I’m a creator at heart. Always have been, always will be. Whether it’s through words, lines of code, a splash of paint, the stroke of a pencil, or the lens of a camera, I find myself constantly immersed in creation. An intriguing realization hit me – over time, I’ve unintentionally forged a personal ritual. On my birthday, I disconnect from the demands of work and allow myself to be engulfed in art. It’s a day devoid of screens, except for this moment, a brief pause after seven hours, when I share my musings. There are no bustling crowds, just a symphony of gratitude and emojis in response to well-wishes. It’s a space reserved just for me and my art.
Outdoors, I sit and sketch, watching the world as lines take shape on paper. Indoors, the TV hums softly in the background as my hand dances with my imagination. I sketch until my hand aches, a ritual I’ve repeated for three consecutive years. The happiness it brings is undeniable. With every stroke, a decision solidifies – this is my annual “me” ritual.
A looming change is on the horizon – a new building is set to rise beside us, altering the landscape I’ve come to know so well. The vast expanse of grass, once a playground where my son’s laughter echoed, is now being transformed. There’s a tinge of sorrow, a natural response to the shifting tides of time. Yet, there’s also an undeniable curiosity about what lies ahead.
Meanwhile, I embark on a project that’s been brewing for two and a half years. Throughout the pandemic, when working from home became the norm, I’d sit by the window daily. Through that portal, I captured countless snapshots of people basking in the embrace of the grassy field. Faces unknown, stories untold, I’d imagine their lives as I observed. Children careening through the open space, carefree and vibrant, never failed to bring a smile to my face. With each click, I hoped to encapsulate the essence of summer – the riot of colors, the interplay of shadows, the warm caress of the sun, and above all, the vibrant green of life.
After meticulous preparation, I finally committed the scene to paper, testing the waters of color and technique. There’s a whisper of apprehension, a fear of abandoning the project midway. Yet, I’m resolute; this creation will stand as a testament, a memory etched onto paper, long after the field transforms.
Change is inevitable, but so is the continuation of our essence through the stories we tell, the art we create, and the memories we preserve. This project, born from lockdown’s introspection, will stand as my tribute to what was and what will be – a fragment of time frozen on paper.