Things I do

For Suttonese People -

Hers and His birthday cards.

Bits and Pieces on my Table

1) Rub honey into the night's back,

2) Make sure the moon is fed,

3)Bathe the ocean,

4) Warm sing the trees.

            ~ Tend

My mother resembled a character out of an Isabel Allende novel. she was one of those Piscean/Aquarians who would often declare that she could see visions of things that happened in a place, of incidents that might have happened if... She would periodically move heaven and earth so that the world around her could fit into her visions irrespective of the disruptions it caused. 

One thing she did prove right was the fact that she would die and some five years before her death she went about clearing out the books in her large cellar with the energy characteristic of every mission she undertook. The result was that I was given some very beautiful old books. 

I treasure these books for their beauty except one, a vintage PR exercise about Queen Victoria. Because of the subject matter, I've decided it can be sacrificed in the name of art. The paper is so old it practically disintegrates at times but the cherubic faces of the little royal princes is perfect for cutting up and playing with. The resulting compositions have become bizarre worlds within the pages of my new Moleskine sketchbook and I have been taken aback by what has emerged. Perhaps they are comparable to my mother's visions? In this case, I am thankful they are only on paper.

These pictures I made during the last two days are probably a progression of The Red Book project which I did years ago. They have turned out more sophisticated and muted compared to an earlier cutting up of Kings and Queens within The Redbook. I have included a picture of it below.

Deep down inside, I'm mad … we're all mad here, really. 

If you've read this far, you're probably about to go nuts right now.

~ from another excellent interview by Mahendra Singh.

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Sometimes we don't even realize we are insecure about something. It takes an incident or an intense experience to bring us face to face with the gigantic gaping chasm of insecurity that lurks inside of our minds. Drawing it out in my sketchbook helps me confront it and process what I feel about it and when I do that, I realize that my insecurity, a result of mental conditioning, is nothing more than a mirage.

Helping Hands

If there was any one consistent factor that characterized my adventures on the other side of the world it is this - time and again I felt that I was hanging by a hair's breadth and clinging for dear life on the edges of all kinds of strange cliffs when someone or the other would extend a helping hand and steadily haul me upward and onto safe and solid ground once more. This is a drawing to remind me of those moments and to remind myself that however inconvenient it is for me, when someone needs my help I must extend that helping hand. It is such acts of kindness that makes the world go round.

My entire life can be described in one sentence: It didn’t go as planned, and that’s okay.
~ Rachel Wolchin

The Congregation

Once upon a time, long ago in another world, I used to go to a place of worship. Sometimes I would be asked to read from the Holy Book. When I stood at the lectern, ready to read, I would glance up for a moment at the faces before me, and this drawing above is what I saw.What terrified me was that once I finished reading from the Holy Book, I had to step down, walk towards this congregation and be a part of them.

I have done this drawing with giant sticks of Senelier Oil pastel. They provide a kind of knobbly resistance when used on Moleskine sketchbook paper giving a strange crude texture which is appropriate for this image. 

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‘You look well-settled’ is the phrase I hear most often for the pictures I post on Facebook. There are others, less gullible, more curious, who want to know what the immigrant experience is really like. To give the right answers, I can perhaps do best with drawing out the series of images that keep recurring in my mind. These days my experiences are images and emotions which I know will fall apart completely if described in words. Maybe these drawings will become proper complete works one day, but for now, they are within the pages of a sketchbook, a visual record of a slow careful transition from one world into another, where every decision has to be weighed carefully before it is acted on; putting down roots takes time, the past has wiped itself out, the future is hazy, my goal is clear.

"You will find your own ethical dilemmas in all parts of your lives, both personal and professional. We all have different desires and needs, but if we don’t discover what we want from ourselves and what we stand for, we will live passively and unfulfilled. Sooner or later, we are all asked to compromise ourselves and the things we care about. We define ourselves by our actions. With each decision, we tell ourselves and the world who we are. Think about what you want out of this life, and recognize that there are many kinds of success."

 ~ Bill Watterson

Bigger Mountain

What would I do if I wasn't afraid?

Summer Blues

 The beginnings of summer, Benglurians sluggish due to the heat. We become lethargic, we vegetate, we scuttle towards fans and air-conditioners. I avoid work at my desk by sitting at M’s desk in his studio. He avoids work by sitting in front of his comp, Facebook . I flip through a large book of Picasso’s work. Outside, the sun beats down on the terrace forming blocks of colour against the branches of a mango tree. I feel a surge of guilt. I am doing nothing! I grab an old invitation card and draw the scene in front of me with some graphite lying around. Then I colour it up with M’s expensive Senelier oil pastel. He sprays half a can of imported fixative over it for me.  I feel righteous.

 This is that temple at Ramanagaram. It was afternoon when this was done. P, S and I were sitting in front of the temple in the shade of trees drawing this. We spoke about how happy we felt to get away from the city and sit in the middle of nowhere to draw. We decided that we needed to do one more thing to complete our happiness. We phoned A, who was unable to come with us that day. P spent 10 entire minutes eulogizing our wonderful time to A. Our happiness was complete.

Since we didn’t want to roast in the heat of a village during the month of March, we sketched within the city last week. Some place with a fountain and moth eaten ducks. Too many conversations with P and S about abstract theories.  Lucky for me, S’s wife happened to accompany him. She had been given strict instructions not to disturb us, but she waited  while I finished drawing this ugly mall opposite. I quickly drew, ditched the guys and scooted off with her to shop for girlie things. Wonderful time. “Don’t listen to boys and their bulls*** ” said S’s wife, “they are just showing off”.

This, a lovely fig tree growing inside ITC (Indian Tobacco Company). Thanks to C, whose husband and sister work there, I got a guided tour inside the beautiful green environmentally friendly campus. 

The drawing above and below from my giant Moleskine sketchbook. Playing with organic forms. What is a sketchbook for if it isn't for experimentation?

And this last one above, blue sky against the beautiful red of the State Central Library. 

In the end, nothing matters, and no one.

Gathering Shapes at Hampi

When I look at this image that I've created after my return from Hampi, I cannot help thinking how comical it is and yet so reassuring at the same time. This is my interpretation of Hampi; reassuring in its simplicity and unpretentiousness and yet simultaneously comical in the strange vibe it gives off, thanks to the kind of people who flock to the land and inhabit it - gaudily dressed hippies and English speaking villagers who intersperse its giant boulders. I had the option to either immerse myself in hippiedom or in natural surroundings. I chose the latter which is why the picture above is sans hippie.

My first visit to Hampi was over 10 years ago when it was far less touristy and when thanks to the kindness of a villager, for some fifty rupees I was taken to see all the many monuments of Hampi off the beaten track known only to locals and given one of the most unforgettable experiences of my life.
This time however, I was very clear that I wanted to relax and take a total break after hurtling from deadline to deadline for nearly the entire year and to resuscitate my brains which had been frying over the internet way too long. I did exactly that, and Hampi was the perfect place with its 'chill-out joints', natural beauty and laid back atmosphere.
I didn't take too make photographs, I didn't anxiously try to create magnificent drawings in my sketchbook, I simply ate, slept, took long walks, finished a storybook, explored shapes in my drawings and drank lots of masala chai. It was wonderful.
Here are some pictures that I'd like to share with you all -

The sweet smell of exhaled pot-fumes and lolling hippies finally calmed my anxious city-girl nerves at the Laughing Buddha, where I drew Matanga Hill while eating a delicious wood-fired pizza.

 

Day 2, I grudgingly clambered over to Achutaraya temple and stuffed up many attempts to capture its shape in my sketchbook. Then I got up and explored the beautiful landscape further, breathed freely in open space, drew some more and caught the last ferry back across the river.

The final day, I simply drank lots of masala chai, finished my book, swayed gently to sleep on the hammock and took leisurely walks along the river. The only tangible things I brought back with me were my drawings and these beautiful stones that I found along the banks of the Tungabadra. What better treasures could any traveller carry back?

While processing my visit on my return, I remembered that I had chanced on an unusual 45-degree angle of Virupaksha temple which I had happened to glance up at while returning to the ferry in the late afternoon sun. A dark jagged curve climbed up against the sky along the left side of the temple and seared downwards in a dark trail across the centre. I drew it at home in my large Moleskine sketchbook with graphite and pastel.

Later I reminisced about the things I saw to another artist who had visited Hampi earlier. "The shapes at Hampi are different from the shapes in Bangalore" I said. My listener knew exactly what I meant. Ultimately I think that is what we artists do, gather shapes and collect them within the pages of sketchbooks. And then sometimes we interpret them in our pictures. That is what we live for.

The Journey

Delhi on my Mind

The Mughal ruins that pop up amid the chaotic shrubbery in the vast expanse of Mehrauli Archaeological Park do not disrupt the landscape as modern buildings do. They do not hamper our ability to breath freely in open space and they do not jar at our vision. Instead they seem like old precious jewels scattered in a handful across the land by passing invaders for us poor succeeding generations to gaze at for a moment before going home. 

Mehrauli Archaeological Park. Graphite, Watercolour Pencil, Pastel in my Moleskine Sketchbook