The perfection of art....

I begin. I am no critic of art. I possess no scholarly knowledge of any form of art. I have not made any contribution to anything that might be termed "art". But, I live. And from life I derive all that I need. To understand art. Feel it. Any form of art. Why not? Isnt living life an art itself? So, I set out to seek an answer to a question that has absorbed me over the last few days. What is perfection in art? I seek an answer purely from life's perspective. I realize now that it is reached in five stages...

Observation. The first stage. This is the most obvious. When art imitates life. The artist strives to achieve perfection by bridging the gulf between myth and reality. The different shades of the glorious uncertainties of life are presented in impressionable strokes of a genius. What color to depict the joys? What words to use to describe the sorrows?

Imagination. The second stage. Acceptable, but needs elaboration. The human mind has powers unknown to even itself. The ability to imagine is perhaps the most wonderful gift that it possesses. Sitting in a dark room, one can witness the warmth and light of the brightest outdoors. Putting that same imaginative theory into practice is art. The genesis of the art is in the mind. And the senses merely act as external agents of manifestation of that seed of brilliance.

Agitation. The third stage. Bizarre and deserves an explanation. The rebellious spirit. The cavalier attitude. The butter is obtained only after the churning of the milk. The ability of the artist to channel his intellectual discontent and emotional strings towards color and charm is creditworthy. It is certainly possible that art may agitate against itself. The leashes are opened. And there is variety and more purpose.

Detachment. The fourth stage. When there is no trace of the artist. Difficult to achieve. But exhilarating. You sit there for hours. Nay days. May be even months. And marvel at this piece. You try to think what the artist might have thought and felt when tracing the same curves. Yet, you have no idea. And you continue to be amazed. The art speaks to every observer and convinces him that he himself is the artist.

Soul. The final stage. The pinnacle of art. The most perfect art there is. Or can be. When the artist breathes life and soul into the art. Labor of love. Only life appreciates life. Only soul touches soul. Perhaps the easiest way to arrive at perfection. And yet, the most forgotten way. Creation. There is meaning and drive. There is purpose and perpetuity. A higher sphere. A mystic connect. The soul stirs the most hidden nerve. Excites the most secret of passions. The artist completes the journey. And the art begins one...

Listen to your soul. That is an art in itself. And a perfect one too...