Between the cup and the lip

Salva Me

2011-10-30T08:16:00.000-07:00

Mixed Media on Canvas
36in x 24 in

"Thinkative"

2011-09-11T07:41:00.000-07:00

Self Portrait - Taking a serious stance on what could well be comic;
Tragic Comic.
Oil on imperial size paper.

As it all seeps away

2011-09-11T03:23:00.000-07:00

Ce n'est pas notre rêve plus,
tranquille mon coeur... tranquille mon amour...

Its no longer our dream..
be calm my heart... be calm my love....

Inks on Canvas
103 cm x 75cm

The shaman.

2011-08-19T01:17:00.001-07:00

To know, know, know him
is to love love love him...

Mixed media on ply board.
66cm x 96cm

El Sireno

2011-05-10T02:40:00.001-07:00

Private collection Germany
Acrylic on canvas
20in x 8 in

Dreamer

2011-05-04T22:32:00.001-07:00

Acrylic on canvas
36in x 36in
Private collection- Switzerland

Bloom No.2

2011-05-04T22:30:00.001-07:00

Acrylic on canvas
20in x 30in

The beetles that crawled the walls of the village

2011-05-04T09:59:00.000-07:00

Yoga Classes at Hatha- Hauz Khas Village

2010-11-27T03:10:00.000-08:00

Drip on my Trip

2010-11-27T02:53:00.000-08:00

T

2010-04-28T23:35:00.000-07:00

This one's got my heart and soul in it.
Probably not for sale, but here is is,
its called "letting go".

Art clothing

2010-03-31T01:01:00.000-07:00

for sale. please write to 2taragoswami@gmail.com

photo credits: sourav brahmachari, sachin soni

Wear my art

2009-12-26T10:26:00.000-08:00

My canvas has now taken on the form of clothing. T-shirts are what I have started with. Each Tee is individually hand painted and one of a kind. Sold at People tree, in Connaught place, New Delhi.

You may also request for a T-shirt to be painted, which I will then post to you if you don't live in Delhi.
E-mail me at 2taragoswami@gmail.com

Available at:
People Tree, # 08, Regal Bldg, Parliament St, Connaught Place, New Delhi

"Walls laid on their sides make bridges"

2009-07-19T22:51:00.001-07:00

Mixed media on brown paper
size- big.

Through the mist

2009-07-05T21:20:00.000-07:00

there came a feeling of lightness, and the future no longer held anguish.
And when she flipped the card around she realised that it had been the Queen all along!
(with a heart, no less).

Dream

2009-07-03T03:35:00.000-07:00

Play

2009-07-03T03:02:00.001-07:00

Hello boy....

Mixed media on my moleskine.
Thank you Danny! xx

My mind, as it wo/anders

2009-04-09T04:44:00.000-07:00

I wonder whether I'd like to be a drop in the ocean,
or the ocean itself.
Even if I were the ocean,
Could I be that minuscule molecule- that moves, just a little,
and affects other molecules to move, just a little
eventually creating a ripple.......

Will I hear at the end of this silence?
Or will it come to me when I forget that I was waiting for the silence to end?

Wait for me, I shall come...
but who is it that I want waiting for me?
Is it I?
Will I find myself before I can lose myself?
Tell me, in the absence of I is there anyone at all?

I seldom find myself walking alone on the street

2009-04-04T22:28:00.000-07:00

Oooooooze

2009-03-10T09:22:00.000-07:00

I am full of paint and I'm crying over it.
Do you really think so?

Perhaps a little mad or a little sad
What have you got to say?

The Marriage

2009-03-09T13:08:00.000-07:00

Tell me the other side of the story....

2009-02-25T23:41:00.000-08:00

mixed media
79cm x 55cm

Of my art as it grows......

2009-02-25T22:45:00.000-08:00

mixed media ( acrylics, powder paints, blood, egg white)
79cm x165cm
click on the image to do justice to it.

The melancholy look of Miss Ray

2009-02-25T22:43:00.001-08:00

Acrylic on paper

On the way there and Lanka

2009-02-25T20:52:00.000-08:00

Being back in south India after almost a whole year I felt at home but somehow moved.
We were in Chennai two years back, around new years. I was a different person then, and now going back there again, felt like a deja vous from a past life.
I met friends but somehow they seemed in their own world. Like how each of us have moved away to our own separate lives.

After two days in Chennai, we left for Sri anka.
Our flight from Chennai to Colombo was crazy, all the tamilians in their lungi's, sipping coffee off flasks and yelling twenty nine to the dozen. Each one was carrying atleast four dutyfree bags of cigarettes. ( to sell) Among this boisterous crowd was a curious little guy who sat coyly in his seat, got bullied by the rest of his gang, and in some strange way reminded me of the white tiger.
That morning I met another little man. Who smiled at us with twinkling eyes.
I call it the morning of the two little men.

Sri Lanka in its cleanliness, really puts India to shame- was my first reaction.( I don't think any country in this world is as filthy as that of our own)
It felt like India, but foreign. The same feeling one gets when you enter a completely foreign country.
Refreshingly green, like Assam with the ocean lapping up its shores.. it is truly beautiful.
My respect for Ravan has increased many fold.
If I were Sita I would choose Ravan any day over that Woossy of a Ram!!

The First day we were there, we went and had high tea at the Galle Face Hotel.
The sea crashing at the end of our table.
The British have really left thier imprint behing in Sri Lanka, fresh cream with scones, dainty bite sized cucumber sandwiches that melt in your mouth. And tea- in every little place is brewed and served out of tea pots in cups and saucers!

But the fact of the on going war could not be ignored. Uniformed police and army officials patrolled the streets.
One always needed to carry ID. I was told that the deserted, barricaded, barbed beach, in front of our hotel once thronged with people - families and lovers and vendors out to meet the sea.
As I stared at the sea beyond the barbed wires, I felt suddenly disturbed. Only days after the mumbai attack. This is the same sea that the terrorists sailed across. The sea- always such a beautiful thought for me had now been slightly tainted.
And I remembered the morning we were leaving for chennai. At five in the morning, the Delhi airport was swarming with army men dressed in their green uniforms. Some looking un-polished and shabby. Some looking sad.. or maybe it was me who was sad because I imagined the state of the country if it were to go to war. And about how many of these men would lose their lives for us.

I was really taken up by the outfits of the Sri Lankan women. Most of them are dressed in "skirtblouse"
which apparently has something to do with export surplus. It works well for the economy.
And most of them have really skinny legs. so skirtblouse, stick legs, mallipu (flowers) in the hair and long braids.
The sri lankan style of wearing a saree is quite unique- with a little fan like thing in the front. I was to learn.. but never got down to it.

Then I met the buddha again. Actually not again but for the first time.. in this sort of a way. And the the words of my buddhist monk came back to me. So much peaceful energy and yet the country was at war...

I can not not talk about the food. It was awesome!!!!! really hot and spicy... first thing in the morning you eat the likes of string hoppers and spicy fish curry and your bum will burn but its too delicious to not eat.

It was a great trip. One more experience added to the bag I carry on this journey.

Love, Sex, Lies

2009-02-20T21:08:00.001-08:00

its a funny thing.

a precious gift wrapped in pain.

It is a madness, a disease.
Is it the body or is it the mind?
can one even tell them apart?

I was born with an intensity I cannot control.
An intense burning within my soul.
ashes to ashes, dust to dust
blood to water, water to blood

pain and pleasure stem from the same cell
sometimes they mix and flow into the darkest well.

Like many of my other journey's,
my experiment has yielded laughable results.

I am drained
from feeling so much at once.
my heart is heavy and my head is empty
I am caught among the barriers
I have built for myself.
Embrace a new vision,
devise a new plan.
Feel the freedom,
get a hold of myself.

Estrogen

2009-01-18T21:24:00.000-08:00

It happens to the best of us.
drawing it out brought immediate relief.

Radha's hand-pump turned into the spinning dervish

2008-12-27T22:48:00.000-08:00

ink, pen, brush, paper cut out
8in x 8in

Sin Titulo

2008-12-27T22:46:00.000-08:00

Acrylic on brown paper
104cm x 79cm

Contemplate one's growth

2008-12-27T22:43:00.000-08:00

Mixed Media on paper
79cm x 55cm

story of a little boy

2008-11-25T07:02:00.000-08:00

why can't we live on the moon?
why not?
why can't we hang off the clouds?
why not?
why can't I eat the mice
why not?
can I eat the mice?
why not!
can i..
why n..

Pillow talk

2008-11-25T00:22:00.001-08:00

For my girls
79cm x 55cm
Mixed media

Frozen

2008-11-25T00:16:00.000-08:00

79cm x 55 cm
Acrylic
Private Collection - Austria

Bloom

2008-11-20T06:36:00.001-08:00

Mixed media
29in x 21in

Unpredictable

2008-11-20T06:32:00.000-08:00

Oil pastel on paper
27in x 21in

Shifty

2008-11-06T05:33:00.000-08:00

Thought this picture aptly represents my blog and my life at the moment.
Used it as a header for two days, but missed my original.
So here it is as a post anyway. Between the cup and the lip.
cheers

While my guitar gently weeps

2008-10-21T00:02:00.000-07:00

Talking about

2008-10-20T06:24:00.001-07:00

those times...
fuzzy and warm
doused in red wine
and laced in soul talk.
a celebration of each other
and of togetherness.

Of stories
that become
more colourful
with each time
they are told.

A bond,
built to last
for ever
and a day.

Of my father.

2008-10-18T01:44:00.000-07:00

On my short two day trip to Shillong, I was sorting out my Daddy's room when I came across a neat pile of his passport pictures, which he had drawn on to give each a different avatar!

They really cracked me up.

I think they are truly Priceless.

And then New York.

2008-10-17T22:44:00.000-07:00

One afternoon in Central Park.

Feeling "kinda cool" but really "kinda short" in New york!

Attendants at the Met and then me trying to buy some cigarettes in the evening, when the guy at the very tall counter looked down at me and asked me how old I was.

Saturday evening at the Howl Festival in Tompkins Square Park

Lovely, lovely Skeeka

I've got the travel bug in me. Can't wait till I can pack a bag and run away again.

Mexico Mio !

2008-10-11T00:21:00.000-07:00

A month long trip to Mexico. This is the first time I spent so much time alone in a place so far from home. The night before I left I got the heebie-jeebies. I hadn't really thought about the going and then I actually was. My poor 48 hour spanish classes had been over for months by then. Would I remember much? Or would I draw a complete blank? I hadn't even done any research on the place. My only recent picture of it came from Alejandro González Iñárritu's Amores Perros: Far from a touristic picture it painted.

All my concerns disappeared into thin air the moment I set foot in Mexico City ( DF or Distrito Federal, is what it is called in Mexico.) I found myself at ease, comfortable, liberated. Maybe it was me, maybe it was the vibrancy of the place; it was something special.

For the past one year, my life has been emotionally harrowing, with anger building up in me fast and strong. Added to that were endless responsibilities and a self imposed isolation which made me unable to step out of the house... like i was chained up with invisible bonds.
Stewing inside my head, my body felt like it was decaying.....

This opportunity was a great one for me. It took me away from my world which was fast decreasing in size and I struggled to fit. Suddenly, I found myself in a boundless world and I was a tiny speck, blissfully lost.
I hungrily devoured the gush of fresh air that blew right at me. I felt a peace that I had longed for.....

I spent hours, just walking or sitting in a public place...... observing people, things, places, reflecting...at my own pace..

And I drew, in a little book that I carried with me everywhere I went.I started with something I am comfortable with. Its overwhelming to think of all the things that can find their way into your canvas.

I must confess though, that there were times when I felt rather blue, quite like the lonely traveler.

I drew things that spoke out to me. This was a photo shoot in the lawns of the Museum Jardin Borda in Cuernavaca.
There used to be very many french families who lived in Mexico. Rich and affluent, the ladies of these families would often give their old clothes to their Mexican maids, so there emerged a group of indigenous women who dressed in the most exquisite french clothing, made them selves up and just hung out. They came to popularly be known as the Katrinas.

In Mexico, I saw the most voluptuous mannequins ever! It made me realise the different notions of beauty across the world. Nice.

Slowly with my notions of what Mexico is changed, as I got to know more...

Met some lovely people, and realised my ability to observe and then draw in retrospect.

This is after a lunch at artist- Cisco's house.

Beautiful Taxco, and its colourful music. Then I lost my precious book, and felt about that small. Found a little boy sitting on a bench, the book clutched to his chest! It was a lovely feeling. Then watched a mexican movie, a ridiculous comedy about an indigenous woman coming to DF and becoming a Luchadora. La Lucha is the most popular wrestling tournament in Mexico. And the wrestlers are called Luchadores. Its like WWE, but in Mexico they have a different set of rules and the most amazing masks.
In Cuernavaca, family outings are very common. People just chilling out in the evenings.

The Mexicans could beat the Dilli Wallas hollow in eating out. Street food everywhere and people eat all the time! Mexico is also a country battling obesity. The American influence doesn't help I suppose.

Many of the Mexican men look like the "Tony's" portrayed in hindi movies of the 80's, haven't seen a Tony in a hindi movie in a while now.

Then there was a truly lovely lady called Magali. An artist whose house I stayed in and whose studio I used to make art. My interaction with her stretched my horizons tremendously. I am forever indebted to her.

That's Juan, Magali's dreamy gardener. Magali made me increase the size of my canvas. These two self portraits are the best I got.
El Buscar and Pensamientos.

Imperial Size!

I Love BIG

I am alive again.

Grey

2008-06-27T23:49:00.000-07:00

Some kind of feeling

2008-05-28T03:00:00.000-07:00

That turns itself around.

Morning blues, meditation and some medication

2008-05-28T01:07:00.000-07:00

Travel

2008-05-28T01:04:00.000-07:00

From long ago

2008-05-25T10:04:00.001-07:00

Was going through some old stuff and found this. This is the drawing that got me into art school. Actually I think it was the big bum !

Benaras and a quick run on the sand.

2008-05-25T02:24:00.000-07:00

Working on a group project- A book on Benaras. My initial work was based on other people's stories, anecdotes, pictures and hazy memories from a long time ago. For someone who needs to have something flow through every vein and pass through the entire digestive system, before I can produce some work on it that I can call my own - This path was not something I had treaded before and though it was interesting to work from a different perspective, It brought with it a feeling of guilt and flippancy.

The stairs were something that caught my eye and after looking at pictures, one after the other of the painted lines, this is what I did.

A frame from a comic strip about one night in Benaras, mosquitoes, a dream and of course a dog!

After this, two bags were packed and off we went to the city itself. Braving the soaring temperatures of 46 degrees, with no electricity for six hours a day and a lot of walking if we wanted to see anything, which was our main purpose.
I dilly dallied, looked at the weather forecast a million times and almost didn't go. Thinking back now, it was most idiotic behaviour.
It was completely worth it.
From a blurry vision of a skyline dotted with temple domes, I arrived. And walked through the intricate gullies to finally reach the brilliant mirror that was Ganga at noon. Leela was our home in Mansarovar. We smelt the river, jumped over dung, felt the stones, swayed on the boats, smeared the vermilion on our foreheads, sat in momentary patches of shadow to quickly capture a something.
The city breathed onto the back of our necks.

The intricate nuances were oh! so delicious.

The ghats, the names, the histories, the colours, the heat and the splendid retreat, the buffalo's and the boys the babies and their toys, the water and its depth, the dirt and the filth, the joy and the silt, the baba's and the priests, the burkha's and the wedding procession, the yoga, the bakery, the meditation and the con artist, the laughter and the frown and people from all over town, the house of Yum and the half cooked meat, the loss , the beauty, the apparition of something ancient, the business man, the tripper, giggles, insults, foreign languages and our own, tip of the trishul, kashi, god, hippy, life, love, ignorance, understanding, music, show, faith, intrigue..................

My final piece on Kashi. An imperial size poster, because there's just too much to say.

The Escape

2008-05-25T02:09:00.000-07:00

I made my first animation film some time ago a one minute piece. But I bungled up somewhere and can't upload the video, so here are a few screen shots. Think I'll call it- The Escape.

And the story goes.....

2008-03-14T11:40:00.000-07:00

Why did the fly have to sit on my pie?

2008-03-04T10:55:00.000-08:00

Surprises

2008-03-04T09:28:00.000-08:00

Imperfect

2008-03-04T05:25:00.000-08:00

withINwithOUT

2008-02-05T20:45:00.001-08:00

winter comes

2008-01-30T10:41:00.000-08:00

In the wintertime,
Feel the sun glow...and watch the stars like never before.

In the wintertime,
with that pleasant pink glow
feel like Rudolph's very close kin.

S m e l l
those oranges,
touch the grass.
warm your numb fingers on somebody's belly....

Yes, winter does mean many odd things
winter could sometimes well spell gray
Its really just a matter of say.

But of winters come and winters gone,
while you still can - just once think of those many little things.

Because "evermore" doesn't really mean a thing.

Sometimes

2008-01-24T06:21:00.000-08:00

Who? I can't seem to remember again. I'm lost in a crowd. Shackles, they circle my being. I cannot run, I never said I cared to...but stay I didn't say I would. I frown but I don't know why....every now and then I cannot breathe... but then swim in the atmosphere, filling my lungs, I feel alive ... so very alive.
Its a big world out there, but sometimes it gets just a little too small. I cannot move, I've been stung by the sun. My mind was racing, still my body was limp. I traveled, to the world I truly belong. I did nothing...I'm sorry I didn't. I was just...stung by the sun.

Lives and times

2008-01-21T08:37:00.000-08:00

Sarojini Naidu's poem "In the Bazaar's of Hyderabad" would quite aptly describe the picture that springs to mind when I think of the life around and the purpose of these structures built centuries ago. They now stand weeping for the past, mauled by the present- ebbing away just a little everyday.

Within these structures that once housed the vermilion and kohl to enhance the delicate beauty of the genteel ladies; our experience had really a different flavour altogether. More rotations of this earth than I can count later, "genteel" is the last word that this place could possibly spell. All around this place, selling western clothes from foreign places that have lived many a life, hawkers call out the qualities of their goods. Making every effort to out-shout the other, they resulted in quite an unruly orchestra. We walked around, ignoring some calls and succumbing to others, stopping to see if anything caught our eye.
Once we actually walked in though, everything was subdued compared to the banter outside. It was as if someone had turned a knob to turn the volume down a few notches.As we walked through the narrow gullies, there seemed to be a million people present there- People from near, people from far, people lost and people found, some broken some strong, some young and yet others old. In Fact though, there were actually only a few hundreds.We managed to ignore the overwhelming presence of these unseen people and went about our winter shopping. Finding things that one would never suspect could be found in such a place.However, as we walked away with our loot, even though it was just the two of us, I had a curious feeling that we were in fact walking in a large group of people.Back home, we excitedly emptied out our loot and started to try them on one by one.
But when we stood in front of the bathroom mirror something strange happened....

I walked in, and we stared at each other in surprise and awe. We were no longer ourselves, but had turned into the people who wore these clothes before us. Whose lives these clothes had been a part of.
It was a crazy whirlwind of people and faces and personalities, of lives and stories, of drama and tragedy and joy...... It was much too overwhelming. I held my face tight, a feeble attempt to stop it all....my head spun into a dizzy.

Finally we peeled our jackets away and dumped them into a bucket of detergent. Soaked them until every last soul had disappeared. When they were dry and ironed and ready to wear, with a little apprehension I slipped into the green jacket again and was relieved to find that this time there was no other face but my own. The detergent had clearly erased all the memories off the jacket. It was just me now.
I wonder though, if this jacket were to find a life with someone else after its stint with me, would all its past memories(mine included) come rushing back?

About them mazes

2008-01-20T10:14:00.000-08:00

I haven't posted anything for a while now because I often seem to be in a dilemma about which angle to tell my story from. Every incident, every event has so many facets to it, at so many different stages that the images move faster in my head than I can even put an alphabet to them, let alone words. So by the time I can actually tell them in words, I have a lot many stories that seem unrelated even though they actually are.
I've mulled over the piece I'm going to next post, and hopefully it'll have some semblance of a story and not appear to be a mishmash, but even if it does I hope its fun to read anyway!
No, no don't get me wrong I'm not being apologetic in anyway, I'm just buying time and preparing the ground for what's to come. And......I'm done, so vamos.

Hmmmmpi

2008-01-08T03:56:00.000-08:00

No amount of stories could actually prepare me for the Hampi experience.
I knew that Hampi is a temple town, has coracles plying across the river and Nutella pancakes served in its various restaurants. But to really know what Hampi is like, you have to see it for yourself.

Within the walls of the natural fortress that guard this town, diverse cultures and systems and beings quietly seem to mix together...but they never truly "mix", they bob alongside each other, the sides of each blurring into the next to form a different something.
There’s the straight jacketed, orthodox Kannadiga culture that follows every last rule in the book. Then there are the free spirited, free bodied, free minded flower children of the Hippy culture. And of course in a mix like this there have to be the in-betweens. The people whored by the confusion and consumerism that descends on any place that attracts tourists from far and wide. “Dollar Guru”, our auto guy and travel agent mediator; like a happy chameleon, changed his entire take on life depending on the company he presented himself to! The not even two year old kids who knew the exact expression they should have on their faces to earn themselves their favourite croissant off a German Bakery. The gypsies of Bhuj who drip exoticism and hence are present in every sought after tourist destination in the country. The white tourists who are dressed in flamboyant balloon pants while in India, who back home are probably seldom seen without a tie, dark blue being the extent of their adventure as far as colour goes. Above and beyond all this, the shadows of the glorious, mysterious past are cast in every nook. So much history and still so much ambiguity.

Finally, the omnipresent landscape was beyond words….enormous scales, stark yet soothing, imposing yet subtle. The effect it had on everyone made people bow their heads in respect. And this unspoken respect is what brings all the elements come to rest on each other forming a delicate sculpture, so precariously placed, it seems that the slightest breeze could cause them to topple. Yet they are never moved, not by earthquakes not by storms, just as the rocks that sit atop the hills of Hampi.

Ways of seeing

2007-12-28T04:17:00.000-08:00

I didn’t realize it at first, and was very angry and agitated by the people in our colony who would constantly shout at us about our dogs. But now I’m seeing a little bit of where their problem comes from. Of course there’s the hating dogs and considering dog poo to be the most disgusting thing on earth…if they happen to see it their whole day will go wrong. Everyone is appalled by our household of five dogs… “Kaise insaan hain? Paanch che kutte??!! Raam raam!!” and ofcourse it doesn’t help much that there’s a significant absence of the all important man of the house, it’s just the two of us, mother and daughter. And to make matters worse “woh bhaasha bhi nahin samajh te” kahan se aaye hain yeh???”

Only when I began to cross over a park to our previous colony, to avoid these unpleasant encounters did I see things in a different light. Everyday as I walked through the park some construction workers would ask me questions and their inquiry always started with the self same question “Kitne mein liya is Kutte ko?” (How much did you buy this dog for) and then slowly a whole brigade of questions would be thrown at me… what do you feed them… why have you brought them out ( the fact that dogs are also taken out on outings was just not comprehensible), how old are they? (For my tiny stunted cockers could look like puppies) they sell them in the market? You’ve educated your dogs (I once said “come on lets go” to one of my dogs in English). I was at once amused and irritated. They asked too many questions, yet there was something endearing about the way they blatantly blurted out every thought that crossed their minds.

The one thing that runs common between the construction workers and our neighbours is that their perception of dogs is equal to money. Cocker spaniels: fancy looking dogs that come on TV. Not just one but four! And a retriever too… like the one that comes in the pedigree ad. They must sum up to a lakh at least!!! And if we can spend a lakh on dogs, then imagine how much money we must have….

So there you have it…two women, outsiders, five dogs and lots of money is the perception they have of us which creates an immediate sense of insecurity. With most of the houses around us having been built decades ago and crumbling from the lack of maintenance. It’s inevitable that sooner or later new people are going to come along and buy these houses. But the likes of us? Raam raam raam……

Parallel worlds

2007-12-28T01:44:00.001-08:00

Its incredible, how we go through life with someone thinking that we're both living the same life, when in fact every one of us live in our very own, separate worlds.

So the thing about....

2007-12-28T00:25:00.001-08:00

So the thing about messiness is that it all seems to crawl back the moment you clear it up!

Did I mention that through this blog, I want to tell some stories through drawing and learn to draw and grow in drawing....and twirl and dance and swim and draw........

Here's a start

2007-12-27T04:55:00.000-08:00

I've shied away from this whole blogging thing-a-ma-jig for the longest time...... now I've finally come out of my shell when most people I know have either forgotten about their blogs or given up blogging all together.
Well here I am, never too late to start I suppose.
So the question was what do I have in this blog of mine? I looked around me.....at my pitiably boring life. I seemed to be living the life of a lonely 60 year old homemaker who is always caught up in household chores and responsibility towards her many children who need constant attention. In actuality, just 24 years of age. I missed my youth, my carefree college life, I had just me to look after and no one expected much from me......sigh!
But then I looked a little closer, focusing my lens to see the little details that were previously blurred. There was a silver lining to my cloud after all... mundane doesn't necessarily mean void ! So....