The Question That Never Stays Still
“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.”
— Oscar Wilde
Every act of making begins with a question : not always spoken, but always present.
Who am I?
And more importantly; who am I becoming while I make this?
Identity is not a fixed name or a single version of the self. It changes quietly. One day you are seen as a child by someone holding your past; another day you are introduced as an elder sibling, or suddenly the news arrives that you are a niece or an aunt, and your place shifts again. Nothing about you changed — yet everything did.
Creation flows with that same instability.
What you make is not a permanent definition, It is a reflection of a moment- shaped by where you were standing when you reached for it.
Where Creation Actually Begins:
My work does not begin on paper,
It begins in the mind — long before tools are touched.
Sometimes it starts with a single color that refuses to leave, Sometimes with the bend of a line that looks wrong but feels right, Sometimes with a messy, directionless scribble that holds no meaning at first — until a vision starts to break in shapes .
The hand only follows later.
This matters, because creativity is often described as a clean sequence: idea, sketch, execution. For me, it is anything but linear, Thought feeds emotion. Emotion feeds memory. Memory sharpens observation. Only then does form arrive.
This space exists for that in-between moments — where nothing is finished, but something has already begun.
This is not a declaration of mastery, It is a space for exploration.
Here, learning is visible, Process is allowed to be slow. Questions are not rushed toward answers. This is a record of practice — of observing, testing, failing, reworking, and understanding art as something breathed through rather than presented.
Not an identity to defend but, A direction to walk in.
On Originality, Inspiration, and Letting Go
It took time to accept a difficult truth:
art is never completely original.
Every work carries traces — of what the maker saw, read, heard, admired, resisted, or returned to obsessively. Some influences are obvious. Others hide quietly beneath the eye level. Even avoidance leaves marks.
Believing that art must be entirely new creates pressure heavy enough to silence creation. Letting go of that belief creates space.
I think of art as an ocean.
Millions look at the same water,
Some only see their own reflection.
Some study the movement of waves.
Some notice its ever-changing, almost impossible color.
Some simply feel its pull without knowing why.
The ocean does not change.
The perspective does.
Art works the same way.
Repetition Is Not a Lack of Ideas
I return to the same lyrics.
The same visuals.
The same pages in books.
Repetition does not drain meaning—it deepens it. What once felt aesthetic later becomes emotional. What once felt emotional turns structural. With time, you stop consuming and start listening.
Here, I’ll share not only what inspires me; but how inspiration is broken apart and rebuilt — how borrowed elements are reshaped until they carry a personal rhythm.
Art has always spoken to art, Silence is the only thing that creates nothing.
This blog will study fluidly across disciplines — sketches, design processes, techniques I encountered, artworks that linger and reflections shaped by music, cinema, and literature. Not as rankings / reviews, but as responses.
Some posts will be clear,
Some will be fragmented &
Some will sit unfinished on purpose.
Because process is rarely clean…
A final piece often holds more than intention. It holds what the maker felt, noticed, avoided, and embraced while becoming it.
Why This Exists ?
This space exists to document becoming- not branding.
It allows change without apology, It allows growth without explanation & It allows contradiction to coexist with clarity.
Creation is not about arriving at a final self_
It is about noticing how the self shifts through making.
An Unfinished Ending
If you are here looking for certainty, you may not find it.
But if you are curious about how ideas form, dissolve, and return altered ; how art carries memory, influence, and emotion — then this space may feel familiar.
This is not a destination.
It is an ongoing exploration.
And this is where it opens.
“Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.”
— Thomas Merton