Parading Facades

in

'i try not to show any emotions, but it's hard. i don't want people to see what's inside.'

Received this sms from a distant friend today. Can't pretend that I wasn't surprised to receive such a sombre message.

Did a little check and found out: this guy's popular. Apparently, he has a legion of girls trailing him around. He has decent grades, good looks, classy breeding and many people wanting to be his friends.

Why then, is he hiding behind the layers of masks?

Why is he, or anyone for the matter, unable to show what's inside to others?

I guess that, sometimes, it's easier to face the world with a facade such that the inner self can neither be hurt nor injure. A defensive, protective mechanism of sorts.

A wardrobe of masks, such that one can have the luxury of picking and choosing what he wishes to wear for the day. A mask has become an indispensible accessory for the modern life and living.

We're all guilty of wearing masks. And when we finally shed these facades, will we be able to recognise the faces in the mirror?

When the music cease and curtains fall, the artistes, dancers, performers leave the main stage. when no one's scrutinising, they quietly remove the thick layers of make-up and silently leave the theater. Nobody - nobody - shall know their true identities.

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Tensions b/w life and death

in , ,

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The Lionfish Who Wished It Could Fly

in ,

The lionfish glided gracefully through the waters, it's fins dancing and fanning. It wasn't luxuriating in the feel of the frigid waters against it's scales, nor was it thinking of food, shelter. It was in a world of its own, where cotton-like clouds and un-fish-like forms soar.

Earlier on, it had witnessed a flock of strange shadows swooping above the water surface. In a moment of sheer wonder, it leapt. The joy, though short-lived, was sublime.

Ah, how it wish it could fly!

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Emotional

in ,

buffeted by ill winds.
aspersions and awkwardness,
twin sisters,

harass and keep harassing.
a sense of disquiet.
was i at fault?

their pettiness hurts.
their viciousness,
unreasonableness, cowardliness -

hurt.
i shouldn't care,
not this much,

not so badly.
caring hurts.
it hurts.

Sometimes, not caring may be the antidote to one's pain. There are certain issues - dealing with cowards, sneaks, snakes - that does not merit one's concern. There's no point fretting about what everyone thinks of you. Or the rumours that's circulating behind your back. Or the fact they may be portraying themselves as the victimised/ vanquished to gain sympathy.

All that doesn't matter, so long that people you respect and care for know who you are and what you stand for. That's all that matter. Really. Truly.

(But, why then, do I feel so unsettled by these ill winds buffeting around me?)

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Defying defiance

in

Portrait in charcoal and pencil
This portrait conveys the audacity of hope. I had initially planned to shackle the subject with heavy locks of chains, clocks and padlocks. Would such heavy ornaments create visual distractions? Maybe simplicity is a better way to go?

A monochromatic palette was employed to heighten the drama of the painting. Each stroke was drawn carefully, with deliberate, considered attention.

The character was shrouded by a thick blanket of ominous darkness that threatened to overwhelm, suffocate. Yet, he seemed to be defying the oppressive forces around it, standing upright and unflappable.

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Bubbling Joy In Barcelona

Sycophany/ Self-preservation

Romance of the two wisdom teeth

Art Appreciation 101