/the earth, the moon, the sun, and the sea

An artist’s style is, from a technical point of view, nothing other than the particular idiom in which he deploys the forms of his art. And the most beautiful thing is that we have abundant ways of expression. Seeing the mindless churning of hollow short-form content floating in the bottomless pit of the digital abyss, I’d say it’s being overproduced. But then we have artists like us, you and I, who operate in the bounds of moderation in the field that starts existing only from the edge of the box.

Our goal is to truly create something that adds value, even though transient, to the fraternity we humans would probably until the end of time keep calling art. We develop our style, or for the lack of a better word, our motif, slowly. With paced repetition that allows us time to create and observe and to create again. For me, one of those patterns that have emerged over the years is overlaying my figment of imagination with the real physical world to create something that reveals something inspiring to the curious observer.

This is one such piece in that body of work. Tracking the position of a celestial body (the sun) and waiting for its feather-soft amber light to hit the hard concrete of the underside of a bridge while its reflection on the calm waves of rippling water mirrors it just enough to form the image of another celestial body (the moon), has me written all over it. My creative agency on the writing front couldn’t do justice to the photography front, hence, I am ending the musing with lines from one who is way more profound, Susan Sontag.

Art is the objectifying of the will in a thing or performance, and the provoking or arousing of the will. From the point of view of the artist, it is the objectifying of a volition; from the point of view of the spectator, it is the creation of an imaginary décor for the will.