The image was flashing in my mind for some weeks now. It had to be night, it had to be by the sea, and she had to be wearing an Indian-style pink dress. Initially there was to be a drape/ dupatta, but like in real life I decided at the last minute that it would be too cumbersome, so it got left out.
I recently bought myself an acrylic kit- because I decided water-colour wasn’t cutting it for me, and I don’t feel ready enough for oil. So here we are- ta-da! I kind of like how it goes.. though so many elements did not quite turn out like in my head. The best thing I like is to be able to work in layers- which I never could with water-colours, and which would take too much drying time with oil.
And as I have been putting layer after layer (read- hit and trial), or mainly in the time in between when I took a break, I realized much different painting is to writing. With painting, I tend to forget myself for hours. I am only focused on the work and nothing else. It is like meditation. It is flow.
Writing, on the other hand, is being fully present with myself. Reaching inside. Even when writing in a stream of consciousness way, it is getting fully in touch with myself.
One helps step outside of the self. The other dives fully inside.
There are rarely times when I would feel like doing both.
I spent most of last night with this painting. And when I woke up today and saw it, I thought, “Oh, she’s still sitting in the same pose.” And out of the blue I was reminded of a small moment from my 18th birthday which I had not thought of since. Some of my friends arrived late to my birthday treat, but looking very excited. They said they were looking for the perfect gift. After some time one of them, perhaps the one who had chosen it, insisted I open it. It was a lovely figurine of a girl sitting gracefully and looking thoughtfully into the distance. “Isn’t this you?” he had asked.
I don’t know about that. It was flattering that my friends thought it was like me, though I had provided no evidence of grace in my college years while jumping off running buses, wearing baggy pants.
The lady in the painting, though, is not me. But I hope she’s enjoying the moonlit night and the silence between the rhythmic crashing waves which I painstakingly created for her 🙂
