Art

There is a very note-worthy description in a book called "Hiding in Mirrors" of art. The success of Van Gogh, in particular, was ascribed to his ability to distort reality within confines that keep it realistic. Vivid, extreme colours are employed to create his pictures of familiar shapes and scenes. It was the intention, subtle or otherwise, of artists such as him to force people to not shatter the belief that all there is to reality is what is seen.

It is not a huge unbelievable jump then to conclude that great art is really chaos within order. Art tends to want to capture a certain aspect of life -- whether tangible or spiritual. Can anyone then say that life is ordered? When physicists delve deep into the basic make-up of molecules and atoms, and consequently the reactions involved, they can only at best postulate the most likely occurence. Thanks to Heisenberg, the path of an electron cannot even be traced, much less the precise motion and position of smaller particles.

Is art then ordered? Nothing is ordered. But art takes this disorder one step further into fantasy. But that is the prerogative of the artist, and it is to the excitement of the connoiseur.


But what is my point, really?
I suspect there is none.
Just another run I did.
To Mount Faber, for the very first time.
And again, what a spectacular view.

Flats alternating at random between low and high-rise.
Corridors outlining a low-rise in stark yellow.
6 floors. Yellow. 6 more floors.
Lights shining from the windows at random.
Some orange, some white.
Some muted, some bright.
The moon adding its touch of silver.
The lights dancing in their sparkling glamour.
Do the people even know their part in something so picturesque?
And I am forced to wonder if the government had planned all.
Or if all was purely coincidental.

And it dawned upon me:
That at its very essence,
Nothing happens by coincidence.
Someone is behind all things.
Praise be to Him.