Let's start at the bottom with the light.
It's hard to get so I'll just explain: it's
A metaphor. You know. One of those
Thingies that pretends to be more. So
The light at the bottom comes from above.
It represents subversion. Simply put, this
Is my self-assembled, self-spawned, self-
Explained version of love. As still-lifes go, mine
Is not still. It was made to travel. To help
Distance and absence unravel. I fill
My canvas with gifts. Frame-wrapped
Things that hang in your home. The owl
Glares, the owl dares you to think the fine
Metal enamel glass wood velvet brings
Reminders of Death. This is not a work
Of endings. This is a canvas of self-initiated
Paint-created, oil-lubricated bendings.
Brilliant...love this one
ReplyDeleteThank you Shubhro :) When I was painting this, I already had the spot in my sister's house where it would go.
DeleteBrilliant...love this one
ReplyDelete"As still-lifes go, mine
ReplyDeleteIs not still. It was made to travel. To help
Distance and absence unravel." These lines are simply sublime, Giti. Such a fine poem.
Thank you, Bhaswati :) I think of this painting as a small act of rebellion.
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