Christmas lights fade like a pulse around the window as Jean Arasanayagam melts into the couch like a wilting red gum drop listening to her daughter read poems in passionate drones.
Dazed by the mood and drunk off the lyrics of words the women were sharing, I jotted down a note in the midst of my quotes from their reading.
“Sri Lanka at Helga’s Folly is a reminder, connector, inspiration of the importance and value of craft and art forms,” I wrote.
It was the first leg of the trip where the void of creative expression was satisfied. The amount of art and muse and personalities swirling around our experience at Helga’s Folly was too stimulating for me to even journal when we had free time.
I was too dazzled by the expressions around me to think of my own.
When you’re residing in a town called Kandy, which used to be the capital of the Kandian Kingdom, it’s hard not to pretend you’re in a lovely wonderland.
The hub of activity near Kandy lake, the dancing rain, the splashed walls of the boutique hotel and the darting colors of tuk-tuks are all a mesmerizing choreography to the melody of the Tooth Temple’s drums and strange horn as we walked the city’s streets.
We were also taken through Sri Lanka’s history through the portal of a dance performance and fire walk. The dancer’s energy, poise and strength filled the stage and had us cheering before the end of each number.
This expressive culture was magnified in our experience at Helga’s Folly, not only for the bizarre décor of the hotel but even the culture of others who were there.
Jane Lillian Vance, a professor at Virginia Tech and intricate artist, was residing at Helga’s upon invitation to finish Helga’s portrait and complete other major pieces as well.
Her studio was beside the front desk, and she always welcomed us in for a peak of the kaleidoscope grandeur she was tediously unraveling on her blank canvases.
Conversations with her left each of us mesmerized, and her paintings exploded to life whether lit by the lone lamp or not.
In the marvel of all these imaginations and with Arasanayagam reading to us in the dim and romantic aura of follys and antlers and dripping candlesticks, I followed her lead and melted my back a little deeper in the couch pillows, sedated by the affect stories and art inject.
As the strands of lights continued to whither then shine, my eyes drifted, and I had a sudden urge to write.
Dazed by the mood and drunk off the lyrics of words the women were sharing, I jotted down a note in the midst of my quotes from their reading.
“Sri Lanka at Helga’s Folly is a reminder, connector, inspiration of the importance and value of craft and art forms,” I wrote.
It was the first leg of the trip where the void of creative expression was satisfied. The amount of art and muse and personalities swirling around our experience at Helga’s Folly was too stimulating for me to even journal when we had free time.
I was too dazzled by the expressions around me to think of my own.
When you’re residing in a town called Kandy, which used to be the capital of the Kandian Kingdom, it’s hard not to pretend you’re in a lovely wonderland.
The hub of activity near Kandy lake, the dancing rain, the splashed walls of the boutique hotel and the darting colors of tuk-tuks are all a mesmerizing choreography to the melody of the Tooth Temple’s drums and strange horn as we walked the city’s streets.
We were also taken through Sri Lanka’s history through the portal of a dance performance and fire walk. The dancer’s energy, poise and strength filled the stage and had us cheering before the end of each number.
This expressive culture was magnified in our experience at Helga’s Folly, not only for the bizarre décor of the hotel but even the culture of others who were there.
Jane Lillian Vance, a professor at Virginia Tech and intricate artist, was residing at Helga’s upon invitation to finish Helga’s portrait and complete other major pieces as well.
Her studio was beside the front desk, and she always welcomed us in for a peak of the kaleidoscope grandeur she was tediously unraveling on her blank canvases.
Conversations with her left each of us mesmerized, and her paintings exploded to life whether lit by the lone lamp or not.
In the marvel of all these imaginations and with Arasanayagam reading to us in the dim and romantic aura of follys and antlers and dripping candlesticks, I followed her lead and melted my back a little deeper in the couch pillows, sedated by the affect stories and art inject.
As the strands of lights continued to whither then shine, my eyes drifted, and I had a sudden urge to write.
RSS Feed
