the mature thought provoking storylines (they could, quite simply, give hollywood script writers a run for their money), hell, even the line art makes me downright drool !!!! I think at this point it is safe to state that i am infatuated with the japanese infatuation for the 'line' in art.
So its basically three things im jugguling with right now ;
- The motion of the human form,
- The effects of sounds and music on the human concience and psycology and
- The amazing art of manga.
I'd really like to get over with the juggling soon as possible and get on with the real thing. Pronto!
In the short while that i have had the gracious opportunity of being an art student ( four years now- almost, grilling under the notion of being 'educated' to be creative and somewhere at the intersection of creation and education, being referred to as a professional of art) i have realized that ours is a profession that starts right off the point we step through the threshold of the gates of an art shool or an art studio, for that mater, with the conviction of becoming a professional, practicing, full-time devotee of our own 'psyched-out' world (psyched-out because art, though essentially a very public and overt entity, still is a product of as personalized factors and rudiments of an individual as an artist would hate for it to be). The most initial of the unnerveing challenges dusting this path come with convincing the parents of what we're up to and how it is, well more or less, a profitable job (say so for their sake).
What is so different about artists and their 'job' that makes them so varied and unlike the rest of the slaving masses? We love what we do? i guess theres a hoard of careerists and nonrecreational workers who'd claim the same. Point is, every time we 'do' something, we've created. Created an idea ,a trend or simply the tangible body of a thought or philosophy or even a whim! Arists are most frequently involved with the most intimate essence of nature. Not just life but the very soul of it. And in disentangleing this seemingly untangible affair( and oh the joy of it! ), the self is either lost to the vastness of the collective concience or is broken free of it. So unpredictable! Which brings me back to my inaugural concern.
It is nearly impossible ( read inconceivably unimaginable ) to explain to the uncomprehending minds the ways of The Process. The 'sacred' Process. This process of creation and conception is so far away from the understanding of the artist himself that it is not possible for him to go out and state the certainities of this life or 'job'.
What is worse is what, in the name of opportunities, the management of certain societies around the globe provides. In case of the system that this sorry artist belongs to, there has been a dire deprivation of the very staples that would make the notion of a steady career real. So all the more reason for pitching into a frantic sense of panic.
Keeping in mind this and the experiences i've so far gathered on the home-front( read home), i've come to one desperate conclusion. I shall, on my part, do what i must and leave the rest to the forces that govern the sound beingness of life on this planet despite the disruptive din and hoo-ha that is the day-after-day reality of our existance today.
I live today, going about my daily routine made up of countless subroutines, comprising of a mundane course of events.
I die tomorrow -well, at least figuratively.
What happens next?
Who’s to know. But what I do know is the life that I left behind; the people ,the places ,the days, the weeks, the months, the years. What I do know is that there was a world full of these things and that I was a part of it. That I tried to make a difference, no matter how unnoticeable or unworthy of anyone’s while. I tried to stand out. I tried to do my part amongst millions of others. I aspired and I inspired.
But if I were to die today, would you notice? Would you admit to this existence?
She's cheating on you ,they tell me.
but do i not already know ?...
I let her live of me, taking me apart bit by bit .
So that i can feel the pain ..
The pain that pours out onto my strings and makes them weep my sorrow
As I create -- genius .