When I was 15, I painted a magical tree with leaves of sweet pink and purple. I called it the tree of love. Pink symbolizes the tenderness, sensitivity and the rosy imagination of a girl fallen deeply in love; purple is the colour of sadness and loneliness, the consequence of a foolish and unrequited love. My proud artwork was returned with some not very kind remarks from the teacher. Apparently, by painting an object that does not exist in this world, I had failed to meet the simple requirement of the assignment, i.e. to paint a tree.
Watching a group of
artists solemnly creating images of vibrancy and spontaneity at a quiet laneway
in Melbourne was an experience of surrealism, a strange de javu sensation
saturated with odd familiarity and inexplicably enviousness. The brick walls on
both sides are canvases of freedom and unrestrained imagination.
There is no
requirement that the painting must meet a pre-approved realism art form, no
rule that the colour sprayed must be a collective effort to create a harmonious
giant mural to be published in any travel magazine. There was no
Miss-Trunchbull-like headmistress supervising and terrorizing any talented
Roald Dahl’s Matilda displaying her brilliancy in the public.
It was a beautiful
scene of obsessive artists enjoying the addiction of livening up the street of
Melbourne, with absolute liberty and unconstrained creativity. Be it the
melancholy-looking woman in scarlet face, a green ogre king with intimidating
gaze, or an eccentric gray face contorted in agony; the lively visual arts are
open for interpretation and will continue to give off a thrilling vibe to the
mesmerized audiences, enthralled in the transition of fantasy and illusion.
Location:
Flinders Court
(between Queen and Elizabeth Streets, extending between Flinders Lane and
Flinders Street).
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