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A walk in the corridors of the Tate Museum
The flow of people
In the corridors where your piece of work hangs
Eyes soak in the beauty
Eyes soak in the technicality
Eyes browse through the blurb under your work
Make notes
Make judgments on your piece of work.
And one set of eyes
Is trying to scan your mind
What were you thinking?
What were you trying to say?
Why did you feel compelled to produce what you produced?
Where were you living?
What were you eating, drinking, smoking?
Who are you?
The curiosity grows deeper.
It is unsettling the viewer
And he is imagining the context
“Studying” your expression
In his own sweet time
Taking a bit of a walk
Through your mindscape.
My dear artist fellow,
You are more than your work of art
Your works reflect the society
Your works reflect the breakages
Your works reflect the hope, which
You artfully try to portray
Even in your most helpless state.
They are the mirrors of your
Inner beauty
Your despair
Your sensory observation
Your desires
And your consciousness.
It is not for the rest to judge
It is for the rest to understand.
Your work is history
For future generations to follow.
Maybe they will scroll
The pages of archived Facebook posts
Or tweeter feeds.
I implore you to continue
To write history with your brush
And I hope
They will also be followed
With the pages of history books.
To everyone who is expressing themselves with their own form of experiences. May you all be compassionate. May you be healthy. May you be happy.
~
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