Craps, Art and Life
[I don’t know much about literature; never read big books. I am not a person who likes written things very much. I read things when I have to and all other time I love thinking – wandering in my own dreams, getting amazed by my own thoughts and being happy; and then sleeping.
Lately, I thought – just in search of fancy articulation – let’s try something like Art. I started gawking on paintings, listening music, reading articles, stories, novels and poems. I have to say, I used to think that by not touching these things I am not loosing anything vital. Believe me I was correct until October 2006. Then life changed miserably and every fraction of life turned upside down and turned into something like a homogeneous mixture of bad luck and rows of my timetable – each single event is sandwiched by a pair of bad luck.
Someone had once suggested me that reading/ watching very sad stories/ images/ movies elevates you temporarily from your depression. I started that.
The best thing about *ANY* art form is its interpretation totally dependents on person and varies from person to person. And for a person, an art piece is a function of time and space.
I know most of what I said is like a confused confession to you but it is not, you will understand it someday…, because it is a function of time and space.]
Emily Dickinson’s this poem when I read two years ago (mid 2005) I thought, “Whoa! Another sad poem! Who the hell reads these craps?” Last month (Dec 2006) it had changed meaning to me. Here is the poem:
'Success is counted sweetest'
Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.
Not one of all the purple Host
Who took the Flag to-day
Can tell the definition,
So clear, of Victory,
As he, defeated, dying,
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Break, agonized and clear.
-- Emily Dickinson (1864)
1. The image is "Bailleul_Edmond_Paysage_Mediterranean" by MichaelAngelo.
2. The Poem "Success is Counted Sweetest" is by Emily Dickinson