miuniku, rhea gupte, the girl from FUSS, FUSS, fashion photography, typography, beach, waves, white hair, bob
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miuniku, rhea gupte, the girl from FUSS, FUSS, fashion photography, typography, beach, waves, white hair, bob
miuniku, rhea gupte, the girl from FUSS, FUSS, fashion photography, typography, beach, waves, white hair, bob
miuniku, rhea gupte, the girl from FUSS, FUSS, fashion photography, typography, beach, waves, white hair, bob

Project Brief

Blend poetry and imagery in a specific color palette

Client

Personal Project

Concept

Wallflowers and social perceptions

Credits

Creative Conceptualisation, Photography, Styling, Modelling by Rhea Gupte

Styling Credits

Miuniku dresses

They called her a wallflower.
Too plain to will, too shy to speak.
They put her in a box,
Did what they usually do with boxes.
Categorised, analysed,
Set limitations when none existed.

They called her a wallflower.
And she believed them.
Crouched down low,
Hands folded, voice meek,
She lived it.
Saw only through eyes blinded.

They called her a wallflower
She agreed the first few times
What good am I, what good could I be
She debated with uncertainty

They called her a wallflower
She questioned, why?
What’s terrible about being quiet?
What’s the matter with being shy?

They called her a wallflower,
When she had birthed wings
Outwardly they saw her struggling
Oblivious to the dream within

They debated her being a wallflower
She was vigorously on her path
Taking decisions, growing mountains,
Leaping to make her mark.

They stopped calling her a wallflower
Capabilities to the moon,
She had persisted, she had won,
Without resorting to hide or run.

Why did we call her a wallflower?
She was fantastic.
Ever striving, ever achieving,
Her journey had been drastic.

Why did they call me a wallflower?
They never saw what I was put through
Looking for that spark within,
When none from the outside came in.

Lay a box labelled wallflower
Woes of several to see
Just because she had been there,
Didn’t mean she lacked company.
Began a revolution to overthrow
The cardboard box from within,
As they pushed and pounded,
They realised how it was thin.

For the box called wallflower
was made up
A figment for them to believe.
It was created by the ignorant,
As a place to be safe and grieve

Those who could not push hard enough
Embraced the confines, it became their bluff.

Discard that box called wallflower,
If ever one should exist,
It is only as large as you make it,
Only as dark as a passing mist.

Learn from experience your own,
Not of those who create boxes.
You have more in you, than you can see
Why let them define who you should be?





Join the conversation

  1. That’s a beautiful poem … n so personal … m stunned
    Love your work… your concepts n visuals are amazing…poetic… have been following your work since some time now and always loved it…
    And what’s more….Every time I come back after sometime…. I see a constant growth… great work!

    1. Thank you so much! So glad to read your comment. The poem is not from personal experience but a commentary on how a lot of people are underestimated until they themselves prove to be the opposite.