I’m rarely captivated by art. In part this is probably due to the massive sensory overload that I willingly subscribe to. Daily. Hong Kong is a factor unto itself. Coined ‘the city that never blinks’, it’s no small wonder that stationary is a gear we, the happy inhabitants, fail to find. From mornings commuting with eyes affixed to a PSP, through days spent sharing the latest online whimsy, to evenings enjoying filmic offerings in high-definition splendour, the average Hong Konger’s retina are spoilt rotten.

This is not to suggest that we’re all ‘captivated’ by the ocular jargon filling our weekly routine, rather that it serves as an effective distraction during the downtime we manage to eek out – downtime that might otherwise be spent observing our surroundings and, perhaps, stumbling upon something worth viewing.

I happened upon one such discovery in recent weeks whilst traipsing through SoHo. Returning to the office with the characteristic vigour of someone that is perpetually late, I almost missed the point of this entire tale, buried deep in my peripheral vision. At the impromptu summons of yet another taxi driver vilifying his trade through gross horn abuse, I was startled. Torn from my thoughts, my attention fell, wholly by chance, upon a nearby shop front.

'Rarely captivated by Art', I stood transfixed, gawking at a painting that upon looking back to me must have felt somewhat violated. The painting in question lies atop this very page, or rather a grossly underwhelming online representation of it does. Entitled AKHEELA, it was painted by Natvar Bhavsar in 2005 and currently resides in the front window of the Sundaram Tagore Gallery in SoHo.

The vehicular stampede obstructing my line of sight seemed only to heighten the whole affair. Lending significance to each glimpse, I convince myself that there’s something poignant about the flow of a city, hindering my view. Moments before reaching what would surely be the most contrived of conclusions I’m struck by something altogether less pretentious. I hadn’t paused for the Art; I’d paused because of it. It wasn’t a conscious decision to ‘take in a spot of art’, nor was it a decision at all. We often do pause for Art, briefly eyeing the gallery frontage that catches our attention, but this was a different beast altogether. An involuntary moment void of free will, that I’ll remember if only for the stark realisation that I am, and will remain, powerless to replicate it.

I’d go so far as to say it’s the first time I’ve paused because of Art. It’s quite a jarring experience, a novelty of chance. At the risk of sounding pompous, I can’t help but speculate about the relationship between this city and the sequence of events detailed above. Were it not for my perpetually wired-in existence, would I have been quite as spellbound? To that extent, is ‘the Hong Kong lifestyle’ actually beneficial to these fleeting moments of art observation?

Perhaps.

Irrespective, the moment passes. As the rest of my day comes flooding back into mind I discover that my lateness has worsened dramatically. Journeying back to my desk, between laboured breaths I can’t help but smile. I’m late, rushing, heading to the cinema later and planning what videogame to play on the way home.

Not a thing has changed, but it was worth it.