Every photograph has a story to tell. Tales that make you laugh, weep, think and remember. Some tales are fleeting, some linger. Hopefully these tales and frames will linger long.
Monday, February 1, 2010
DAY 60 - ART ATTACK
I had a fabulous evening. I went to the Chitra Santhe in Bangalore.
Roughly translated it means an art market. It is held on the last Saturday of the first month of every year.
An entire road, on which is located the Chief Minister's residence and the Chitrakala Parishat, the premier art college in the city, is converted into an artists walkway. No vehicles are allowed. The sidewalks turn colorful with artworks hanging from tree branches and stone walls. It is like a mini-mini-artist carnival.
You have artists from all over the country showcase their talent. You can get your portraits done on the spot, so on and so forth.
Though this event has been happening for the past few years this is my first time.
It was literally an art attack. After 15 mts it becomes overwhelming. Then the colors begin to blur and the art turns into a kaleidoscope of lines and circles and dots and colors and figures and so many things. I don't know whether that is good or bad.
At the end of the evening, I don't remember any particular art work not because they weren't good, (I remember thinking `oh they are so beautiful') but because it was like someone asking which ice-cream you liked the best after having you taste more than 100 different flavors at one go. It's difficult to choose!
But at the end of a 2 hour art-walk, what I remember the most was this one man -sitting in the evening sun, with his paintings hanging on the makeshift gallery behind him. He was joyously sketching on his pad.
He wasn't bothered about whether people were buying his work or not (many of them had that worried look on their faces); he was not irritated by pesky photographers and intruding cameras (one guy shooed me away); he didn't seem bothered about his neighbor making more sales than him or the artist across the street drawing more crowds than him.
He just seemed lost in his passion -in a nice way. You can see it on his face. And I was reminded of something that I read long ago:
If man understood that "what I create has nothing to do with what anybody
else is creating" then he wouldn't be so afraid of what others are doing.
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