Oblique

Oblique

Chaos is a loosely used word today. An incoherent sentiment that is expressed in haste or with an emotional resentment. Chaos at first instance sounds saddening. However, it has been something I have lived with, inspired by and trusted on. Abstract is a part of chaos within you. It is an intellectual revelation often asserted in a way that is difficult to comprehend to those who seldom listen to themselves. It’s visual literature, where writers write with a brush. I call this one oblique and such is the mind, never thinks straight, escorts a tilted thought, impassioned, frantic and frenzied.

It is when the mind is in a clutter; art obliges itself to be an outcome of a free flowing, unrestricted, liberated expression. With oblique, I took that liberty to mildly explicit. To communicate a realm of thought that just is. It usually begins with a dot, sharply continuing its legacy to another dot. And in between, often shapes a line, an edge, a saga of a beginning and an end.

 

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