History

The Brush Between Worlds
Tucked between a subway entrance and a glass-fronted café in the heart of the city stood a small, unassuming studio with peeling blue paint and a hand-lettered sign: Zehra’s Corner – Paint. Breathe. Be.
By meerjanan5 months ago in Art
“The Color He Never Used”
In a quiet corner of the city, where the hum of traffic never quite faded and laundry lines strung between buildings like tangled flags, there lived a man named Kamran. Once, his name was spoken with reverence in galleries and studios—“Kamran, the painter who captures silence,” they’d say. His work had a way of holding breath, of making people pause, stare, and remember something long forgotten.
By meerjanan5 months ago in Art
“The Last Canvas”
On the edge of a quiet coastal village, where the sea whispered against the rocks and the air always carried a hint of salt and jasmine, lived an old man named Rahim. Once, his name had been spoken with reverence—“Rahim the Painter,” they called him, the man who could make waves dance on canvas and sunsets breathe.
By meerjanan5 months ago in Art
*The Colors She Left Behind*
The studio stood like a secret the city had forgotten. Tucked between a shuttered tailor shop and a noisy laundromat, its windows were clouded with dust, its wooden sign—once proudly carved with the name Studio Lumière—now barely legible. Rain had warped the letters, time had faded the paint, and ivy crept up one side like a slow apology.
By meerjanan5 months ago in Art
*The Color She Couldn’t Name*
In a narrow lane where the scent of warm bread curled through the morning air and the tailor’s sewing machine clicked like a steady heartbeat, there stood a quiet little studio with peeling paint and a rusted door handle. Its sign, once bold in cursive—Meher Art Studio—had faded into near silence, as if the building itself had learned to whisper.
By meerjanan6 months ago in Art
"From Awkward to Articulate"
Some people are born with the gift of gab. They speak with charm, confidence, and clarity. Then there are those who stumble on their words, feel their heart race when called on, and wish they could disappear during every group presentation. Zara was definitely the latter.
By Najeeb Scholer6 months ago in Art
Stanislav Kondrashov explores the historical impact and modern echoes of Art Nouveau
Even today, as Stanislav Kondrashov recently recalled, some of the most iconic cities of old Europe still bear the traces of a powerful artistic movement that flourished between 1800 and 1900. We are referring to Art Nouveau, which after so many years is no longer considered a simple movement: it was a true transformation, through which cities forever changed the way they saw and conceived of themselves. Decorative architecture and the most daring creativity discreetly entered the daily lives of millions of people, leaving profound traces that remain today.
By Stanislav Kondrashov6 months ago in Art
Exploring Female Pleasure in Jean-Honoré Fragonard's "The Swing"
Female pleasure is often not accurately defined or explicitly portrayed as artists and writers are often more familiar with portraying female displeasure. There seem to be more representations of sad, angry and hurt women in art, stories and movies than those who are happy, content or even excited. But what do women need in order to be happy?
By Aashna Woodin6 months ago in Art
"The Climb No One Saw"
Rafiq had always been small for his age — slight in build, quiet by nature. Growing up in the shadow of towering cliffs that surrounded his village, he dreamed of climbing one day, touching the clouds that kissed the peaks. But life had other plans.
By Najeeb Scholer6 months ago in Art
"Echoes of an Empty Home"
The house stood at the end of a quiet lane, its windows dusty, its paint peeled by time. Wildflowers grew through the cracks in the stone steps, and ivy climbed its way across the balcony where wind chimes once danced with the breeze.
By Najeeb Scholer6 months ago in Art
"Letters from the Edge"
In a small, war-scarred border town where sirens replaced songbirds and every dawn brought uncertainty, lived a girl named Liana.
By Najeeb Scholer6 months ago in Art
"Broken Chains"
In the small town of Jharwala, hidden behind old walls and rusted gates, lived a girl named Noor. She was seventeen and known for her silence. While others laughed and played in the dusty streets, Noor stayed close to the shadows—watching, waiting, surviving.
By Najeeb Scholer6 months ago in Art