11t May 2017
To: Novi Mutiara
Dearest friend,
I write this letter in regards of hearing the terrible news of an accident you were involved in, and I express my condolences. I only caught wind of the news right after I had finished my most recent painting. I heard it from my mother, whom is friends with your mother.
I must admit, it has been more than 5 years since we last met in person, let alone spoke to each other. Painting, as you know, has pulled me into its own world, where emotion and ideas can be expressed through visual pieces, made on a piece of canvas with the dashes of a brush and color. These days' people make art through an extensive set of technology, it does make shading and coloring easier but I prefer the traditional way of painting, for it gives a smooth vibe towards the way I paint. Painting, as any other activity that involves creative production, requires focus and silence, the latter being important as some people simply cannot work with noise.
Of course, in fair honesty, focus has always been a vital factor for my success of painting, regardless whether I paint for money or just out of my spare time.
I hope that with the start of this letter, is that we are able to communicate once more, go back to the days of sharing our stories and how things are, like any pair of friends would, and wish you a speedy recovery.
Best regards,
Cynthia Putri Auzaria
***
13th May 2017
To: Cynthia Putri Auzaria
Hello! I have received your letter, and I thank you for showing your condolences.
My accident has unfortunately has stopped my journey to become a famous dancer. Not the kind of dancer who swings back and forth over pop music (even though it is fun to listen to), but to perform in ballet, dancing elegantly alongside the calm soothing atmosphere of classical music.
By the time you had mentioned that you recently finished a painting, I could not help but look you up on the Internet. I have to say, you're more than good at these paintings. Tremendous is a word I would use to describe you as a painter. I do believe that you are capable of achieving the same amount of prestige as the painters you looked up to. In fact, congratulations on some of your paintings being put in one of Bandung's art galleries! I would not be surprised if one day you rise up as one of the nation's great artists of the 21st century.
I can't help but feel excited at handwriting once more, since I've always been used to using my laptop for writing anything especially emails back when you and I were in college. Please do write back. It is nice to talk to a friend from college.
From,
Novi Mutiara
***
17th May 2017
To: Novi Mutiara
My apologies for not being able to reply to your letter as soon as possible.
I have been in the progress of painting a piece for a client of mine. This client was more than interesting, as they had asked for a piece involved in romanticism. Ah romanticism, the movement of art that truly made me appreciate art for what it is. A spark of emotion, a representation of ideas, all being flowed through color and technique.
Yes, call me a workaholic, but work is my joy and my burden. It is what makes me active at day and resting at night.
Some say that I need to cool off, get some fresh air and relax so that I would not suffer a burnout. Basic care for the human body from the way I saw it. Of course nobody had ever mentioned a restriction as to how one must relax. Cool off? I have a stock fridge full of drinks, and not the alcoholic kind, because it is not as vital as buying painting supplies. Get some fresh air? I live in an apartment in South Jakarta, with a small balcony but provides enough space for me to glace at the city, while also taking in a breath of fresh air
Painting, like dancing, takes hours a each day to practice and create something with it. In my case, it's technique and concept. Hopefully by the time your leg is better, is that you will go back to dancing, something I wish to see after I had saw the wonder of old school ballet. Old in terms of the year.
Regards,
Cynthia Putri Azaria
***
19th May 2017
To: Cynthia Putri Auzaria
It's very nice to see you full of energy when it comes to painting.
Although to be honest, I still believe you need some time off. Yes, you've made it clear that you can make the best of things for yourself, but as basic as this sounds, everybody needs a friend.
I've been released from the hospital at this point, although I still need to rest my leg. I can still walk around the house but I have to be helped and be accompanied by my parents for anything involving movement.
But I would like to bring my attention to you especially. I've had a look at some of your works. The recent ones, some of which were...unsettling.
The Dinner, which featured a young man with neat hair, all dressed up in a suit sitting at a tale with a plate of his dinner. Behind the young man was a picture of another man his age, and on his plate was the head of the man in the picture. The decapitated head on the plate made me squirm, and blood from the head wanted to make me empty my stomach, especially when I was eating some meatballs with sauce.
Then there was Execution, which, true to its name, featured a fictional execution in Java involving a criminal sentenced to death by the guillotine
Not every painting featured some hint of gore or blood, but some were beyond, not creepy, but the best word I could use is mystical... The Door in Space for example. As with the name, there was a close up on a door. This was a withered door, all coated in maroon, but there were cracks on it, and the paint was fading. These signs were enough to tell me that this door was in this landscape for so long, and speaking of landscape, I was taken aback by the seemingly realistic view of a sky that clearly didn't belong to our Earth, but rather a planet that has yet to be explored. Looking at how the gold and white sky just flows along the upper part of the painting, makes me believe that this planet is truly 'rich' with resources.
This painting is the prime example of excellence. Yes, I was creeped out by the two previous paintings I had mentioned, but that doesn't mean there isn't something to appreciate. The way you managed to capture the dark side of human nature does indeed attract my eye, and I do believe that is what it means to be unique and creative, to be able to stand out and attract people's attention.
Sometimes I wish I was as good as you when it comes to painting. I wish you good luck on whatever project you are working on, and hope to hear from you soon.
****
From, Novi Mutiara
21st May 2017
To: Novi Mutiara
My apologies once more for not replying to your latter as quickly as I believed it to be, for my time has been used for vital matters. Trying to get sleep is one.
Before I go into detail, I would like to thank you for your compliments on my paintings from your last letter. I completely understand if some of my works tend to have a darker tone compared to the ones involving beautiful landscapes or even bright portraits of people I know. But honestly? I find beautiful and cutesy paintings rather boring. My reasoning for dark paintings is simple: to explore the dark nature of humanity, if not try and give a message as to the somewhat sad reality we live in today. Take for example my painting, The Social Realm, featuring a silhouette standing in the middle of a crowd, who are doing exactly what they're doing: looking at their phones as they desperately seek likes and attention from total strangers.
Unless the video is made with heart and hard work, and contains some sort of educational message, then I believe it would utterly stupid to call a 50 second video of a person dancing to a song.
If a society does not get a message by words, why not show it to them visually? Why not use technique to create a visual piece that makes them use more than 10 percent of their brain.
I find it coincidental that you remind me about needing to spend time with a friend, because what I have been through the last week did involve a friend, or rather friends. Unfortunately, it was not what you would call a 'fun experience'.
A day after you sent me your last letter, some of our colleagues back in college (most likely the people from your past classes) attempted to drag me into joining them for a night out, eating, drinking and chatting at one of South Jakarta's pricey restaurants. I kindly told them I was already happy painting, and even when I'm taking a break, I would rather spend my time alone in my apartment. Forgive me Novi, but it seems your friends fail to understand the concept of "peace" through loneliness, as they used several tactics to 'beg' for my presence there.
I did try my best to have positive thoughts for the night out, but sadly it proved to be a failure after several mishaps. First, they cracked jokes about their love lives and things you'd find on a stand-up comedy show and then their laughter caused a disturbance inside, with some customers being annoyed. I felt ashamed. We were all in our late 20s, and everybody around me acted like loud obnoxious children. What if some of the customers had recognized me? I brought that thought up because of my name appearing on the internet, and how it associates my paintings with obviously, myself as the painter. I excused myself from the table, telling them I wanted some fresh air.
I did get some fresh air, but after a few minutes, I decided to just leave without saying goodbye. I could not handle it. I'm sorry. I did my best to comply with their request to go out, but even if I had to go out, I'd rather be alone.
Whereas I thought I would let it rest, my mind went into a buzz. I was angry at them, and not because they forced me into going with them, but because I was working on a small painting, and they took me away from it. Took. Me. Away. I spent the remaining days after that night to just stay inside, only going out to buy some food and supplies from the nearby art store.
Last night, I could not sleep. Cold sweat ran down my body, whilst my heart was beating away at a fast pace. I got up from the bed, and went to the kitchen to grab myself a glass of water. The balcony door was strangely open, and I could not help but feel drawn by a voice whispering in my ears. It was the wind, and its voice seemed mystical and soothing.
It showed its admiration of my determination and hard work at my creations, and I found myself chatting with the wind in the moonlight, chatting about the wonders of the universe through the beautiful and mesmerizing visuals of painting, and other topics that can be addressed such as romance and death. .
The wind had reminded me of my greatness, and that I should keep on focusing on my works, not only in terms of diversity, but also in terms of time and perfecting it.
Truthfully, it was the best advice I had ever received.
Regards,
Cynthia Putri Azaria
***
23rd May 2017
To: Cynthia Putri Auzaria
First, off, there's no need to apologize for late replies to my letters. You and I don't live in the same city after all, and even if we did, the post offices here have to deal with a lot, and I do mean a lot of letters and packages.
And speaking of apologizing, I hope you can forgive my friends for being loud and rowdy on the night you had told me about. I was surprised that they wanted you to join them, to think they already had a good clue on who you were back in college. Allow me to say it, you were somebody who kept to themselves, albeit talking to a few certain people, but you were harmless. You were however, active in college and ready to take on any challenge the classes throw at you. You had enough prestige to be seen as an elite figure of the school (from the way I saw it). My friends should have known about that, about you not being like them. Also you had a strong passion for painting, and I always assume your absence after classes was you focusing on your technique and ideas when you were at home.
However, I do feel that you should have at least opened up to them. Be honest with them. There comes a time where you deal with people, considering you dealt with people back in college. From I the way see it, both you and my friends had something wrong, but we all make mistakes, so I believe you can look past it just like how they look past it. In regards of what happened last night, I'm only going to say this once, PLEASE take a break from your routine. I'm not a painter myself but I can only believe it requires a lot of energy and based on what you describe in the last parts of your letter, your hard work is taking a toll on your body.
You have to let your body to rest, not just that but your mind as well, because you're using your brain to constantly think, release, and focus on the things you do every day.
This whole wind encounter, it's clearly an example of the result of your insomnia, and the last thing an insomniac needs is their minds not painting a clear picture about what��s in front of them.
I don't mean to be a psychologist, but the last thing you need is a trip to the world of a restless brain. And please consider getting yourself connect to people. Maybe my friends weren't the correct people, but you can't live life alone.
Who knows? Maybe by the time you open up you'll meet other people who share the same artistic interests as you?
Best of luck, From,
Novi Mutiara
***
31st May 2017
To: Novi Mutiara
For once I'm not going to apologize for the lateness of my replies to your letters.
Then again, this will probably be the last letter I will ever write to you.
I should have been honest with you ever since we started writing letters to each other, but I did not want any interference with my affairs.
Yes, I was absent at college whenever classes were done, and you assumed I was very busy with my work, but the truth is that I didn't do much, mainly because I was focused on my grades. Yes grades are important, but imagine being monitored the entire 4 years by your parents and ensuring them you'll get a GPA of at least 3 or higher. I followed their demands. I've spent more time learning art rather than creating it. Why? Because each of the assignments demanded specific requirements and specific tools, as opposed to a free open minded person like myself. Ever since I graduated, I worked hard to make profitable paintings, but it wasn't enough. I wanted to indulge in the passion of painting. I wanted to do what I love without any interference from anybody, so I've cut myself from my family, siblings, and friends who went to college as us. I did not cut them off fully, I would still speak back to them when they spoke to me first, but you get the picture, I couldn't care less about them. There was once a time where I did not create anything at all. Not even a splash of paint on a piece of canvas. But after graduation, I was determined to make something each time I finish a painting, or at least get started on it. My parents were shocked at my actions, calling me out as selfish, little did they know they were equally selfish for demanding me to get a good prestige at college based on a number stuck on a piece of paper.
Two days after the incident with your friends, one of them, Diah, visited me. I believe you have told her about me when you first found out about my work through the internet. She confronted me about me leaving that night, which she considered rude. We talked for an hour, in which I explained to her about how I felt at the time, and how I'm attached to my work. She did understand that for the first few minutes of my encounter.
"You're not a bad person" she recalled. "But you're unusual. I get it that you're working too but it's just too much, then there's your paintings, some of them are freakish."
Infuriated, I ask if she can paint.
"No, but I can make friends, talk to people, and have a social life!" She exclaimed.
Those were her last words, before I knocked her down onto the floor, punching her face senseless, then scrapping off the skin on her cheek with my painting knife. She was mortified, especially when I tackled her until a security guard from the east side heard our struggle and broke it up, before calling the police
I am writing this letter from the police station, who were more than kind enough to ensure this letter gets to you in exchange for a full testimony from me.
The wind from many nights ago accompanied me, and the first time, I saw its outline. A humanoid, but it had no expression, no emotion, only looking at me for what I've done. I do blame myself sometimes, I'd let my pride and anger mix and turn it into something horrible. Sometimes I blame myself for even making contact with people outside of the art business ever since I graduated.
The greatest irony in all of about the wind. It whispered in my ear once more, and said that that if I continue with my work at the rate I had worked before, my own pride and joy would be the death of my mind.
Those were the final whispers of the wind, and it's safe to say, it was right.
From
Cynthia Putri Auzaria