Even as I watched the movie Julie and Julia, I was possessed by an urge to create, to write, to cook, to photograph, to go buy a string of pearls and maybe make a hat. I was filled with a new faith, in unaffectedly doing what gives me joy without questioning the purpose of my actions. Does it really matter why we do what we do ? What matters is that we do, and do with conviction.
I think all artists and writers are perpetually plagued by the questions like Julia was; “Am I writing into a void?” Who reads what I write. Yes, the written word is obsolete without a reader. But I suppose a singer starts by singing to himself, and will be driven to sing even without someone to sing to.
Coming back to the movie; I could go on about how brilliant Meryl Streep is and how charming Amy Adams is, but those two have time and again proven their mastery of the craft. The less conspicuous stars of the movie were the clothes, the pots’n’pans, the butter, the fancy hats and the pearls. Every prop used was after my own heart, I wanted every enamel casserole, every porcelain tea cup and every handsome headdress. Right now, like Julia, I too live in a small house with a boy and a cat and a kitchen not larger than a tub. But if the movie gave me one thing, it was hope, that when the time comes I too will have my string of pearls.