Sea of reflection…
In many ways, this may seem like a piece of work, a form of art or even a plank of garbage. To me, it is an expression of self-realization to which I draw your focus upon. I’ve often wondered what went through the minds of artists undertaking any form of creative craft. A module of conscious thought. In some way that intrigued me far more than when their artistic works came to a stand still.
Their emotions, their temperamental ideas at the exact moment they committed themselves into shaping their thoughts into something visible and concrete. Despite it all, the idea was destined to fall in the gaps of oblivion with the perspectives of each observant eye. The feeling right there was set to be lost forever leaving only traces of its mark in its art, to be acknowledged or to be discarded.
Hence, I take this time to jot down my thoughts in an apprehension of a forgotten feeling, to acknowledge and to embrace all that was and soon to be left behind. On this project, carefully handpicked treasures of the sea had caught me off guard with its distinct patterns and shape. At that moment, I was led to believe that the sea had worked on each one of them with care.
Among others (climatic and such), it gave life to sea creatures and scripted its adventures in patterns on rocks, leaving the testament of aeons to wash ashore. Alas! An attempt in futile with my inadequacy to decipher its message- An untold story to be silenced forever.
Nonetheless, in some way or the other ,the sea had played its part and left its mark. I stood there thinking how the sea had every right to take it away as well. The sky in all its vastness is probably what a creature of the sea would think of these massive waters, incalculable and boundless.
It may seem a bit absurd or dark even, but in a deliberate attempt, I’d grotesquely painted eyes on the exoskeletal remains of the crab to give a sense of life. However, only in retrospect, to stare into the eyes of the other and mark that no matter what I’d make of myself, I too would inevitably land up the same way.
There’s no denying it if given a chance, we would all choose to live forever. But even in the grim reality, beauty lies in death to make room for others. As our souls escape the gasp of our dying breath, our remains lie in solitude for the ‘works of time’ to wash away the last of our traces. It would seem like we never existed or probably we’ve just reached the final form of art…