Early morning music today - the classics of instrumental
symphonies and sonatas and pieces by masters. Each piece tells a story. It is a
communication, if one has the ears to hear what is said and a listen to all of
it. Of course the language is nothing literal but of a current the underlies
verbal communication, of the flavor of a story, flavor of the emotion that
animates speech, animates a person in a symphony of everyday talk through
everyday living. Makes me wonder what my sketches would speak of; don’t think
it is only that which is intended to be spoken for the whole is more than sum
of its parts. Not surprising yet surprised that I should think of sketching as
I listen to music. Art is afterall a wave of passion and merging with the
inspiration that spans across time and space into different media and get
expressed, verbally or nonverbally or both, I guess.
Friday, October 25, 2013
Saturday, October 19, 2013
Documenting a 'historical' moment in my personal life...for my records.
Took
a step today. Bought myself an eisel. In wood. It is the elephant in the room
after the treatment couch. Incidentally the eisel made me aware that the couch
is the biggest elephant, as it should be, as I want it to be in a certain
sense. But of course in the end each thread weaves into an embroidery like an
orchestra the feel of which determines its oxygen'ness and oxyneableness.
Friday, October 18, 2013
Don't you shush me!
Sounds, needless to say, play a
very big role on our mental makeup. ‘shh’ a dangerous sound. Insignificant and
innocent as it seems, is a wordless way to tell the brain to shut up, to not
express. A nasty thing I learned to do when I had voices in my head which
needed to be heard, to be expressed, for I was busy surviving through what
should have been fought against with all my might. The suppression of what
makes a person that person; the suppression which makes that person have a
secret silent under-the-surface life, that makes a person develop a persona to
put up with the world. Shh. It is uttered to stop a child from crying, from
speaking out loud, expressing emotions, voicing an opinion..first by people
around and then u do that to yourself as a conditioned reflex to quiet down
what clamours to be heard.
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Yearn
Maybe
at the heart of life is a yearn that is just as part of what keeps life ongoing
as the Chaos; perhaps both are related. Subtleties. It is like the lingering
taste in the mouth, the sentence that says and yet leave soft ripples of
meanings, a warm fuzzy feeling from the bonfire or candle, a softness in the
eye of understanding. It sort of fills something inside and yet opens a door
for more space and lingers on a faint silent yearn.
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