F. Scott Fitzgerald

  

F. Scott Fitzgerald (1896-1940), was an American short-story writer and novelist. "This Side of Paradise" made Fitzgerald famous at the age of 24 and he married Zelda Sayre. "The Beautiful and the Damned" (1922), describes a young man and his beautiful wife, who gradually degenerate into middle age while they wait to inherit a large fortune. Ironically, they finally get it, when there is nothing of them left worth preserving. Perhaps to avoid this the Fitzgerald's together with their daughter led an extravagant disorderly life. Fitzgerald began to drink too much and Zelda suddenly, inexplicably began practicing ballet dancing night and day. In 1930 she had a mental breakdown and in 1932 another, from which she never really recovered.

Through the 1930's they fought to save their life together, but the battle was lost and Zelda was admitted to a sanatorium. His next novel "Tender is the Night" is the story of a psychiatrist who marries one of his patients, who as she slowly recovers exhausts his vitality until he is "a man used up." Unfortunately for Fitzgerald, the book was commercially unsuccessful. With this failure and the despair over Zelda, Fitzgerald was close to becoming an incurable alcoholic. However, by 1937 he recovered enough to become a scriptwriter in Hollywood. In 1939 he began the novel "The Last Tycoon." It was Fitzgerald's last attempt to capture a dream he had for a long time. In its intensity of imagination and brilliance of its expression, it is equal to anything Fitzgerald ever wrote. And it was typical of his luck that he died of a heart attack with the novel only half-finished at the age of 44.

Humphry Davy

 

Sir Humphry Davy (1778-1829) was a British Chemist. Davy discovered the elements potassium and sodium (1807), and barium and calcium (1808). These discoveries resulted from his researches in electro-chemistry. He was the first to isolate magnesium and strontium (1808) independently of the French chemist Gay-Lussac and Thenard. His miner’s safety lamp (1815) was a major contribution to industrial safety. Although two other men claimed this invention, Davy is generally given the credit.

Davy was born in Cornwall. As an apprentice to an apothecary and surgeon, he became interested in chemistry. In 1799 as an assistant in the Pneumatic Institution of Bristol, he made important discoveries of the properties of nitrous oxide. This accomplishment won him an appointment, at 23, as professor of chemistry at the Royal Institution of Great Britain, London.

Davy’s talent for storytelling, combined with his brilliant scientific record, made him one of the most popular lecturers of his day. Although Britain and France were enemies at this time, Davy was awarded the Napoleon Prize of the French Institute in 1808. He was knighted in 1812 and was made a baronet in 1818. He became president of the Royal Society in 1820.

As a poet, over one hundred and sixty manuscript poems were written by Davy, the majority of which are found in his personal notebooks. Most of his written poems were not published, and he chose instead to share a few of them with his friends. Eight of his known poems were published. His poems reflected his views on both his career and also his perception of certain aspects of human life. He wrote on human endeavours and aspects of life like death, metaphysics, geology, natural theology and chemistry.

Michael Faraday

 

Michael Faraday (1791-1867) was an English physicist and chemist. Faraday’s discovery of electromagnetic induction led to his invention of the electric motor and electric generator. His inventions laid the basis for much of the technology of the 20th century. In 1821 he had used a magnet and a wire containing an electric current to produce mechanical motion, thereby creating an electric motor. Ten years later Faraday reversed the process: using magnetism to produce an electric current, he invented the dynamo, or generator.

Faraday formulated the basic laws of electrolysis during his early work in chemistry. Ion, anode cathode and electrode are some of the chemical terms he introduced. In 1825 he became the first to liquefy gases under pressure. In 1845 he discovered the Faraday Effect of magnetism on polarized light. His later days were spent in formulating a general electromagnetic field theory, later completed by James Clerk Maxwell. The farad is named for him.

The son of a blacksmith in Newington, Surrey, Faraday received little formal schooling. He became interested in science while apprenticed to a London bookbinder. In 1813 he got a job as laboratory assistant to Sir Humphry Davy at the Royal Institution in London. Faraday became director of the laboratory in 1825 and professor of chemistry in 1833. He scorned wealth and worldly honors, refusing knighthood and the presidency of the Royal Society. While other men made money from his discoveries Faraday devoted himself exclusively to scientific research.

Pen Drawing

 

Pettah pen drawing

 

Digital Art

 

Animal Revolution - New Poem by me. (Here the word "beast" means Animal).

Beasts of Lanka, beasts of all lands

Think you not that it is strange

Your brothers and sisters are slaughtered

To feed human beings

Pigs and cows are killed by thousands

But are beaten first to make them soft

Though they call themselves very humane

They are a bad un-kindly lot

In its once pristine waters

Fish and other creatures swam wide

But they have put nets to divide us

And in them we all shall die

Birds of Lanka birds of all lands

You have been modified

You are now mere weaklings

Shall ye ever again fly

An animal revolution is needed

Start from every lake and tree

So that birds and beasts of all lands

Will forever and ever be free

If you make a friend of time - Poem

If you make a friend of time

It wouldn't matter that you have no dime

For waves that break in the mangrove beach

Will pull your ship from that sinking reef

If the lighthouse is afar

And a misty fog blocks the North star

Follow the seagulls to the left

Or north or south whichever is best

A starfish near the beach

May swim away beyond your reach

But a crab that moves sideways

May even wish you better days

An oyster that pricks your feet

Could have a pearl on some distant beach

A raft that is blown to sea

Will reach the Island of Serendib

I did this digital drawing with MS Paint, the earliest and most basic form that has been there for many decades. Even here I used the paintbrush, pencil and a few other tools in much the same way that an artist uses when painting normally on canvas. I didn't use any of the special distorting tools. I just applied the paint as an artist would with no special effects and it came out like this...One drawback is it takes a lot of time and is not easy as it looks, but it is very enjoyable.

 

JOSEPH MALLORD WILLIAM TURNER

Joseph Mallord William Turner (1775-1851) was an English painter and graphic artist. He is known especially for his luminous, imaginative landscapes and seascapes. A prolific artist, Turner did thousands of sketches, engravings, watercolors, and oils. His interest in the effect of light and color upon form foreshadowed the work of the impressionist.

Turner's works are usually divided into three styles. In his early period, he painted landscapes and historical pictures in quiet tones of green, blue, and brown, using the brighter colors very sparingly. About 1819, after a trip to Italy, a change came over his work. He began to use brighter, purer colors, without dark shadows. During his middle period his works, such as The Fighting Temperaire, became more impressionistic.

Turner became more absorbed in color and light, and the works of his last period grew more abstract. In Burning of the Houses of Parliament and Rain, Steam and Speed light, color and atmosphere dominate; form and subject are barely suggested. Steamer in a Snowstorm shows his use of swirling masses of color to express emotion. These later works were ridiculed by his contemporaries, but they have much in common with 20th-century abstract painting and are now widely admired.

Turner was born in London, the son of a barber. He had very little schooling but early showed a talent for drawing. He entered the Royal Academy school at 14 and first exhibited there at 15. When 24, Turner was elected associate of the Royal Academy. He became a full-timewatercolors member in 1802 and was appointed professor of perspective in 1807. In his will, Turner left most of his works to the British People. About 300 oil paintings and sketches and about 19,000 drawings and water colors are exhibited in the National Gallery, the Tate Gallery, and the British Museum.

He lived in London all his life, retaining his Cockney accent and assiduously avoiding the trappings of success and fame. Intensely private, eccentric and reclusive, Turner was a controversial figure throughout his career. He became more pessimistic and morose as he got older, especially after the death of his father, after which his outlook deteriorated, his gallery fell into disrepair and neglect, and his art intensified. In 1841 Turner rowed a boat into the Thames so he could not be counted as present at any property. He lived in squalor and poor health from 1845. Turner left a small fortune which he hoped would be used to support what he called "decayed artists".

REMBRANDT

 

Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn (1606-1669), was a Dutch master of painting and etching. Rembrandt is one of the world's great artists, yet he died in poverty and obscurity. He is most admired for the warmth and humanity of his work. Every human being he painted was portrayed sympathetically. To him, beggars and captains of the guard were equally important. Rembrandt's use of dramatic light areas contrasted to irregular dark spaces was unusual. What he thought important he painted so that light focused on it. Minor details that might be distracting, he left darkened as in shadow.

Rembrandt's main interest was people. Many critics consider his masterpiece to be "The Night Watch" (1642). Rembrandt also did many self-portraits and Biblical landscape studies. Rembrandt was born in Leyden, the son of a prosperous miller. His father entered him in the Academy of Leyden for classical education, but the boy was determined to paint. At about the age of 12, he studied under a dutch artist and, at perhaps 17, began work as a portrait painter.

Rembrandt moved to Amsterdam in 1631 to work as a painter and teacher. In 1634 he was married to wealthy Saskia van Uijlenburgh, whose portrait he painted many times. They took a large house, and Rembrandt started a costly art collection. He was extravagant but his own work was popular, enabling them to live well. In 1642 Saskia died. Rembrandt one of the most productive artists of all time continued to work hard, but he seemed to lose spirit. His art became unfashionable. In 1656 he was bankrupt; his home and art collection were sold to pay creditors. In 1660 he began work in the art shop opened by his housekeeper, Hendrickje Stoffels, and his son Titus. The forlorn Rembrandt became a virtual recluse. After Titus died in 1668 he suffered even greater poverty.

Oil Pastel

 

Houses Oil Pastel

 

Oil Pastel Drawing

 

Tree - Drawing

 

Cartoon 1

 

Factories at Sunset - Oil Pastel

 

Abstract

 

Houses by the River Abstract

 

Ahela Tree - Photo

 

Koboleela Tree - Photo

 

We were Born Again - Poem

Years came and years went

We were born again

But though many eons passed away

We couldn't comprehend

Until one day the sun burnt out

And we became stardust

When the dust collided

Another world was born

This world formed an ocean

And the ocean formed a soup

From this primordial soup of life

Came a terrible coup

We kept on quarreling every day

Till there was little left

It never dawned on us

We are just atoms at best

I may be wrong but from what I understand no matter how hard we try to differentiate among ourselves we are all made up of the same basic kinds of atoms......and they really get recycled in every sense of the word...... it is thought that the atoms we are made up of passed through several stars, animals, people and plants before miraculously combining to make each of us.

The Door to the Sea - Acrylic Painting

 

I am RRR - Short Story

 

I am RRR, living in the land of Serendib, where my father lived and before that his father, and though some men deny that we belong here, my link with this land both in time and space is infinite, for this is what the ocean told me and the ocean is older than any man or anything else living or dead.

But once I foolishly contemplated this problem, day after day and night after night I fell to thinking........ until one night the phosphorescent ocean beckoned me to the shore and spoke to me in a language I seemed to know well......... I saw glimpses of a different time and a different place.......I saw the land of unattained hopes where the dreams of men appeared once and disappeared never to be seen again........... The ocean seemed to have sensed my sadness for it took me to the land of ZAAAA…... where men were so clever that I foresaw great progress.....they I felt would build a city whose peaks would touch the moon.......but when I returned in time....... half a century later all I saw was an impoverished, miserable land.......... for the men though very clever were selfish and jealous of their fellow beings...... they had suppressed each other......

Although my ancestors had lived here, I no longer felt like living here for I longed for the lands beyond where the sun shone differently, and men thought differently. I heard from men who sailed the seven seas of a land to the west of calm beaches and great cities so high that men never set sight upon their peaks.

Day after day and night after night I dreamed and the ocean which was silent until then spoke again in the kind language that I seemed to know well, of a land to the west called the land of NOR where the sun shone so gently that there were four wonderful seasons, all of them colder than the coldest days in Serendib, where men were so orderly that they needed no laws. As I gazed under a yellow moon the ocean parted and gave me glimpses of this land of order, that needed no laws for the men were sane, perhaps too sane for I thought I saw a land of despair, a land where boredom prevailed, a frightful emptiness, a secret death wish, but before I could say anything the ocean took me to another land.

This was the great land of CAN where men fled and sought refuge in an earlier, darker time, but could never return home again. This then I decided was the land of hope, where a better life could be sought a land of wealth where men achieved what they desired. But it was a dreary, cold land, where the sun barely shone, and men worked continuously like machines. Happiness here could only be found in money for there was nothing else. The trees here looked monotonously dull, much like the sun.

The sea seemed to have sensed the blow this dealt to my illusions for it took me to a land where the sun shone hot. This was a land of unimagined wealth, of great sunny cities, where the land was blessed with gold that was black, and great men walked about proudly in robes. But then I saw a glimpse of a man's hand being severed for stealing a loaf of bread, while the great men pretended to lead pious lives. Then I saw a woman being stoned to death and I knew it was a land I would never visit.

Then the ocean showed me the land of the poor, for it had been ruined by its own rulers. But it was also a land where the sun shone brighter when it shone and it rained harder when it rained, and anything planted on the ground would flourish. The people though sad now were once happy, perhaps they will be happy again, and I recognized it as my own land. This was a land where Time was on my side or at least so I hoped, and I decided never to leave it again.

G.K. Chesterton

Gilbert Keith Chesterton (1874-1936) was an English author. He was amazingly versatile, demonstrating his talent as a novelist, critic, poet, journalist, essayist, biographer, dramatist, and illustrator. Chesterton often used his sparkling wit and brilliant satire to expound the doctrines of Roman Catholicism, to which he became a convert in 1922. He earned the name of “master of paradox” for such lines as these in his poetical description of the Irish: “For all their wars are merry, and all their songs are sad.” An example of Chesterton’s skill as a dramatic poet is “Lepanto” (1915). The “Father Brown” series of novels (1911-35) features a priest as a detective. 

Chesterton was born in London. His early ambition was to be an artist, and even after he became a writer he sometimes illustrated magazines and books. He graduated from St. Paul’s in 1892 and later studied at the University of London. He worked in publishing houses and was long a contributor to the Illustrated London News. In his G.K.’s Weekly and What’s Wrong with the World (1910) he advocated “distributism,” a system of social justice which, unlike socialism, would retain private ownership of property. In all, he wrote more than 50 books and hundreds of reviews and articles.

Victor Hugo

Victor Hugo (1802-1885), was a French author. The best of his novels are animated by a humanitarian spirit and a strong concern for social, economic, and political justice. “Les Miserables” (1862) is about Jean Valjean, a peasant who tries to rehabilitate himself after being imprisoned 19 years for stealing a loaf of bread. The main character in “The Hunchback of Notre Dame” (1831) is Quasimodo, a deformed bellringer in the Paris cathedral. He repays the kindness of Esmeralda by saving her from the mob. He hurls from the cathedral’s tower the archdeacon who had sent her to the gallows.

In the preface to his unproduced play “Cromwell” (1827), Hugo provided a manifesto to the French Romanticists whose undisputed leader he became. He advocated a departure from rigid classical rules, calling for down-to-earth dialogue and a mingling of the serious and comic, the beautiful and ugly. He admired Shakespeare’s work. 

Hugo’s poetry sometimes tends to be flowery and bombastic, but he was a master of verse forms. Rhetorical brilliance and rich imagery characterize much of his work. Satirical jibes against Napoleon III in “The Chastisements (1853) reveal the militant republican spirit that caused Hugo to be hailed as “Old Man Republic.”

King Louis XVIII, impressed by Hugo’s first book of poems, granted him a small pension upon his marriage in 1822. This was increased after the publication of “Han d’Islande” (1823) a novel. Hugo was elected to the French Academy in 1841. He was a national idol during his later years, and when he died his body was placed in the Pantheon.

A book I read and its writer - Graham Green

A few years ago I read a book that sounded like an Autobiography. It turned out to be a book by Graham Greene. When I started reading it I didn’t know who Graham Greene was and I only read it because it was the only book available. It was more a recollection of his career than an autobiography, in any case, it was so well written that I thought I would read a novel by him so I bought Brighton Rock. There is something odd about Briton Rock but you can’t explain it exactly. But behind a veneer of normality, there is something bizarre.

While reading the book I wondered what it was. Was it illogical? Thought I but then I realized it was one of the most logical and well-crafted books I have ever read. Then I realized what it was - it was emotionally strange, almost all the characters seemed to have something emotionally wrong with them. The whole mood of the novel was bizarre, but it could not be defined. I wondered who on earth would have written such a novel and this is what I found out.

Graham Green (1904-1991) was an English novelist considered to be one of the greatest writers of the 20th Century. Both critically acclaimed and widely popular he earned a reputation as a great writer early on in his life, but strangely was never awarded the Nobel Prize. Greene considered himself a novelist who happened to be a Roman Catholic rather than a Roman Catholic novelist as some people liked to call him. Some of his novels are “The Power and the Glory”, “Brighton Rock”, “The Heart of the Matter” and “The End of the Affair”, “The Third Man”, “Our Man in Havana”, and “The Quiet American.” In all, he wrote more than 25 novels and other writings over a period spanning 67 years.

Graham Greene had bipolar disorder. In a letter to his wife Vivien, he wrote that he had “a character profoundly antagonistic to ordinary domestic life” and “unfortunately the disease is also one’s material.” William Golding called Graham Greene “the ultimate chronicler of twentieth-century man’s consciousness and anxiety.”

Rocks and Sea - Oil Pastel drawing

 

Tree - Oil Pastel drawing

 

Factory at Sunset - Oil Pastel drawing

 

Nuwara Eliya - Travel Memoir

Nuwara Eliya is actually two different cities, when the sun shines it’s one of the most pleasant and picturesque cities in the country. But on this cold, dark, damp evening near the Gregory Lake it was one of the most dismal places I have ever been to. Lake Gregory was once a Swampy Bog, but in 1873 British Governor Sir William Gregory decided to dam the Thalagala Lake that originated in the Piduruthalagala Mountains and this strange lake was born. People seemed to have come to this central gathering place near the lake in bad light to have fun. I decided to take a boat ride, in the distance I could see the once beautiful mountains that I had admired on an earlier visit, now seemed alarming and bleak at the same time. The boat ride was boring and monotonous, nothing much happens and the biggest thrill is at the end when the boat thuds into the rubber tires almost throwing you overboard. The next thing to do seemed to be a five kilometer bike ride in a track adjoining the lake and I decided to try it.  I found that I was the only person on this track. A cold dark lonely wind blew from the river to the track, what in God’s name was I doing here, and then mercifully I came to the end of the track. I had ridden 5 Kilometers but it seemed much more.  Just as I turned and started to ride back it started to rain heavily. I was soaked, there was a man walking in the distance, probably a park employee, when I asked him where I could find some shelter he showed me a distant tree. At the tree there were five Indians four men and a woman. They jabbered in their language and sometimes used English in between. From what I could gather one of them had a serious illness that meant he could possibly die if he got wet on a downpour like this. He also had depression. You could see the others trying desperately to cheer him up including telling Hindi jokes, talking to him like a chicken etc. The tree offered very little shelter so I decided to ride on. Then I returned the bike and decided to walk to town. Considering how many people visit it, you always get the feeling that Nuwara Eliya is an under-lit city. It really is very dark. Eventually I had walked near the outskirts of the city. The rain had stopped and the sky seemed clear and I looked up. God the stars from here were gorgeous. They were the brightest I had ever seen. It was unbelievable really. And I realized I liked Nuwara Eliya even when it was dark. 

Good old bad books

 

One day in a second-hand bookshop I had a strange idea. Why not read books that are old and obscure, books that never even came close to making it to the best-seller list and write about my strange experience. I knew that in the art world paintings that sell for millions of dollars aren't always the best paintings. Several factors are at play, including the artist's personality, connections, etc. I guess if the artist is really popular even crap could be sold at a high price. I believe there were many books out there that never became popular, but are still very good or even more interestingly very bad. My objective was to find them and read them. This mostly involved reading very old novels. This method led me sometimes to read some of the strangest books that had ever been written but they were interesting for this very reason. All best sellers read the same way, but bad books all sound different from each other. Some bad books are very funny and make you wonder what kind of person wrote them. But I did find some books that could be called gems though they never became popular. When a book becomes a best-seller and everyone reads it, it somehow loses its magic. For me, the whole second-hand book shop reading adventure was one of the most fulfilling things I had ever done. Maybe one day I could use this experience to write a book about the strange books I read, and the stranger lives of people who wrote them. However like most of my projects it never got off the ground, mainly because I did not have time to read. But a funny world awaits anyone who visits second-hand bookshops and reads randomly old novels or short stories or even non-fiction books that never really made it.

Unforgettable Artists

 Many years ago I read a book about a Sri Lankan artist named Tom Jones (Not his real name). The only way to describe Tom Jones paintings would be “Very Boring, bordering on uninspired". Almost all his paintings showed one or more coconut trees on a beach with the sea on the background, painted with different shades of a dull brown, hardly the kind of thing that would excite anyone. Sometimes an old fashioned figure would stand near the pensive coconut tree, sometimes a boat would float aimlessly in the distant sea, sometimes the moon or sun would look down moodily upon it all, as if wondering why this painting was done. The question that comes to any reasonable persons mind is why on Earth didn’t someone stop him from doing, thousands upon thousands of paintings with such colors, with such depressing draftsmanship. It was the kind of painting that could be used to put someone with a dull mind to sleep. But here was the thing, these paintings were incredibly haunting. Many years after viewing them they kind of remained in your mind, attached in a strange way to your nervous system. And I suddenly realized after about two decades that these were the most memorable paintings I’ve ever seen. 

It turns out that there is another painter in UK who paints the same dreary mundane things as Tom Jones named L.S. Lowry. Given below is a painting by Lowry. All his paintings seem to follow this style. 

The Dream that Flew Away - Short Story

 

I once attempted to build wooden triplanes and biplanes and the first type of wood I stumbled on was Kumbuk wood. These were not toys but scale models less than ten inches long. I wasn’t an expert, I just read some really good books about woodworking bought some tools, and started making. Art is an incredibly enjoyable endeavor, but it is limited in some way because what you create is two-dimensional. Woodworking is three-dimensional, you can actually hold what you created in your hands, and in that sense, it is “real”.

Even the first plane didn’t look too bad, and by the fourth plane, I had almost perfected the technique. I painted the wings yellow and the fuselage sky blue with US markings, and it looked incredible. I felt I could sell it, I even took it near a shop to meet the owner, but turned back at the last minute. It was somehow too embarrassing to sell. The real problem that many people face is not making something good, but trying to sell, maybe it is a fear of rejection or shyness. But if they are employed by someone, who wants them to sell a product they will readily agree and walk a hundred miles to sell it.

I went home and decided to sell later after improving it further, but I never did. I told myself that I will increase the output by giving different parts to different people who used power tools and assembling it myself, but I was only lying to myself. As far as I am concerned there are only two kinds of people. Those who can sell things they create without embarrassment - are called entrepreneurs and the rest of us are called employees.

Factory at Sunset - Watercolor Painting

 

The Lightning Machine - Short Story

My paternal uncle, was once a world-famous scientist and inventor, but now nobody took him seriously. For all his brilliance if two words could be used to describe him they would be Extremely Eccentric. He had the strange habit of suddenly asking a physics question in the middle of a normal conversation and you were liable to be scolded if you did not give a satisfactory answer. For this reason some people including many of his former colleagues avoided him. Some said it was old age encroaching, some said it was an illness of the mind.

But apart from this eccentricity he was a kind and friendly man and as much as I avoided him I could not help feeling guilty so one day I went and met him. "Oh there you are at last, you numbskull, you have been avoiding me for one month" said he. "I had my exams, but it was all in vain for they asked questions from just the part of the syllabus that I avoided" said I. "Serves you right, now tell me how the Universe was created" said he. "Well according to the Big Bang theory it all started as an infinitely small primeval atom, and it expanded to form the stars, planets, galaxies and everything else in the universe. But what the theory does not explain is how the primeval atom came to be in the first place and what was there before that" said I

"That’s right, it doesn't explain it, but I found the answer for that too, though it is a secret and I don't want to tell it to you right now. But I have something interesting to show you look out of the window" said he. Outside was an enormous metal tower, and a field of what looked like huge batteries. "The world is facing an energy crisis, economies have fallen because of it and it is only going to get worse, but I solved that problem through this invention. Look what happens when I press this switch" said he. As he pressed the switch there was a crackling sound and within minutes dark clouds appeared over the tower. Soon it turned into a terrible thunderstorm. "You see Thomas this tower has a charge that attracts lightning, which leads to a chain reaction that causes thunderstorms" said he. Soon lightning discharged in the tower almost continuously making an ear splitting noise. "Cant you see what's happening Thomas, I am converting the static charge in the lightning into chemical energy in the field batteries which is then used to make an electric current that could be used by people” said he.

Two weeks later I returned and to my utter dismay he asked the same question, but this time I was prepared ......Well uncle, according to scientists when matter and anti-matter collide it leads to nothingness. So somewhere in the indeterminate past this process was somehow reversed and from nothingness we had matter and anti-matter, or in other words the universe formed from nothing. At this he laughed and said......just as I always suspected you are not overly bright.....but then we all have to be the way we are made.

But at least tell me what you know of the Theory of Relativity.

.......Well uncle according to it time is relative and not absolute. The faster you move the slower time passes for you. As you approach the speed of light Time stops” said I. “But what has the speed of light to do with time, you pinhead” said he. “I do not know though I have often wondered” said I. “No you idiot, Light and other electromagnetic waves move at the speed of light and even in a stationery object the small particles that make it move at the speed of light. But when the whole object moves the need to move is compensated so the small particles that make up the object move correspondingly slower making it look like time moves slower for it. But when I tell this theory to other scientists they call me a nut” said he.

“But uncle don’t worry about it, for your lightning machine will make you famous, nobody ever figured out the way to make electricity from lightning,” said I. My uncle’s face darkened as I said this and he said “That’s where the problem is Thomas, I can’t present my invention to the world for it would be misused. Imagine what a superpower could do if it got its hand on my invention. It could even be used as a weapon. I don't want my invention to be used to kill people, So I decided to destroy it, in fact I already have” said he. My uncle died two months later, I think of a broken heart because he had to destroy his precious invention. I do not know if his theory of the universe was correct but I know that he was the greatest scientist nobody ever talked about.

Street Scenery - Oil pastel and black pen

 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) was an American Poet. At the time of his death Longfellow was regarded both at home and abroad as the greatest American poet. His reputation in England rivaled that of Tennyson. His translations from German, Italian and Scandinavian had much the directness and sincerity of his own verse, and attracted many American readers.

When critical taste turned toward a sterner brand of realism, Longfellow’s faults were noticed more than his very solid virtues. He has been called “The poet of the Commonplace,” but he had the gift of illuminating the ordinary and surrounding it with music. The simplicity that endears him to children and many adults often is interpreted as triteness or mediocrity. Nevertheless, Longfellow has earned a permanent place as a skilled lyricist of pure, sweet and gentle tone. Longfellow’s mastery of the ballad form and his proficiency with the sonnet are generally acknowledged.

A tragedy occurred in 1861 that shadowed the remaining years of his life. While his wife was melting sealing wax, a match set fire to her dress and she was burned to death in spite of Longfellow’s efforts to save her. He was seriously burned. Though the poet’s fame continued to grow, the peak of Longfellow’s creative life had passed. His translation of Dante’s Divine Comedy (1867), to which he turned for solace after his wife’s death, was competent but too literal to possess the musical quality Longfellow ordinarily summoned.

At the 50th anniversary of the graduation of his class at Bowdoin, Longfellow read a poem “Morituri Salutamus” (“We Who Are About to Die Salute Thee). After being stricken with dizziness in 1881, he died from an attack of peritonitis on March 24 of the following year. He was buried in Mount Auburn Cemetery.

A poem he wrote was The Secret of the Sea and in it the following verses appear.

Ah! What pleasant visions haunt me

As I gaze upon the sea

All the old romantic legends,

All my dreams come back to me

Till my soul is full of longing

For the secret of the sea

And the heart of the great ocean

Sends a thrilling pulse through me

Man Smoking a Pipe - Oil Pastel drawing

 

Why I Draw - Short Story

Many years ago when I was a kid I had a great fascination with the sea. As I grew up it didn't leave me, the sea seemed to be the fun place it had always been. But one day I went to the beach and found it all very dull. The sea seemed mysterious and menacing rather than the magical place where all my dreams were formed. As I was returning home by train after the disappointing trip, I was shocked to find out that I had lost the thrill of travelling by train. One by one as the years went by I found that I had lost interest in most things. It was then that I discovered art. Though my drawings and paintings were not very good it gave me a great thrill to draw something new every day. Later on I got interested in writing short stories, few people comment on what I write and those that do so out of sympathy, but still I enjoy writing. I think having an idea either in art, music, carpentry or any other thing and then implementing it is one of the greatest thrills life has to give. So one day I decided to revisit the sea. It was one of the best things I had ever done. It seemed through art I had found an old friend again.

Trinco - Travel Memoir

 

……Many years ago, I was walking on a village road in Trinco with a Doctor who seemed to be more interested in trees and plants than on patients. He seemed to know everything there was to know about plants and was lecturing me about each plant and tree, the structure of the flowers, the kind of leaf, the root system, we came across as we walked. It seemed he had an endless knowledge about everything that the botanical world could throw at him and was fascinated by his own knowledge. I was astonished. But isn’t this useless knowledge, that was irrelevant to me as well as him. How could it benefit anyone other than someone directly involved in it to earn more money. Didn’t a famous ancient poet (whose name I couldn’t recall), once say that education is like an endless ocean, but to be successful one had to be like the mythical swan, who when given milk mixed with a lot of water would only drink the milk but put away the water. Time being finite shouldn’t we only filter out knowledge that is useful to us. However I never asked him this question, because it seemed an unkind thing to say. But as I was listening to his endless lecture on plants I realized the true value of such knowledge. To pass an exam or maybe even to be successful we should follow the mythical swan. But to be happy we must take a wider interest in things around us, the trees, the stars and a million other things around us…..

Book cover designed by me

 

Road to the Sea - Pen Drawing

 

When doing line drawings (pen and ink drawings), cross hatching must be used. Cross hatching is a widely-used artistic technique used to add shadow and dimension to drawn objects. It involves filling a space with at least two sets of lines, with the second set crossing over the first to create a darker effect. Its a bit complicating and time consuming (and therefore boring to do), so I used a kind of crude technique for the following line drawing.

Joseph Conrad

 

A few years ago I read “Heart of Darkness” (1899), by Joseph Conrad. It is about Charles Marlow’s journey down the Congo River in Central Africa as an Ivory transporter. Overall I really liked this story, although like most stories of its time, it sometimes, suffered from xenophobia. So I wanted to find out who wrote this story and this is what I found out.

Joseph Conrad was a British Novelist of Polish Birth. His experiences as a sailor enabled him to picture the beauty and mystery of the sea and also write convincingly of romantic adventures in strange lands. Man’s struggle against nature was one of Conrad’s favorite themes. “Typhoon” is a short story giving an unforgettable description of a storm at sea. “The Heart of Darkness” is a longer story set in the steamy jungles of the Congo, while “The Secret Sharer” is a short tale of shipboard life in the Far East. “Lord Jim” (1900) which deals with a young Englishman’s years of atonement for one moment of cowardice, proves Conrad’s ability as a psychological novelist.

Conrad used English only after he was 20, and did no literary work in it until he was nearly 40. He was an accomplished stylist, but his work often has a flavor suggesting that he continued to think in polish. His real name was Teodor Josef Konrad Korzeniowski. He was born in the Polish Ukraine. His father was exiled for several years after joining in an unsuccessful revolution. Later the family settled in Cracow. The elder Korzeniowski was a cultured man and gave his son the essentials of a sound education. Joseph was a restless boy, and at the age of 17 enrolled in the French merchant marine.

His first sea voyages were to the West Indies. He later sailed on British ships to most of the Mediterranean and pacific ports and to Africa and South America. He was given a master mariner’s certificate in the British merchant marine in 1886, and in the same year became a British Subject. While recovering from an attack of jungle fever in 1889, Conrad began to write a novel published as “Almayer’s Folly “ (1895). He left the sea in 1894, was married, and settled down in rural Kent, England. Conrad’s first books were praised by critics but did not sell well. In his discouragement, he had just decided to go to sea when he was granted a small government pension. Success came with ”Chance” (1913). Like “Victory” (1915), this is a novel about a man’s struggle against a tragic flaw of character. A Personal Record (1912) is Conrad’s autobiography.

Man and Tree - Oil Pastel drawing

 

Expressionism is an artistic style in which the artist seeks to depict not objective reality but rather the subjective emotions and responses that objects and events arouse within a person. The artist accomplishes this aim through distortion, exaggeration, primitivism, and fantasy and through the vivid, jarring, violent, or dynamic application of formal elements. In a broader sense Expressionism is one of the main currents of art in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, and its qualities of highly subjective, personal, spontaneous self-expression are typical of a wide range of modern artists and art movements. 

Bottles and fruits - Still Life - Oil Pastel

 

A Tree More Valuable than Gold - Poem

 

Here along the reef lies a sunken treasure

Of a ship that sailed but did not measure

I seek to find it soon

Under eloquent stars and moon

I use starlight to navigate the seas

It will be in moonlight the treasure will be freed

Of foolish men who did not see

That numbers will ruin their destiny

I reach the treasure sailing East

But the stars disappear with my endless needs

I throw the treasure overboard

I need the stars to sail back home

The stars guide me to reach my isle

I walk inland a hundred miles

I reach a jungle of a billion trees

But I came here for just one tree

Here in this jungle grows a hidden tree

That all the eyes in the world cannot see

I seek to find it soon

Before they seal my doom

What is gold but a hideous thing

That kills more men than a ruthless king

But each atom in this wondrous tree

Has magic in it that can cure all ills