Explodes into life

Dr Fahim Chand | Monday May 23, 2022 04:41

As the radiant heat awakens my dreaming neurons, I realise it is Saturday. I know we all live for weekends and that simple fact stimulates a smile on my face. A sleepy little sliver of sunlight creeps through a tiny crack in the curtains. It foreshadows the emergence of a glorious African summer day.

There is nothing like an African blue summer sky. Other than my free concert, there is no other movement or sound. It is early and I am usually the first person awake in my house. I glance beside me and Shabana is engaged in peaceful sleep. Her days are long with two children, three if you count me.

She should not have to pay for my idiosyncratic sleep patterns so I silently creep out, taking care not to wake her. As I enter into the hallway, there is an explosion of that glorious African sunshine. While the slivered sunray was the opening act, this display is U2 in full concert glory. As I carry my iPad with me, I spy my throne ahead. I think we all have our special preferred place where we feel most comfortable and this couch is mine. I am able to lounge out fully with my head supported with the one armrest and my legs supported on the other.

As I find my best position, I open the cover of my iPad. It blinks into life as the ghost in the machine biometrics recognise the unique contours of my face. The battery gauge reads 100%. I am always prepared. I check the sports news. It is with high anticipation that I race to see what Arsenal, the Pittsburgh Steelers and my beloved hometown Toronto Maple Leafs, Raptors and Blue Jays have been up to yesterday. I’m not sure what it gives away about me that I check sports before the news headlines. Maybe you know the answer? As I dive into yesterday’s sporting happenings, I hear a familiar sound. As I look up, the sound becomes louder and more urgent. The pitter-patter of little feet. Suddenly I see a little boy running towards me. There is a gleeful smile on his little face. That smile mirrors my own. My son Azeem. He slows as he reaches me. I place my iPad onto my lap as he proceeds to climb in and lies down with his body beside my chest and his head cradled in my arm. My heartbeat slows to a steady pleasant rhythm as the serotonin courses through my body.

I’ll not expound on this but just know that your child lying in your arms is one of the greatest moments of your life. Recognise and appreciate it. Okay, back to my story. The iPad has now found a new pilot. The cherubic little marshmallow hands navigate expertly. The pilot knows what he wants and knows how to get there. The chosen app explodes into life. And in doing so welcomes us into a world Azeem and I love. The world of art. Every week this app would introduce us to a chosen artist and their works. In our layman art lingo, we would enjoy and analyse what was presented.

And yet in our layman analysis, there was sophistication. The discussion of Monet’s broken colour painting technique in his impressionists works melted the time away and in doing so cemented the bond between father and son. The origins of art history can be traced to the Upper Paleolithic era (c.38000-12000 BC). The best known of these are the several hundred decorated caves at Lascaux in the Dordogne region of France. Humankind’s art journey began here but what is its purpose? While one can synthesise a grocery list of art’s aspirations, I think the most important is to stimulate emotion. Art can exhilarate, provoke, pacify and entertain.

In doing so it can influence culture, politics and even the economy. There is a growing body of research that indicates that art has health benefits. In patients with dementia, drawing and painting stimulated memories and allowed them to connect with the world. In addition, benefits have been seen in depression and anxiety sufferers. Maybe it wouldn’t have been a stretch to imagine Azeem becoming a talented art student.

And indeed it did play out that way. Only now he is lean and athletic, though it is still the cherubic marshmallow hand that pilots the artist’s brush.

And while it had been Picasso, Kandinsky and Klee amongst others that we had admired, that list for me now includes Chand. I recall strolling the dazzling halls of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.

Whenever a particular piece impressed, I would call Azeem and we would discuss and appreciate it together. As we gazed at a particular work a familiar voice asked, “Who’s the artist who painted this one?” I turned to see Azeem’s brother Ayaan admiring the same painting with us. I replied, “Dali”, referring to the Catalan virtuoso. He said: “He’s just become my favourite artist”. The hypnotic piece, The Crucifixion. One can never fully appreciate a painting by merely looking at a picture. It is only in its presence that one can fully observe the artist’s nuanced strokes.

It is in these pigmented ridges and valleys that true art genius resides. Here, Salvador Dali captured not only Ayaan but all of us. It is in this Dali constructed masterpiece that we realise while oxygen and sustenance are essential for life if it is art that makes it worth living.