a change is just around the corner

///--->>>rethinking art, contemporaneity and (my)self

Works and Curations

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

They call it lust

The heat was inviting, so was her touch
Drawn by his weakness he snuggled into her
But her heart was beating fast
And her skin was on fire
He felt a desire rising
They call it lust
He gave into the demon
But it was not the lust that opened the gates
That four letter word was 'lost'.
If he broke fidelity and kept loyalty
would that heal his soulmate?
His cock was throbbing hard
And she was throbbing with lust
Twisting her nipples
He stroked her cunt
Her moans brought out his hunger more
Un able to control her lust
She took his cock in her mouth
He just made her feel that way
He fucked her mouth like the God of lust
With every stroke he felt the loss
of being pushed aside by his partner
She was leaking like a bitch
He was on top fucking her hard
Through her many many orgasms
He forgot his lust
His heart troubled by its ignorance
He was still throbbing hard when she could take it no more
He felt the blush of relief
He could take it no more too
Collapsed into a deep deep sleep
Thankful for staying intact.


Monday, November 18, 2013

A tribute to Parvez

 Speaking about baroda archive as a treasury or graveyard

So you are not here any more....

We did not speak for about a year before you went. It does feel that we were giving each other space. You wanting to see me settling down and finding a deeper direction, extremely uncomfortable with the multiple directions that my work was talking...I too wanted you to settle in more.  For me you are the best art historian of our generation, but i did not like you giving up chess, poetry, drawing and so much more. 

you could have been doing your Phd from the most elite university possible, but you chose to do it from Kala Bhavan and teach there; it made me proud. The history department really needs your energy and excellence...perhaps more than that your commitment to pedagogy.  

Living in Shantinketan, cycling to work rushing to complete your Phd, making books for Nandanmela...what a beautiful life you had. Why did you loose connection with your self.  Why did it take you so much time to realize how ill you were, why none of us knew?

You were possibly the only one who combined the field research and rigor of old art history with the criticality of the New...you were the only one with the commitment to be equally deep in both and yet balance it.  
Art history is a dying discipline they say...like a loosing team on the dying moments of a football match, you knew that we can never win it now, but still fighting hard for a draw...it is as if you were running with the ball all alone aiming to shoot...and then you tripped and fell...hurt yourself so hard that you had to leave the field. What is our tribute to you will show in how we plan the match now on.


Wednesday, November 13, 2013

All for the ale

rangoli from last diwali


There I stood at the bathroom door,
with a precious sanitary napkin on the floor.

All lines were down that day,
that is what the voice on the telephone said.

Giving up and coming back again,
nothing to loose and all to gain.

Realizing how much you wanted to fly,
I declared this was no place to die.

There are hearts to share and seas to sail,
Beautiful fights and drinking some ale.


Monday, November 11, 2013

This is how we could be


Some days will be light;
you fly by me,
i fly by you,
This is how we could be...

Somedays will be heavy;
you carry me,
i carry you,
This is how we could be...

Somedays will just be;
i make your tea,
you make my smile,
This is how we could be


Saturday, November 9, 2013

My Bed of Roses - Catalog essay for Balbir Krishan’s Exhibition



“Beauty and love pass, I know... Oh, there's sadness, too. I suppose all great happiness is a little sad. Beauty means the scent of roses and then the death of roses-.”
                                                                                 ― F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise


My Bed of Roses maps Balbir Krishan’s artistic journey since 2010. This exhibition showcases some precious fragments from his prior body of work, and offers glimpses towards the direction the artist is taking in the future. Balbir is one of the few voices from within contemporary art that dwells on the male body; universalising it, personalizing it...painting a form that contains both the grim realities and exalted fantasies of masculinity...a meeting place for utopia and dystopia. 



When one looks at Balbir Krishan's human forms, there is a certain Michelangelesque understanding of the body and celebration of masculinity. Yet, when one looks closer,his edgy masculine forms are laced with the delicate serenity that one sees in the paintings of Ajanta and the miniatures of Kangra. This fusion of sensibilities brings a tension to his art that suggests the point when the erotic-the personal and the political meet. As one looks at the works and puts them in a timeline, it becomes visible that the sculpted masculine body is carrying signs of fragmentation, scarring and delicacy.   


The turn of the century has witnessed a radicalization or inversion of the power equation in the dominant discourse of representation.  Eroticized exhibition is not restricted to the female body anymore, but the male body too has made its appearance in this arena, where the male character, in a narrative, not only engenders narcissistic identification, but also becomes an erotic spectacle and a fetishized object. 



Balbir Krishan is known for an erotic and confrontational depiction of homoerotica. His works are attractive and yet deeply provocative. In recent times, intolerance towards homoerotica and any challenge to mainstream sexuality has grown in the country. His 2011-12 exhibition‘Out Here and Now’ was vandalised by members of what may have been the political or religious right. Yet his works have managed to find an increasingly large audience. His use of a language, which is close to mediatic realism, adds to the sensual attraction of his works, taking them into a zone between the commodity and the inconsumable.


The artist stands in the zone between craft and concept. At one point he imagines a painting completely and then trans-creates it on paper or canvas, and at that point it feels that the medium is almost incidental, just a mode to capture the concept. At another level the artist's choice of medium is very conscious and particular. He works on found paper, often pages from art catalogues, brings out his forms through erasing and then renders them with a ball point pen. This approach is carried out in his canvases too. Found erotic imagery from the internet is collaged onto a canvas, forms that we see are but remnants of painted oversurface, finished with fine skill.


As a self-trained artist sometimes one becomes very conscious about his skill; there is an urge to declare one's ability to paint, to conjure up forms, of being able to re-present. Balbir has developed his own language where he builds his forms through erasure and drawing. Technique for him is not only a mode of representation but also a mode of physical engagement and meditation. There is a deep engagement with physical labour that goes behind every work; hours of erasing, over painting and fine drawing in its own way speak of the deep physicality of sexuality- both as sexual and as cultural experiences.



The Woman Inside: The Fable of Shiva, Mohini and Harihar
Thematically, Balbir has largely been interpreted from the prism of masculinity and fantasy, yet it is hard to ignore larger social narratives that run though his works. His 2011-12 series ‘Out Here and Now’ is not just an artistic and personal coming out of the closet, it also carries it an urge to fissure contemporary Indian social narratives about erotica and manifestation of sexuality. However, his journey is not just about disjuncture and rethinking/ reimagining his encounter with masculinity, it is also about weaving this rethinking/ reimagining with the larger universe of his cultural existence.  This larger universe consists of personal relationships with history, culture, ecology...even melancholia. In his works one can see a reclaiming of mythology, development and loneliness woven into a deeply personal fantasy.

This connection between the personal and the universal brings Balbir’s work into a relationship with the tension between utopia and dystopia that informs our contemporaneity. His paintings create both the moment of pause and the moment of provocation, opening possibilities within each viewer to feel what may be his or her own beatific, but potentially thorny bed of roses.




Friday, November 8, 2013

By Now

By now my energies have given birth to a fungified birthday cake
It is the best time to dream of the year ahead
Some beautiful flowers a born in early winters
Yet we keep our celebrations for spring

By now my energies have taken away all those photographs
Which i had come down specially to see
Yes other things matter more
But home is always where the heart is

By now my eyes strain to see a little boy...his shy nervous smile
But you see,  i am his enemy
And with every bit of poetry i write
Words loose their meanings.