The art and the artist

The other day I was at an art exhibition. This was the first time I was visiting an art exhibition without knowing anything about the artist.

After looking at the crowd who moved aimlessly inside the hall having their regulation tea/drinks and snacks, my attention was drawn by two photographers in stylist attire, who kept taking photographs of groups of people. Many eyes were looking at the four walls of the hall, where about 50-60 paintings were hung. They looked lonely, because many more eyes were engaged in looking at various people, who knew each other. I looked at the paintings once again, since I wanted to find out if it was important to know the artist, to understand his art. I found out that I was not liking the works of that artist, since I didn't know him at all. I knew nothing about him and I could not connect anything to his expressions of art. I did found that I was really not liking the show and nothing inside the hall interested me. 

On the other hand, on many other occasions, I had visited painting exhibitions by many of my friends. Although I could barely understand what they wanted to say through their paintings, I could feel a very strong connection with the paintings, simply because I knew the artists. I knew what they thought about, I knew their families, I knew their life's issues and I knew their pains and joys. So, as I looked at their paintings, and without understanding anything about paintings, I could understand the painters. The painters are thus, more important for me than their paintings! 

Because at the end of the day, when wine is not served anymore, when the photographers stop taking photos, when the last of the visitors would have already left the venue, the real painter will stand up and realise that

all his paintings were gone and

with those,

all all that he wanted to say. 

Birth of a dream

From the beginning
Till now,
It's too long a period
For the soul to remain
in our body.
It goes out every night
In search of what it
Couldn't get all these years!
It knows well that
All our dreams will be
Floating somewhere in the
Twilight zone.
That's how, every night

You come in my dreams.

Dream at my feet

They have called me at last,
after almost completing  this story,
after walking the sky in search of wings,
finally the call comes for me to stay
just next to you, or
perhaps in the same region where you are.
This, in the beginning, seemed to me
as a cruel joke from the God, just so I could
wait much much longer than I did so far,
and finish this race hoping that someday
this would end.
But on a second look, I found it was true,
and if I decide, I would probably
breathe the same air that you do,
walk the same streets that you walk,
touch those entry doors that you do
to enter some shops,
sit and eat on the same chairs and tables, that you
might have used just a day before
at that corner cafe,
and who knows? perhaps meet the same person and
shake hands with him, whom you had
hugged last week, and get to know
instantly that you were there with him,
because he would still be smelling
like the fragrance from your neck, or
just like the back of your ears.
If God wants, I may even see you from behind,
and watch the back of your
skirt, swinging in the morning breeze,
although only for a moment, just before you
vanish into your car and drive away.
And all these affairs of getting too close to you
and yet staying too far, would be

still acceptable to me,
only if I dare to bring my own dreams down
on this earth, not thinking anything about
the years that have passed between us
and the empty space that had filled it.