It has been an inspiring start to 2015. While Facebook and WordPress are giving me a complete lowdown on the highlights of my previous year, they tend to ignore or bypass the ‘low’ lights that comes with life. For instance, I haven’t been active on ghummakkad, a platform where I share a great journey called life, through the places I’ve been to and the people I have met. It doesn’t mention and highlight the turmoil of leaving Doha after a performance that left me physically and emotionally drained out, or even that I probably played my best guitar last April, following which I have not made an effort to go back to it. In 2015, I guess, lets resolve to make all that change, or maybe learn from it and recycle those thoughts into creative projects.
The first post of the year is inspired by one little soul of Edmund Thomas Clint, a seven-year old genius whose paintings I was able to view during the second edition on the Kochi-Muziris Biennale. Held under the banner of the Children’s Biennale, I rank this exhibition, which is hid in a small alley in Jew Town, the best exhibition in the Biennale, even better than the main venues.
Edmound Thomas Clint (May 19, 1976- April 15, 1983) started drawing at an age of six months and by the time he passed away at the age of seven, had drawn and painted more than twenty-five thousand works. The quality of line, placement of colours, balance compositions and a keen observation, shows the young boys love for art, especially when he was confined to his room due to a kidney disorder, which eventually took his life. Having practiced and seen a lot of art, I cannot comprehend the direction Edmund would have taken if he had survived.
His keen observation of a world that he could not enjoy is marked with colourful representation of animals, birds and buses and trains that he enjoyed watching. His visual memory of things around him continues to amaze me, and his brush strokes are that I envy. The more time I spent in the exhibition, I tried to go back in time and visualize the young boy, absorbing whatever life offered in such a short span of time. His courage and vision touch me most. As he lay on his death-bed, he told his mother to read a chapter from the crucifixion and added that he may fall asleep while his mother read the chapter. The words that touched me most are referenced to the Biennale’s text, ‘Amma, I may suddenly fall asleep. When you call me, I might not answer. Don’t be scared. I’ll be sleeping.”
Edmund went into coma an hour later. I pay my respect to an individual who made me realize the power of art and that one should give the fullest to each and every moment. With that thought, I start this year.