On the train to Matera

These are some drawings in my sketchbook of my train journey to Matera.

When I saw the Italian countryside landscape for the first time, I understood better what the old Renaissance masters had painted.  My usual bold charcoal drawings did not work very well for these landscapes. I felt it needed something softer and more poetic. Derwent graphite with its muted tones worked very well for the rolling hills and Olive trees. However I wanted to experiment with other media so I tried ink, my first foray into wet media.

My initial attempts at ink are reminiscent of how I use charcoal, my approach was the same, I let the fountain pen ink that I used literally gambol on different kinds of paper. It was pretty much hit and miss every time, some worked but most did not and there were many, many trials and errors for about two weeks (below). 

Then on a suggestion from a friend, I used a bottle of Sumi ink that had been gifted to me last year (one of those rare, thoughtful gifts that I could actually enjoy). I used tiny rectangles of cheap paper from a small notepad I had and strangely and much to my surprise it worked. The pictures had a print like quality to them which recreated the atmosphere that I wanted (below).

My long journey to Matera which began at 5 am went like this : Trastevere to Rome, Rome to Bari, Bari to Matera. Here are some of the sketches of my co passengers.

I felt compelled to redraw the sketch of the schoolgirl with red streaked hair and distinctive features into something larger. Her face reminded me of a Renaissance portrait. I think I should title the drawing of her as Sleeping Madonna (above).

While making these drawings I recall the sense of anticipation I felt sitting in the slow train which glided leisurely through the Olive groves and towards my destination.

There is a resumption of daily drawing over at Hello Every Sunday. We even have a brand new website with large images. Do meet us on Sundays to see our daily drawing progress at
HELLO EVERY SUNDAY.

George

This is a drawing of one of the two people I know named George. There are certain remarkable similarities about both of them. They live in the Cantonment area, have long fraying grey hair and straggly beard, are misfits and are blessed with the "gift of the gab" - They have the ability to pass of their many failures as wisdom just by making their words do charming acrobatics like pierrots in a side show. 

This post is about the George who used to sit under a tree at DaCosta square where I used to go for my walks. I once asked him for a cutting of a creeper growing on his mango tree. He gave me the plant and said in hushed tones, eyes wide open as if he was handing me a magic wand, "These are cephalophytes!" I didn't engage him, I took the cuttings and scooted. What is a cephalophyte anyway, try Googling it.

One night George was sitting at his usual place and I took a hazy picture of him during my walk. In an attempt to engage me in conversation he asked to see the picture. "You compose very well" said George, "not a lot of people do that!" 

I think any woman who has lived long enough in India knows that when a man praises her it is more about him than about her. I had to wait for about 3 minutes and that inevitability happened. 

"I appreciate beauty" said George, "I am a lover of nature. That is why I can appreciate how nicely you've taken this photograph,see? I appreciate the curve of this tree trunk here, I appreciate the flowers overhead, see that dead tree? I watched it die!"
And then George said, "God speaks directly to me through these trees." I backed away and fled.

My story accompanying this picture could so easily have cast a benevolent light on the friendly neighbourhood eccentric, it could have been a story in Reader's Digest or a church magazine,or even a children's book, with a colourful illustration accompanying it, safe, non-committal,un-opinionated reinforcing in its gentle readers the goodness that they want this world to be about, Sweet George giving Priya a creeper and telling her that the trees spoke to him. But I am not a children's book maker and my one stint long ago with a church magazine committee left me with an eternal sense of horror.

But irrespective of my story, there is the fact that George makes a great composition sitting in the dark with the streetlight on him and his doggy friends scattered around. It took 4 hours non-stop to finish this in my Canson sketchbook and I am happy with it.


My childhood in a cult

The White House

So while driving around a circle in South Bangalore, I came face to face with this gorgeous old white house. I kept remembering its beauty. Then one day I returned here, sat in my car and drew it in my sketchbook. 

Then another day while buying some fruit in front of this place, I saw a young woman come out of the gate. Since she had a friendly approachable face, I called out to her and showed her my drawing in my phone. She took me inside and introduced me to her mother.

Once you enter the compound it is a different world. You leave behind urban Bangalore and enter into a time capsule which is a remnant of British Colonial times. There is a distinct change of energy and you feel you are moving back several centuries.

Unlike many old colonial bungalows which have been converted into hotels and boutiques, this home remains unchanged. It was almost reminiscent of entering into the Bronte House I visited somewhere in England a long time ago. The couple who owned the home, Ranoo and Umraz where gracious enough to show me the rooms. The floors were slate, there was a narrow spiral staircase, the dining room was like a setting from an old English story. I hardly wanted to remove my phone and brazenly photograph the surroundings of this gracious couple, so I waited until I was taken to the open space beyond the kitchen.

This house once housed Home School, which is pretty much where most girls in South Bangalore studied.

Ranoo and I chatted for sometime in her cool verandah. Connections were made of course. If you've lived in Bangalore since the 70s then everyone knows everybody else: Ranoo's teacher was my neighbour.
Ranoo told me that those who are familiar with Home School would remember the Cherry Tree in the courtyard. While the old one did not survive, a new one was planted in its place which you can see here in the picture below. 

I was told how Ranoo would hear people walking past this house wonder aloud why the owners had not "developed this space", i.e. built a towering apartment block.That might be an inevitability to old structures such as these. They are staggeringly difficult and expensive to maintain. 

What more can I say but conclude that I consider it a blessing to have been allowed to look inside this garden and this beautiful house and to have enjoyed this moment for what it was. 

Re emergence after a Sabbatical

These pictures below a keyhole peek at Unbox Festival where I was not only a flâneur but also a participant.
You can interpret the pictures however you want. Whatever meaning you derive from them will stem from an intersection of your instinct with your creative desires ~

And my studio, again. I suspect I am a bit in awe of this space which it seems my efforts in collaboration with my energy field have generated.

Yazdani Bakery

One of the memorable places I visited during my visit to Bombay was Yazdani Bakery. I entered into a light blue time capsule where time stood still and savoured every bit of the old-world charm there. Here it is in photographs and drawings in my sketchbook -

Don't miss the black and white flooring.

How lovely are these walls, how full of layers, stories 

and character.

A bread slicing machine also in the colour scheme of light blue to co-ordinate with the rest of the bakery.

Uncle-ji of Yazdani Bakery, like the bread slicing man, he too is wearing a light blue shirt. If we ask him for a photo, he rolls his fists and poses. He is full of stories and insists we try the bread pudding.

Uncle-ji insisted I take a picture of this plaque

I cannot help but notice that my sketchbook too is light blue, which I will from now on always associate with Yazdani bakery.

#Yazdanibakery