During the month of March Virtual Paintout took artists to the beautiful Slovenia. For the best part of the month I travelled around on my google map, seeing various places. I finally decided a location, navigated many kilometres around the spot. I have been painting water bodies of late – lakes, muddy ponds, the Indian ocean. The lake that formed the centre of the location was my weakness. First I wanted to do a pastel painting, but settled for water colours. This is the google link to the location. See my painting and the screen shot of the location.
Tarangambadi means a place of the singing waves. It was a sleepy town till it became a Danish colony in the early seventeenth century. It then came to be called Tranquebar. All the waves cannot wash away the history of the place, the town remains suspended in time, where the past whispers stories through incessant songs from the sea.
Srisailam is a temple town in the Nallamalla hills, on the banks of Krishna river. The serpentine river flows like a secret, deep and still. It is a steep climb down to the river, from the town. The main ghat is crowded with devotees who travel miles to bathe in the holy river.
I sat at two locations away from the main ghat, to paint. The first one gave a glimpse of small temples across the river. And from the other location I painted a private ghat, nestled in a dense forest cover.
The journal ‘Storiacious: Feasting on Stories’ features my acrylic painting ‘The Blue Chair.’
Click here to view the painting, read the story behind the painting and the process of composition.
flecks of rubies on leaves
like floaters in my vision
it cannot take away light from the two flowers
The office boy is from a small village near Tirunelveli. He cannot read a word of English.
I am received every day by the words he leaves at my table, from the calendar that he sets for me. Today it is, “Spend not a moment on regret. Our journey is made richer by all that has come before.”
light danced on water
cradled in the leaves
old tea tin
refilled with fresh Assam leaves
flavour of love
in old tea mug
butterflies, dragon flies
even a coramandel marsh dart
descended on my terrace
on their paths,
for a breather
and a few sips of nectar