Mom knows Best!Β 

Dry bamboo behind a potted plant. 

Who else but a mother can think of giving pride of place to anything drying or dying 😊.

My mom specialises in picking up seeds and leaves and placing them in the most artistic manner, for her own joy…Every time I visit her, there are new flowering plants in small bottles and jars. She makes a collection of them on an antiquated table that has seen better days… And makes it look fabulous. It seems like she discards nothing… Just puts it to different use. ☺️

There are frangipani flowers that fell out of a hairclip, adorning an evergreen plant in the living room. From a distance, it looks brilliant! Guests wonder if they can take a ‘cutting’ of this unusual plant… Much to moms delight.

In the night, when even owls might struggle to navigate their terrain, my mom trapezes over pipes and flower beds to make me smell the fragrance of her latest Blossoms! She knows each and every flower by heart… She inspires me by her enthusiasm for small joys.. Those are the big ones for her 😊

I love this about her!

This one’s for you Mom 😁! 

#Watercolor #handmadepaper #sketchbook #journaljourney #mom

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The Magic Makers

The creator and his creation taking shape painstakingly, lovingly, one gentle nudge at a time…. 

When an artist invites you to watch him sculpt, it is an honour. The eyes move from the sunburnt face and hands onto the perfection that is being sculpted out of a block of wood. No gap remains between the two. It is as unique and beautiful as any process of birthing can be… 

The finished sculpture, polished and shining adorns temples and prayer rooms of homes that the sculptor might never visit… Yet through his art he has infused the intangible into the tangible…

 #art #creativity #sculpture #sculptor #wood #beauty #artist #surajkundmela #InredibleIndia #unsung #unknown

Art for Me…Β 

Some blobs of paint, a selection of brushes, a surface to work on and imagination….  LOADS of it! And patience,  to build up from nothing, a dream that exists only within you. An ephemeral idea that burns, sometimes brightly, at other times mildly and needs to be attended to. 

This excitement of capturing something intangible and giving it some sort of form for the world to see, is art for me. 

It takes me to places within me that I never knew existed. It introduces me to parts of my personality I didn’t know were there. It makes me observe nature like it might my last view of it. And while doing this, I miss nothing. My world is complete. I am in the world that I create. I am a bee hovering over a blooming Lotus and I am the shadow under a languid Lotus leaf…. And when it is all done, I wash my brushes and gently come back to this other world and drive myself home… Cocooned in silence and peace that even the raging traffic and piercing horns cannot penetrate….

This is art for me.

The Day Heaven Touched EarthΒ 

The Day Heaven Touched Earth..
The sound of the waves and the unmistakable pull of the sea guided my feet towards it. Being very early in the morning there was solitude all around. 

I reached the magnificient openness of the beach and strolled to a cluster of huge rust colored boulders. Climbing the highes one, I sat down, surrounded by crisp air and the gentle sound of the lapping waves. Peace enveloped me as I became one with the splendid beauty of nature. The glorious orange of the morning sky and the sea changing color as if to keep up with it, took my breath away.

It crossed my mind that this beauty could not be enhanced any further. 

As if to prove me wrong, a single, pure string of Saxophone music flowed up towards me, enveloping me with inexplicable joy. it was like nothing I’d ever heard. It was pure, unstructured, radiant and vibrant all at once. The musician and the music a perfect single entity. He seemed to be serenading the rising sun, eyes shut, hair flying in the air, revelling in his freedom. To me it seemed like the sun was rising faster as if to hear him better. Between these two amazing sights, I sat, watching someones meditation turn to prayer right in front of my eyes.

It dawned on me that creativity is an end in itself. Regardless of whether there is a million strong audience or one listener or none at all. It came from the soul and was an ode to the Universal Spirit which is the biggest and most attentive audience. It is this that supports the artist through years of solitary practice and becomes his constant companion and in times like these also becomes his greatest admirer, listening to him with rapt attention, enthralled..as only a parent can be at the achievement of his child…