Painting a Story

 

A painting holds a million stories.

As a writer, all I knew was how to paint with words. I never really understood how a painting can do the work of a story. All it indeed is a drawn-out photograph of a scene frozen in time. Sometimes, it is just a splatter of colors.

I know this first stanza left all the painters annoyed by me. What I meant to say was that I was clueless about the power of paint.

 

That’s why I never really went to any art galleries. I am more of a museum or library person. But when my friend, an avid sketch artist, brought up the art gallery of Vincent Van Gogh. I was indeed intrigued. Firstly, I knew about his painting ‘The Starry Night.’ I won a small bookmark for it at a college fest. Secondly, the exhibition was happening in Chandigarh so I could go on my first friend's trip.

 I love traveling and exploring but have never traveled with my friends. I mean, school trips don’t count, do they? They are fun in a controlled way, with hands at the back, walking in lines, no goofing about, and the itinerary is too rigid.

I wanted to experience a friend's trip, and if it meant reading paintings for the day, I was sure on board.

 

We had wisely chosen Saturday for our trip so that we could study on Sunday. The last bit didn’t work out that well, but we did beat the crowd on Saturday.

 

The trouble was we were short on Photographers. My friend and I have zero patience to capture pictures, and I also have an embarrassing urge to be the model each time. Neither did we have a good phone for pictures.

But in the end, the pictures came out fantastic. Maybe it was necessity taking hold or Van Gogh’s aura overpowering us.

 

Traveling with an art nerd meant that as soon as the immersive projector threw on his next painting, I would get an in-depth description of why he created that art piece. Seeing the colors and lighting was fun, but at a deeper level, I felt Van Gogh was just a storyteller. He used his paintings to tell his life and draw down his hopes and aspirations. He lived so many years ago that people can assume what he must be thinking then. Maybe he just created art without overthinking about it. It's like a story without a title. Perhaps he painted because he wanted to get out of the routine. And now, years later, we have gauged stories out of it. After all, it's human nature to seek a happily ever after everywhere.

 

As the colors spurred and merged, I just tried to soak in the wholeness of the moment.

 

I was living the Starry Night in real life. Then, I was standing at a crossroads on the field.

 

I couldn’t help but feel baffled at how artists were locked up in Asylums in that era. In the end, maybe all these crafts are witchcraft. They come with magic of a kind that can turn our minds senile.

If Van Gogh lived today, he would be a Pioneer or perhaps just another street artist trying to find fame on YouTube. It's funny how luck and destiny tick.

 

Sometimes, I wonder if I am crazy for my art, too. Maybe not, because I juggle with my engineering day job, but at nights or quiet weekend mornings when I perch on my desk with my pen, I feel my power course down through it. I understand how Van Gogh felt sitting in his tiny cell, cut off from everyone, but still feeling the urge to draw, paint, and tell stories. It's what makes us feel so alive.

 

Gogh was even a writer, as he had penned many letters for his reference. After a decade of artwork, he was gone. The hate finally took its toll, and he crumbled to his fall.

 

Now, the very same society worships him for his art. But when such artists live among us, we find them queer. And history has repeated itself a lot over time. The names change, but the aristocrats remain.

 

As sunflowers sprang up around the exhibit, I vowed to appreciate all the creative people around me. Ultimately, we are all storytellers trying to make this worldly life fun and beautiful for everyone.