A long phone call, a boring lecture, never ending client
meetings, the dentist appointment and at times a bad Wi-Fi connection ends up
with a rather beautiful and soulful doodle. So personal, so easy, so ours, that
most times we ending loving it. The collections of doodle memoirs from last
pages of school almanacs to travel tickets are keepsake memories and at times
are more powerful than photographs.
Geometric, typographic, organic, graphical, abstract to
zentangling they are absolute stress busters, time killers and manage to give
unexpected eureka moments some times. The prehistoric man’s cave, the graffiti
walls of cities to the google doodle, they are so raw, so much humane, bringing
out the child in us, sometime without meanings and sometimes with millions
hidden.
The artist in me awakens,
At the sight of paper and pens
.
Black and white is my cup of tea,
Sudden rush of colours sometimes surprise me.
Oh, I go on and on,
And do mundane things along.
Wake up, work, eat and sleep
And take a breath, deep - deep.
Sun, rain, moon and stars,
Or memories, happiness, pain and scars.
Conspired and
inspired by the sky
But when I am low, it’s so high.
Verbal, visual or combined
Straight, complicated or refined.
In canvas of all sizes and shapes,
Set in portraits and landscapes.
You are wasting paper, cries the conservationist in me,
But they are thoughts, inner conversationalist sets free.
What would I be without paper and pens ?
Thoughts don’t wait, no offence.
