putting thoughts together.

It’s a monday morning here in Zurich. Just like everyday for the past two months, i can hear cars, viechles, trams whizzing by outside my place of stay. Today is December 9, 2019 – 9:30 am.

I only have one image. Being on top of the hill, the city of bern, an artificial park. a crow which walks like humans in this park and the overview of seeing the city of Bern from this hill. I could….see everything. I saw distance, depth, space and listening to someone sharing their thoughts on what it means to go for a walk.

The train rides last week to the cities of Bern, Lausanne, Luzern, Basel, Geneva gave me an experience of stretching the mind into this feeling of a parked train inside Zurich main train station and its magnetic power to pull out and drive into a landscape which was at one point meant to be walked through, but now you could wizz through it by just sitting. A feeling of transportation.

It’s too many people, can we shift someplace else, where there is less of sound. And so the walk led to a bridge and down along the side of the green emerald river. The checkered pants were machine stitched while the crocodile facing the rivers flow was man made. Walks have a tendency to give you a possibility to become One.

After buying the 100 grams freshly made chocolate filled with pista, badam, hazelnut, i walked towards the direction of finding the bus number 19 leading me to the book fair in Geneva. A conversation played in my head – What if we die while living ? A shabad – phele marna kabool kar, jeenay ki chad aas, i was singing in this moment. I spoke to myself – But you have all the answers, your questions must be genuine. Or this is how i felt in that very moment. If we feel something very strongly, i feel it has the potential of being true.

Putting thoughts together. At this stage I am unable to see the difference in the mindset of a person with a degenerative brain drawing versus a person drawing otherwise. It’s only when i read the story behind the intention of why the person was doing what it was doing, do you realize the obsession of repetitive act of drawing.

I wish to share the story of my childhood. About Christianity. About how the form has come back now. The stories led us to a beautifully artificially designed place of eating and drinking. The place repeated a section of history. Everything was so artistically created to give you a feeling of the past. The remains of the flowers were caged in a bag. Then they were dipped into hot water. I kept sniffing the tea bag. What struck us was that there was no heat in the candle.

Materials, the research went from a cardboard paper meant for cutting and making models to carving material, tools, wood. This meant i could now go on endlessly testing things. I bought different types of material. They are all lying in my studio. They are nice to look at.

The comic book fairs, the artist book fairs, the performance spaces, the gallery spaces, the museums are different forms of the same thing. The city was doing the same, The high end stores, the Migros and Coops, the book stores, the cafes and restaurants, mcdonalds and movie halls. The only thing which was untraceable was that i walked through all of them.

A song on hollowness came, to give me a realisation that I am not alone. The bus made its way from the Paul Klee museum to bern station, the tram changed tracks and ran on its curves from Central station to Zürich Hauptbahnhof station, all along my earphones played the songs which came my way.

Everything is wrapped. Everything is sealed here. Its neatly packaged. Either in plastic or some form of plastic or paper. They did not spare the Cucumber.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s