Category Archives: Ruminations

P.G. Wodehouse – A Man For All Seasons

wodehouserex
PG Wodehouse with his signature pipe – undoubtedly typing/scribbling out notes with his other hand for his next installment.

We all escape the strenuous nature of our day-to-day existence by resorting to various activities: gardening, netflixing, reading, video-gaming, willfully induced soliloquies etc. etc. Only a small minority of the population gets to have the privilege of making their living through means that they would naturally consider as “escapist.” But even then, the time in between their activities – say, painting for instance, the time that’s ever magnanimously approaching like a droopy headmaster ready to give you the pep-talk will invariably consist of periods where a whole load of nothing happens. In such instances, even when the predicament is quite ideal – a loving partner whose love, as they say, is unconditional, a permanent enclosure which is better than a hamlet and doesn’t require a transfer of green paper bills to an unwitting creditor, a pettable creature at a convenient distance within this enclosure, and a bank balance that will not allow your head to swarm with stratagems of Machiavellian proportions, even with these and some extra seeds of a future boost to our Dionysian prospects added to the mix, one may find that there are limits to our happiness beyond which we risk entering a tormenting Dalai Lama of the mind. Majority of us take a painful eternity to approach two-thirds of the way up, only to be confronted by another stern headmaster who had bought his way to the silvery gates and is ready with the examination papers. P.G. Wodehouse found his stride roughly by age 6, found the upper extremity of this happiness bar, and said to himself, “Right ho, this seems pleasant enough, think I’ll just stick to it.” Continue reading P.G. Wodehouse – A Man For All Seasons

Advertisements

Keys to the imagination?

 

Silas Poster

The Worst Wounds Are The One’s You Can’t See

We all know that imagination is the key. Oscar Wilde had it in gallons, Einstein oozed of it while having his customary shave. I’ve thought about it for not more than a brief instant innumerable times, and as is customary with most mammals, my first impulse was to look for magic cures that would wire my brain to the need to create, and create gracefully with the ideas and information at hand – be it coffee, alcohol, tobacco or sex – anything to emancipate our minds. But alas, it’s more elusive than what I had initially perceived – like racing to raze down a heavily guarded fort when a little bit of circumspection would have instead helped. Rather rummy, I’d say.

I ask this question at this moment as really, imagination is the key to our latest project, SILAS. By imagination, I mean here not completely fantasized worlds, but worlds where although fictionalized, is nonetheless based with a firm footing in reality. The trick here is to understand your own reality and elude to them in a slightly metamorphosed way. This I find to be quite a difficult task, and it gives rise to a paradox of sorts: that it’s harder to know of your own feelings, and simmer in your own experience of reality than to participate in those of another. But such a participation can arise only through a sub-conscious identification of our own memories and emotions. We’ve all been there. We point out the qualities of our friends and colleagues exceedingly well – their strengths, their shortcomings, the minutest details of what they did wrong, or how they succeeded. But how much does such a propensity reveal into the lives of our own? It’s terribly uncomfortable to reflect on such ruminations, but I thought of putting it out there since SILAS largely deals with mental health and the reaction of society…in quite an imaginative way. Empathizing is one thing: it’s a good start, since to actively participate in the experiences of those suffering from such debilitating illnesses can palliate the response of the larger populace. But I believe the key here is to transpose and transform one’s own past and present whereby we stop living for ourselves and instead make our realities a reflection into the lives of others. And I don’t think it really matters how good those reflections are.

Phew, there’s that bit of epigrammatic self-talk out of the way for the day. Cheerio then, curious to know of your responses, since I’ve left the parameters a bit gaping over here.

As always, head over to our website and follow us on twitter @studio5pictures to satisfy your anticipations.