It’s the last day of the India Art Fair today. It’s a sunday and I realise today morning, that – I met someone from the India art fair in my dreams. I was showing my colour works and also i had completed two drawings for a show, or to complete something. The person runs a gallery and i am the artist who is showing. I keep searching for those two drawings. I see myself in the dream flipping pages, loose sheets of paper, boxes with sheets, my recent works but i can not seem to find THOSE TWO works.
This dream is a struggle to find those missing works. I keep trying, keep trying but can not do so. We use the word dream which is such a strange word. In hindi we would have Supana. Mujhay ek supana ayaa tha.
Yesterday I met an artist friend whom i have known for almost a decade. We both sat eye to eye, lip to lip looking at each other and talking. On two chairs we sat and we started to talk. I was doing more of the listening. I realise how abuses came from the mouth, how the pain and suffering came from the mouth and how much struggle there is to survive. The point of me writing is not about the struggle of the individual artist but almost a delusional sense of feeling i get in the others pain. That this pain and struggle is also a lack of reflection on what one is doing. I am not here to gauge on if there is pain or not but simply this feeling that all is not what it looks like in the first appearance. As a matter of fact, the more the other talked, the more confused i felt.