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Philosophical cow dung on the life of little Ms. Imperfectly Fine.

Saturday, October 20, 2007

wish i could draw

Alas, that's probably one of the things I don't mind admitting I'm not good at. My drawing skills are only limited to orang lidi (stick people) and abstract versions of daily objects. I survived my art classes during my school days with the help of my mom and my bros and sis.

But I do love art in general. I always try to find the opportunity to visit galleries, be it to view paintings or photography. And I must say I could never really decide on between the two, which I like best.

I like the fact that since a painter has full control of what comes out on the canvas; he is able to translate his thoughts and ideas directly. Every line, every color, every single item is purposeful. I feel that for me to look at a painting and realize the intention of the painter would be an achievement for both Mr. Painter and I. however, bear in mind that some realizations are based upon assumptions which might not necessarily hit the mark but who cares since most of the time the painter is not there to defend himself.

Photography, as my friend would say "instant painting", captures moments of perfection. I’m using the word perfection here to describe a particular situation that is deemed to be as good as it can possibly be, where everything is exactly in its place. A photographer records memories,
sometimes ideas and thoughts.

I have always wanted to incorporate the two. I have discussed this with my photographer friend, of building a painting and capturing it through the lens. Where every line, every color, every single item is purposeful to create little meanings when put together it becomes the bigger picture. hehe.. I can't resist saying that but what I mean is a photograph that is loaded with clues that must be deciphered so that the message or its intention is acquired.

I know I am thinking like a story teller who drops hints as to whom the killer is, purposely placing the protagonist in difficult situations to make the story more interesting. Old habits die hard.

Anyway, I still wish I could draw though. I bought oil pastels to relive my childhood days of drawing dead solitary trees locked on the greenest of grass featuring calm or turbulent seas, huge mountains, and indecisive skies.

I kinda felt a little embarrassed when my 4 year old nephew, Nabil looked at the picture adoringly, idolizing it. He decided to do a cover version of the drawing.

At least he got the colors correct. "macam sama kan auntie Ana?". Yup, you got that right, sayang...