Hoboskatov reads ‘an ode to the artist’

Hoboskatov, is the writer-alter-ego of a regular guy from Bangalore.
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An Ode to the Artist

I’ve always wanted to be an artist.
From when I first heard the word
To when I actually met an artist.
Like it was a thing that you could turn into.
Large eyes, ears wide open, mind blank
All receptors turned on
Front row, full volume, first day, first show.

And you went back home, saturated
satisfied, satiated,
savouring the ideas
that have remained,
floating about in your room.
The atoms of paint, still fresh
from the first time you saw an honest set of lines-
lines that exist beyond this realm.

Frozen,
a mere reflection,
a shadow.

The artist
a silent introvert full of soul and sass
Seeing, absorbing, silently says,
“I’ve dug deep into this word- artist.
The deeper I dig the more I drown
Until one day
I’d completely drowned
and died
and become a thing
that put a glint
in the eyes
of a little boy,
who had stood in line,
First day first show, front row, full volume.”

 

 

Bangalore, Performance, video
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