ketching wasn’t always a part of me. I started doodling behind pages of my math book in school because I hated math and scribbling random things was a great way to drown out my math anxiety. Then the next thing I remember enjoying drawing was diagrams in biology. I rendered them when I couldn’t remember answers in my exams. I started keeping a journal in Kodaikanal when I went there to study in class eleven. I wrote everything- lyrics of nice songs ,birds on the school campus, lists of things to do, habits to grow into, recipes, angst ridden notes, sorted advice to me straight from my heart, versions of my future, drawings. At Srishti, (College of Art & Design) we were encouraged to keep a logbook. Assignments, more angst, autobiographical delvings, romantic anguish followed. So did the discovery of many kinds of books. Nice ones to buy, hand made ones using only select paper for all mediums. Various sizes. All these books have different personalities. It’s interesting to find how I have changed and remained the same. My views of the world. Its a special place a sketchbook is. I think very differently when i”m working on a book than a computer. So it’s a good place for ideas to begin and sometimes get carried into my work. I’m never proud of any sketchbook. One always begins with a very high goal and its a quiet ceremony beginning a book. Sometimes pages can dissapoint and even after trying they do not rise up to the level one wanted. But here is my latest one, almost near its end. Thought I’d share it with you.
ver feel like all your nerve endings have begun to fray? I tend to forget to take that occasional walk you are supposed to take away from the computer when at work. And if you have had one of those days when you begin to see two pencils where there is one. ( Nothing to do with beer.) Your eyes cannot come to terms with the computer stare. Thats when you go for a run or go and eat a bun or just put off your computer and make space for some fun.
and meeting courage instead.
For all the things one wishes to do there are double the number of things that don’t allow that (or pretend they have the power). Here’s something i’d like to remember.
Somebody had the brain to leave a spot of nature in the middle of this cement landscape. Open. Completely transforming the thoughts in my mind. Why am I pacing it? Why stick to a safer speed. A downhill slope and your legs go faster than your mind would permit. In this rigid lined defined lifestyle – im not complaining i just miss the outdoors. You’d never feel this way in a gym. I imagine all the places i’ve run at – would like to run at. Mountains, lakes, beaches, small villages, urban compounds where you go round and round, fake gardens, real forests, fake forests. Plugging in. Its priceless. Makes me want to make a film about running. Nothing can take away what you get from it. It adds to all you do otherwise. Beautiful sunday. If you haven’t got it in you, you cant hope to find it when you need it. Photo: Nike Running
I present Tehelka’s new year special fiction issue dedicated to Romance. Fog has delayed many trains in the country. While I wait for my train to move, I find the best thing on the bookstore’s stands. My first ever issue design. My art director asked me to design it as a whole package to get a feel of things. Doing a few inputs here and there vs looking after the whole issue has made me quite confident and curious about techniques, time, finish and quality. Short fictions written by AMITAVA KUMAR • SOURABH RATNU • KALKI KOECHLIN • MUSHARRAF ALI FAROOQI • NABARUN BHATTACHARYA • SUNITI NAMJOSHI • SR FARUQI • RAHUL SONI • JUGAL MODY • KR MEERA • SIDDHARTH CHOWDHURY • PRASHANT MIRANDA • AKSHAT VERMA • SNEHA RAJARAM Featuring illustrations by Anand Naorem, Pia Alize Hazarika, Somesh Kumar, Ashish Naorem, Aastha Mittal (work featured on cover), Prashant Miranda, Smruthi Gargi Eshwar, Devashish Guruji and me.
My special thankyou to Rishabh Arora for the magnificient menu he has designed for the issue and most of all to Sudeep Chaudhuri, my art director – who’s work and spirit are inspiring.
Thoughts float around in your head all the time. Some need to be said, some thought of. Some things need to crystallise. Behavior. Reactions. One’s own actions. Writing something down/ drawing about it always clarifies things for me. Especially unpleasant things.
Separating Gold from Dust
Unsettle to settle
*
Things intertwine
Slowly, to untwine
*
The constant letting go
The necessary holding on to
*
All who smile
With shifty feet
It’s always here on this road we meet
Sometimes greet, sometimes eat
Sometimes merely bleat
Don’t stop every step you walk
This road is forever
Abrasion is not
**
Written by Ambrose Bierce. Ralph Steadman’s illustrations in this book make you smile if not laugh out loud. Above is the illustration for “PIANO,n. A parlor utensil for subduing the impetinent visitor. It is operated by depressing the keys of the machine and the spirits of the audience.”
churning out images everyday is not enough. quality should not paralyse you. it should shut down the lazy doors so you have to go looking for new thoughts new styles new ideas of beauty. new things to say wow to.
Zahid Rafiq writes on his memories of his hometown. story here
four posters
from a series on music, done for Shubha Mudgal.
Memories where you remember what went wrong. How it all stopped for you. Story here
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An interesting site with a whole lot of quick sees: some refreshing, some not. But a good place to visit once in a while.
done for an article on JJ school of art in Mumbai. Story here
story here
story here
so a couple of us (people from my college) are participating in this fun project. everybody gets a book and a theme and you create an entire sketchbook about it.
Glad to get it. These things are helpful to do your own kind of work as there is a deadline and a separate space can be assigned to it in one’s head.
Looking forward to starting on this.
good use of 2d and 3d. here’s the animation and more
story here
for the series of four posters on music done for shubha mudgal.
dvd design for Simon Chambers’ film.
I’ve been working on an animation for the past week besides the usual work. It’s sad that its too short, but thats all we need for the credits. You can see it HERE
A regressive robot moments before his suicide. Story here
kay, now. We have a problem. I have working on improving my skill and concepts and adding a bit of humour sometimes to my work. But one thing I still fail to work on is patience. The ability to sit and sit and sit and keep on polishing your work till it has reached just the level you expected it to reach when you started out. This, I believe is the biggest hurdle for me. I am more patient than before, but God knows I have a long way to go. There are many ways one can build patience. I have started on an animation. Due to the things one has seen – my mind tends to imagine these beautifully intricate scenes and moments. All with timing and sound perfectly in sync. So that experiencing the story unfold would be like an encounter with art. But right now i’m at a 60 percent finish with my animation and it feels like pushing an elephant up a 90 degree slope. Here’s hoping for a wave of patient molecules entering my brain and living here till I die. Whoooosh.
nforgettable, that’s what some images are. Perhaps the use of colour, perhaps the tragic humour, maybe the twisted idea or perhaps its the sheer beauty. You will see some things that just make you want to stop and look at them. That cut across all thought in your brain and make sure that you want to think about them. Where do you get your inspiration from? I look and look and look through images Sometimes when an idea or an image is striking I note it down, or draw it in my diary. Now when I get a fresh assignment, I sift through these things hungrily to make some sort of connection. Sometimes its synonyms to a word. At other times it’s other artists’ works. But I do love it when there is just one electric spark. From the concept to the thumbnail. Just one stupid fun idea which your boss finds interesting. I love it, then I feel.. hey …to the millions of beautiful or funny things in the world – this here is my tiny dot, to add towards it all. Mine…my precious. Nothing is original but anyway, there’s a humbling warmth in knowing that you have a brain that sometimes works quite well.
About wearing the hijab because it provides a shelter. Read the story here
Last year round up was pretty exciting. Tehelka does a special fiction issue at every year’s end. This one’s theme is Pulp and Noir , short stories written by a variety of writers, and illustrated by a variety of illustrators. Two of those stories written by Shiv Visvanathan and Zac O’ Yeah are illustrated by me. Cover and logo for the issue are designed and illustrated by Sudeep Chaudhuri. Pick up a print for a nice weekend read or check out the stories here, here, and here or the entire menu here. Here < what a weird word>
Some of these are sketches done on the way to my village in a train. The rest are places where I like to sit around on the farm where I grew up. My village is called Preet Nagar, its near Amritsar. Punjab, Northern India.
My grandmum was ill. Being on the drip was really tiring and boring for her so I asked her to do some drawings with me.
Goats are so difficult to draw. They are never still so I did quick sketches of them all on one page.
Dogs are easier
I have found a new admiration for dogs.
When in dire need of a subject and nothing interesting appears, always rely on yourself.
My uncle spends hours on his table near the window. Newspapers, Breakfast, Sudoku, Crosswords and finally Vodka mark his day.
Some men eating peanuts on a train station that the train stopped on for 5 minutes. I did a quick line drawing and then coloured it after the train moved away from them.
Some men were working on weeding the pea field. What nice sunlight and peace the ending of a winter brings.
My fellow traveller wasn’t feeling too well. He slept most of the journey in this pose. His grandson wanted to take a photo so asked me to write his name and Malaysia before taking it.
This is the gate to the driveway from my home in my village.
Waiting for a seat. Sometimes one doesn’t get a ticket. So you just have to get on the train and pay the fine and hope to get a seat soon.
Video actually , can be the highest form of art.
There’s a need to get closer in video. Closer to the essence of the moment. Closer to the feeling the subject is undergoing. Closer, tighter, slower. faster. I am fascinated by motion and reality unfolding to tell a story like it can never be told.
Music, timing, the visual, motion.
I’ve to do some video..where? how? is the question.
After having succesfully finished my moleskine in time for the sketchbook project.
I have now signed up for the next one called A million little pictures and am excited to receive the camera and t-shirt. Yay!
Just to clarify. This is not my work. I think it’s a nicely done short overview of what’s happening with a few poetic moments.
Featured here as I like it.
BJP member writes about his trip to Kashmir on Republic Day. Story here.
Since childhood you remember some instances that really disturbed you. Some things still really shake you up. Life goes on and you realise that nothing remains as big as it seemed then. Story here
We all love to dress up and look good. If not all the time then atleast sometimes. I got a fashion shoot assignment. It was a lot of fun. Here’s the teaser videos of all of us trying to relax and get into the mood. Will upload some photos once they have been used. Apologies for the poor audio and video quality. This wasn’t planned. Enjoy!
Very detailed and a well planned HUGE illustration. Looks like a lot of work and a lot of fun.
An update from Mindscape. Check it here
More here
or every boring neverending routine there is order awaiting you. A possibility for your brain to get used to the necessary things so you can slot exciting things in the day. No matter how small.
I’ve been listening to Bob Dylan since I was 16. It’s been about the same time since i’ve been using these lyrics in life as metaphors or even as arguments to myself. So it is fitting to do this sometimes. More here
More here
Kill me with a flutter of your eye.(not my work)
Interviews with my grandmothers about what made them who they are.
Both my grandfathers died and I felt I did not take out the time to speak to them at all about their lives. This is a documentation of stories told.The film is about my two grandmothers talking about the incidents that shaped them. These women talk about their memories and their lives.
About the personal being political.
For more on this see here
At the age of 87, my grandmum passed away on Monday, May 3rd. We discovered she had Cancer in December 2010, she went through 4 rounds of Chemo which is a lot for an old person. I will miss her for her neverending stories and her ever present love and attention. 
Story here
A short byDominic Boudreault
“Surrounded with my inner turmoils, i’m afraid to say I sometimes entirely forgot to look outside my window.”
From my ongoing project : Mindscape.
thers prick you sometimes. You compare yourself with them. You feel insecure. You feel small. You feel empty. This is to tell you that all people go through the same things. They are timed differently. Everybody ends up at the same place. My gdad told me so. I believe it. So don’t fret, if you want to fret – fret for an hour max and then let your senses guide you back to the good place.
When you decide to go for a film even though there is an 11:40 pm show and you have work the next day – lets just say it is a decision you take immediately when you hear X men : FIRST CLASS. From the time the first droning note starts the film’s credits a weight hangs over the crowd of about 50 people. You dont sense such a tickling electric silence in any normal circumstance.
I remember this weight from a Roger Waters concert I had attended about 3 years ago – everybody on the edge of something they cannot speak of.
Anyway – Begin: Magneto’s childhood and what drives his core. The sudden cut of the doctors room from a different angle that exposes the gravity of the situation. Fassbender is the man. The Style. The emotions. The intensity. He has driven Magneto’s rage to the sane section in my book. The man is evil , the man has reason. The charming Charles. Effortless lightnessness. Endearing humour. What a script. What heaven were these people trained in. What keeps them so sharp. The shots. The editing. The actors. The special effects. I am in my dream. The sound lacked the intensity of all else. I was missing the abstract yet spot on scores from Shutter island and Batman Begins. That is my only complaint. The end credits were a cherry on top. Sleeping at 3 am and going to office groggy and missing yoga class in the morning are the side effects but I am going again for another drink.
duh duh duh daa
Soon we might have to pay to see a woman (like we do for a giraffe) as the sex ratio plunges deeper than the bore well machines. These here are part of a campaign on the girl child. Logo, illustration and design in a HURRY like never before. Nisha Susan is the conceptualiser. I am the visualiser. Soon we might need a nebuliser. What do you think ?
- Full of hope and desire.
More Mindscape? What do you think of these? Good, bad, pathetic, vague, interesting? Throw any words.
My first attempt at creating a typeface. Here’s more on it. Do you like dropcaps? Do you have a favourite dropcap or a book you remember dearly/fearfully?
The sweetest sleep is just before waking up. Insane dreams have been adding to my already information rich life. I love dreams. I love the magnetic waves of emotion they bring. I wish there was a way to gather their essences. Here’s a gist of a feeling. Do you particularly remember something dreamy? A photo, a song, a film? Would you like a dream visualised? Which one?? PS: I love .gifs
Lovely,simple,articulate and gentle.
Living alone. Living with somebody. Living alone. I love living alone. I am shifting to a beautiful house this weekend. Party and many other things to follow. Its going to be exhausting but the excitement is rising as the weekend arrives. 
Scientist Dr. Mohamed Babu from Mysore discovered some Magic. Read more here
Something is stirring on the wall in office. I haven’t hand drawn things for what feels like eternity. I love painting. My new house is going to see some more action on this front. Have you recently done something at your house yourself? Made a corner look special or made a lamp? Such a thrill. Will update with photos as the octopus progresses.
ery thrilled at painting this wall. I find it a bit deflating that until I am asked, I hardly do self initiated work (except computer illustrations)< Bad Behaviour. Since I got my new house, I have been planning things for little corners – sculptures and painting the walls and all sorts of fun things. You shall be seeing some new sort of stuff – handmade is the key word. So, without further delay I invite my friend the octupus, he is still a bit shaken at being pulled out of the water and is still gathering all of his self. But all the line work is almost done, some more things are coming with him and I will update you on that once he feels a bit more together. BONUS* a special photo of this weeks favourite book.
Unmissable. Love how elegant and honest everyone sounds.
Wonder how the hell these are suspended. It’s an idea which most would shun aside as too simplistic. I like the fact that it’s been carried out and so well! Images by Melvin Sokolsky in Paris, for Harper’s Bazaar, 1963.
I love t mobile . Interesting, fun and touching at the same time. I love their work.
Perhaps you’d remember the previous video i’d posted on these guys. Here’s some more on them and what makes their work what it is. Last post here
Here’s some watercolour illustrations from an old old book. My Aunt probably brought it from Weimar when me and my cousins were all of 3/4 years.The illustrations are by Werner Ruhner. I think they are fantastic. There is such a fluid refined quality to his lines and detailing. Takes my breath away.I’ve been missing looking at inspiring things which are not on the internet.
Sorry about not posting for almost 2 months now! I’ve been thinking 
The process of creating is almost like a drug. There has to be enough to absorb. And there has to be enough time to enjoy what you have consumed. To be able to turn in into an experience. To crystallise it.
No I haven’t been lying in a cloud of smoke thinking up theories.
I’ve been thinking while swimming. Swimming pools are great for thinking. The water vacuum creates a meditative hum. And because the rhythm is so fixed you can’t really dwell on your thoughts too much.
Silence is heaven. Like in these drawings.
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everybody makes a type suit and we play a game of football wearing it. i think it’ll be great.
Just back from Tehelka’s Think fest, wow, at Goa. My mind is on fire. If you were to open up my brain and look at how it worked, it would look something like this. More posts on think fest coming up, as thoughts crystallise. Amazing work this, by Guided Collective.
My grandmum, nani – Sheila Didi passed away this this morning. You could feel the gods through her love for music. She was a perfect mix of gentle funloving and crazy. Below is a beautiful song she loved to sing. Don’t miss it.
Here’s something I wrote when my nana, when he passed away
I fly
I fly to you
I fly straight
in a calm line.
Little beauties
change my line.
This big cloud-
this soft hard cloud,
I touch
its boundaries
its edge
I touch.
My only curve
in this straight
journey to you I fly.
The meandering silver
glistens below,
moves so slow.
The meandering lights
on those
clover shaped cement strings
the lights
they move so slow.
The stars above look at these stars below.
I fly to you
I am here now
Your love by my side
She looks at you
and tinkling years
in her tears
pass by.
Your kids
look at you
and their thoughts
about you-
float in sad clouds;
to you they fly.
Your friends touch you,
they talk of you-
when you were young
my age
they talk of your spirit
of gentleness
and humour
of love
and communism.
The red flags fly.
They talk of your bravado-
of will and grounding.
Your poems,
your seekings-
my dispirited heart flies.
I touch you,
ice cold
eyes half open.
I talk to you
my words to you
Yes, they fly.
They take you
with tears,
they set alight
these years
of memories
their last physical
contact with History.
Fireflies,
Ashes fly.
Up and up these
mountains which you so adore
adored
adore
We touch the ice cold water
flowers and ash
ash and water
ashes to ashes
dust to dust
you ethereal
you fly.
