Recently, I shared news with a few colleagues of a win—news of an artistic effort that had garnered recognition, and to my mind a win of sorts. I had received intimation from Radek in Poland that we [Radoslaw Nowakowski & Venantius J. Pinto (Poland/India – joint runner-up)] were runners up in the 4th Sheffield International Artist’s Book Prize for the artists book CorrespondAnce. http://artistsbookprize.co.uk/
Among the few people were those whom I had served in various capacities, those who had approached me for various things, those I had bailed (not balled) out on projects. Professionals ahoy—the parakeet in my mind squawked. Also, in that clan were individuals who had been feted, some wined, others dined, their angst condoled, and “confessions” heard. I received two responses celebrating the success of CorrespondAnce or about 20 percent. This was a new surprise since I would have thought that its not always that such successes small as they are their news du jour. Simply celebrating others is what I cherish. I was not expecting anything beyond the fact that I existed as also for reasons above which fall under the banner of being a professional.
So what could some of their “dispassionate” reasons be. Is it that kudos are worth proffering only to certain people. Ergo, it does not sit well within certain minds if you are not one of those anointed ones, regardless whether ones skills have played a significant role in their having been able to rest easy.
Or is it merely a coagulation of fear and torpor? Both of which being indecent as far as they taunt our sensibilities in wanting to disregard each other as part of a brotherhood of cogs in our endeavors, labors, and in love—whereby, in giving and partaking we receive.
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