About Art - Part II
It had been long since that night of spectacular mind bending by the Whats. Stating the obvious by serving it on a plate full of questions was a disguise, so apparent that it mocked the anti artists from the dadaists in the most sarcastic way possible.
Everyone, including the Whys felt obligated to unearth the questions thrown at them, but never reached out to the Whats for answer, for they knew that there was no right answer anyway. It was only the persistent second cousin of Who, who couldn't get his mind around them and kept nagging the Whats with their questions time and again.
What is art? And what does that, which is considered as art, mean? And whose an artist?
This continued until one fine rainy evening, when he found a piece of parchment paper penned with some thoughts -
Art is honesty.
Art is truth.
A piece of art is nothing if it is made with the slightest of pretence.
Pretence to look like someone else's art. Pretence to not look like someone else's art.
Art is what makes humans, human.
Art is the purpose of our civilisation.
Because art is emotion.
Art is love, art is hate. Art is the conveyor of the time. Of the stories, known by all and none.
Technology helps us to survive.
Art gives meaning to that survival.
Art is power.
Art gives voice. Art is equality.
As the same set of pen and paper in each hand tells its own tale.
Art does not judge. Even while it is widely judged.
Art is infinite.
Art is a journey.
It's a state of mind.
A way of looking at the world.
And an artist is simply one who wants to be one.
In all their honesty.
Because the day one really wants to be an artist,
Is precisely the day they cannot be one.
Because art is organic.
Art is joy.
Broken cups and moss clad walls,
XOXO
-T
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