Content Can't Be Original But, Treatment Must Be

Creating original content is perhaps the most difficult thing in the world. I was reading somewhere the other day that, 'everything original has already been created by God.'

It's absolutely true.

Every story worth telling has already been told and every idea worth trying has already been applied by someone at some point or the other. Few scientific discoveries are without controversies. For each patent or scientific discovery that is lauded, there will at least be a handful of inventors who at some point will come out and say that they too were on the verge of discovering the same thing or that they had already discovered but, did not file for the patent on time.

This is not unusual because, everything worth discovering is already out there for millions of years. Man has been walking on Earth for a 1000 generations now and every story worth telling has already been experienced/ expressed by someone even if it is the most unique or one of its kind.

So, what makes the cut if every story has already been told?

You.

Yes, you are the USP of your story. How you tell it, what is your focus, your roadblocks, your perspective is what makes it unique.

The greatest storyteller of all time, William Shakespeare never used a single original story. He picked up some of the most well-loved tales from across the continent and adapted them with timeless dialogues and some of the most well-crafted scenes that have been put up on stage ever.

To his credit, he knew the pulse of the audience. He knew emotions made an impact on them. They could connect to them at the level of blood, sweat and tears. There were blood and wars, love and thunder, heads rolling and kissing on stage that made the onlookers throw rotten eggs and tomatoes at the actors in excitement. And made them come back again and again for repeat shows.

Needless to say that William Shakespeare who studied in a free school and was caught poaching a fawn from a rich man's estate retired a rich man himself - not to mention famous and influential and well-known.

I have always believed that Shakespeare's vast success is due to his great understanding of human emotions and being in touch with the common people of his time. Another interesting thing that Shakespeare's works showcase is that human emotions are timeless. The plays with their deep understanding of human nature remain relevant even till date.

Any good content should be treated as your creation. Creation is like giving birth or rebirth. When you create you are bound to put a lot of you in it. And that is what makes your creation exceptional. A lot of great works of arts were birthed by mistake or made unique because of the creator's quirk.
If it was not for cataract, we would not have seen the waterlilies by Monet as they are till date - masterpieces.

I rest my case with what I started with, to be a great creator, you have to immerse yourself in your work and make a difference in the outcome just by being you - just like I did in the image that I created for this piece.

#5 Dear Me: Where I Question Life, Thank Virginia Woolf and Comfort Vincent Van Gogh

Dear Life,

I remember images. They stay with me. I have never been able to remember things for example, where I kept my glasses before hitting the bed or where I put down the book I was reading last. But, I can recall suddenly vivid images of places, moments, people... and they may not be great bookmarks in my life. Yet, I remember them clearly,

So, a few days back, I had this flash from the past. I remembered one afternoon in college. There was sunlight streaming through the windows. I saw myself sitting in a feminist haze of golden yellow that made everything around me opaque. I was sitting somewhere in the middle of a class full of students - I knew they were there though I never saw them in my flash of memory. But, I saw our petite and beautiful professor quoting Virginia Woolf to explain 'Stream of Consciousness':

“Life is not a series of gig lamps symmetrically arranged; life is a luminous halo, a semitransparent envelope surrounding us from the beginning of consciousness to the end.”

I was really impressed by the quote. To me with my perpetually hazy and myopic vision it may have hit a bullseye on my young and impressionable self. Who knows? Perhaps that is the reason why I suddenly remembered that day.

This quasi-opaque luminous halo has been chasing me around like a mist for a very long time. Some call me a dreamer, others perhaps worse. But, that has not changed a single thing for me.

Thanks to Ms Woolf, I always knew subconsciously that life would not be a straight and narrow path. She had indeed promised that life would be an adventure and I saw myself riding the rough waves and winning. It pleased my young self a lot.

It's therefore not strange that I remember that day and those non-descriptive yellow walls of the lecture theatre with such clarity.

In the years since, I've had my slips and victories and falls but, have pushed ahead and enjoyed the ride all through.

Dear life, today I suddenly wanted to thank Ms Woolf for that quote. Maybe she can read this post in her afterlife or maybe it will be conveyed to her by the universe in general. I have hope that after today, she will know.

Life is definitely unplannable. It cannot be put into neat little compartments to be opened at will or left to be incubated for the right time to hatch. Hell! I can't even hatch a plot by plotting it when I write a story! It just happens and so does life.

The other day I chanced upon an information so astounding that I was blown away. It seems that the Impressionist movement was spearheaded by artists who were actually myopic. The great French masters like Monet, Renoir and Degas, suffered from shortsightedness and thus drew from their - you got it right - impressions. Had they planned it, it could not have worked any better.

For once I was so glad to be a myopic since childhood. No wonder ma says I cannot smell danger even when it is staring me in the eye. I only see the deep green haze of jealousy, the red of anger and myriad other colours that all look so vivid to me.

I love colours. They fascinate me. That make me happy hence, I ignore all other signals that wish to emit. No wonder I trip and fall so often, but, I hardly take my fall badly. It's all good. It's all experience.

However, I sometimes worry about Vincent Van Gogh. His was the most beautiful mind that saw colours and patterns in everything around him. Yet it took a couple of generations to figure it out.

I wish I could also find him somewhere and tell him not to despair. I see his despair in his art - even in his most celebrated works. The decaying flowers, the scavenger crows circling ripe and harvested fields, the barrenness of the vistas, the gnarling of the branches, the claustrophobia that I can smell from his painting of his bedroom. I just want to shake his hands once and quote Ms Woolf to him.

I just want him to be happy. Wherever he is. Because despite his towering talent, he did not have my indomitable spirit thanks to Ms Woolfe's quote.

And here is what I worry about, dear life, that despite the spirit, there is a vital flaw in my thinking. It is self-criticism. I am always criticising the last thing I have created. I can never be happy with the end result of anything I have finished working on. I hate it when someone says they have read or seen my writing. I believe they are all making it up to make me happy.

I wonder at times if it is a big flaw or a small one. I wish someone could answer the question honestly.

I am my fiercest critic. Is it a good thing or a bad thing? Should I not be proud and self-promotional in my attitude?

As an artist, I cannot be untrue to myself. My inner artist has very lofty tastes. It refuses to settle for anything less. It insists that I look at myself and rediscover, recreate and rework everything I make from food to hanging up a print on the wall.

It keeps searching for that elusive state called perfection that is practically impossible to achieve. Or is it? Because, it keeps telling me that it is possible.

I await your answer.

Get back to me soon.

Love,

Shoma

Portrait of an Artist as God

Sometimes I think Van Gogh is a perfect role model though not many will agree with me. For me he was a hero. He did not deter from his own conviction that he was born to paint. Even when no one bought a single work, even when they threw him into an asylum and even when schizophrenia rocked his foundations. When angry at the world he cut off his own ear and when there was no one to paint, he painted himself.

He was a true artist. His works, considered worthless in his lifetime are worth gazailians today.

Art is not about how much money you make or fame you get in your lifetime. Art is an insatiable desire to outdo the conventional, to better nature and to be the owner and designer of a world that no one else may understand. In other words, an artist is a true blasphemist since he thinks he can better God's creation.

Art is not just painting a picture or making a sketch, writing poems, stories, creating a world on celluloid, dancing, singing, theater, lover of nature, photographer and even an animal trainer can be termed an artist if they are creating a different world, a microcosm that defies the norm.

Even those who cannot express their art by any known form are artists.

Have you seen housewives who want to keep changing the floorplans of their homes or children who try finding a new way everyday to get home from school. Boys who wants to dress differently or want to play musical instruments even at the cost of being laughed at by peers or girls who want to be known as badass and wear tattoos and leather jackets. They are artists at heart. Though they may not be as curious as a purist.

Anyone who wants to change the present order of things could be an artist. An artist could also be an anarchist, though it goes against the way an artists mind works. Rebellion occurs when the artist is pushed to a corner. Beware the artist scorned.

We may laugh at their discomfort in large crowds or their immensely shy nature or curse their wild ways and openly displayed disdain for all ideas conventional but, these are the artists. They are burning to change. They are dying to move the axis on which the Earth move. They are the real movers and shakers. Let them experiment because they will change the world.

Do not stop them because you do not understand their point-of-view or come in their way because you do not see the world as they see it.

Just let them be and soak up when the creativity flows.

Open your eyes let the energy flow. Maybe, you'll find an artist hidden in some corner of your own heart.

Van Gogh, The Ox Cart, July 1884. Oil on canvas