The quiet resilience of form and stillness
“Through the mingling of incorporeal, impalpable images something stirs up. My childhood was spent in Vidarbha, where the scorching summer heat would go swelteringly deep into the skin. Farms around the village were shades of grey and black. Without hills, the land would stretch out like a plateau with few babhul, neem and mango trees cutting the horizon in between. The horizon felt running between two ends. Illusions of watery mirages would make the sight quiver.
The sky was stretched about the horizon. Clear and infinite seen through the thicket of babhul trees. Little lines of asphalted roads turned soft bituminous by the sun that ran wild on the horizon; though the line of the horizon never moved, never shifted. Not even in the rain. Memory recalls the houses not of cement and bricks but of simple white soil.
Plains, homes, trees and the lines of the bodies of water – pots, pans, wells - speak to me about the deep spaces within them and what’s hidden inside those spaces. These external lines and forms and invisible, infinitesimal movements slowly led me to discover varied forms within…. And I started working on the forms, where the interrelation between form and space kept on adding new dimensions to my paintings.”
