Why must somethings be black & white, let’s open doors to colours and imagine their depth
- The composition, creation of our world, and evolution of our being have dealt with colors. From the old ages to modern, with open eyes, from day’s start to it’s end, working, and finally closing eyes, comforting, we are bound to the aroma of colors. Our lives have been so deeply infused with and subjected to their presence, that imagination is paralyzed without them, words lose meaning and pictures appear impossible.
The world has been disintegrated into two pragmatic approaches, colored and black&white. Although nothing around us that exists can be bracketed to such circles of entailment, we in our own language, have devised these approaches to define the world, and lure in the system “SYMBOLISM”. Since, nothing has remained untouched and even if it is not a part of our evergreen set of known colors, we have managed to drive our brains to find the essential combinations, shades and methods to identify, and further synthesize these unknown colors and brand them names to ascertain their existence and addition to our “evergreen” set. As I go back in time (yes, time traveling), I find how we began interpreting their being, proclaiming their usage as symbols. For instance, black symbolizing darkness and submission, white symbolizing peace and purity. Further, we conferred, black as evil and white as good or prosperous. Such an assertion is predominantly based on the contrasting effect that the two colors present to the viewer, how black like a hole swallows every color on earth vanishing its existence, and on similar level, white brightens and further adds to the visual appeal of any color on earth, it even stays same for the evil black, symbolizing the good that does not blemish evil, instead presents it with a chance same as all other existent.
I am still in those old times. You do remember, I time traveled, right?
I am in a boat, in waters, viewing this incredible “Old North Wharf” located on Nantucket Harbor. I see the beautiful houses, capped with reddish-brown, blue roofs, distinct windows, lightened white walls with light shades of brown, very light, standing tall on this seemingly translucent spread of water. The overall outlook of the place this day is vibrant, I am caught up in the moment, looking. The blue skies, smaller clustered white clouds are still, as I await the dusk that shall part me from the glory that the place bestows. Without wasting any time, I take my camera and capture the moment, hoping to secure my vision, the beauty forever but now as I see the picture, it appears bleak, its black&white with shades of gray all over the place. It is the same place but it is not, not to me, the house looks old, looks like history, that does not help me to relive it and so I blame the technology of those days. It’s not that I don’t like black&white, it does add distinction to the image, but it’s not what I was hoping to remember, it’s not the art I am interested in, it is indeed the place itself, just the way it is, just the way I wanted it to be, I would have preferred a colored outlook.
Well then, it’s good that I have this modern camera that can take colored pictures, I did tell you I am time traveling. I took the picture again, this time it is vibrant with all I saw and as I see it, I am mesmerized and compelled to visit the place again.
A distinction I realize resides in the colored and black&white approaches, each has it’s place but latter has become a niche of some, while the former is primitive to many. I told you, I am not against black&white but urge to fill life with colors does not let me absent it’s astounding presence, to draw nature as it is supposed to be, as it is supposed to be remembered. The black&white portraits, movie shots often describe the historic times, further the pictures often have an unhappy vibe about them, somehow when we are in this generation of technological advancement where restrictions have been crossed, to provide photographers, cameramen with tools to contemplate real life, is an initiative which human society itself adopted and began uploading their pieces and instances of life to sites like Flickr, however some still practice the art of black&white expressing their views, for they tend to relate to them better.
Coveted corners of color psychology,
traveling along the perceptual stimulus,
I recognize, I understand
their appeal, charm, what they claim,
how black, powerful, dark and submissive,
how white, clean, vulnerable and pure,
how these two, unparalleled, join forces
to comply with saturation,
representing all, in black&white.
But are they absent or neglected?
dimensions I fail to attend,
why sunset, red eclipsing blue skies,
why trees, green and prosperous,
why her blue eyes, possessing depth,
have been shaded in gray.
I would have preferred, elements coupled,
reflecting delights, anguish, in subtext
of world as we know it.
One place that has remained untouched by colored associations, is the Newspaper. The ink of black on white sheets is dominant in many papers, but the reason to such a stand is quite clear. This has nothing to do with the technology, at-least not after 1990, nor does it concern itself with art, the only reason is cost. The mechanism to infuse colored photographs implies greater costs, which is neither favorable nor beneficial to the customer and the newspaper itself. However, the possibility of coloring the newspaper, with colored photographs picking up, has led to changes and their being has gained unprecedented success, which brings us to newspapers on special occasions, weekly supplements and latest, hot, trendy, colorful magazines, be it political, sports, technological, featuring lively pictures that gain attention.
But it remains a commercial landscape, they are bound to comply to the ideas of profit and minimization of expenses. But, when we are concerned, the amateur photographers, we see how quickly the transition has surfaced. Black&white is bygone for the common people, they have adopted to the totality of colored proportions, an era of black&white infused with all possible colors we can comprehend.
If you talk to me about my choices of colors, you might see a lot of yellow, red, and blue, with black&white. I have always applauded black&white for the contrast, for the clarity they depict, you cannot misunderstand or lose any corner, but when they are further imbued with many others, it becomes magical but for me to like, it has to be decent, it has to be clean, it has to be white. If you have noticed, white goes with anything, but something appeals more. So, you pick up that something and turn it into ‘your thing’. It very much defines you, even though we don’t recognize, even though sometimes our choices are restrained by available choices, but still what we have, is the best possible thing we have liked, we have kept, given our urge to experiment with colors. As for me, I seriously am a child, and may be you are too. I am certain, even though I have passed teen years, I still possess those childish attributes, which I don’t’ want to let go. May be I am crazy for not growing up, or may be not believing that I am, but the innocence, smartness, carefree nature of a child are highly attractive and joyous to my soul. But don’t get confused that I will be kidding,I won’t be taking blues or cartoons, it’s an appreciable tool to lighten the mood, to say “Hey, if you are serious then I am too, I shall always be active (quite a satire, something I wish to accomplish), evergreen, never misunderstand a child for maturity”.
P.S…. Don’t misunderstand that Black&White photography, is just black and white, they use highly complicated techniques, softwares, color filters to add drama to their black&white imagery, to adjust the gray-scale distribution to add or subtract contrast. It is indeed an art, depicting world, but we have colors for it, I am gonna stick to them for a change.
Ever gotten bored doing the same thing over and over, listening to the same concepts of life always, pile of rhetorics buttered with voices where the only difference among them are the damn voices. Well, whatever your answer, you are bound to adore the Indie flick, “500 Days of Summer.”
Let’s hope the preceding lines didn’t throw you off the track.
What I was going for, was to put it out there, the word ‘newness.’ Insanely common it does sound to the majority of us, since we have always wanted a newer beginning, or a newer end, a change of technology and precisely a change of perspective. The idea of ‘newness’ is so alluring that mind genuinely drifts off to a bunch of imaginative glimpses, possibly a creation of our mental research. Although, you might accept that even though you are quick to think and explore this newer perspective that has presented itself, you fail to imbibe it in reality. You cumbered by your own defense mechanism, generate scenarios where the change that you seek would not work, and to discourage yourself is all you Continue reading
I saw ‘Diary of a Wimpy Kid: Rodrick Rules some time ago. Oh! yes, a kid movie, shoot me now. Well, I have no regrets, for it was hilarious and not at all emotional, but does give away a sweet message of shared love among siblings, in a family. The movie I felt good about because of the character Rodrick, older brother messing with younger one who is kind of sappy, yeah the cover says wimpy. It’s a sequel to the earlier in the same segment, adapted from Jeff Kinney’s well written witty story with comical illustrations.
The film portrays our very self. If your family is as protective and gaga about stuff as Greg’s parents were, you would have a hell of a time!
The Heffley family is a mix bag of awkward people who can be distinguished by each of their highlighted enactment.
“A mother trying to run the family, looking for better understanding within the family, kind of carefree with hints of social briefing.
A father who I guess is not in-charge, but has a say, shrugging off from wife’s uncanny behavior but pretending to like and accept, not so dominant on children for he once was a boy.
A big brother, picking on smaller one, the kind of fights we love, put up with and laugh as we look back and remember.
A smaller brother, who is innocent but then again pain in the ass, and because of his innocence nothing can be done about it.
However, most importantly, there is a boy in between all this, a wimpy kid, who would love to become famous, respected, adored, who dreams to set things right. He presents to us, our own self, started with pretend, away from awkwardness and humiliation to have friends and girlfriends, sometimes ending up there and other times blessed by a safe rescue, but no matter how far you run, you tend to find happiness when you abolish sham and be yourselves, when you least expect it, when you realize that mending ways with all who are close is all joy, and all trouble to reach the realization was worth it.”
The film was kinda family drama, since it was never predominantly about the kid, but the kid and people around him. Enjoyed the situation when Greg was picked up by his father as he was skating in front of all people, broadcast-ed by his mother out loud, felt like a loser and his father was like, “I know”. There was a good song playing before that, Atlantic Star – Always, gotta love the line “girl you are to me all a woman should be”. One of the Rodrick’s tricks to easy life was definitely true, the one with lowering parent’s expectations, though I won’t recommend it. The poop part was hilarious as well.
So, I think I liked the movie, I remember sitting on my chair, laying still and remembering my childhood, I would give anything to go back, but somethings are not meant to be, that’s why they say, “Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose“.
Sociality pelted along,
as civilizations throve, rugged,
with customs, portfolios,
world though beauteous
shunned to colossal lechery,
reasons must I tell?
Though lust not lechery,
to think not act,
indulges not a potent opposite,
but must I tell,
neither attraction, nor love,
craving bodily amazement,
like addicted to the living
like a mere object,
to ideate thoughtful orgasms,
isn’t ill and stupendous?
Though might stand confusion,
amidst horrid dubieties,
if lust were love, attraction,
but must I tell
though not bound to church,
is sanctity of free will,
decorum of consciousness,
to heed too much
as if world is blank,
never is righteous.
“Oh Look, it started raining mother”, Adriel spoke with sheer happiness. He was convinced that this would put on hold or even better call off their plans to meet Dr. Len, but finding surprises has always been his strong suit.
She did not reply, he called out one more time, but still she did not reply.
He went in to look.
Kaya had been working hard as a mother and a receptionist in an ad agency. Things have been hard and life a little difficult after Josh died. It happened that morning, that dark morning, that’s how she describes it. She loved nature and knew the drill which it’s various associates namely, sun, moon, trees played every year, every season, every month, but after that day, she barely remembered as to why she was so in love with nature, why she ever thought of sun as god’s ultimate gift to earth, and hailed trees that only belong to the soil, pretending to sacrifice their movement to foster mankind. May be her doubts were an aftershock or may be she never really understood how rough things are around, outside her small solicited heaven. But she had reasons to believe, to blame and curse nature for it’s role in the misfortune, for she felt cheated, felt unsafe, for she had lost her husband to the dark morning, when the sun was playing, hiding behind clouded shackles, dim, and trees meant to stand, lied proudly on ground, silently as his car hit the trunk on road and rocketed off the hill, the repercussion an aftermath, a tragedy. A man died that night and so did the belief of safe havens. Continue reading
I have listened to this whenever I was happy, whenever sadness swept away my very desires, whenever I felt torn down, whenever I lacked sense of imagination, I listened to it, paraphrasing its every word, taking what I can and doing what I must, and always in the due course, a smile felt on my face and I was building dreams again.
I am an optimist, if you ask me what kind of poet I wish to be (if I ever qualify as one), I would be the poet of hope, even in the most hopeless moments, I cannot stop reflect hope because I am afraid, world will never be the same without my only valued tool.
Revelations of fragmented sorrow
panned out across the sphere
a turgid crusade sweeping the gallows
I wish to betray the absenteeism
I wish to endorse the excruciations
for logistics are flawed
for time is vague, and endless
for there lies clouded in darkest regimes
keys to gateways amid horrid eclipse
I wish to entrust the synergy in act
ascribe to the domiciliary caves
for reciprocal aid is obligatory
and diffusion, beyond conscious learning.
Rambling, discursive, enveloping rationality
inclined to debate on natural order
speculating the ordeals of emigrating birds
the sun, stars, land, water and entire eternity
spoofing the riches, failing to comply
I wish to discover but not hinder
I wish to smile along but not possess
for stars shimmer, sun parts with all
for my birth right excoriates control
for relevance subdued is inhibition
I wish to envisage the realm
deserted of avarice, of corrupted souls
for hope appeals my intellect every treasured moment.
Today, I wish to write two poems, both on love, but somehow they conflict.
- This one discards the “love at sight”, taking into aspect that love grows with time, from attraction to love. It resides in a relation, can be any, not just the one in your mind.
Love is not, the first sight
mere persuasion, fed attractions
blinding night vouches no fictions
relation, no delight but alright,
ages grows, heart distant echoes
love grazes relative delight
ripens with times, alike billions
love asks not, the first sight.
- This one seemingly is a dream, compelled by contact of eyes with a girl. There has been no interaction by speech, just the sight, but the image has been registered for ever.
Closing my eyes, appears thy face
the first sight, your deep blue eyes
meeting mine, syncs lovable ties
smiles my heart, nonpareil grace,
moment thusly surreal, dream seems real
iterating, not to erase
sigh at absence, truth applies
open eyes, still appears thy face.
Linking to Friday Poetically
and trying out octain again.