The Blur
Omitting the expression of your emotions, never satisfies what lay inside. The Art ought to visit your life, and likewise the Life ought to visit your Art. The mirror is to be drawn between the two. Yet the moment, the mirror is brought into existence by the artist, the Art stats to fall apart. There can be no mirror, no reflections, rather a glass which is to be lit dimly. The glass enables the Art to see beyond life. And that is what troubles the Artist. The reality starts to blur, as the artist learns to express his emotions better. What’s real and unreal? The Art allows the artist to have a total control on his miseries. This is a fortune which the Artist can never win in real life. The Art allows him every escape, every respite, and thus it becomes his life. But what of life then if Art is life? The distance between the heart and art for an artist is not much to be fathomed. The distance between the life and heart is. The Art works according to the artist, the life doesn’t. The hate for life, although natural, begins to exert some pressure in a merciless fashion and eventually destroys whatever good the Artist may feel about life.
The artist almost always is aware of his Art and realities of life, after all Art is born out of follies of life. A comfort and a sense of security begins to hover his heart. Life as unpredictable as it may come, never provides that. So, in whom to confide in? The Art of the joy of life? Art, for obvious reasons. The artist is a human too, he can’t take painful blows on his chin, he has to survive for he has a hope buried somewhere within that there be some happiness waiting for him in the shadowy corners of his own miseries. Art is the answer to all imminent problems. And why is this answer wrong? It provides a momentary satisfaction, elsewhere lost in the life.
There are certain innate emotions which drive the human heart forward. Two of them overrule every other emotion – guilt and regret. All Art is in some way based on the principles of guilt and regret. The piece of Art is an confession, every work of art is an confession because the artist’s heart breeds guilt even when letting go is the best ideal. Repressing guilt is not a skill that the Artist ever tries to master. For if he masters this Art and learns to curb his guilt, his fodder to create more may diminish. He would then have to commit fresh sins, and be guilty, so as to be able to confess his guilt again in the form of his Artistic expression. Regret on the other hand is the inspiration. Guilt leads to feeling, and regret leads to action. The creation comes to life primarily due to regret. In life, as is the case certain emotions other than regret and guilt too occupy some place in our lives. Rest all other emotions aren’t a driving factor to create Art. Love is one such emotion which we all seek. But love never makes the Artist create. The guilt in love or regret due to love, these shall always be superior driving factors for any artist to create.
Inhibition of two worlds becomes a commonplace in the heart of the Artist. A world which is dominated by his Art, and the second one which is ruled by the cacophony of life. Which world to live in? Which world hurts you less? The choice is tough but clear, crystal. The world of Art not only offers respite to lassitude but also allows solace to understand thyself better. Why would an Artist want to be a part of the world, where he has no control over, where all his insecurities will come to haunt him again and again, why would he be ready to mingle with intimacy when it will last only for seconds? These questions are as banal as the life can be. And that’s why the answer is clear, crystal. All art needs some dreams left unfulfilled, some exaggeration of pain. These form the recipe to express. The process of expression leads to contentment. But make no mistake, being content doesn’t necessarily guarantee inner peace. It might still be possible that despite being content with your Art, you still may not be able to sleep in the wholesome hours of the night. What then, the longing for the real world comes often. This longing further proves to be a driving factor in shutting the world one time more and go on to create. With every desire connected to the real world, a desire arises to confide more in the Art. The courage needed to face the world, perhaps, always will be missing in someone who has hidden his deepest insecurities in his Art. All artists are cowards. They fear the world but not themselves. All world is a coward as well. They fear not the world but themselves. This contrasting opinion provides a reflection on how the artist faces the dilemma of leading multiple lives.
The Blur as experienced inside the heart of the Art’s creator is as real as the dust settled on the leaves early in the morning. The dew too is there but the artist focuses primarily on the dust when he thinks about real life. But he focuses on the droplets of dew for his Art. This is the disconnect. When the artist observes the world, the most he may see are the follies for himself. But if the artist is supposed to extract something from the real world, he shall extract hope. Still, this hope is not himself. This hope, is one which is exploited time and again, without consequences, to seek refuge in running away from the life itself. But, the artist is well aware that every form of refuge has a price. This price is comparable to mortgage payment. You are to pay every damn time you sit to create something from your pain. Are you willing to pay?
