SARITA'S

What an artist writes about his art is different from what an art critic or art historian would.Involved in the art of creation, the artist carries his intuitions orbed around himself like a special universe & whatever he says or writes about his art will be cut to its measures.I am no exception to the rule & also carry a similar universe, parts of which I can visualize & describe with clarity, portions of which I cannot.

As a child I was immensely attracted to nature. My natural affinity towards nature made me take it up as theme of my paintings. I concentrate  on forms of nature, its mysteries & its relation with human being. I try to depict images of trees, creepers, foliages, trunks etc. Sometimes these forms are clear & sometimes the visibility is extremely low. No tree no foliage can be seen clearly with all their details. One could get their half defined shapes. This offers many image possibilities at the same time. Most of the areas of my paintings remain enveloped in darkness & the light illuminates certain specific areas of canvas.

In most of my paintings one can find birds. If we watch soaring high up in the air without a beat of their wings, being carried along by the wind. How endlessly they seem to enjoy themselves. They are not concerned about death, its much too occupied with living, with singing a song, flying for the very joy of flying. Birds to me represent celebration of life.

Once while suffering inwardly, I looked to night for consolation & it was like going out of a dark house into the sunshine-

The ocean above me got blackened

few twinkling boats.

Smeared by the sheets of night,

sleeps the bitterness of dawn......... bound to awake.

Lying like a lazy python

half - open eyelids amidst thousand leaves

this tree of mango.

The small fingers of light,

patting them for sleep.

Singing a lullaby sometimes,

the innocent grasshopper.

Hearing them the windows keep awake,

no patrons are they, 

the morning or the night.

Just helpless & tired on lookers.

This sensational mixture

dust & the tunes of dropping rain

few wrinkles of cobweb,

is the story of age...................

I feel creative activity has its own mysteries & subconscious depth. Consciousness is only an awareness of what is experienced through the limited reach of the five senses.Some powerful impressions sink into the subconscious. Therefore, major part of the creation takes place at the subconscious level. If we awake creative beauty inwardly, it expresses itself outwardly. But that is much more difficult than acquiring technique. Capacity is not creativeness. It is a sense of total self forgetfulness, when one is wholly unaware of the movements of thought. In the moments of creative act there is no sense of repetition, such moments are always new, fresh, creative & happy. In one of my paintings 'birth of creativity' I have tried to show that state of creative existence. Lower portion of that painting remains enveloped in darkness with images of foliages, creepers etc. which represents our subconscious, with a blooming flower & a half defined female form coming out of the dark mysterious background. Flower represents the inward blooming.

 I would like to end my writing with a poem of Rabindranath Tagore, where he has distinguished poetry from painting. While poetry demands that the expression used should carry meaning, painting is not bound to do so. Painting has liberty to produce forms which need not necessarily function as the medium of expression of ideas & sentiments.

I have been trapped by the charms of painting,

literature is a rich man's daughter

and brings a lot of money (meaning) with her

given to talking a lot,

a good deal of thinking is necessary to keep her pleased.

Painting on the other hand is reticent 

and carries no meaning

my dealings with her are not motivated by a purpose.

It is the tide of creation itself which bears along its own current.

Creativity, it may be said has wings of no end....................