If a wall can be imagined as the strongest divider between two hearts, then a small piece of painting on that wall would be the mirror a misunderstood poor soul. Life is always like a painting – you draw, you erase – sometimes you can, sometimes you can’t. Historically people used painting as an abstract expression of the moments the lived – on different media, initially on walls.
Paintings on walls across the globe continues to be the portraiture of their social structures, the mirrors which reflect their own stories, the impression of their own inner feelings.
Snapshots of various emotions, love and hate, failures and successes, ups and downs, dreams and nightmares – all culminate to evolve into a beautiful story, may be knowingly, may be unknowingly. Yet the painter remains anonymous, the faces remain unknown. Different pictures emanate different tunes, which mingle into a single music called life. Life is nothing but a bouquet of moments and these murals around the world are nothing but snapshots of some of those precious moments. They actually do not paint a wall; they paint their lives. They write their personal diaries on the wall which they could not say in words to the entire world.