By- Abhishek Suresh (EEE, 14285) Featured Image by- Shivam Dhuria (ECE, 14427)
The oil glazed skin of the momos were turning wrinkly. The chutney started getting runny. The froth on the coffee was gathering dust. On the ledge, was lying the bowl of soup, a swirl of ketchup floating on it. Yeah, he has strange tastes, but I tried it too, it actually tasted nice. The fake tomatoes went along well with the spices in the soup. Hey, I’m not gonna document my culinary experiences, some other time. This is another intrigue. He was busy sketching away on his tablet, rather oblivious to the grub we were chomping in silence. What was it, we didn’t know, we just kept staring at the creation that was going on, putting him into discomfort. Well, making fun of Kiran eased things out. The soup, just cold slurry now. Ugh! Why couldn’t he just finish it, I just can’t stand good food lying unattended. Anyway, white swirls, more white swirls, grey contours, swish, swoosh, every stroke, a step in genesis. The abstractness of it all, white lines and random projections.
The half done cigarette in his hand, Ollivander’s Gold Flake sending out grey trails. Flitwick, what is this charm?
White lines running through the graphic under progress. Much like the neural pathways sometimes you visualise running through your head when high. I like seeing lines run, and there was door in between. A portal probably? What’s running through his head? Two retro-esque strips in the bottom. A road leading nowhere.
Abstract art is some shit.
Take a small segment, and make an album cover of it.
Yet you just keep staring and try to make sense of it. Of the entropy in the creator’s head.