Honour

_{You still carry with you the ethos}

_{of your bringing up, the way you
pronounce 'ivy' leagues reversely,
and other words and phrases
as you casually weave conversations
which sometimes go as long as my studio
lab of four hours, quite conveniently and
timelessly as you chronicle your
awaiting sleepless nights of work
amidst the passion that lingers behind
the dark stories you narrate
whimsically, and my inhabiting in peculiar
network areas that take us back
in time to the fields of our farmer ancestors,
And maybe thus, scrutinizing the food that
goes down our oesophagus or the alcohol that
the mouth needs to first appreciate
fully before it's let go,
To the individual yet shared instance
of full moon night contemplations;
Walks that extend beyond
the limbs or the mind
dissecting the social constructs
unabashedly, reveling in the natural cosmos
unapologetically, and the silence
which is omnipresently absent,
From my misadventure in the drill field
you mock at, and other instances,
minding everything, and nothing at all,
and keeping at bay the
dualities that plague and
the love that prevails?}

Sentiments in Studio

Our seats in the studio were shuffled the very first day of the second semester. Now I sit pretty much opposite to where I used to: the corner desk near the window. A desk I'd chosen after a lot of considerations. First would be its closeness to the window which provided adequate light and a view of the Appalachians in the background. It was always nice to simply gaze out of the window, seeking inspiration sometimes, and differing the current work, at others. It had a closeness to the now called, the big black common table. And also a lack of a neighbor by virtue of being in the corner. 

Now, I'm in the row from where our studio begins. The high rise desks and stools separate the freshman from the lower desks and chairs of the upperclassmen. Persons with distinct odors and walking styles pass behind me constantly. Some with a distinct fragrance, others the smell of coffee; with passive walking style or the thud of the heels. 

I wonder if my change in location has influenced the work I now produce. Does geography have such powers? Well, in that case, I wouldn't have travelled 12040km to study here if it did not. In any case, I should get back to making a study of the Diebenkorn's 'Ocean Park' series' painting we've been assigned to. It is a highly abstract work influenced by the view form his studio window in Santa Monica. Maybe this time, my view of the people will drive my work, literally and figuratively.

I love when people hug

As they try to become one.

Their every futile attempt

never deters them 

For the very next one.