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Promoting the Love for Art

Ever seen your various art pieces lying around the place gathering dust, with no outlet? No platform to exhibit the tiny trinkets handcrafted with such love and care?

An artist knows the feeling of a part of your soul buried under the dredges of time. It paints a dreary picture that tugs at your heart.

Everyone has an artist hiding under the number of layers social expectations cover us with. It comes out in different forms for everyone. Mine pours out in torrents of paint and ink; it has for as long back as I can remember.

Even the times when I could never claim to be the least bit eloquent or artistic, I remember trying to cobble together something that would resemble a masterpiece.

As a child with stars in her eyes, naïve hope in her heart, and determination pumping through her veins, I kept at it. Day after day, year after year! It became a as much a part of life as my daily cups of tea: an essential.


An Artist is Created

The first time I took up a brush was for mandatory art classes. That one hour and I was in love. It did not matter that the paper was nowhere even close to resembling a painting. The rush of freedom I felt, the serene calm that surrounded me like the eye of the storm, and suddenly I knew my life would never again feel whole unless I had a brush in my hand and a canvas in vicinity.

I had always been fond of photography, never once thinking I could create something with just a few splashes on a blank paper, unless it was from behind a lens.

The pieces I painted under supervision were a confidence booster.

Then came the time to create something on my own! It turned into a disaster 15 minutes in, not even worth mentioning. I put down my brushes for a time, utterly dejected.

The empty feeling of something missing from life started crawling back in and I felt compelled to go back to the drawing board. I waned to get better quick. But there are no shortcuts when it comes to perfecting the art.

This time I started at the basics without supervision. Stumbled a lot of times, ruined a lot of canvases. Finally made one painting that made me feel like an accomplished artist. I can proudly claim- that one turned out to be the inspiration behind my art and the brand name: The Silent Lament.

I continued experimenting with different mediums, bases, colors; and I kept creating. Some of the art went up the walls, a lot of it went into boxes, hidden away like the parts of my soul, forgotten.

I stumbled upon them one day and found not just my art but those bits and pieces of my soul I had poured into creating them.

I started searching for avenues to display my artwork. Most of them were not really suited to my jumbled up disjointed art pieces.

I stumbled across blogging after a lot of research and stumbling around, and honestly, it felt intimidating. The idea of putting myself out there did take root within me and I made it a few steps in before stumbling again.

How do people do this day in, day out? I can't think of anything to blog about. My interests are too varied, too generalized to fit into a specific category, not able to find a specific niche.

I still haven't found a singular area to isolate and write solely about from my interests, and hope to continue building this beautiful mosaic of my fragmented creations.



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