exhibition news: continuum

Exciting news. I am happy to announce that I have two solo exhibitions coming up. Continuum features drawings, paintings and mixed media work across two exhibits - [Degrees of Separation] and [The Illusion of Edges]. The first exhibition, Continuum [Degrees of Separation], opens at Gallery Beyond (Mumbai) on September 6 and will continue until October 6. The second exhibit, Continuum [The Illusion of Edges], will be held at Carroll Community College in Westminster (MD) in Spring 2019. 

I am in Mumbai right now preparing for the show at Gallery Beyond. The opening is just a couple weeks away! Stay tuned for more information.

snow and steady

The sound of thunder far away

a shell (a curled ear) 

listens ⏤

rain begins to fall.

On days like today, when the snow falls steadily, there grows a deep need to immerse myself in the present. The snow falls unhurriedly and covers everything, including that little bump of a twig. The trees sway gently, accepting every snowflake that falls on them. It also makes me think of the heavy rains of Mumbai that can fall for hours at an even pace. Above the rain drenched trees and buildings dark clouds drift lazily. The mind settles, mimicking the steadiness of such sights. One feels connected to the body and its energy, knowing that the snow falls within us and so does the rain.

cézanne's mountain

Cézanne's mountain

orange

in the evening light ⏤

My feet no longer 
on the ground.

There is the singular, and then there is everything else. Looking out into the world, you are in a twilight state (half daydreaming, half aware); that in-between of states that brings out the hidden magic that is everywhere. Lights twinkle and things rush past you. Your eyes, unfocused, take in shapes and color, and create new relationships, new realities. The body (hair flying) laps up the wind, thirsty. There is music, every high and low note unveils layers of meaning and connections. The singular isn't only in the midst of all, it is all.

the universe in a room

"S. lived in a space so small that at first it seemed to defy you, to resist being entered. The presence of one person crowded the room, two people choked it. It was impossible to move inside it without contracting your body to its smallest dimensions, without contracting your mind to some infinitely small point within itself. Only then could you begin to breathe, to feel the room expand, and to watch your mind explore the excessive, unfathomable reaches of that space. For there was an entire universe in that room, a miniature cosmology that contained all that is most vast, most distant, most unknowable. It was a shrine, hardly bigger than a body, in praise of all that exists beyond the body: the representation of one man's inner world, even to the slightest detail. S. had literally managed to surround himself with the things that were inside him. The room he lived in was a dream space, and its walls were like the skin of some second body around him, as if his own body had been transformed into a mind, a breathing instrument of pure thought. This was the womb, the belly of the whale, the original sire of the imagination. By placing himself in that darkness, S. had invented a way to dreaming with open eyes."

- Paul Auster, The Invention of Solitude

the endless expanse

I have a memory

of a distant future -

I look up at the sky and see

an unending vastness 
mirrored.

I imagine that if you were to set your eyes on the endless expanse, there could be two possible reactions. You would either be terrified or you would feel a great calm. No matter what your reaction, you would understand what you were looking at. To conceive of its boundaries would be a futile attempt. And your conception of time and relative size would crumble. You would see yourself in these limitless depths and recognise your place in it all. It would seem like a meaningless accident or a grand miracle. Or both.

silent, empty and wild

On the silent mountain

the snow

embracing the wind.

It's been snowing incessantly since yesterday. Outside, the snow is piling up into interesting shapes and the wind is blowing the powdery snow in every direction. The snow has created a hush, a dampening of sound. This makes me think of snow capped mountains, where there is no one. Only the wind blows, and the snow gives this invisible wind a dimension. I am thinking of the emptiness and wilderness. I am thinking of the vastness that puts one's life into perspective. There will always be (I hope) places like that - silent, empty and wild.