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A walk in the corridors of the Tate Museum

The flow of people

In the corridors where your piece of work hangs

Eyes soak in the beauty

Eyes soak in the technicality

Eyes browse through the blurb under your work

Make notes

Make judgments on your piece of work.

And one set of eyes

Is trying to scan your mind

What were you thinking?

What were you trying to say?

Why did you feel compelled to produce what you produced?

Where were you living?

What were you eating, drinking, smoking?

Who are you?

The curiosity grows deeper.

It is unsettling the viewer

And he is imagining the context

“Studying” your expression

In his own sweet time

Taking a bit of a walk

Through your mindscape.

My dear artist fellow,

You are more than your work of art

Your works reflect the society

Your works reflect the breakages

Your works reflect the hope, which

You artfully try to portray

Even in your most helpless state.

They are the mirrors of your

Inner beauty

Your despair

Your sensory observation

Your desires

And your consciousness.

It is not for the rest to judge

It is for the rest to understand.

Your work is history

For future generations to follow.

Maybe they will scroll

The pages of archived Facebook posts

Or tweeter feeds.

I implore you to continue

To write history with your brush

And I hope

They will also be followed

With the pages of history books.

To everyone who is expressing themselves with their own form of experiences. May you all be compassionate. May you be healthy. May you be happy.

~