Pencils and Colours

I'm sure every artist, every writer faces a slope down to rock bottom where it seems that the creative mind has gone AWOL. I can say this for I have faced it during my relentless quest to write a series of short stories. It doesn't give you any clue, but this total lack of inspiration just hits you home when you least expect. So, what was I supposed to do? Sit back and wait until my muse shows up? Well, that's what I thought I would do, and that's what I did. Only two days later it started to grow on me that my muse, my inspiration, was not going to show up. All I had was two unproductive days. My guilt having half-eaten me by then, the third day I took the sheets of paper and pen, and rode down to the place where I always wrote my stories. That day I sat with the blank sheets of paper staring back at me with indifference. My muse didn't come. But, there was a sense of satisfaction nonetheless. The fourth day I went again, and again it was the same story. The

The weather in Bombay (I still prefer calling it 'Bombay') was as searing as a frying pan this Sunday (Oct 27th, 2013), but somehow it only mattered for a small stretch of time as I settled myself around my paintings to display at  Art Hop  in Bandra in that late October morning. The excitement was building up inside me minute after minute. Technically it was the third time I was displaying my artwork to public. But, for me, it was first such display where people came only to take a look at artwork and nothing else. I wouldn't want to talk about the first two times now. You and I are going to have a long journey together, and that is when I'll slowly tell you the side-stories. For now, lets talk about what I felt at Art Hop. It was only a day before the actual event that I realized how big a deal it was. People from various parts of the city hopped from one venue to another to witness and revel in the sea of artworks that consisted of paintings, photographs, inst

This was the question that made its way into my head when a friend of mine brought it up. Being a student of an unconventional art school, FAD International , people (or rather artists) around me are quite open-minded, and listening to their thought processes making way to ceaseless discussions is a delight for someone like me. It was in one of those discussions when my friend said that Art is business after all. Before saying anything, for that one moment, it did cross my mind - Is it a business? I wish I could agree with him, but I don't. If making money was my sole purpose of getting into art, I would rather have stayed and slogged as an engineer, eating dusty wada-pavs and sugary tea on site. In fact, as far as I can see, not one artist is into art because it will bring him money. I believe the moment you start measuring your art as business, it loses its meaning and your creativity becomes a horse with reins; the purity of art is corrupted and all you have in yo

It didn't come late to me that I was very bad at blogging. My futile attempts to start one up until now has always met with stone-faced blank page or random meanderings of my chaotic mind. Nonetheless, it is about time I shared a few thoughts here. Reading or not-reading entirely depends up to you. This is my first post, so I don't want to scare you away as of yet. I would rather indulge you; at least for a while. This blog, this one here, is dedicated entirely to my tryst with pencils, colours, and whatever that brings out an art form from within me. Human actions, its body movements have always caught my attention in one way or the other. The way our body moves and stretches even with the slightest act of motion, and the strong settled lines of the folds on our bodies while the body is still are something that always gathered intrigue on my mind. It didn’t come as a surprise when I naturally developed a liking for human figures in all my paintings – as a kid it