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Why I do what I do

This website will give you a glimpse into my work as an artist,  community builder and activist. I have been negotiating the world through the lens of a creative entrepreneur for the last two decades. It's been a wonderful journey with a lot of learning and collaborating with people I deeply respect.
In the coming years, I believe that creative thinkers will be crucial to document, stitch, hold and present the world. We are at the very edge of collapse on one side, and of a future that can spin out into unimaginable wonders on the other. I believe we can get to the happier side by working together!

Notes from the Sea

c
January 3rd, 2008

Travel has certainly been our theme for the past two weeks. For my part I have just returned from the Mangalorean shores of Bijadi village. It was just right. The good news is that I have made a comeback to my poetry after a 5 month break. I thought that this weeks post would be just that – some samples from my book, written where the land, sea and skies meet.

CUSHION

To oceans and skies
and Rockerfella dreams.
To all that’s left,
to all thats seen.

To die, to death
and deaths defeat.
To the black waves
a hundred feet.

To all that hands forgot
and the oceans floor.
To dreams that weep
and mysterious, smile once more.

To the red of burnt
and previous love.
To all that’s smug
to all that’s shrugged.

I wait, I wait
an empty net.
A bowl that’s only
but not just yet.

————————

SKULK

Into dark mazes
of an authors mind.
Into the guts –
intestine.

The Mangalore sun
shines. Shines!
Here is my moment
Blank to sublime.

Scratch in black
as words dry up
I swerved into
a party hub –

Drink in hand
I slept with defeat,
opened my legs
to a runaway street.

Luck will change
luck changes its will.
I’m stuck. I’m drawn
skulking retreat.

————————

SEA BREEZE

Flat blue and blue
blue sunrise.
The ocean plays
with neon skies.

To shores of white
light. Light!
The wind sings in
surf, Sufis sigh.

The green cuts deep
into the belly of sin
anger, wrath. Mixed
into the smoothest gin –

my tonic. This cure
The sacred, so free!
Freedom fly forth
Mangalorean sea breeze.

————————–

okay…though this is not painting, I’d love to hear what you guys think about my writing, writing itself and perhaps what it means to paint when words don’t make sense and write when images are not how you saw something.

3 Comments

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  • hey – i really like your poetry. its short, yet profound. personally i relate to the first one the most. it makes me think of rachna. i like the second one as well. i had to re-read it a couple of times. interesting how poetry can also touch you in such a personal way.. but yet in a different kind of way..i like what you say about pictures sometimes showing what words cant say and vice versa.. very true.
    i like all 3 little poems. its interesting though that because something is actually written, i have the sense that we have to be that much more careful of how we read it, and what we perceive from it..it provokes much deeper thought in one sense because somebody has written something- said something in effect, so you look at it in a different sense then you would a painting that gets a much more subjective response. yet, both are art, and appeals to our artistic sensibilities. do i make any sense at all?? it brings me back to thoughts on work that you can do that combine words and images.

  • you know…what you said got me thinking. its true – one has to be a little more careful – cautious if you will – about words. they are more rooted in this world, and call out to specifics. in some ways this is binding. the words once uttered seem to occupy real space.
    i used to think this about painting too (about 3 years ago). I thought that in this world so polluted, over-populated and almost choking with visual imagery, how could i in good conscience go off and add to the clutter with my work. I completely stopped drawing and painting during that time.
    i guess after a prolonged stay away from that – i came to a simple, honest conclusion – i have to paint. I guess eventually its simliar to saying that the worlds’ air is so polluted why add to it with my breath. i cannot intellectualise this process because it is a core requirement to my survival. so I finally admitted t myself that painting, drawing, scribbling was a core requirement to my survival.

  • Painting to me is more real, more true. Words are metaphors, intepretations. Painting is visual, what we paint is what we see. Images keep floating, we just choose when we paint. Words are abstract… or restricted. One word can have many images. Painting is feeling. Words are logic.
    Arcna, your poetry includes images and words which describe feelings and actions. The ‘Cushion’ and ‘Skulk’ are more felt then seen. Sea breeze can be better visualised. This is what I understand…. Arc, I always loved your poetry… you know that!! 😉