From my childhood memory, I can recollect my father’s harsh reaction on my painting boards and sketchbooks. He never appreciated my love for art and poetry. Rather he has been the regular Bangladeshi father, highly ambitious about solely the education for degrees and so. Possibly that was the norm for him. He wanted his children to be highly educated, having good job and a better life what he could not earn for himself exactly.
But this little village girl was something way more different than what he was expecting. She loved poetry, art and dreamt of a life far away from the score cards. Art incepted there.
I found art in a beautiful pond near the Tangon river, in Thakurgaon, where I spent my beautiful solitude that I could not find anywhere else. When it was an opportunity to help someone in any way, I felt the vibe of art in the inner self. I found art in my mother’s heart, when she used to express her anxiety about a unknown family came for treatment from village to the tiny town. The Rikshaw puller, who struggles to feed his family, I see a strong sense of art in his hardship, because the money he earns is pure. Or, a women who assisted my mother in our home only to earn little amount of money for her family, she was an embodiment of art for me. I tried to feel her pains and panics, pros and cons, life and reality.
Or even I found art in the hectic Dhaka city, where I had spent 5 precious years. Speaking in a debate session, writing poems sitting in the back bench of the class room or having a cup of tea while its raining cats and dogs. My long Abaya soaked with water yet I am drunk of the beauty of the rain drops dancing on a ”Cha er Cup” near the Tong.
Teachers never liked me as a student and I found art even the teacher’s reaction on my exam sheet. Meanwhile I was travelling to Faridpur during the rainy days of July or Chittagong, being free from the worries of exams or a assignment and that was art for me. Because I had the opportunity to dig out the jewels of life, which I could never find in the class rooms.
I mistook limitlessly. Wrong doings, repentances and refocusing on the centre of life, all pave me through the process of art. All encompass a journey of a devoted yet flaw full soul. A conscious heart, which can differ between right and wrong is full of art, pure art. Faith and constant striving towards the eternal life is the source of unlimited art indeed.
I do believe, every other soul in this world finds art in a unique way. A scientist finds art in the endless searching for new inventions with in his or her journey. For a doctor, patients are the reflection of art. Thus, if we see everyone is an artist with unique sense of art respectively.
”Life is art and art is life’
The paintings I create or the canvases I will jazz up in future, are merely the art of my heart. Art is like a deep down forest, where my heart is constantly searching for the beauty that I belonged to but I lost somehow. Art is that soothing tranquillity what I can taste through dancing of colours.The whole process of of creating a piece of art contains the feelings of beauty that the heart endure with patience and devotion.
When my art is hanging on your wall, its originally a portion of beauty that you borrowed from me. Its beyond a exchange of money of some sort of buy and sale relationship. Fortunately its a not a Gucci bag that you would buy, use and hand over somewhere for recycling, rather its a source of unlimited visual conversation, which will be continuing limitlessly.
Art is a way of life, an artist tries to explore beauty, passion, love every corner of the world. Therefore, art is my lifestyle, philosophy and sense of beauty is the key ingredient.
Allah is beautiful and He loves beauty.” [Sahīh Muslim (911)]
This beauty is not the beauty in a face, rather the beauty or art in the heart. I am eventually searching for the beauty that Allah loves. Beauty that decorates a soul and prepare it for heaven.
May Allah grant that beauty within us all.