A talk on the Vernacular by Savyasaachi 

Notes on Drawing in a Lecture:

A free fall moment where a drawing constructs itself through the means of listening to words. A Structure of words converting themselves into lines. I create a drawing which is listening to the story of Michelangelo watching a rock for hours and hours, staring at the rock and then seeing the sculpture within the Rock. As the conversation shifts to another note, the rock converts itself into a wall, a wall which is talking into space. And I stare at the wall. My mind wanders into the wall at Tughlaq fort beyond govindpuri, C Lal Chowk, passing Okhla phase 2 and the barricated forest which leads up to the gates of the fort. 

Before entering the Amaltas hall, India habitat center offers me a scene of lines. The building structure become lines drawn by the architect in space, the pigeons drawing a moving line as they cross my path, the decorated plants creating a pattern of lines which they will not alter as it is their genetic code to create a defined form.

I eat bit of my lunch and head towards the venue. I see that no one sees my line. I am moving but I am also making lines. I move from the visual arts gallery to the lotus pond. I stop inbetween to eat something on the open stairs. I am constantly moving on a pathe generated by leads from facebook, from somewhere to go somewhere and be part of an activity. In between i am encountering lines of all kinds.

In this case, it is difficult to stay inside the piece of paper where i draw. The lines used by me in the lecture, or during the lecture also reflect upon the tensions and innumerable routes, paths i carry with me as i draw the spoken words. As i stare into a rock in a drawing, i also convert the rock into a wall, and then the rock decides to fall on me as i stare into an empty space thinking or staring into an imaginary rock. 

The trail of activites creates a path in the sketchbook. A path which could continue into further trails of thoughts as i will sit down with sketchbooks thinking of Guru ki maseet at hargobindpur, a place i could visit and see the mosque and the Guru Granth Sahib inside, or stare at any building in the city and recall not the architect but the labour who built the place, a path where i would revision my own home, who built it? till now it was a South Delhi builder, thats how we see it, how big are the bedrooms, how big is the kitchen, how much is it value for money, what is its resale value? the property rates and we forget the silent labour, like ants who came and built this home. The nameless people, the migrant labourers who are at some site, always outside the brick spaces. Maybe now i will look at my built enviornment, the language of the city which as the the Architect speaker said is “never complete”. The homes that we live in are always in development phase.
 
  

  

  
  

 
 

   


 
 
 

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