Stride away


Let them free.

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Finding art in trash Challenge: #16

I mistook a water strider for a bee. It was almost midnight. With eyes half closed, I went in to use the restroom. And there, just as I was washing hands, something brown flew directly to my face. I screamed, jumped, and threw myself out the door. To a third person, it might have given some comic relief. But I was convinced that I was stung at the back, and now a mountain of a swell was growing around it. It was only later that I cringed at the stupidity, there was no pain. There was no sting to start with. It was all the works of my fear-drenched mind. Later, my husband and I examined the restroom, and we found a very elegant, almost still, water strider, resting on the tile. We slowly went towards it with a polythene cover. It can’t hear anyway, it catches its prey by sensing the vibrations on the water surface. We walked stealthily, and placed the mouth of the cover around it. Once safely inside, we freed it into the cool rainy Thursday night.

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It was done on a cigarette packet.

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Paint night


The perfect end to a Sunday


Finding art in trash Challenge: #12

Outside, the clouds look ready to burst. So my husband and I spend the Sunday cooped up at home. After a long session of cleaning, watching Netflix, and then some more cleaning, we reward ourselves with a ‘drink and paint’ session. (Read about our previous paint night sessions here and here). This time, in line with the Finding Art in Trash Challenge that I began earlier this month, we decide to turn a simple wine bottle and a Trader Joe’s paper bag into works of art. With Yanni’s music in the background, and a glass of Bulgariana Cabernet Sauvignon on the side, we start work on our respective pieces. While I give the brown paper bag a chalky base, he rubs the wine bottle clean off the glue. While I apply fat brush strokes of acrylic carefully on the bag, he pours volumes of white, red and blue colors with a creative recklessness. My rose petals emerge along measured lines and curves; in his, a hundred shiny rivers of different colors merge into a common ocean. And just as Yanni finishes with The rain must fall, we are done with our art too. We place them aside to dry, and continue our night outside in the patio, watching a new week emerge from between curtains of heavy rain.

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The bag of roses.
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The bottle of roaring rivers.

When the cookies are over


Save the box.


 

Finding art in trash Challenge: #11

It’s strange how certain things/beings/experiences, though unwelcome, crawl into our lives and become a part of it.  Like wrinkles. Or a new accent. It’s so organic, you would be a fool to resist it/them.

At Trader Joe’s my husband and I pick up something that isn’t on the shopping list. Laceys box of dark chocolate almond cookies by.  ‘It just happened,’ we tell ourselves.

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Fast forward to a week later. Our dinners end with a bite of the flat brown slab every night. We share one, I take a small bite, then he does. Then I do. And slowly, it becomes a habit. Our every dinner now needs a cookie. Like a sentence needs a full stop.

Our days are only complete with that little crunch of sweetness in the mouth. The cookie turns into a trophy for living the day, a refrain in the song called life, the horizon where our days end and nights begin…

And then one day, the last of the cookies is had.

Now, our dinners end without cookies. Together, we wriggle free of the yearning for sweet something, like a snake sheds its skin. Such is life. Even the clingiest of habits can be shaken off in time.

Until a new thing/being/experience, though unwelcome, crawls into our lives and becomes a part of it.







I made a showpiece to keep on top of our record player, with the cookie box. Used acrylic paint and red sketch pen.

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The illustration is inspired by a lino cut work by artist Mike Anderson.