inspiration

I attended an arts forum of sorts at someone’s home the other day. It was attended by mostly (if not all) Jewish retirees of the surrounding Carbondale area…and me. The person who hosted the event is basically an arts patron, who often provides the space and reception for artists and cultural endeavors. Her house is a cross between an art museum, a community center, a bistro—with a honest-to-goodness small film screening room (which also has a studio space full of musical instruments behind the movie screen). Touring the house was a social experience all on its own and erased the misgivings I had before arriving at the scene.

The luncheon preceding the main event was a tad bit painful as I wasn’t sure if I was crashing the table of old friends or how interested my three table companions were with anything to do with me. We then completely filled all the seats of the screening room and watched a 30-minute-long documentary called “Blue Like Me: the Art of Siona Benjamin”—a crowd-funded, by turns thought-provoking and whimsical, introduction to the Jewish-Indian community in Mumbai (Siona’s community and hometown), the mythological/ethnic/cultural fusion of Indian and Middle Eastern heritages in her art. Siona fielded some questions and elaborated on her artistic process as well as some of her commissions.

One of my favorite artworks by Siona Benjamin:
"Vashti", with elements of Indian and Jewish symbols

The blending of political commentary, sarcastic/sly humor in identity discourse, and appreciation of human nature in Siona’s works really interests me, and I wish—I really wish—that I could be contributing…inspiring…providing food for thought…the way she has and is doing.

I don’t know how to begin. If only I had not fought against the limitations, or so I felt, of me being a girl ergo only being capable in the humanities according to my grandparents and parents. My art teachers and English teachers had recommended me for things that I had turned down in pursuit of more “hard science” focuses, and now I regret not having entered university as an art or creative writing major. Regret is a pretty useless emotion though; I’m so over it. But is it really too late?