Butterscotch ‘n’ Peaches

Hello world! It’s been a while, I know, my apologies, I was away doing many many things. Top of the list – a workshop in ‘transactional awareness’. It was an eye opener really, what we really say with our words. It brought me to many a hard realisation in my life. It really made sense for me to write about this today. So read on.

A beautiful white bird with wings like crochet soared in the sky, flapping her wings freely. A hunter standing below tried tricking her with many games, the white bird was unimpressed and continued flying. When she turned away to fly, she felt something stab at her heart, it was unusual, she never felt this way before, his game left her feeling rather hurt, As she found his bullet sitting in her heart, she split in two, two fragments that had to fly separate paths.

One became Butterscotch, the brave one who flew on, finding a life on her own and the other, Peaches, who was soft and tender nursing her wound. Life went on for Butterscotch as Peaches sat on a branch under the sun, her eye closed in grief and pain. Butterscotch had all kinds of new adventures, she met people, people much like the hunter and since that was the only person she met, she sometimes became the hunter. The hunter Butterscotch, much like her friends took aim and shot many a bird, only to say ‘I’m sorry, I hurt you, but see how much pain I am in and that’s why I hunt’. Butterscotch didn’t understand this vicious circle, when she expressed herself, she was called the persecutor, she was often shot, and therefore was the victim, and many a time she’s swoop in to rescue the hunted and end up in the triangle again!’ Oh my, this world just went round and round and round!! Only Butterscotch had a gift and she used it when she had to. It was a spell of magic!

You see Butterscotch had the gift of seeing! She just knew what she wanted and ometimes when the hunters lifted their gun to shoot she would just use her gift and vanish. She vanished from many a hunter. One day Butterscotch put on her thinking cap and said to herself ‘You know I have lost many, I’ve seen many a hunter, I’ve turned into a hunter, what I don’t understand is why I’ve walked the path the way I have.’

She pondered for many a day, what Butterscotch woke up one morning and realised was priceless. She realised she just stopped playing being the hunter and the hunted because she wanted to, and all the times she put on the vanishing cape it was her inner guide telling her she’d had enough. Butterscotch wept and wept. ‘Thank you’, she said for now I know life is not a mistake. She flew back to that place under the sun she loved the most, and there she found Peaches!

Butterscotch ‘n’ peaches
10 inches X 12 inches
Gouache and poster color on recycled paper

Peaches! How we’ve come a full circle, You were hunted and I went out into the world to play the hunter and became the hunted instead. Words can’t describe how they felt, the hunter and the hunted, Butter scotch ‘n’ Peaches. Butterscotch embraced peaches happy to have stepped out of the vicious circle of pain back to where she belonged, a space of true love and peace!

I am divine

The other day I was watching Chimamanda Adichie’s talk on TED and she spoke about ‘the danger of a single story’. It got me thinking about all the single stories in my life. This piece of art was conceived long before I watched this and for some reason I didn’t post it. Now when I think of it, it’s probably because it contradicted the ‘single story’ we are told as children.

‘I am divine’
12″ by 16″ on canson aquarelle paper

Much like Chimamanda, my childhood too was filled with Western classics, porcelain skin and apple pies! It snowed outside the window and we ate roast chicken for dinner! That was all in my books! It’s my personal opinion that India is full of single stories, poverty, rape, corruption, pujas, rituals. What ever happened to all the other stories?

My single story about divinity was one that was handed down from generation to generation. There is a god, one to be feared, his eyes follow you constantly, he is pleased by lights and flowers, sweets and chants. You must do this. I think elders believe that kids believe everything they say. And maybe that is even true for a while. When I grew up I heard another story of how the goddess resides within me. It was rather alien and unbelievable at that time. As I grew up even more I made my own story that there ‘probably’ is a god/goddess. I don’t like him currently because the god I believe in is ‘kind, loving, understanding, not demanding, a great listener, not someone who asks you to do things to please him/her’. However, this single story that everyone around be believed to be true made it unacceptable to accept my own truths.

So resistant, I became that my sole truth that no longer served me flowed through my blood like poison from an arrow. I Wondered what it is that stops me from accessing my own truth. The truth is the single story blinded me till I was unable to even open my eyes to accept my own divine reflection. The mirror of truth that ‘I am divine, I am a goddess, I create my own miracles.’ And that’s just the beginning!

I dream of a day, when dusky skin is acceptable in my children’s books, where wearing jasmine flowers on my hair does not make me an aunty, where wearing a sari to  party is common, where we are free in mind, body and spirit to let go of the single story and embrace the truth that is us. We’re a billion stories!

In the light of the full moon

I had a very dull moment a few days ago, somehow when you hit that low you start seeing the truth about yourself. While talking to a friend that day I realised something very special. My art is a true reflection of ‘my life’. And for that I am grateful, grateful for the ability to speak the truth on my canvas.

This piece of art is very special to me, it’s a tribute to a mentor, a pillar of light shining in the dark, a soul who is love herself. I first met L a few years ago at a very difficult time in my life. When the going gets tough we never acknowledge those who lead us to the light. And sometimes the light is the naked truth about your life. The truth sometimes is so bitter you can’t help but blame.

It’s been a few years since that time now. Life never stands still unless you want it too. And today in my second career as a therapist I know only too well that life only stops when we ask it to do so. Time stands still because we are addicted to pain. Earlier this year I decided to step out of my peaceful limbo and invite life to move at it’s natural pace, here’s the thing about peace, we stay cocooned in it not moving, not even swaying. I called L again, and she guided me down a beautiful path where opportunities await, lightness of heart is nothing but a natural state of being, and happiness comes from letting go and flying free.

On an impulse I felt like gifting L something for showing me the light! All the little things that life can bring when you allow the water to flow under the bridge, love, fertility, joy and abundance!

In the light of the full moon
12″ by 16″, mixed media on Canson Montval water color paper

This is one of those pieces where every little bit is detailed so… I thought I would treat you to some close up views as well.

Coral fish play joyously under the patchwork bridge.

Discovering love on a full moon night.

Bluebells sway to the breeze of the night.

Untitled ranting is good for the soul!

It’s been 6 months since I started selling on Etsy, a yeah since I have had my art on facebook. So many people ask me how it feels. It’s all great that I paint, however what happens after that? This post has been at the tip of my tongue for a while now. And being diplomatic is not helping the situation in any way, when diplomacy fails the next best plan is ‘plain honesty’.

Over the last few months I have been pretty disheartened. When my heart leapt with joy it was immediately pulled down in a moment. I have not felt like touching the brushes I really love in a while, and when I did, it suddenly all felt new. I have been receiving so many emails and calls from people who want to buy art at a bargain, I brushed it aside, however, when something keeps happening it makes you take a stance on it. And this is just not for me, I’m writing this for artists and artisans all over the world.

A few years ago I was at Dastkaar, and at the time I used to embroider cushions and bags for a living, so urban in outlook, I too was an artisan by profession. It saddened me so much to see women with diamond studded watches, branded garments arrive in chauffer driven cars bargaining with weavers who had travelled half way across the country to be here. I’m not going to mince words here, it was nothing short of repulsive! It’s four years since that incident, today I am an artist, I spend hours hunched over a canvas, carefully mixing colours, drawing until it feels just right. What’s changed?

I am today in that humiliating situation as that weaver in Dastkaar, and have I spoken up? No. It’s so easy to ask me to sell a canvas for one tenth the price, do you know how much it costs for the paper, the paint, the auto, my printer? That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I too have to keep a roof over my head, I live in a city like you, I want a cheque at the end of the month that pays my bills, that allows me to go to the cinema, or have a meal out. I spend 8 hours a day at work, I face traffic everyday, I have basic needs, I work hard. It may not be in an air conditioned office, it’s from my home, I had the choice and I took it.

It takes me an average of 12 hours for a tiny painting, I think in the shower just like you, I worry just like you. I chose to respect myself, love myself, love my work. respect my work. I chose to respect you, I chose to live harmoniously with you, I chose to be fair to you. So is what I ask of you as an artist unfair?  That’s for you to answer.

Today I choose whole heartedly to be an artist and let me tell you no book says an artist should be a shop vendor who reduces their rates, I am saying it loud and clear. So stop coming to me with ridiculous requests and bargaining tactics. I’m a 21st century girl. One thousand dollar note for my art does not cut it! I AM AN ARTIST AND I CHOOSE ABUNDANCE!

Mallipoo

My mother claims that the day I was born she saw my long slender fingers and knew I would be an artist. I however, got on that path with a lot of contemplation and I just wasn’t sure how I would make my life work being an artist. In 2008, I had a sudden urge to just cut sheets of paper and draw, draw, draw. Someone saw one of my paintings and commissioned a piece. As I drew I never imagined that the little jasmine flowers in a green sky would have so many people asking me to paint for them. That was 2008.

Photo courtesy: Archana Srinivas

Right now this beautiful painting, Ponnuku Mallipoo Asai translated ‘A little girl likes jasmine flowers’ adorns the orange wall in Archana‘s daughter’s room.

2012, January left me very frustrated with work, not that I did not love anything about the design process, but work = money. That’s the energy exchange the universe wills for us. And that was not happening, overhauling my career seemed so daunting. I did not know how it would happen. There was a day when I totally surrendered and I found joy in painting again. I exhausted an entire water colour book, and then another, and another, the canvases grew in size. And before I knew it I spent a year being happy with my work and my life.

In January I felt so thankful to that Little girl in my painting who showed me many years ago what my path to liberation was. And I wanted to say ‘thank you’ to her. In the little crevice of my imagination where she still lives, she’s a little dancer now, surrounded by beautiful women she admires. She’s my little dancer who loves her mallipoo, and she stands mesmerised watching dance performances with big eyes, imagining her hair adorned with mallipoo when she grows up.

Mallipoo dancers
8 inches X 12 inches
Mixed media on water colour paper

Thank you, thank you, thank you, for a wonderful career where I wake up every morning to soak in a rainbow of colours!

Is heaven a place on earth?

Over the past few days the news about ‘Amanat’ has left me feeling very sad, it’s hard to imagine her battered body, her pain and her sadness, yet it moves me every morning and every night. It sent a shiver down my spine. I chanted every day hoping she would live and justice would be doled out, and she could release every bit of pain when her perpetrators came crashing down. We all hoped didn’t we?

I started painting this much before this happened, somehow when I finished, my thoughts were with her. And I thought I’d write for her what I wished was told to me in my moments of pain.

‘Heaven on earth’
14 inches X 12 inches
Water colors on water color paper

Where ever you may be, I know you can hear me for our voices transcend realms. May you be in a place, a heaven of sorts where you can just be, just bask in that healing light. Let the angels shower light upon you, healing that battered body, watch it restore, watch it shine. May you be able to stay in this realm for as long as it takes you to heal, may you move into the after life peacefully. May you receive justice, may you hold your head high, may you walk tall, may you shine, may you be a pillar of light! You are love. You are light!

Sky full of hope

Unexpected hiatus? I know, I have had good enough reason to stay away from my colours for a while, but hey stop grilling me about that and open your arms to welcome me back will you?

Sky full of hope!
12 inches X 14 inches
Water colours on water colour paper

I’ve always been mesmerised by Islamic architecture, the sheer scale, complexity and beauty bedazzles me. And I’ve been seeing so much of it on Pinterest, it spilt over on my own canvas, in it’s own free and joyous way.

For years on end he stayed in his palace, he tried opening the doors to free himself from his prison. The walls only grew darker binding him in the chains of their darkness. He stayed resilient and on careful inspection he saw that somewhere in a corner a pink flower began to grow, he smiled! And as he kept that smile on his handsome face for uninterrupted hours in the day the walls shed their dark mould and gave way to the brilliance of blushing pink hibiscuses and soon the palace was filled with joyous chatter of the parakeets he heard last in his childhood. Where did they come from? As he opened his eyes, he saw the door had opened and the beauty that was outside him filled his heart. He was strong once more. He perched up on the window ledge, took a deep breath and reached out for the shower of blessings the angels dropped down on him from the heavens and prepared for his long flight into the bright world outside! The world full of love and light!

For sale: http://www.etsy.com/listing/118011709/sky-full-of-hope