Showing posts with label watercolour. Show all posts
Showing posts with label watercolour. Show all posts

Sunday, 17 September 2017

Nothing's lost...



Le Morne by Mira Boolell Khushiram



The light falls aslant on the slope where
folded between the silence of stone,
a hundred footfalls of restless men
mill in fear. Not a trace remains
save the spill of that sand coloured tongue,
and a sudden shadow of a cave;
the crisscrossed trails of hurried escape;
a persistent keening of the waves
a lament formed of sea, rock, terrain
an untamed yen in a twinge of air
a squeeze of breath, and a freefall plunge,
just for a flash and then they are gone.
Yet nothing’s lost in the universe -
the yearnings for freedom. Silence.  Words.



Today I'm writing to another watercolour from Mira's Mountains of Mauritius series, featuring a different, dramatic perspective of Le Morne Brabant, thank you Mira! I have written about it before in this on-going artistic collaboration of ours. Read about it here. And about the legends of the escaped slaves, or maroons, on this site.






Sunday, 20 August 2017

Compelled




Mountains of Mauritius by Mira Boolell Khushiram





Mountains spike the horizon, and I’m still
compelled by those gradients, though I’ve climbed
sudden roadside slopes, sprawling limbs of hills,
the mist enclosed mounds of light and time,
the steep caves in which rivers turn and swill,
churn and chuckle, moult off skins, ice and rime,
and plunge through tight fists of boulders, downhill.
The nests of all change and all paradigms.


Yet they are too far, distance flattens steep
to gentle, and smooths the mist to a thread
of smoke from a dung fired mud stove, that creeps
serpentine into hill roads. And into my head.
Should I turn away? because the seabed’s
less daunting than a scree-sharpened, rougher sweep? 





This is part of a series of on-going collaborations between me and architect-artist Mira. Read more about her and how it all happened here. Thank you Mira, for gracing my walls here with your lovely colours. 








Sunday, 2 July 2017

The Sea, the Mountain, and the Old School Route

A couple weeks back I did some collaborative art here – used a friend’s artwork as prompts to my poetry, and the results were amazingly pleasant for both sides.  Read more about that effort here. So today I am back with some more – two of Mira’s delicate watercolours of Mauritian seascapes. 


The first is of Blue Bay – a well-known picnic spot and a popular beach destination.  And the other is of a mountain called Le Morne. Legend has it that slaves under the French colonial rule escaped here (hence the French appellation) - runaways, maroons sheltered in its caves, and hid from their masters. Some also dived from the cliffs high above into the sea when they learnt they had been located, and killed themselves to avoid capture. This mountain has been chosen by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site because of these tragedies. This particular location is also mentioned in Amitav Ghosh's Ibis trilogy as the site of Deeti's cave shrine, which is where I first came across it.


Both of these watercolours took me back in time and place, the Blue Bay to the Blue Beach in the North Coast of Egypt, and the mountain to a much smaller, much less important inselberg parked on the horizons of my school route in Northern Nigeria many years ago. Everything reminds me of something else, deja vu overload. Or maybe I'm just getting old :)  Anyways, here they are - Mira's fingers with the paintbrush, and mine at the keypad -


The Blue Bay, Mauritius by Mira Boolell Khushiram

Wherever I go I can see your face -
in mountains, in cloud forms, in cloudless skies,
in the colours of a sailboat, in the shape
of a triangular sail - the rise

and fall of its movements mirrors my own.
I can still hear your voice in the winds,
suede-soft against the harshness of stone,
calling down years into the labyrinths

of time and memories and joyful verse.
I can still feel your hand right next to mine
a slight tremor, a pulse saying more than words,
your smile transformed into this new shoreline

as if I’d never left, as if you and me
were together still, sailing that same jade sea.



Le Morne by Mira Boolell Khushiram


Everything calls to me, as though it’s a sign
to turn and face the way I came again -
a certain mountain brings back a lost terrain
an inselberg that wore the same outline

in thick sunlight poured on the horizon
beyond the vanishing point, where the road
hid behind distant trees, silken winds rode
acacias, deep grass, Fulani herdsmen.

Too many miles have lapsed, too many autumns
fallen in heaps of leaves. And when I look
closely it’s just something else I mistook -
different mountains, different outcomes.

The track itself turns to mud as I glance
behind, there’s no option but to advance.



I have loved working with Mira's art, so proud to have her paintings lift up my 'walls' to an altogether different level here! Thank you, Mira! Hope the readers will enjoy the colours and words as much as we both have.





Since I'm travelling, my posts through July and August are scheduled, but I will check in whenever I can and respond. Meanwhile, have the happiest summer/season!





Sunday, 18 June 2017

The Fruit-seller and the Gita


The Fruit-seller by Mira Boolell Khushiram




His watermelons in an offhand heap
by the roadside under vivid blue plastic
sharper than the sky. Casual symbolic.
‘Just the action, mind. The fruit’s not yours to keep.’


But he hasn’t read those specific verses.
He peddles his wares wholly unaware
of hidden meanings, symbols, faiths and their
connects to the fruit that he disburses.


I often stop at his stall, it’s on my way -
he cuts me a juicy watermelon slice,
quencher of thirsts, symbolic and otherwise,
but he doesn’t know it. He picks and weighs


his wares, and allows me to attribute
a deeper meaning to both verse and fruit.





I am trying a collaboration today - letting the art of a dear friend unlock words in my head. The watercolour above is by architect Mira Boolell Khushiram, from Mauritius. Mira and I met in Cairo through a ladies group - she had moved in from Tunis and I from Dubai the same year, and we soon found we shared common interests. Many trips followed - to art galleries in Zamalek and the old Islamic monuments and bead and handicrafts shops in the Khan. She and I both moved out of Cairo the same year too. Expat lives, expat friendships, characterised by transience and more goodbyes than any normal heart should be allowed to handle. We keep in touch, thank goodness for technology!

Mira's interest in art goes back to her childhood, and she has worked with charcoal, oils, pastels and watercolours. While away from her architectural practice in Mauritius she worked in the studios of eminent Tunisian and Egyptian artists honing her skills further.  She is now retired from her profession and pursues her art full time, showcasing Mauritian life and the beautiful seascapes around her through her paintings. 

Her fruitseller invoked a very well known verse from the Bhagavad Gita in my mind - which basically exhorts folks to focus on what needs to be done and do it, without hankering after any benefits. 

कर्मण्येवाधिकारस्ते मा फलेषु कदाचन |
मा कर्मफलहेतुर्भूर्मा ते सङ्गोऽस्त्वकर्मणि ||

karmaṇy-evādhikāras te mā phaleṣhu kadāchana
mā karma-phala-hetur bhūr mā te saṅgo ’stvakarmaṇi



'You have a right to perform your prescribed duties, but you are not entitled to the fruits of your actions. Never consider yourself to be the cause of the results of your activities, nor be attached to inaction.' ~ Bhagavad Gita, 2:47.


The fruit-seller's cart - rather a poignant metaphor. Look forward to your feedback on this collaborative effort and thank you, as always, for reading.