Finding the Artist Within

I am a freelance Public Relations and Communications Consultant. Six months back, I was meeting up with a client who was explaining the details of his new project with me. Suddenly, a dark gloominess enveloped me, and my mind went into a total haze. I lost track of time, and my surroundings turned surreal. The client’s words seemed like the crow’s call from a distant land. There was only one thought that kept echoing itself all over again in my mind repeatedly – “What am I doing here? Get out!! All this does not make sense. It does not matter.” For the next two hours the client kept ranting while I kept nodding my head pretending to be infected by his enthusiasm. I heaved a sigh of relief when I left his office.

I spent the entire next day mulling over what had happened. It had not been an isolated affair. I had been feeling disconnected from life for a while. I just felt like an actor playing a role, and playing it bad. This was not the role I wanted anyways. At the end of the day, I was able to make a conscious decision. I was going to quit my work and take a sabbatical for a while. And this is exactly what I did. The very next day, I called up all my clients and expressed my apologies. They were all surprise with this abrupt decision.

I had been working hard for a while to save money for a six month trip across US and South America. But even that trip seemed stressful now. There was too much planning involved, too many unknowns, too many uncertainties. I wanted something simpler. I had had enough “doing” things. For a change I just wanted to “be”.

I left the vacation planning for later. For now, I decided to join music and painting classes. I bought the keyboard I had been fantasizing about for a while now, and found a really cool music teacher who agreed to teach me at home. I have never considered myself to be the artistic sorts. My mother and brother are the artistic people in my family. I possess the laborer’s hands – stout and thick – eager to work at all times. My mother used to paint but gave it up as she got busy with bringing up the children, her work and the household chores. My brother had a gift for music but my parents discouraged him forcing him to pick up a more respectful career.

I would reprimand both of them for wasting these God given gifts. For years, I had bought my mother easels, canvasses and other art material to encourage her to pick up art again. I would pick up musical instruments for my brother thinking that they may inspire him to take his music more seriously. But it never happened.

On my part, my standard line was, ‘Even if someone demanded that I draw and paint as ransom for a kidnapped family member, I would not be able to do it.”

Well, it was time for me to break out of my mold and give the artist within me a chance to blossom.

The entire paradigm of life shifted for me. From looking at life through the lenses of business, finance , networking , loans, gadgets, etc. I found myself tracing the shadows cast by the lights in the evenings, I found myself noticing the difference in the shades of green of leaves from one tree to the next.  I started sitting on my terrace in the morning spending hours listening to the chirping of birds, to the sound of leaves hustling, to the sound of the metro moving on the tracks nearby, to the sound of my maid moping the floor. All natural sounds bringing in a feel of unadulterated bliss and contentment. Life became an interplay of sounds and light.

In my first art class, I was not able to draw a tree when my teacher asked me to. Today my teacher insists that I continue the art classes. She has promised me a collaborative art exhibition after six months if I do. The critic in me does not believe her, but my heart does. My music teacher has promised me a pianist’s job after 9 months if I continue with the same dedication.

The artist lives within us all. We just need to believe in the little child inside and allow it to express itself.

There were many times when my self-doubt would grow to be strong enough for me to be willing to give up on myself. I would find my art childish and compare it with the work of the finest artists. But my art teacher would not allow me to do that. She got me to embrace my own creations and expressions. Art is a language, a very individualized one. It is my expression, my joy, not to be judged by others. And within my limitations, I can discover my strengths. By accepting my imperfections and limitations, and embracing my strengths, art has taught me a lot about self-acceptance and self-love. The lesson is a simple yet invaluable one, ‘Play with what you have, learn what you don’t have.”

I feel  so much more actualized with the different modes of expression at my disposal.