As children our experiences do not come burdened with informed memories or knowledge. Every new encounter, however mundane, brings in a unique sensation, and before long, the world becomes an avalanche of senses in all its ordinary details – the comfort of a smooth river-pebble, the intoxication of an orange-flavoured eraser, the covetousness of a pink bubble gum. This heightened sense of glee and wonder and awe of quotidian beauty is born out of the same innocence that makes children speak awkward truths and laugh at embarrassing moments, much to the chagrin of their parents. Sadly, as the cliché goes, all good things come to an end. In the evolutionary trade off of growing up, innocence has to make way for a cognitive awareness that buries the child in us. The slow and inevitable demise of the inner child robs us our gift to be marvelled at simple things like fireflies in a dark night, until one day even a snapshot of a black hole fifty three million light-years away becomes nothing more than an insipid digital image. The world around us remains unchanged with all its glory and wonder; it is we who become the ordinary. I think that is what Picasso meant when he said ‘Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist when we grow up.’
Featured painting: Woman With Green Hat, 1930, by Beltran Masses
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