Pages from a rather green book

So I still haven't had the time to do any illustration. Because, I'm too busy working on this magnificent project on Public Spaces and Hybrid Media. Which I shall write about later.
But for right now. Here's some very old pages of my green book.

To big eyes that see small things

My green book is severely neglected. Although here's a page from it. Sadly, I'm writing more than drawing. And I'm not writing so much either. But in the spare minutes that I get to do what I love, recently, I draw creatures with gigantic spectacles. 

A children's book illustration competition is coming around, and I must concoct a story and illustrate it quite splendidly too. 

I've been thinking about what it would be like to be a little colorblind child. To not be able to tell red from green, and yellow from blue. To see everything in it's simplest form. 

Then, to chance upon spectacles. Spectacles that are magical. Spectacles that let me see. And tell red from green, and yellow from blue. 

I'm thinking that the gigantic spectacled little boy/girl makes simple things quite colorful for me. 

And I'm thinking that maybe I have something there.

I feel weird today.

I don't know what it is. It's just that today is one of those days that makes me feel quite useless. I feel weird today. And I don't know what it is.
Now what?

The lost bird

The birds in Bangalore are missed.

People say their sights and sounds are lost in a haze of traffic.

Maybe so.

I'm keeping this one alive. And around.

Hello fantastical fictional birdy.

Twirly travels to Bhuj

This year saw some fantastical travelling. In September, to Bhuj, and in October to Calicut.
I'll say some about Calicut in a later post. But for now, let's look at Bhuj.
It was wonderfully colorful. They spoke Kutchi, and so I understood a significant amount.
I wish I had more time to write right now. But I don't.
So for now, imagine how lovely it was.

Layout assignment

Cover spread

End paper

Half title spread

Copyright/Preface spread

Contents spread

Introduction spread

Red spread

Blue spread

Yellow spread

Green spread

Violet spread

Pink spread

Brown spread

Orange spread

Grey spread

Black spread

White spread

Conclusion spread

End paper

Done three months ago as an assignment at college. Looking back, there's little I like about it. 

I had great fun while making it though. Endless hours of waiting for software to respond. Saving space-hogging giant files. Illustrating. More illustrating. Coaxing the printer at Printo to not mess with my colors. Rushing for my submission, only to be greeted by an extremely happy teacher. 

Good fun, all of it.

Feedback welcome. 

Because some people we just love.

It's Jo's 21st birthday, and none of us are with her. I know she's sad. And I wish I could magically transport myself right to her. Sadly, this is the best I can do.

Dear Jo,

Happy 21st Birthday! I wish I were there in person to tell you this, but I'm not. So here goes. We've known each other not so long. That said, you are one of my closest friends. One that I know I'll be in touch with, no matter what. It's almost impossible for us to go a day without talking to each other. Even if it's just about Beans's eccentricities, or which movie is out and we are eager to watch. We worry together, we giggle about things that are funny only to us. We love cheesecake, and I'm sorry that we never got to go on our private cheesecake girl date back in Pune. I wish we could do that now. I wish we could be back there sometimes. Dancing away. Like there's no care in the world. 

I hope that life for you is always a roller-coaster ride of fun, love, friendship and memories. 

Know that you have all of us with you, even if we're not there in person. I'm there. I promise.

Lastly, I hope that we can meet soon so I can give you your real present.

Love you very, very much.

Anush-Bamush. 

Yes, I'm keeping the name. 

Cityscaped

Done at Ogilvy. Again for Royal Orchids Hotels.

There's more coming.

I'm so glad I have time.

Holidays.

I just love holidays.

Them and Us- Understanding existence through craft communities.

Are we really what we portray ourselves to be? We are so many different people, all at once. There’s always only a part of ourselves that we give away. Often, it depends on our audience. Who’s to say that the artisans in Kutch weren’t just the same? It’s possible that we heard what they thought we’d want to hear. Or was it them being truthful? Are they wearing the same masks as us?

I wonder about how convenient it is to accept a story as the ultimate truth. Maybe it’s because we see craft and tradition with a conditioned sense of romanticism. Maybe it’s because those telling these stories themselves choose to romanticise their past and present. Maybe we, as a people, need to attach a sense of mysticism and charm to appreciate beauty in things. Fantastical stories are always the hardest to believe, but always those that want to be believed most.

Speaking of tradition, who’s to say that rural tradition is, in fact, what it was generations before? We accept the constant evolution of our customs and traditions, yet feel the need to believe that those of these artisans, involved in a so-called heritage craft, have stayed stagnant in time, and in that sense, retained their true flavour and intent. I also wonder about this need to retain heritage and craft. Is it for us, as consumers, or for themselves and their belief systems that youngsters in the craft community adhere to the same life choices as their predecessors? Or is it just a money game?

Maybe it’s easy to exploit this love for mysticism. I wonder about our psyche as buyers. How is the way an everyday commodity is advertised or marketed any different from the way these people market their products? We like to believe that everything material that we own has some value in the larger sense. Today’s craftspeople are perhaps better judges of our character than we are of theirs. Perhaps they know that we crave an emotional or intellectual substantiation to everything that we consider our own. Maybe it’s so for them too. Which brings me to wonder how rehearsed their stories must be. Maybe they are regular salespersons in borrowed cloaks. Yet, somehow, it’s these cloaks that make us happy. It’s these cloaks that we find easiest to accept. What’s unseen is conveniently left so.

Perhaps we aren’t as different and unique as we’d like to believe. Perhaps our needs and theirs are quite similar. Maybe our problems are different only on a superficial level. Why is it then that they need to believe as much as we do, that we are completely different from one another? Why is it that when we exchange stories, it’s the things that we do differently that we discuss and not the commonality of our realities?

Traditionally, as ‘urban’ Indians, how different are we from these craftspeople? They live in a patriarchal society. As do we. There are exceptions there, as there are here. There is an unquestioned way of retaining customs. It’s true to them, as it is to us. Perhaps it’s the nature of the customs that makes us different. But aren’t these customs only symbolic, and in a sense superficial representations of our beliefs? Maybe our beliefs are more similar than we’d like to believe.

Maybe there’s a greater force in play that makes us this way. Maybe someone benefits financially, emotionally, culturally by spinning tales a certain way. And maybe, the fact that we never really get a clear picture of things is acceptable. Maybe the beauty we see in things is in fact just mysticism.

Maybe this idea of an ‘us’ and a ‘them’ is an illusion. 

Apologies to blog

Dear blog,
I'm sorry I have no time for you in my life.
Please don't feel abandoned.
I love you.
-Anus. :P

Mandir

Temples.

An assignment for class.

Love black gel pens.

Oh what fun it'd be.

While at Ogilvy and Mather over the summer, one of my assignments was to sketch palaces in my own style for the Royal Orchid Hotels print campaign. Whether or not the sketches materialized into print, I do not know. But here are some. 

It got me thinking, sketching all these ornate structures. Imagine being Tipu Sultan or some cool Raja with an eccentrically twirly moustache.
Imagine having
a) A palace that one plays fancy-shmancy in and does routine things like boss people around and eat in gold plates and things, and
b) A summer palace for when one gets bored with bossing people around and eating in gold plates and things, just so one may have another, possibly awesomely located, place to do just the same. I know, right? And the poor went hungry and killed themselves. Sigh. Monarchies.

Frankly. I don't know whether I'd be fat from the inflated ego and much eating, or skinny from walking to where I could eat/annoy poor, helpless people. But the twirly moustache would be fun.

Fail. But chalta hai.

Done long, long ago for Dabu. He said my Shivji was simply too thin. 

"Kya beta. Shivji thodi itne patle hain? Kuch muscle-vuscle banao toh sahi."

Fail. But chalta hai. 

*Dabu: Nanaji. Anecdote. Flashback to when I was a year old and a complete jabber mouth. Vini masi, ma and Bubble masi call him Daddy. Courtesy baby-slip-of-tongue and incessant need to talk, I used to call him Dabbi. 'Dabbi' ages through time, evolutionary consequence = 'Dabu'.

Catchy. So now all five of his grandchildren call him that. :)

Back from a long break

Yes. It's been forever. And yes, it was necessary for me to take one long break from all the blogging. Over the summer, I fell in love all over again. With our little boxer puppy, Beans. I did an internship at Ogilvy and Mather in Bengaluru, and worked with some of the most fun, inspiring, spectacular characters. I changed college and am back home, which is wonderful.
College has begun. I'm here. Trying to find my bearings amidst those that have already been around. I'm going to say as little as possible, physically, to avoid trivialities and controversy. And so, I will write, and paint, and photograph, and read.

I'm back. :)

Summer vacation?

The summer is here. It's too hot and too sunny to appreciate the little things around me. Everyone is irritable and snappy. I'm gritting my teeth because something is always bugging me. They'll be enamel dust soon, the teensy things. So, I'm taking a break from everything. Including blogging, unless I somehow find inspiration amidst all this miserab-ilia. Until then, I'm praying for rain.

Fading Beauty

Written in 7 short minutes for a competition. Title of blog post= alloted topic.

She stands before her mirror.

Her eyes bear a question.

She wipes the Kohl from her eyes.

The earrings that have been like weights are slipped gracefully into their boxed place.

Her necklace slides swift like a serpent as she undoes it's clasp.

Her bangles clink as they are removed.

The rich sari that not so long ago draped majestically 'round her is now neatly folded and away.

She smudges the red bindi that has marked her forehead until it is nothing.

She stares at the bare stranger in the mirror.

I watch as her beauty fades.

I watch as her beauty emerges.

Brothers and Sisters

As part of our Introduction to Graphic Design module, we were expected to design a greeting card. Mine was a Raksha Bandhan card. I xeroxed and sent it out to all my brothers/cousins/adopted brother figures. Lots of teensie notes about missing and memories. This post is to all of these twitties:
Goobinder, Shankoo, Dedum, Jujup, Ay, Harshipoo,Krunipoo and Subbi Bhaiya.
K- You cook, and squabble, and burp and fart and make me happier than anyone else in the world. I love you so so much.
Shankoo- It's hard to imagine a day without you. I'm dreading long distance phone calling and not seeing you everyday once the summer comes around.
Dedum- You are my chotu-est bhai, and probably the most gifted with regards to musical skills. I speak not just of the fart sound parade that you perform with such finesse on skype for me.
Jujup- You give me one hug and everything is good. If only you were closer. I see how hard you are working now, and I'm very proud.
Ay- You've had me hitting my head against the wall. You've had me worried. You've made me laugh so much. Don't change. Ever.
Harsha- I've bullied you, and you've bullied me. But I know that of all these boys, you are the one that keeps my rakhi tied on your wrist until it's ready to fall off on its own. You've grown into a strapping young lad, I hear the ladies say.
Krunal- Despite all the jokes I make, I'm really thankful for you. With you and Shankoo around, I always feel warm and covered in armour. You are the bestest G-U-J-J-U!
Subbi Bhaiya- There are a million anecdotes that come to mind, some funny, some embarrassing. There's years and years of growing up that involve you watching over Imaado, Zoi, Tiz and me. Bully you are, and shall be forevermore.
Thank you all for being you.

Poster design for class

Because I'm in class and have nothing to do

I want to write, but all that comes to mind is an 'AaaaaAAAAAAaaaaaaa!' Anyhow. Long back, I was all in love with Corel Draw, and these were the outcome of much ctrl+d(ing)! Yes, well. They are colourfooool!!

Facades

Faces. Sometimes they give everything away. Sometimes deceptive. You are always left wondering, what's behind that face? It's the same with buildings. Stone sometimes, weathered and wise at others. But who knows what treasures lie inside?