still not the stuff we are made of
January. 31. 2012
Revisiting an old post from September 15th 2009…two years older transcendence still evades, but the sorcery is ever more delightful.
the falling flower
December. 23. 2011
art from art from years ago- words make the most beautiful pictures and I just had to paint hers…
Like this:
Storm
October. 12. 2011
Dark thunderstorms translate into reassuring, soothing, near spiritual experiences for me. Always have.
I grew up in the foothills of the Himalayas whose soil seeped into me when the rain poured down. An expert paper boat maker, I’d chase the rain and sail my boats in the puddles it left behind for days. Squatting little knees bent, toes at the edge of the water, careful not to wet my tomboyish knickerbockers…I remember coaxing my boats and singing to the rain each time I find myself mid-song in downpour…
This painting was an experiment in black…See, black is never black-I wonder if you can see the greens, blues and reds in clouds rolling in-
being and becoming
July. 29. 2011
[Shunyata : acrylic, watercolor + waterproof ink on brown particle board]
ahhh the splendour of physicality! this
spellbound atomic breakdown
simultaneous particulate collision
see, I
only just came alive
consciousness no more than chemical reaction?
from singularities to Turing’s labs
dimensions wrapped within dimensions
existence smiles, experiencing itself
as you in me in me in you- I
trace my being through the ovals of your eyes
past the outermost of orbits
and seep again into the void
quarry
May. 6. 2011
art for art # 1 – I found these photographs that were so darn perfect, I had to own them…and since they’d already been shot, I thought I’d claim them in paint…
Imagine rock climbing up that face- I often do.
I am in love with burtynsky Look him up, if you aren’t you will be too!
blue #2
January. 4. 2011
painted years ago…traces of beautiful times
it’s nice to look back on young work and still relish it…
blue #1
December. 28. 2010
time space and i
December. 27. 2010
In the end, I may just be a colourist. Colour always spoke and I learned to listen.
Have you ever pondered the porosity of the universe?
its lines, its breadth, its breaths, its slipping through your being?
ever questioned the nature of existence? the lack of a beginning, the lack of an end?
“Time,” I read in Vedic texts “is nothing but a modification of the mind.”
Ironically, my mind will be thinking about that a long long time.
Mostly in colours…
Like this:
i can i am
May. 19. 2010
I tried to make a self portrait yeeeears ago
it was a Jim Morrison evening then, and it is one now
power
I can make the earth stop in
its tracks. I made the
blue cars go away.
I can make myself invisible or small.
I can become gigantic & reach the
farthest things. I can change
the course of nature.
I can place myself anywhere in
space or time.
I can summon the dead.
I can perceive events on other worlds,
in my deepest inner mind,
& in the minds of others.
I can
I am
– James D. Morrison
moods
May. 10. 2010
numero uno
My Daddy bought me my first easel and canvas for my fourteenth birthday. That’s when I made my first oil painting and around when they worried I was “too mature for my age…” Who knows what that ever meant?
I was just painting moods and rhythm…the flow of things I guess- it was all instinct- still is.
My affection for it fluctuated over the years, but is finally settled. I still enjoy the vibrant colours here…they’re still very me. I asked Karan last December what he thought it was and he said it’s like a jazzy musical afternoon…now it rests in his Dubai apartment.
It may come back someday…when I paint my last. And then the stories would have run their cycles…
fold
May. 8. 2010
7 grades of silk-
March. 10. 2010
# 7- chiffon
[ the beginning of the end ]
the slow darkness I made, hid us well
or hold my tongue so foreign and full
of sounds and tales I wouldn’t explain
el cato
February. 15. 2010
sculpture by Laura C. paint by me!
7 grades of silk-
December. 30. 2009
#2: Noli- pretty pretty silk
[the beginning]
flamboyant musings
and one
a reckles,s imagining
you
reflected I
as I watched your arms chisel the light
and tasted the sparks on my tongue
7 grades of silk-
December. 30. 2009
#1- raw raw silk
[the very beginning]
I never saw it coming-
a backlit crackle
seeping through my youth
the blurring of breath and horizons up ahead-
7 grades of silk-
November. 26. 2009
#4: Dupioni
the poem will follow I suppose.
green
November. 11. 2009
I usually fall into greens when feeling blue…
water
October. 30. 2009
nirvana
October. 1. 2009
old old floor print: watercolor used all wrong!
i think she was what my name means…she has always meant everything to me
not the stuff we are made of
September. 15. 2009
When I was eight I asked my mother why my brain couldn’t understand itself- “I” was a blank to my self, yet I could understand the external world. I’m twenty six, and still wondering. Answers anyone? Cognitive Science is endlessly intriguing…
The fundamental question has always been who we are. What is the “I” we refer to as our “self?” People often separate our minds from our bodies- our soul from the corporeal…but what is the soul if not the sum of our consciousness- that which exists in our very cells? What makes a thing a being? What makes you you and me me? How about this for an answer:
“Matter flows from place to place, and momentarily comes together to be you. Whatever you are therefore, you are not the stuff you of which you are made…”
-Richard Dawkins
(http://www.ted.com/talks/richard_dawkins_on_our_queer_universe.html)
We are, in essence, at every point in time- a confluence of numerous possibilities- never to be repeated- a rare, magical moment in the universe at any given time. Never are we the same, yet we continue to retain our “self” through this seamless aberration called life.
I always wonder why some people can see more magic in the world than others- why isn’t it more obvious to everyone how mind-blowing this existence really is?
Yes, yes, Quantum Mechanics helped explain a lot, but more importantly the field has made us stretch our imaginations with a little more abandon- and demonstrates the improbability that plagues what seems mundane.
The sorcery is delightful, and delight must be shared. Wherever this road may lead, I walk it seeking something beautiful…and hopefully sprinkle some of the magic along the way.
Where are the rest of you who seek something beautiful and won’t settle for anything less?
