Honestly i don't even know where to begin..I haven't written in months and this isn't writer's block either. Last year has had it's fair share of ups and downs, but you know how you get that feeling that the downs sometimes far outweigh the ups. It's been like that. Mind you ...I'm no over-enthusiastic pessimist about things but being made redundant from a job that stifled me creatively to a couple of sad realisations - my perceptions started to morph into something completely alien-like.
But over the course of the year I reminisced about one thing that could change the way i operated as an individual to better help me and the people around me...We sometimes forget the thin veneer that sometimes divides our private lives from our public ones. When we alone know our blemishes and foibles, we can sometimes manage to conceal them for a lifetime. But as anyone who’s been in a committed relationship knows, the fastest way to unearth those things is to fall in love . . . and then wait a little while, till the butterflies disperse.
While on a shoot at Flagstaff Gardens, I watched people around me – the way they interacted and moved in harmony like a giant multi-coloured sheet that breathed life into my surroundings. But … I had this sinking feeling of disregard …. as I would disregard many other things in life, such as stupid movies, vulgar people, idiots or any other form of life that should be placed in the level of complete contempt. [ This is debatable]
Sometimes my cynicism pervades every inch of my body and, without an explanation or a strong reason, it completely subjugates my artistic instincts. My feelings kept telling me there was nothing in this world more monotonous than a garden, and flowers, and grass, and people walking.
So where is the poetry here? Where is the Art? Yes, for if there is no Art form in a garden, and people, and grass and flowers and sun, what else is left for one to talk about in an early Friday morning enchanted by triple-expresso coffee, muffins and lack-of-sleep weariness?
I believe Art should not be consumed by the ordinary or the extraordinary for there is little one can do to define what Art really should be, or, for that matter, what poetry should be.
The most intense feeling in the world could have taken place just before my very eyes in that garden and, being myself completely oblivious to it, it just rushed by me like any other passerby. On an average day, if you think of the number of people who you come into contact with, they all have a stake in your happiness; they can leave you feeling cherished, valued and appreciated, or they can leave you feeling worthless, unwanted and basically shit.
Where there may be superficial variances that can sometimes separate us, on a deeper level, we are more alike than different and as individuals, we give so much to so many without knowing it and in return, there are countless others who provide for us without us ever being aware.