135- Monday Musings – Murder of an artist
An old quote keeps coming back to me and it goes like this - 'If before 30 you are not a communist you don’t have an heart and if after 30 you are still a communist you don’t have brains'. On the same lines I am led to believe that there is an artist in most of us before 30. After that usually life takes over.
Rockstar, the new movie on the block, is a fantastic watch for the many nuances it carries with it - there is something in it for everyone. For the star crossed lovers there is that pain of a love that shall never see its fulfillment, cheated either by circumstances or death. For the artist there is this search for the elusive inspiration that will transform a gawky teenager to a raging sensation and when that poignant artistic inspiration fired by human angst does arrive, it does so with a deep sense of pain - a pain which at the same time is the progenitor of the artistic brilliance and the one thing that will not allow him to enjoy the fruits of his success. How tragic and how moving.
History is dominated with the tales of pained geniuses, so much so that it is unthinkable to believe that artistic brilliance can be even attempted in a life bereft of tragedy and angst. There are reporters of art, who write, appreciate, read, perform and enjoy - they are like the moon, glowing on borrowed resplendence and then there are creators of art - one who creates, designs, writes, essays, and portrays. It seems that the latter has a special penchant for agony, grief and suffering - they almost thrive on it, live on it. Take the agony away and you have taken away the soul from their work. Suffering has created more music, more literature, more poetry, and more art than anything else.
Suffering is hugely personal construct. One can, quite literally, choose to suffer. Most of us go through the usual grind, give and take a few minor details- heart breaks, coming of age, finding the calling in life, directionlessness, confusion over choices, dealing with the consequences of it - so on and so forth. Some deal with the roller coaster and become successful. Others take it to heart and become artists. The latter become successful and famous in the eyes of the former because there is something uplifting and autobiographical in the tale of every artist and his art. This is mostly because those of us who made safer choices, dumbed and numbed our personal agonies, let the artist in us die, sometimes thankfully so, but find echoes of those memories in every story of a celebrated artist - someone who we could have been.
Ah! Such is that bitter sweet world of 'could have been’; such is its angst that it can fuel the artist in you. Wait a bit more and then life will take over. Will it, yet again is the million dollar question.