As I swept by the table, my eyes fell on something which pulled me back to it; the very next second. It was more than a picture to me. I was overwhelmed by the contrasts which added such intensity to the emotions of the man. At that moment, I had the certain urge to make the picture MINE, and the only way of doing that was by accepting the hypothetical challenge, pulling out my acrylics from the closet and getting to work. At 15, it seemed like quite the challenge, but my ambition to capture those emotions defeated the fear in no time.
That night I eloped from the world and hid in my own cave of music. Even though the next 12 hours flew by quickly I can clearly recall the emotional stages I went through while painting this piece of work. The contrasts had to be perfect for the emotions to cry out loud to the viewer, and that was all I was aiming for!
I was eager and ambitious though frustration and anger kept popping up every time I was unhappy with the strokes. Also, I was least bothered about the fact that I hadn’t slept for the past 24 hours or that I wouldn’t be getting my sleep for the next 12 hours either or that the pain in my back was killing me. All those thoughts were numbed by the sheer impatience to obtain the perfection I required to do justice to my own thoughts.
Satisfied with the contrasts/ emotions, I finally put my brush down with a smile on my face. Coming back to reality, I glanced around to see my room in what I may say was an “artistic” mess. That morning, I felt like a true artist, or one in the making at least.
It is one of the most amazing/ fulfilling feelings to know that the thoughts in your mind and the itch in your hand can magically turn up as a painting which you can proudly call your own. It was surely a proud moment and connects me to the piece ever so strongly!
I call it the “Silent Cry” because the man, surrounded by depths of darkness, expresses his agony through the intensity of emotions rather than tears in his eyes, while he looks up at the sky in search of hope.
