The uniqueness of art

No omplicated assembly in the universe has the capability to manufacture human or human like entities with such diverse features and each one of them quite distinct from the other in both physical form and artistic capabilities. Not a single one among them has been spared from the burden of possessing a talent and nurturing it. While some of them are in their initial stages trying their level best to improve the talent they possesses, even after being chided by others for their inefficient work and their refusal to leave the work at hand even after such confirmatory messages from a hundred souls; a few elite have managed to be hailed as the masters of the art they are pursuing. Art is art, be it the best in the world or otherwise. Nature differentiates not between the two and is each one of them perceived and encouraged by nature in a much similar way.

The random scribblings with a pencil on a sheet of paper by an infant to pass time, the careless filling of  a drawing, by a child in the kindergarten , whose outlines are clearly maked in jet black ink, the conversion of a white sheet of paper into a black one by a smart child calling it the sketch of a cat sleeping in the dark, the artistic paintings with intricate details drawn by eminent artists and hung on the walls of the museum and finally the random strokes of the so called modern artsits which are thought to have concealed in them a meaning are all equally good forms of art and is each one of them perceived and encouraged by nature in a much similar way.

The shriek of the newly born child to let the world know his arrival, the trials of an infant toi call his mother for the first time, the out of phase recital of the rhyme in the early days of one’s childhood, the singing of the song by the one  leading a group of singers, the chorous given by the one among the several in the crowd behind the singer, the random utterances by the vocal chord of a person all alone in his room, the melodious tunes of the nightingale, the coarse cawing of the crow and finally the meaningless utterances of words in the name of modern music are all forms of art and is each one of them perceived and encouraged by nature in a much similar way.

The struggle of the new learner trying to trace the ‘o’ and often ending up with a ‘p’, the unstructured sentences spoken and written by the one newly entered into the not so logical world of English language and grammer, the words of great men that have won top honours, the piece of prose or poetry that had to confine itself to the local edition of the national newspaper, the unpublished works in the highly secured files that fear rejection after an approach to the publisher and finally the works without a head and  a tail but just a single line of humour, amusement or shock are all forms of art and is each one of them perceived and encouraged by nature in a much similar way.