THE ARTIST EYE

I managed to find time to sit through a movie after long. And I chose Robert Redford’s ‘A river runs through it’ more out of compulsion actually but oh well it inspired this post.

The movie was nominated for 3 Oscars and picked one up, for its excellent excellent cinematography. But I did not quite like the movie. Primarily because it relied too heavily on the narrator’s recounting, accompanied by still photographs to construct the story of a family of fly-fishers. I am unfortunately prejudiced. A movie should flow and move and unravel through the emotions, the words, the language of the actors.

But one line stuck on in my head.

When Craig Sheffer remarked without missing a beat about the perfection of form and of style of Brad Pitt’s fly-fishing endeavours. He affected an affectionate definition. Art.

And really what is art? Grace in language, refinement in advance, poise in stance, colour in view. And sometimes you can find it all around you if you just look a little harder.

When she eats with a rare gratification every meal, and every morsel on the plate.

When he describes with a singular passion and a personal erudition.

When she writes in her calligraphy and tilts back a tad to appreciate.

When he narrates with energy and seamless analogies.

When she sweeps vivid strokes and bright hues and tells not one.

‘Art stares back at itself in the mirror, but truly shines in other’s eyes’*

Yes, art craves the attention of an audience to truly thrive and flourish. To become a means of windfall and thus, complete satisfaction. So we search for art in galleries and auditoriums and museums. When sometimes it stares us in the face. If we only shed our insecurities of a collective approval, the next time he pulls on the cigarette with a pleasant effort to expel it in a streamlined form, maybe art will assume newer definitions.

And I leave you with this:

’This idea of a talking stick (Pinocchio) becoming a boy, it’s like a metaphor for art, and it’s the ultimate alchemical transformation.’

Peace.

*a mischievous manipulation of one of Tarun Tejpal’s many aphorisms. Apologies.

THE EXECUTION OF SADDAM

In the middle of a particularly passionate conversation with a friend, he suddenly assumed a momentary garb of amnesia, forgot we were in the midst of an intense argument and asked me what I felt about Saddam Hussein’s execution. I mumbled something unintelligible to which he reacted with an, ‘I think Bush should be hanged till death next.’
Hmmmm….
Truth is I have been mildly disturbed about the execution, its timeline, its nature, and its highly obvious aftermath. I have been hungrily reading any news item, editorial, internet pop-up that only continues to corroborate my own understanding. Which again depends on what my source is.

When I was reading from the CNN website, a particular link interested me. Labelled ‘Protests and Celebrations’ it displayed nine photographs which expressed precisely ONE ‘Protest’ photograph and EIGHT ‘celebration’ photographs. However, there was one link which stated the Taliban’s reaction to the execution, which of course was unfavourable. The fact that Saddam was hanged on the day of the Eid al-Adha Muslim festival which should ideally be ‘a day of forgiveness and not revenge’ angered Mullah Obaidullah Akhund, who was described as ‘a former Taliban defense minister and top insurgent commander’. Very interesting that Taliban is recognized as a ‘military outfit’ by the U.S. and has complete and explicit intentions of overthrowing Hamid Karzai’s government, who incidentally was the U.S. appointed interim president. Thereafter of course he won in a landslide ‘the democratic way’, but not without violent complaints of irregularities [read this]. Taliban’s reaction used ‘infidels’ and ‘jihad’ in plentitude. Purposeful, yet quite ineffective. I smiled to myself.
The BBC site was better. It recorded ‘mixed reactions’ to Saddam’s execution in far more comforting proportions. It also had an interesting yet very political study of the future of Iraq. ‘Things might get better. But things can certainly become worse.’

Bush has shown a serious lack of foresight. By choosing a Special Iraqi Tribunal that was trained by American, British and Australian experts, which went on to execute Saddam on Eid al-Adha, much too early in the 30 days permission since the verdict is announced, he has managed to anger a small but strong number. Plenty of Muslims the world over have expressed their dissatisfaction about the same and subsequently minor imperfections such as Bush’s deep slumber during the execution and his jolly gloating over possessing Saddam’s personal revolver are steadily fuelling the raging inferno of anti-Bushism.
I was watching a reporter on T.V. question a young, Indian girl as to why Bakr-id celebrations had been low-key this year. She replied with a diffident ‘Saddam has been executed.’ The reporter proceeded to ask her if she knew who Saddam Hussein is. She said no, she did not.

Bush does not realize it perhaps, but Saddam-the martyr has been born. And he can only grow.
I am therefore, midly disturbed about the bloody aftermath that awaits us.

Also the person who made the video of Saddam’s execution has been arrested. Although his video quickly contradicted the dignity and rectitude of the hanging in the official video released, I am only glad. Videotaping someone’s last moments is nothing but pitiless and insensitive.


A highly morbid first post of the new year. But such is the world we live in.
Oh well…Happy New Year folks!

KALMAN AND ADDICTIONS

Is it not delectable?? *smirk smirk*
I am absolutely obsessed with colour these days. Colour and hasty, vivid strokes and deviation. And I'm always obsessing with big, giant, COLOSSAL words.
My stand on Nietzsche remains undeclared. I have his works at home. I have not read them yet. My dad described the 'superhuman' theory to me once. I started reading the Sin-city graphic novels consequently [and if YOU have not then please squat and lay two eggs for me].
As for the ever-controversial mustache I will reserve my opinion.
Which brings us to 'we go to paris instead'.
I wanted to edit that and make that Goa, where incidentally I should be headed tomorrow night if the stars shine bright and they shine right. Goa has been jinxed so far. But I have vowed. I WILL go. And I WILL return with some nice-goa-sand-which-probably-is-a-banned-substance-as-well to prove the same. Hah!
Oh the above painting is by Maira Kalman. Her work is happy and crazy and I just know she has danced to 'The Psycho' OST with a rose dangling from her mouth. I KNOW IT.
I will leave you with a brilliant observation by Jhelum. Look carefully at Nietzsche's arms...two strong strokes starting from the shoulders and dropping to his chest. He has crossed his arms. Aaaaaah...simple and sweeeeeeeeeet.
By the by, my current favourite word is Dichotomy. Does it not bring to mind biology?? Hahahahahaha....apologies.

A TRUE BLUE BRESSON-ian

'The simulataneous recognition, in a fraction of a second, of the significance of an event as well as the precise organisation of forms which gives that event its proper expression....In photography, the smallest thing can be a great subject. The little human detail can become a leitmotif.'

Henri Cartier-Bresson.



Tabish once told me that the reason photographers sometimes choose to click black and white photographs is because the subject automatically gets emphasis and stands out with a glaring clarity. I love the nostalgia it evokes. An old school charm, a hint of stories untold, a mist of exciting secrets. Lovely.

Henri Cartier-Bresson chooses a beautiful woman for his subject in this photograph. And if you notice carefully he manages to capture her so sharply and coherently. Everything and everyone else in the photograph is just blurred enough to make her an object of your affection. The shadow of the lady walking beside her falls so perfectly just beside her. I wonder if that was intentional.















This is one of my favourites. Not so much for the photographic appeal as for the significance of the story Henri Cartier-Bresson tries to weave. Stories of devastation and challenges that still give birth to a sublime mirth and joy.
The laughter of children is pure and complete.
Love this one.










Stunning. A man seeking desperate solace from his own self, and losing himself almost inadvertently in the colossus of brick and cement. I have not been able to determine the subject here quite convincingly. Any takes??









My personal favourite. Reminds me of one my favourite paintings called 'The Umbrellas'. Probably the attire.
It tells the story of so many women with similar lives but individual tales.
For me it reflects a satisfied pace and lethargy. In a land of little opportunity perhaps. A conscious capitulation.

I want to hear what you have to say about this.



Thank you. And come again.
Yours Bresson-ian.

HITL(ER)IST

'Those who do not learn from history are destined to repeat it.'

I was reading in the paper recently about the sexagenarian victims of the long muted Lebensborn programme during Hitler’s regime, who met up in the eastern German town of Wernigerode to share their stories ‘in the hope of quelling the taboos and flamboyant myths about the murky Nazi institutions.’
And I was reminded of a favourite ‘chaai-sutta’ confabulation.
‘I admire Hitler.’
This statement always, without fail, evokes only wonder mingled with forgivable traces of disgust. It reflects a vague appreciation of historical fact aggravated by a conscious abatement of a genius’ evil.
It is really an evil’s genius.
The ambitious objective of the Lebensborn programme was to produce pure-blooded offsprings of the Schutzstaffel [SS] officers and blue-eyed, blonde girls, to improve the dwindling population of the ‘great Aryan race’. This was orchestrated under the façade of a welfare home that nurtured and bred ‘racially valuable’ children who, it is rumoured were kidnapped from their homes and brought to these Lebensborn units.
Anyone who could coin ‘racially valuable’ betrays a streak of dangerous bigotry.
Anyone who kidnaps children from the security and warmth of their homes is depraved.
Anyone who wreaks an unprecedented carnage on innocent people to fuel and demonstrate their anti-Semitic theories CANNOT be admired.
Period.
The debate usually starts with a sincere appeal made to my sensibilities to acknowledge Hitler’s superior oratory skills and his outstanding leadership qualities that propelled him to a station of power and made him a force to reckon with. [Ajit abridges that by claiming ‘he took what did not belong to him’ ;-)] I acknowledge it. But to capture the attention of a weakened economy and the diluted morale of a country which was suffering from the effects of a humiliating capitulation [The Treaty of Versailles] is not difficult. To insinuate an ‘internal sabotage’ and a ‘lack of patriotism’ is even easier. And to flush out all Jews from the country to create a ‘Greater Germany’ is a crook’s way out.
History will never forget Adolf Hitler, but she might overlook the nameless victims. History will create Hitler, the personality. But she might reduce thousands to a mere number. History will record the anniversaries of Hitler, but the wounded lived and died an era.
And that is why to admire him is to give him more credit than he was ever worth.

FEMINARCISSISM

I am doing three very useful things these days. I am keeping up pretences. I am being a true Bong [and as any potential India’s child genius will inform you, lethargy is our god-gifted left…err…right. And we exploit it with god-gifted viciousness.] And I am reading a LOT of blogs.
And I chanced upon posts after posts of highly opinionated examinations of Feminism. A word that generates awe, some and ful(l).

Feminism is overrated these days.
Or maybe over-feminism is rated these days.
Pity…

I can understand an attack on the flouting of fundamental human rights. When dirty, dark secrets have to be exhumed to recognize the decay, the stench, the absolute putrefaction of human sensibility. What else could possibly explain foeticide, dowry murders, rape?? Or child labour, mistreatment of the aged, killing because you are angry??
These are atrocities which need to be addressed with immediate deliberation. And I can understand an outfit solely dedicated to the cause of atrocities committed against women. And maybe the women who constitute this outfit can be acknowledged as ‘feminists’ [I do so wish to coin ‘sexagenarianists’ or ‘anti-child-labourists’]. But when the issues start leaning towards reservation for women, or blatant male bashing I start feeling squeamish [and without consuming any Kerala Hotel delicacies thank you very much!].
These are NON-issues. Seriously. We raise a hue and cry over reservation for SC/ST across educational institutions across the country, and rightly so because admission should after all, be contingent on merit, pure merit and nothing else! And honestly, in trying to assist the unprivileged SC/ST contenders the government in fact is fleeing from the real issue. Why are these people unprivileged? Because of an ineffective distribution of resources, of a failed mechanism to mobilize the poorer sections, of a highly facetious program that was intended to provide primary education to all but ended up making some lucky insiders richer.
Reservation for women has a similar tinge. Instead of demanding for the rightful reservation for us underprivileged women, the focus should AGAIN be on merit, and to rehabilitate the provincial mindset which would subsequently accommodate educated and working women in our daily lives. And I believe with rehabilitation and regulation this is possible.
I once overheard in an obviously feministic circle, “Women here are either male haters or male adulators.” And I was greatly disturbed. The idea is to encourage looser communication between the sexes. But the stray comment indicated a great dependency or worse, a greater detachment. It indicated a limitation, a boundary wall that fenced out anatomical adversaries. It was almost as ridiculous as the Berlin Wall – East Germany Communists fencing out the West Germany Fascists [and shooting anyone who dared to crossover!] Almost. And the intensity of ‘feministic’ gestures began grating against my intellect [of what I claim of course].
Such discussions are futile and fruitless. Whether C.S. Lewis is a sexist porcine specimen because the ‘bad guy’ in his Chronicles is a ‘wicked witch’. I mean there are giants on the witch's side in the book, so lets join forces against all tall people? Whether Virginia Woolf deliberately embraces lesbian themes because ‘only a woman can truly understand another’. It could reflect genuine companionship or a communion of minds, and have little relation to the genders of the characters. Because even if the characters are symbols of the authors’ mindset, the characters can be construed as per the readers’ discretion. And such [very] subtle and [very] discreet themes will seldom instigate a revolution of women-degradation or women-emancipation. Period.

I am headed to watch the Chronicles of Narnia right now with my girlfriends. Movie, magic, masti is being anticipated with much excitement.
Yes I love girls’ nights.
And I love being a woman more.
But feminarcissists are overrated.

Goodnight.

PS - The snap was uploaded for sheer humour quotient...hyuk hyuk!!
PPS - I NEVER throw stones at boys...ROFL!

'I WANT TO DO IT ON MY OWN'

“I want to do it on my own (steam).”
This in reply to why my friend chose to stick to Bangalore when he could have run off to Hong Kong [!!] for his final semester internship. And the wheels in my brain started turning with a screech here and a squeak there, and accelerating with a resounding intent.
Superficially it all seemed very incongruous to me. In this day and age where status whispers, money talks and power screams, such idealistic impulses are lost in the clamour of “ME! ME!” But the conversation ended with me feeling a little nice and plenty warm…
And it was so simple! The very fact that idealism seems like a summit unattainable is because we, as a species, have degraded so far down in our moral make-up that distances have grown longer and any effort has waned into a lingering half-attempt. Our lives have been made so simple by our evolving capabilities that we have devolved into these pampered beings that whip out their credit cards, push some buttons or call poppy up to keep that (in)famous silver spoon balanced!
And sometimes, somewhere, someone will claim that he will do it on his own, in his own way and perhaps in his own sweet time, and you will realize that those are the only kinds who refuse to acknowledge mediocrity, who try to elevate their dreams to loftier planes all the while doing it on their own terms…
…and even if they cannot quite succeed they can still look back and exclaim, ‘I did something that was pretty mediocre once, but it felt pretty damn good to me!’
And that makes me feel a little nice and plenty warm…


**with special thanks to Adam Hummel and my friend in question ;-)

THE 'I' OF THE CAPITAL

I am inclined to believe that the idea of Capitalism is subject to a provincial discourse. One succumbs to the established definitions; Socialism, Communism and Capitalism. The good, the bad, and the ugly. The concepts inadvertently associate themselves with vicarious ideologies in our minds, and we seldom acknowledge the culpability of these defining the layman.
And now I commence with my provincial discourse on Capitalism.
Capitalism has precise implications of ‘self-gain’. And there is a Capitalist that resides in each one of us. The human kingdom essentially, is made up of two kinds, the Capitalist and the Bad Capitalist (here I am resorting to gross generalisations). Personal gain is common to them. And yet personal gain provides the crucial distinction. The former in helping himself, ends up helping others (a beautiful display of Newton’s third law of motion). The latter in helping himself only facilitates the increasing disorder in society (the second law of thermodynamics??) But what remains inherent is the constant endeavour to expedite the infusion of harmony into one’s life. And to notch up a couple of more points in the individual happiness index chart. The law of nature becomes effectively, each man for himself.
A Capitalist is looking out for himself, before he can think of doing the same for others. This, far from being selfish and unproductive, can actually lead to a sound social structure. A composition of self-appreciating individuals can only mean increased productivity and integrity. This reasoning is so fundamental, that it has to be flawed! Clauses which accommodate irregularities must be appended to salvage this basic rationalization.
Imagine a social structure with uniform individuals, their uniformity resplendent in the composite, collected mindset. This is a Quixotic thought at best. Therefore, the Bad Capitalist comes into focus. There is an effective line premeditated by an individual’s scruples that challenges this fundamental reasoning. When black mitigates the cracking and coherent definition of white. When the self assumes magnified proportions and everything else recedes into ignominy. In such a scenario, fuelling selfish motives gathers a pulsating momentum. The Bad Capitalist therefore, submits to the vagaries of the human moral discretion. ‘Fraud!’, ‘Rape!’, ‘Murder!’ scream at us from the newspapers. And the ideal social structure begins to disintegrate. The cause for appreciation and depreciation becomes one and the same.
This discussion maps the economic perceptions onto the human nature because an individual is a system in himself. And very seldom does a person put another before himself. It is difficult for anyone to be a complete Socialist as opposed to being a complete Capitalist. Everyone has a selfish streak, and this does not necessarily have to be subject to acute scrutiny and consequently disregarded as a character flaw. Everyone is motivated to excel professionally and personally. As for working towards improving society and its individuals, some undertake this professionally, while others accord to it a personal touch and contribute to society in their own small way. But this patronage also portends the ever-elusive search for personal satisfaction.
Whenever I am flying, I always peruse the safety regulations’ booklet. It is mentioned there that in the eventuality of an emergency, one must always put on their oxygen masks, lifejackets etc. before helping others. It always gets me thinking…