The Mumbai experience, of being near the ocean corner, a row of lights set up for night parties, I am walking
As if to catch up on my running, walking at night. I do the see the cats, everywhere stretching,yawning and lazing
Around on the pavements. I see much more, of the garbage floating, coke red cans, bouquet. In these moments I am drying my hair, the ocean air blowing it across the path of the horses passing by.
The gallery space, so much is about that corner, then accepting it and not reacting but beginning something. Everyday there was a buzz of the vacuum sucking on the smoothness of land. Everyday the food stalls rang a bell.
Something. New, a slight change to the outcome one wishes, and so I draw immediately beginning a story. That night I went to the corner. The water had receded exposing the ground. The waves, the dirtiness made me realise of the creatures beneath. And so something was born, an eight legged monster but not a monster, a gentle bird of the waters.
I did not how this would find itself into the gallery, is it creativity, extension of, something imagined…
The space was white, empty, clean and blank with a feel for the surface of the wall and then one moves up looking at the sky. The roof with a glow. The eye surveys the gallery space, repeatedly from different points. It senses for areas where something could be.
Of what followed, through the days I worked, that the work let me see a tonal range, similar to the shining rays of light I discovered watching the ocean shake. It was like playing with focus, dark tones, light lines. The drawings floating in space were forming many centres. I could see how the walls, fake walls could be created in response the wire lines. It was like things in reverse, the starting point being the space and now it could be altered in response.
The story was of me, in a state of non gravity, no the water does not fall down from the tap, in my drawing installation, it was tumbling, flying, twirling, twisting and folding, unfolding. The creature, someone called him ozeee, was slippery and i wanted to catch him, run after him. But then what do you run after in its stillness.
The gallery had huge, gigantic windows which could turn, spin on an axis, I saw my self slip out to the balcony, fly out and come back in as the D shape glass rotated in its axis.
Delicately we hid the metal nails, screws, which held the invisible wires. I and others painted it white, camouflaging them into the white crusted wall. So that… So that nothing else is seen except… Lines, thin scribbled lines and cut… Cut outs
The sky disappeared too soon. I was left with a darkness and a green room. Cool minty walls, a checkered floor with red maroon glazed shiny tiles, a view of the back side, cats crawling up where garbage lay. I sat there sewing, constructing the wings of my aircraft, the fevicol tube squeezed on the wing sides, which I felt as if it was a bird. It was Saturday night, the next day I would fly to bangalore, but I left the gallery thinking of the metal, dark metal of the gallery, which was the axis. I was in my room. This place could make me think. I reflected that drawing, in this case was in direct relation to the walks. The walks were making me see things. So I explored scale, of not the cut outs but of the object. Enlarge, shrink.
A blast, there was no way I could go through this, break it, go pass it, because I am like a bat, I am turbo charged, I am flying, I mean I can go anywhere. And like a spring , a cartoon puncture of my nose, my cockpit went bong!!!!! I am , I have CRASHED….
So a moment I decide to hold….
This time it was the pillar. So I guess I re-acted or replied or maybe wanted it to be part of the story.
Ozeee is watching, floating, watching my adventures…
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