I have always loved colour. Since I was a child. I’ve been told that I used to get so excited looking at a photo of a volcano or fire. I remember seeing the vivid and bright colours shocking the page and then cooling down to molten lava and finally becoming stone.
Slowly pictures in books graduated to colour in a book. My first crayolas as I drew random lines supposedly meaning something and showed it so proudly to everyone! A pessimist would have laughed at the crude lines but I wasn’t one to listen right? I had a huge sense of achievement of having put colour on a drab paper.
School and college graduated with lots of colorful projects using splashes of colour. I can now relate to a few words and how colorful they made me feel. Like a soft muted sky blue or a fiery red or a lush deep green. How about the deep and dark purple or the verdant orange or the squishy alive brown? Colours made the world so beautiful to see. I’ve had my childhood defined by crayolas. Those wonderful wax crayon sticks with so many innovative names like “Granny Smith Apple’ and ‘Salmon Pink’ or ‘Cornish Blue’. Oh and the crayola markers and stamp it pens!
Over time, as numbers and figures nudged out colourful and seemingly “childish” crayon projects, I pushed those sketch pens inside my cupboard. Until today.
My usual study routine was interrupted by my cousin who came to visit. When he discovered a random highlight pen I used to mark important stuff, he had to have a paper to draw on. Suddenly I remembered crayola and those sketch pens. Out they came. With each new colour his gasps came louder and his eyes sparkled with new vigour. Oh a blue would never have seemed as exciting as it did today.
Oh no it wasn’t a masterpiece just some random lines and dots and general scribble but the pride he took in displaying that! I was teleported into another world. I played with him too, opening the sketch pens and getting a random scribble in between. And it had never been this much fun.
I realised we’re so quick to dismiss something so sweetly innocent as a child’s random art just because we’re looking for some sort of elusive perfection. I wish I could use those crayons and pens in writing exam papers. I’d make it look so much more interesting!
Looking at the whole world akin to a blank slate is so liberating. Somebody has already filled in the colours but not for a child. For a child every white is something that can be discovered with a splash of colour. I learnt this today.
It was such a beautiful moment showing off this art, even the random squiggle. Maybe the way I looked at it changed. Maybe I painted my childhood out there. Maybe I decided to make the world my canvas.
Beauty is not Plastic. It can be anywhere and in any form. I found beauty today in a bunch of sketch pens!! Which I will now never let go or gather dust again!!
–Part 1 of Beautiful Me, Beautiful World
P.S These are my pens which I use while studying. I still cannot use only one colour while making notes which makes my book a little bit of an art show :p