Date: 24/05/2025
Time: 11:50 pm
Mood: Restless, stupid, messy
Set up: Pink couch, cluttered living room, new purse in the living room that doesn’t accommodate as much as my old one did, but it has sentimental value, Anora on the TV, blanket on my lap, spoons on my side.
Song: I Will Survive by Gloria Gaynor
I had the most wholesome conversation, somehow every time I talk to this friend, a weird complicated knot that I was struggling with, but never spoke about opens up. I want to think it’s the way he perceives the world. He allows the world to be. Caring too much while also distancing himself from it. He exists on a tightrope and softens my capitalistic brain.
This one’s just another jerk-off article about art then.
If you’re an artist you’re thinking about art; if you’re not an artist, you’re still thinking about art. It exists so symbiotically in nearly everything around us.
On a side note, I’m into musicians now and idk what that says about me. Somebody told me musicians are the worst kind of people to date because it’s the only art form where they create out of nothing, it’s almost like a spiritual experience, which is why they’re so fucked up. But also brilliant.
Also, really nice hands.
June update : It was a shitshow.
Anyway, back to the art and right now it feels like the world is burning, or atleast my world is burning. If you aren’t aware, content is in a strange space; it might not appear as such if you’re on the consuming end of it, but for those of us in the thick of it, it seems like nobody knows what to make. The people who should know what to make have now abandoned the pretence of knowing, and that's disarming because the one thing we’re good at is pretence.
Maybe it boils down to the ever-changing nature of what human beings want.
I’m inclined to believe that it’s probably as simple as vulnerability and authenticity that we’re seeking. Quite possibly the two most abused words, and so often we find ourselves trapped in an echo chamber, reciting these words to ourselves like a mantra.
Atleast I do, but,
What is authenticity even? Maybe vulnerability is with one self while authenticity is shaped by the people that slipped and stayed. However, it felt to me like I could only ever be vulnerable with myself -when I found a way to express it out, it allowed for me to come back to me, with a little less shame and more authenticity with one self.
Besides, I, for one, find myself constantly inspired, and I don’t say this lightly - I’m quite sincerely amazed. I record the world around me like a foreigner in India except, I care. I'm fascinated by wrinkles and my grandmother's smile, and the very next second, I’m convinced I should be a skateboarder or jump straight into real estate (capitalism, aye!) Every inspired thought or urge to create is undeniably followed by crippling fear - of what, how, why and most importantly where does this take me?
Can the thought in my head be a short film? Can that actually be a feature? Will it carry me forward - will it make life easier - will it get me that Emmy on my mantelpiece as I now put in use the 27th draft of my speech that is curated by people that left and stayed - WILL IT-
-If for a minute there, I drown out the sound of the infinite potential of what each small idea could be, maybe it gets clearer? For a brief moment, it doesn’t feel like a never-ending time loop that’s crippling something.
What started as a thought sometime in May may have reached some consensus in July.
So here goes,
Drowning out the sound of the infinite potential of each small idea does a lot of good things but mostly, it makes it more fun.
Sometimes people say a random thing, a throwaway statement said so carelessly they’d never be able to repeat it. It means nothing to them because it’s just who they are but it becomes for you an itch, a mantra. You question how you have ever lived life without this valuable piece of insight. Mine was,
“Just have fun, okay?”
Fun? FUN. What an incredulous thought that is- also the only reason anyone ever does anything. I didn’t get it. To paint myself in a slightly brighter light, I was in a workshop which I was treating as a test of my skills and consequently my worth. Additionally, I’d just gotten my heart broken, so I was allowed my sad. I thought about that line a whole bunch, though only to reach the conclusion that I am, in fact, obsessive and mopey. I also bully myself to an unreasonable extent, which is honestly so sad because I could’ve just gotten bullied by other people, but even that onus I was determined to onboard.
What’s weird is, it’s the dumbest, most profound statement, and the thing about really difficult times and dumb, selectively profound statements is that right there, the fibre of your being shifts. It’s very 'tectonic plates', but make it spiritual in my head.
Creating was always supposed to be that. Writing started as a laugh riot, a what if, a way to cope when I didn’t know better. Acting was less about the camera angle, followers, perception, flawlessness or how sharp my jawline was, but rooted in a 7-year-old me on stage, messy and 21-year-old me discovering that lying to the camera is hard, and that’s hot. It was unserious and I hope I can do myself the kindness of discovering that again.
An idea now is just that. A thought that I allow to evolve of its own accord. I sit with it, I mull over it, I waste time with it, and I say this with a pinch of salt, but characters do eventually speak to you, sometimes only to tell you ‘it sucks’ but hey, I’ll take it.
There is an evident romanticisation, I’m aware, but it’s been so long since I romanticised art.
You owe it to the reason you started to have fun with it. To gaslight the impostor syndrome and the chaos of how things are done. To your future self, more than your past self, because it’s almost diabolical to allow them to fix this version of you.
This is a letter to you and me to create in whatever way we deem fit, to catch (and hold onto) a friend who spews kindness and sense when you need the reminder.
About the author,: Ayushi Gupta (She/her) is an actor, writer, filmmaker and, as her friends jokingly put it, the group's moral compass (not a hard feat considering their questionable standards). She began her artistic journey in English experimental theatre with a play titled Coming Out, which delved into gender fluidity and the complexities of self-disclosure. As an actor, she continued to do shows like Hostel Daze, Cubicles, etc.
When she’s not acting or writing, Ayushi channels her creative energy into reading, pole dancing—partly for fitness and partly for its undeniable cool factor—and dreams of taking up pottery someday.
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