Friday, 30 December 2011
Sunday, 25 December 2011
Saturday, 24 December 2011
'....after the paint consciously drops from his brush, then it is on its journey alone unaided by the painter. The painter loses control of the resonating spreads, the cause and the doer becomes the witness, Saksi. When the act of expanse stops at the rim of the paper, it starts spreading back into the heart and makes the painter exhilarating. The colours sink deep into the soul of the painter and then stretches on into the viewers' arena making it glow like a raging fire or making it cool and sombre like a calm sea. The painter now forgets the centre as well as the periphery and is struck and bewildered at his own creation. The viewer experiences an ecstatic pleasure; loses self and becomes one with the painting. He is no longer a different individual distanced from the painting, he is elevated, as is the work of art, the illusion Maya becomes the vision, the Bindu, Sabda and Spandana, what Prafulla Mohanti expresses in his paintings.'
Village Voice: Prafulla Mohanti and his work: DINANATH PATHY
IMAGE: HOME/STUDIO, LONDON
Wednesday, 30 November 2011
‘I am Juxtaposition’ at the Visual Communication Work in Progress Show, Royal College of Art, London
30 NOVEMBER 2011
1–9 DECEMBER 2011
Friday, 11 November 2011
An image making initiative, the purest of its kind, 100% is an Indian visual zine which reverberates the beliefs of its creators (Lokesh Karekar and Sameer Kulavoor) in being completely involved in the task taken at hand.
A privilege to contribute towards its first issue 100% sound
Friday, 4 November 2011
A sultry September afternoon in the stuffy insides of a familiar yellow-black mobile enclosure... I rolled down the glass and gave it (whole and unopened) to her...
She suddenly looked at me in the eye and asked, 'Taaza hain?'(Is it fresh?). Her disbelief was evident when I nodded indicating that it was. She must have thought I was lying. (I wonder that she wondered that I was giving it to her only because it was stale. Perhaps it was me who wondered more than her - she was always use to the leftovers and the stale fragments)
I could not return my gaze back to her. It struck a chord somewhere - deep within. My jaws dropped and I found myself staring at the broken button on her forlorn dress. I wanted to run away to some place far away. I felt so guilty for all the times that I had cribbed at the dining table. I could hear the mad confab of the traffic, blaring to its highest intensity. It wasn't even two seconds before the traffic lights had gyrated to an office green that the pandemonium broke out on the queens necklace in the commercial capital of India. Nothing unusual, just the customary traffic.
Monday, 17 October 2011
Tuesday, 11 October 2011
Sunday, 2 October 2011
'Night is not the negative of the day, black surfaces and white are not merely transposed,
as on a photographic plate, but another picture altogether emerges at nightfall'
Paul Morand & Brassai, Paris de nuit, Editions Arts et Metiors graphiques, Paris
'What I felt when making this picture was a feeling of solitude - the cloud didn't know which way to go'
Andre Kertesz, Lost Cloud, New York, 2 March 1937, Silver Gelatin Print 1970's