What is White Matter

White matter is the brain tissue through which messages pass between different areas of grey matter within the nervous system. Using a computer network as an analogy, the grey matter can be thought of as the actual computers themselves, whereas the white matter represents the network cables connecting the computers together.

Thursday, May 22, 2014

PTP - Paint the Painter!!!

You rest your hands on your waist and stare at an empty canvas. 

I know a story awaits to be painted, first in your mind and then in your eyes. Finally, it gets an outline by a pencil dancing between your index finger and thumb.

Your lips press firmly, while rendering even the mildest of lines and shades. Your lips quiver at every bend of the road your pencil takes. You gasp for a moment, when your pencil stops. You take a deep breath before starting again.

At times, your pencil does not listen to your heart and move towards some unwanted turns. Your heart scolds her by taking short cycles of inhale and exhale. A heavy breath like a sage calms you down and you take an eraser in your hand. You park that pencil between the petals of your pink lips. You erase some lines and clean the dust using your long fingers and the side-palm. Sometimes you form a pout and blow the dust away.

You smile, when the sketch approaches near the end. You stroke your chin while scanning the rough draft. You scratch behind the ear and play with your earlobe before glancing it for the last time. [Many times though:)]

You bring a palette, a cup of water, a pack of color tubes and brushes with a firm and graceful stance.

As you mix the colors in the palette with water, you moisten your lips too. Your eyes do a rock-n-roll while the brush enjoys the dips into one color and transformation into another one on the palette. You twist the corner of your lips when you think the color is not yet perfect and the brush takes another dive into the color.

You widen your eyes and press your lips together in excitement. It is a sign you’d discovered the color you want to paint. The brush relaxes and takes a plunge into the water to create ripples in multiple. Finally, it leaves a beautiful mix of colors and a whirlpool in that small cup of water. You set your eyes on it, without a blink. While a bright sparkle in your eyes applauds the natural act of the colors, you wait for the whirlpool to settle down, to begin your performance. 

You hold a round brush (dry) to hover it above the outline and not to touch the canvas. It looks like a young bird flapping the wings hard, to keep her in the air.

You move a bit away from the canvas. You wave the brush as if you are directing the imaginary fellow musicians to sync with harmony. You keep your hand on your chest and take a bow when your imaginary audience applauds. 

You dip the brush into the color. You remove the excess color carefully, by wiping it over the edges of the palette. As you apply the color along the outline, you hold your tip of the tongue around the upper lip. You take short breaths while giving it finishing touches.   

Now you take a flat brush for detailing the landscape in natural colors of green, gray and brown.

There are trees, grass, wild flowers near a long winding road and a cloud-covered sky.

You apply lighter shades on the first layer of colors. Now your hands, arms, hair and cheeks are flaunting the tinges of multiple colors. I wonder you are a kid painting for the first time or maybe you are on high.

You create the natural textures for the road and the trees using stencils. You sign your name below.

There is a handsome guy sitting on a cedar wood bench, with legs crossed. He is feeling anxious and the lines on his forehead fail to keep secrets. A blank canvas, a color palette and a set of brushes are placed near the bench. He is waiting for the painter and gestures his arms to welcome. His loving eyes are following you.

You smile ear to ear when you give finishing touches to his face. Your hands tremble when your brush lingers over his eyes. You forget to blink for a moment. For a moment, you sense that he came alive. For a moment, you feel his tender gaze on your face and the curve of lips. For a moment, you try to look away.

Are you falling for him? You know when you decide not to fall in love, you already did. You feel dizzy and doze off on the chair.


Is it real? He is standing near my chair and scanning me with his eyes filled with love. He slips his one hand behind my neck and the other under my knees. He lifts me up and carries me towards the bench. I rest on the bench, with my eyes partly open. I could feel his eyes on my face and his warm breath so close to my skin.

He kisses my earlobe and whispers:-

“Oh my painter, I am in love with you and your beautiful smile:) I am your story, your fantasy and your thought, waited for so long to come alive.”

He cups my face in his hands. He gently tucks my swinging hairline, behind my ear. He presses his lips against mine. He traces the curvature of my smile, which he loved most. While kissing my smile, he snaps his fingers as if to cast a spell on the canvas nearby. The pencils and the brushes start working on the canvas.


The Art Exhibition, Connaught Place, Delhi

“Wow!!! What a beautiful and unconventional series of the paintings, capturing painters’ expressions from the start to the finish.”
“Especially the last and the different one, where the finished painting is within the painting, near that couple kissing on the bench. Whoa! Is she the painter? Is he the guy from the painting inside? OMG, that bench is empty!!!”
“I want to meet her.”
“No one knows about her. She had vanished into thin air, after creating this magnum-opus.”

***The End***   

P.S. – Hereby I'd attempted to expand my thoughts on painting the painter like:-
  • I want to see you, while you paint, how your face twists and your fingers do a rock- n-roll with every stroke of your brush."~~~@anandtambey 
  • "It is not your paintings I like, I like you, when you are painting."~~~@anandtambey

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