Blank Slate


I often look at a blank paper and think of the million opportunities it presents to us

The blank slate can be a minefield of words or the canvas to myriad unrevealed images

Words and images that till that point of time have only resided in the recesses of our head

Recesses that are a jumble of dusty corners and grey shadows

The blank pages can elicit stories with parables and fables to enthuse the young ones,

or they can impart certain truths of life that the old ones do not want to ever face.

The blank canvas can elicit a kaleidoscope of colours and shapes that give meaning to the world around us,

it can bring to attention details that miss the mundane eye of everyday. 

When we bring the pen or brush down on the blank slate

we create future legacies on the ruins of the past.

We envision a reality, a truth, a lie, a world that is the artists’ invention

but can be personalized and customized by every person who comes in contact with it.

Can art, whether written or visual, ever be perfect?

Perhaps it can be. With a few words or moments caught in a frame or a page and frozen in time.

But it may not be that perfect when it enters the mind’s eye of a person seeing it from a different lens.

Art has the power to engage you and disenchant you.

The power to draw you into itself, while simultaneously making you detach yourself from it.

Words can antagonize people for generations, images can make those generations silent.

The blank slate revels in its omniscient power to rule the minds and hearts of its buyers and consumers.

You will want to shun the writer or the painter, but they leave their indelible mark on history, as no political or religious leader can ever.

They become the epicentre of the changing philosophies of time that shatter and carve identities.

The blank slate in its blankness holds the truth not known yet.

 

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