Attempted some modest newfangled indoor space arrangement with a bamboo ladder added to the mix and some hanging plant installations. Right time with the right vibe enables the visual poet in me to prose. I’ve been contemplating some hanging set ups for a long time. There’s something very beautiful about plants hanging. They bring in coziness and warmth to smaller spaces and help them to be perceived as different. Petrichor is the smell of rain. The word comes from the Greek words ‘petra’, meaning stone, and ‘ichor’, which in Greek mythology refers to the golden fluid that flows in the veins of the immortals. Green areas with crawling plants and hanging pots brings the petrichor of a personal space and home. They say, home is a story of who we are.
“She awaits the rain like a writer embraces metaphors,
A drizzle isn’t for the child who dances in the storm.
Of rain that washes away the petrichor it brings,
A downpour of a hail of bullets, and she calls it spring.”
This is a humble effort to chronicle an endeavor to freeze a part of the time, a moment to reflect later. The hands and feet of my son cast at a time when he does not think of the future and is in a carefree state of mind. This is a work of art to remind of this time when this innocence leaves him to be free to enjoy himself as few adults can and to remind about this beautiful time which existed before being caught up in the fret of future when most adults leave their childhood behind. As a father, I gaze awestruck at how curious he is and this memory in my mind of him picking toys and little things by his tiny hand and tinkering with it and exploring them is so deeply engraved in my memory that I desired some sort of material realization of this time which will pass soon in a blink of an eye as he grows up so fast. This work of art graciously reminds us of the transitory nature of phases of the life of this world. Of course, photographs, old toys and dresses would bring back memories, but there’s something special with the aspects and details in a cast. Thanks to Imprintz by Srushti for crafting it to perfection with lot of care and love put into it with a stellar attention to detail.
“Writing, music, sculpting, painting, and prayer! These are the five things that are most closely related! Writers, musicians, sculptors, painters, and the faithful are the ones who make things out of nothing. Everybody else, they make things out of something, they have materials! But a written work can be done with nothing, it can begin in the soul! A musical piece begins with a harmony in the soul, a sculpture begins with a formless, useless piece of rock chiseled and formed and molded into the thing that was first conceived in the sculptor's heart! A painting can be carried inside the mind for a lifetime, before ever being put onto paper or canvass! And a prayer! A prayer is a thought, a remembrance, a whisper, a communion, that is from the soul going to what cannot be seen, yet it can move mountains! And so I believe that these five things are interrelated, these five kinds of people are kin.”
― C. JoyBell C.
Love these lines gushing with solace! There’s a beautiful kind of calm disposition on complete reliance to divine will.
Should you not gain your wants, my soul, then be not grieved;
But hasten to that banquet which your Lord’s bequeathed.
And when a thing for which you ask is slow to come,
Then know that often through delay are gifts received.
Find solace in privation and respect its due,
For only by contentment is the heart relieved.
And know that when the trials of life have rendered you
Despairing of all hope, and of all joy bereaved,
Then shake yourself and rouse yourself from heedlessness,
And make pure hope a meadow that you never leave.
Your Maker’s gifts take subtle …and uncounted forms.
How fine the fabric of the world His hands have weaved.
The journey done, they came to the water of life,
And all the caravan drank deep, their thirst relieved.
Far be it from the host to leave them thirsty there,
His spring pours forth all generosity received.
My Lord, my trust in all Your purposes is strong,
That trust is now my shield; I’m safe, and undeceived.
All those who hope for grace from You will feel Your rain;
Too generous are You to leave my branch unleaved.
- Ali bin Muhammed bin Hussein al-Habshi
” No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted. It ministers to our education, to the development of such qualities as patience, faith, fortitude and humility. All that we suffer and all that we endure, especially when we endure it patiently, builds up our characters, purifies our hearts, expands our souls, and makes us more tender and charitable, more worthy . . . and it is through sorrow and suffering, toil and tribulation, that we gain the education that we come here to acquire..”
““In the fear of creating something normal, he stared at that blank canvas for a very long time with a brush in his hand. He waited until all the paint dried up, his heart didn’t sing the songs anymore, the fire in his soul turned into ash, his flesh turned into bones, and until his dreams and thoughts faded into the oblivion.”
― Akshay Vasu, The Abandoned Paradise: Unraveling the beauty of untouched thoughts and dreams.”
This piece of art is inspired by a theme that I’ve always pondered on. The museum of our “minds”. Albeit it sounds poetic, each of us are museums of memories. The richness of thoughts in those museums doesn’t need dusting. Jan Mark puts it into paper quite brilliantly.
“Memory is your museum, your cabinet of curiosities, your ‘Wunderkammer.’ It will never be full; there is always room for something new and strange and marvelous. It will never need dusting. It will last as long as you do. You can’t let the public in to walk around it, but you can take out the exhibits and share them, share what you know. You will never be able to stop collecting.”
Back here after a pretty long hiatus. Worked on this piece of art wherein we’re putting Netta in a teacup. As they say magic exists for people who believe in it. Our sharp senses are patiently sought out to unravel the magic around you.
..“Magic exists. Who can doubt it, when there are rainbows and wildflowers, the music of the wind, and the silence of the stars? Anyone who has loved has been touched by magic. It is such a simple and such an extraordinary part of the lives we live..”