Random thoughts on my Art sabbatical @ Ann Arbor ;)
I love weekends and the way I choose to spend it - quiet, unto myself. Weekends remained pristine until I finished high school - the Saturdays and Sundays in my possession, Once into medical school, things changed..my idea of weekend took the first beating. Saturdays were meant to work. And so it continued, with no respite.
There came a time when I chose to work even on Sundays. Solitude is a choice but loneliness is not. Life is an (oxy)moronic irony, isn't it? Unable to bear the pregnant silence of loneliness with the truant mind endlessly bickering unto itself, it was my choice and I had no complaints.
One needs to lose something to appreciate its worth. I have reason to rejoice. I have time to indulge myself. I have the luxury of having my weekends all to myself, again! My work no longer expands to fill the available weekend. I fill my weekends with creativity, weilding the pencil.
There is something magical about holding the pencil - el lapiz! Peace runs in my veins as I hold el lapiz. (Pun unintendedly intended)
What started on the eve of Holi of 2009 as a desperate act to counter my loneliness and to kill time as I sat in my lab, has evolved over the years and grown into a passion. It all started with my sketching isolated eyes, noses, and lips. Then came pairs of eyes. I stopped with sketching the eyes. I was happy and contented. I looked at eyes; so, I sketched eyes. That's what I told people. Honestly, I was just too lazy and unsure of my true potential!
I once tried sketching my friend Ad. It turned out like that of Bhagat Singh - disastrous "A 2 B" i called it! Didn't have the courage to show him nor the doggedness to attempt again. I was too tired to attempt; was myopic to see beyond and risk a walk in the beauty of the woods. Those were the times when i remained tied to a tree, the family tree.
As I learnt to fall back on this innate passion to soothen my frayed nerves, I took up the pencil a little more often. I had to prove myself to no one. I didn't have to be perfect. I had myself to call my own. I felt more confident about making mistakes, to fumble, to try again. Voila! I could sketch a full face with so much of life!
Life is full of surprises and I am thankful..one step at a time!
Now, with the certainty of my weekends, life has become perfect with its own imperfections. Life is always perfect in the artist's imagination, especially with the realisation that I am getting better at it, with regular practice - "The Art Sabbatical at Ann Arbor".
I love weekends and the way I choose to spend it - quiet, unto myself. Weekends remained pristine until I finished high school - the Saturdays and Sundays in my possession, Once into medical school, things changed..my idea of weekend took the first beating. Saturdays were meant to work. And so it continued, with no respite.
There came a time when I chose to work even on Sundays. Solitude is a choice but loneliness is not. Life is an (oxy)moronic irony, isn't it? Unable to bear the pregnant silence of loneliness with the truant mind endlessly bickering unto itself, it was my choice and I had no complaints.
One needs to lose something to appreciate its worth. I have reason to rejoice. I have time to indulge myself. I have the luxury of having my weekends all to myself, again! My work no longer expands to fill the available weekend. I fill my weekends with creativity, weilding the pencil.
There is something magical about holding the pencil - el lapiz! Peace runs in my veins as I hold el lapiz. (Pun unintendedly intended)
What started on the eve of Holi of 2009 as a desperate act to counter my loneliness and to kill time as I sat in my lab, has evolved over the years and grown into a passion. It all started with my sketching isolated eyes, noses, and lips. Then came pairs of eyes. I stopped with sketching the eyes. I was happy and contented. I looked at eyes; so, I sketched eyes. That's what I told people. Honestly, I was just too lazy and unsure of my true potential!
I once tried sketching my friend Ad. It turned out like that of Bhagat Singh - disastrous "A 2 B" i called it! Didn't have the courage to show him nor the doggedness to attempt again. I was too tired to attempt; was myopic to see beyond and risk a walk in the beauty of the woods. Those were the times when i remained tied to a tree, the family tree.
As I learnt to fall back on this innate passion to soothen my frayed nerves, I took up the pencil a little more often. I had to prove myself to no one. I didn't have to be perfect. I had myself to call my own. I felt more confident about making mistakes, to fumble, to try again. Voila! I could sketch a full face with so much of life!
Life is full of surprises and I am thankful..one step at a time!
Now, with the certainty of my weekends, life has become perfect with its own imperfections. Life is always perfect in the artist's imagination, especially with the realisation that I am getting better at it, with regular practice - "The Art Sabbatical at Ann Arbor".
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