Dry pastel on A4 size paper
The artist, to me, is like Sisyphus, cursed to take a boulder uphill. For every few steps that he moves up the natural inertia of things pull him back downhill whenever he stops to fill up his lungs. It is the artist’s curse to keep on making things. New things, relevant things, things that contain his unique fingerprint… his unique imagination. It is the act of creation that is his redemption, where he tries to give birth to all that is ready and waiting inside his head… waiting to be delivered from a realm of imagination to solid manifestation. This is the artist’s cross, to keep on delivering bits of his imagination over and over again… till there comes a point when nothing more remains to be said because everything has become manifest.

This photo-collage started out as a picture of a sieve lying on a pile of bed weave. I added to it layers from different photographs and photoshopped it some, rotated it a bit... the result is called 'Free Speech'... something I've been thinking about a lot lately...

The other day I had a dream… I was spending time with my folks, we were at an unfamiliar but friendly upstairs place, chatting, eating and generally catching up when I suddenly feel this weight on my shoulder. I know it’s a bird because I can also feel the wind from its flapping wings. I bend my shoulder to have a better look at the bird. It’s a pigeon. A white pigeon and it is holding on to my back. I get this sense that this is some kind of message-bird so I bend and turn around in a way that its perch between my shoulder blades is given a shake. The bird loses its grip on my back and lands on my forearm. Now I can see it fully. It is a white pigeon but with the head of a man. Funny thing is that am more surprised at having caught a pigeon than the kind of pigeon I've caught. The head is skinny and roundish, stubbled and with a receding hairline. It is a face I've never seen before. This man-bird has on his face the look kids sometimes have before wailing out aloud. I try to comfort this creature but he doesn't seem to be in a hurry to start wailing. I get a sense that he has chosen me for some kind of a silent benediction… And then I wake up… feeling a bit strange, a bit sad… wondering what message this bird has brought me. Wondering if the bird itself was the message?

This is where my neighbours store their junk: a deep fire-place sort of recess in the wall upstairs. Spilling out of this space is a coffee-table with a broken leg. On the table's top is a hunting scene... in the style of Rajasthani miniatures, complete with royalty and attendants. But before the hunt could be completed the table gave way under the weight and wisdom of the elephant.
MORAL OF THE STORY: Elephants and tables make strange bedfellows!!

My photographs, am gradually realising, resemble my works on canvas. This one was taken alongwith this... I like the way a smear of paint (made by someone else) has for me become a pareidolic tongue.

90 cm X 90 cm
Acrylics and enamel paint on canvas

Collage, from details of 'Psolitaire' (a sculpture I made from a CD, some glass pieces, wire and industrial glue). This is an improvisation of Psychedelic Angel.
Below is another version...


Time magazine calls Karim Rashid, the 'poet of plastic', others have credited to him the invention of the 'blobject'. Rashid is the new kid on the block for industrial design, and has over 2000 designs to his credit. These range from interiors, fashion, furniture, lighting, art and music to installations. His work is in permanent collections in 14 museums across the world, including MoMA in New York and the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, Centre Pompidou in Paris, and various other international galleries.
(Source: Wikipedia)

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As an art practitioner I work in a variety of mediums, what you see here are glimpses of my many creative projects. If you like or feel strongly something here please don't forget to comment

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