Drawn from Life

This spring after a gap of over 30 years when I started to draw again, it was followed by, “Why did you stop in the first place?” There isn’t a straight forward answer to this, however I applaud my learning and un-learning that’s revitalised me to exhibit drawings for the first time in London.

From my teen years the prefix ‘mono’ left me craving for more. For me mono denies Abundance. Not that mono is good or bad per se, however, wether it be monogamy, monotheism, monopoly, monosyllabic, monologue or monolith, I have always had a propensity towards POLY. Whilst I adore the drama of the monochrome, I find Polychrome fantastic. While I respect a mono-theist’s singularity of belief, I believe in a universe of many Gods. All interconnected energies and faiths pass through my heart. I LOVE loving many. Pantheism feels aligned with my being. Continue reading Drawn from Life

motiroti… living archives

Like chapters of a book unravelling its story… motiroti went through its incredibly rich life of creating collaborations and associations literally with hundreds of artists and millions across the globe. Its ethos based on a culture of sharing, continues.

As a young nineteen year old and secretly in love with senior NCA student in Lahore, I wanted to know his zodiac sign to understand him better inside and out. And he, he had no idea when he was born because his elders put a made up date on his birth certificate. According to his mother he was born the same summer, two days apart when her favourite white goat had her first-born. There was too much commotion so no one remembered! Continue reading motiroti… living archives

Mementoes of my memory tree

May your life always be filled with beautiful, exotic, deep, enriching, blossoming and blissful scents… and may you always know your own and wear it with pride. Gérard

This hand written note on the inside leaf of Patrick Süskind‘s Perfume is a memento which replays the time I had a fling with a young man, a sensitive soul, while I was in my long-term relationship. Whenever the page presents itself, the distant past flashes back. Not that I am a nostalgic by any means… I love memories. Am not attached to them yet they bring a serene joy in my life. Strange though it may sound, in the spring clean, year after year, my stash of troubled moments have been recycled into enchantment. Continue reading Mementoes of my memory tree