The urge for art has been within me for as long as I can remember. Since the time I was a boy, I sketched and painted every chance I got. I'd doodle aimlessly at the back of my school notebooks, paint in secret when I got home, sketch instead of doing my homework - the works.
At one point in my early childhood though, my teachers complained about me, inquiring my parents at the Parent-Teacher Meet as to why there happened to be sketches at the back of every notebook instead of rough math sums. My parents, being the scariest, most orthodox lot you could imagine, beat me up and forbade me to focus on anything but my academics. I ceased sketching and painting for a while, for fear of being thrashed again by my father.
A year down the line, a teacher that transferred to my school, a man called Daniel Surendra, changed forever my very being, infusing in me the spirit of expression through colour. Being the school's art teacher at the time, he showed particular interest in me during the art classes, and urged me not to hold back my talent. He inspired me to unleash my talent, and helped me better my work while at it - a gesture for which I will forever be indebted to him.
There would be countless inter-school art competitions held, and I would compete for the mere feel of it - I absolutely loved the excitement that came along with art competitions. However, I was afraid of placing 1st, 2nd or 3rd, for fear of my parents finding out and granting me another generous thrashing. The inevitable found its way through though, for one year, my name was added in the school magazine for art. My parents of course, disapproved gravely, for they felt that there lay no future in an artistic career, and that the only way to live a meaningful life was to swamp yourself with books and excel in the academics - sports and creativity bore no significance to them.
Despite the beating that I received for placing in the magazine, I still wanted to participate in the art competitions... The feeling those competitions gave me is indescribable... The entire atmosphere was electric, as you sat there competing with people who silently dipped their paintbrushes, zoned out from the real world to the land of oblivious creativity, where nothing but the blank sheet before them mattered. Ethereally, they would splash away onto their blank sheets, expressing their emotions, their personality, their very being - through colour and simple creativity. As unreal as it sounds, it made me feel like I was a part of something beautiful, which is why I began to participate for the feel of it, rather than for the prize.
Towards the end of my year in 8th grade however, my father's health began to deteriorate at a dangerous pace, and my creative journey hit an abrupt end, for from then on, I only existed to tend to his needs, and to never involve myself in anything that upset him. I stopped treading on grounds that brought back memories of my urge to paint, and began to lead the life my father had always wanted - Always buried in my books, excelling solely at academics.
During my Prelims however, my father passed away. It was a difficult, confused phase for me, for I had to deal with my father's passing, as well as my mother's constant needs. I have 2 younger sisters, and naturally, my mother found it very difficult to manage the household expenses on her own, without her husband around to aid her. I moved away from home to work and earn a living to support my family, for it was up to me now to bear the burdens of feeding a whole family.
Ever since my father passed away, something in me felt like it had been taken as well. I felt like I was existing rather than living, as if everything around me was muted and blurred, and the only thing that I could catch sight of was my 9 to 5 job - one that slowly drew the life out of me. I was too caught up in the rat-race of life, trying to succeed, to gain promotions that would enable me to support my mother and sisters better... I was a lost soul.
There did exist a constant urge within me in the beginning, one that beseeched me to pick up a pencil and unleash my creativity once more, one that begged me to be myself... But I surpressed it, for I was not living for myself, but for my family. My life was not mine anymore, and I didn't have the liberty to chase after my dreams and desires, for I had obligations.
There came however, a point in my life where I did pick up a pencil, absent-mindedly doodling on a letter-pad in the office, creating without realizing it, setting my imagination free while having briefly forgotten to keep my guard up. That's when I realized that it was time I began to live for myself. That's when I realized that I couldn't afford to waste any more precious years on this planet. That's when I realized that we are born for a purpose, and that we are granted abilities and talent for a reason - That's when I realized that I had to cultivate my God-given skill, because what you make of what He gives you, makes you who you are! My art is who I am. Sure we lose our way sometimes, caught up in the rat-race, but while doing so, we tend to forget who and what we really are.
A month down the line, I handed in my resignation, and since then I've been free from those worldly bonds - I unchained myself and set my imagination free, my creativity liberated after years of imprisonment.
This, is my artistic awakening - My quest, my journey, my yearning for perfection, knowledge, and happiness.
Feel free to browse through my pages and leave me feedback - All comments are welcome (The "Current Projects" page is where I've posted pictures of my latest work in case you're interested).
