Pieta is my favourite art, an amazing Art
of emotional sculpturism carved by the victim of life; it
frightens me and awes me. The conditionality of human race on the acceptance of
fate creates the vulnerability and greatness of its kind- Pieta is an art of
aesthetic purgation. What worse could have happened in the life of a mother
other than the burial of her son? The emotional trauma she faces cannot be
understood or explained through any of the existing or available laws of nature
or human understanding. The numbness of heart, meaninglessness of life and helplessness
of death altogether execute the verdict of some unknown laws to which we
are all indebted from the time immemorial. Which human reason can understand
and justify that law of fate? Sculpturism of human life!
What I think
about pieta and the words I use fail to convey the emotional status of that
particular condition of human life especially in the life of a mother. No man
can ever understand it, so do I. The fate of human race to bury their dead
intoxicates my thoughts. I want to talk more about Pieta, but I don’t have
proper words to convey my emotions. My vocabulary is limited to the materiality
of linguistics and the applicability of cognition.
Comments
Post a Comment