Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.
– Albert Einstein
Imagination starts dying the moment we start trying to make sense out of it. Anything, from a single brush stroke to a badly cut sun board says something. Actually wait, there is nothing bad or wrong when it comes to art. Everything, even a doodle has a meaning. It may not be staring in your face, but it is there. You just need the sight to see it. And no, this is not a mystical power I’m talking about. I’m talking about opening the mind to let in new ideas that challenge the knowledge of reality or how we define it. An artist will die the day he stops challenging facts, his experiences, his being.
Being an architecture student, I draft facts – things that I know are the way they are, at least for now. When I draft, I visualize because I’m learning the basics. But after that, I will start imagining. One of my design teachers once told my classmate in her critique that a window is not just a window. The structure breathes through that window, and the person who is present in that structure has his subconsciousness tuned to the vibes and energy sent by the structure because of that window. That one, single opening can make the person feel imprisoned, dreamy, liberated or can even give him an adrenaline boost.
When I finished my final house model, I was not happy. Because I knew I could do so much more, only if I had more time. I wanted to put in every ounce of my energy into it. I wanted my hands to make a masterpiece out of it even if that meant getting them cut, bruised and bleeding (not saying that they didn’t). I wanted that house to scream out it’s individuality, who it is and what it believes in. Yes, I am very emotional when it comes to houses. I cannot bear an empty house. When I see a house that hasn’t used the full potential of the space given to it, my heart starts racing and there is this weird burning feeling in my stomach that urges my mind to give the space some life. But knowing that I can’t, I prefer walking out of the house. Imagine my state of mind in West Delhi. But when I see a nicely designed structure, I get an adrenaline rush and the urge to go inside. I still try to remember why didn’t I go inside the Royal Ontario Museum, Toronto when I was standing right under it and imagining the structure from inside as my elder sister went off looking for her boyfriend, Shani bhaiya (as I call him, who just started writing a sports blog with my sister btw: Life, sports, & (not so!) beyond… )
Anyway coming back to the point, I get restless and gloomy on the days when my brains decides to stop butting in the middle of an ongoing thought and give me an insane idea. Or when that thought pops in when I’m speaking and suddenly I start talking gibberish because my brain is trying to act on two things at once. I am scared of the day my mind would stop imagining, when my brain would grow old and tired to think of a break through, or a new idea. I am scared of the day I would stop making, doing, and even thinking new and mind blowing things. I am scared of the day the source of my imagination would get exhausted, because then I would have truly given up, and my subconscious mind will start decaying. And the small, nadaan artist in me will die.
I would die the day I stop imagining.