Andamans

I spent the Deepavali weekend in Port Blair, Andamans. It is a picturesque place and provided many opportunities to sketch and photograph - on my mobile. I was nearing the end of Inktober 2016 and the fountain pen still had me in its grip. So all the drawings were made gripping it.

Here are some pictures that I drew in Andamans. All done with a nameless fountain pen, with unexceptional ink and on the pages of a student notebook.

One of the islands with a lighthouse. Seen from a cruise boat and drawn from memory.

I drew these while waiting at the airport on the way back. It so happened that this lady's husband left his wallet in the aircraft and realised it in Chennai. He panicked. The airport staff reassured him that he would get it back and he did! That was impressive. This led to my talking to the couple and I showed the lady the sketches and she was thrilled!

Another scene from the Port Blair airport

The delightful feeling that a watery horizon gives and the foliage in the foreground,

North Bay Island is where people throng to take part in some water sports - Scuba diving and snorkeling. I was not interested in either. One of the things I did there was to walk up the hillock, atop which is the lighthouse.

Though I am fascinated by lighthouses and smokestacks, the thing that attracted me here was the lighthouse keeper’s cabin nearby.  Here is a pigment liner drawing of it.

I called it "Einstein's Cabin" to myself. The reason is that Einstein once said that the ideal job for a theoretical physicist is that of a lighthouse keeper. Lighthouses are far removed from populated areas. There is not much to do. This is an ideal situation for contemplation so essential for theoretical Physics.

Here is the picture with watercolors added to the drawing of that place.

Inktober 2016

I decided to take part in Inktober 2016 as a challenge. Though it was a great pleasure, it challenged my abilities to plan and apportion time for it. I decided to challenge myself with subjects and styles that I normally do not attempt. 

Within a matter of a month, a lot changed. 

I shared the works everyday on Instagram, once in a while on Twitter and Facebook. My idea was to share all of them on Facebook and this post is the main reason for doing that. 

Even though I drew everyday, I had to miss a couple of days at the end of the month since I was on a holiday in Port Blair, Andaman. The last day there, however, I could draw. 

I hope you enjoy these.

Max Planck

Jesse Owens

Pandavapura Sugar factory 

The much underrated crows

Two gestures of a farm worker in Malnad

A caravanserai

Drawn at the protest against the steel bridge in Bangalore

Portrait of a motor, as a friend named it.

A rustic kitchen

A gentleman from the past

Drawn in a bar while waiting for a friend

From a picture by a friend.

Varthur lake from a thirteenth floor of a building.

A plaster of paris bust of Maxim Gorky by R S Naidu. Fountain pen and water brush.

Drawn while on a bus.

From a picture I had shot. Wet on wet

Drawin in ink and digitally inverted colour

I was always curious about the Manga idiom. 

The name Andamans led this.

A village by the sea in Port Blair.

Art when Stranded

I was stranded.

I was driving to my cousin's farm near Denkanikote, Tamilnadu. The farm is close to a place called Chandanapalli (spelled Santanapalli in some places!). The radiator of my car developed a leak and steam spewed out from under the bonnet! (Hood, for those more used to American English)

I crossed the busy highway and asked a few disreputable looking characters what I could do. It being a Sunday after Yugadi, no mechanic was available in Attibele, (near which I was stranded) I was informed. One of them, a guy called Shekhar, a building materials supplier in the area, took me all around Attibele on his motorbike, looking for a mechanic. Eventually, we found a garage that had a watchman, at least. Shekhar helped me find a minitruck owner-driver to tow my car to the garage - a distance of 2 km.

I left the car in the care of the watchman and spent more than an hour  at a bakery in Attibele. My sketchbook came to the rescue and I sketched whatever caught my fancy, ignoring the blistering sun. The younger brother of the above-mentioned cousin also has land near his brother's farm and he was going there too. He picked me up and I spent two half days and a night at the farm, till the radiator was replaced.

In any case, at the farm, I kept drawing and all are here below.

There was this interesting looking building opposite the garage. It was painted in terrible colours. I looked at it wistfully - if only it was painted with better colours.... Just before I left the garage, I took a photograph of it on my mobile and painted a picture of it with colours that please my eyes, at least! Here it is, and all the sketches - as a record of my eventful trip to the farm.

Indian Classical Musicians

The last couple of weeks, I have been drawing musicians in action, each with a different medium. You can see them at the end of the post.

While drawing and inking the one below, my thoughts kept returning to the man whose portrait it is – M D Ramanathan, often referred to as MDR. He was my favourite musician – across all genres of Indian classical music – Carnatic and Hindustani, vocalists and instrumentalists.

He had an extraordinarily deep voice. A very relaxed, slow tempo was his forte. There were pauses between highly creative passages that gave the listeners time to savour what they had just heard. His repertoire of ragas had ragas outside the main-stream, though he sang them too with elan. Ragas such as reetigouLa, darbar, husEni, kEdAra, gouLa, neelAmbari, sAma come to mind when one thinks of his repertoire. Quite often, one would discover the possibilities in a raga when he sang inventive passages.

Some time ago, someone asked me, by e-mail, “Why do we like MDR’s music?” That set me thinking and I gave him my list of reasons why. Some other admirers of his have opined that these are the right reasons. The list might not be complete, but here it is.

One reason is the bass he sings in. Higher the pitch, greater the tenseness evoked. His pitch is so low that it is soothing.

He sings so slowly. Unhurried. That is very relaxing too.

He sings movements or phrases that are novel. One theory of art says that if there is novelty within familiar stuff, it is more enjoyable. He is like that. Very simple phrases interspersed with nuances that you normally do not hear. (There was this statement that M S Gopalakrishnanan bores with variety and Lalgudi pleases with monotony. MDR's music is related to the latter.)

He also sings vakra raagas and ragas that are not usual.

The pauses he makes gives you time to enjoy what he has sung just before the pause. So, your sense of enjoyment is more.

He does not keep time (taaLa) with palm and fingers like most musicians do. Obvious and visible taaLa creates tension. He takes taaLa for granted and hence no tension.

Even visually - he wore only white and was completely unostentatious.

He sang for himself (and/or for god, as perhaps, he himself thought) that also reduced tension.

This post cannot be complete without this anecdote: He was singing in Ayyanar College of Music in Mysore. This place is known as Bidaram Krishnappanavara Ramamandira. This is a small rectangular hall. The shorter side of the rectangle facing East, there is a niche with a large picture of Srirama Pattabhisheka. At the other, a small stage is erected, on which musicians perform, facing the picture. The stage is very small and the musicians are very close to one another. The walls are adorned with original oil paintings of dashAvatAra, with elaborate rosewood frames. The atmosphere of this hall is very special.

At the end of one his concerts, he started singing Mangala. (This is a short piece of music sung at the end of every Carnatic music concert and is a prayer for the wellbeing of everyone around.) Usually, the listeners get up and start preparing to leave when Mangala starts. On this occasion too they started rising. MDR gesticulated and bade them sit down. He told them, in Tamil, “You should not do this! Mangala is a prayer to Lord Rama for the wellbeing of everyone. You should get up only after that is sung” Everyone sat down. He proceeded to sing the most elaborate Mangala I have ever heard. The piece that is usually over in a minute or two, at most, he sang for what appeared to be half an hour. I am certain that it lasted, at the least, ten minutes. Everyone sat down and what a lovely, elaborate Mangala we were treated to!

While writing this post I was listening to this:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DU66tMycLFM

A Surbahar Player - Pt. Ashwin Dalvi

A Flautist

A Sarod Player. Based on pictures of Smt. Sharan Rani

Lighthouse

I have always been fascinated by lighthouses. 

I have tried to look for the reasons, for this fascination. Is it because it offers hope and land for a weary sailor and warn him of dangers? Is it the symbolism of light when all is dark? Is it the sheer elegance of something that rises lean and simple and reaches for the sky? Is it just its uprightness? Invariably simple architecture for a lofty purpose - both literally and figuratively? Is it because of the quotations that extoll the virtues of a lighthouse keeper's job? Like Einstein's? - "The ideal job for a theoretical physicist is that of a lighthouse keeper's. Then you could think all day long with no one bothering you"?

This fascination led me to paint and also goaded me to write this poem to accompany a loose watercolour sketch.

Here is one more watercolour work.

When I visited Mahabalipuram (Mamallapuram) some years ago, I took several photographs and used them and some more that I found on the net - like on the Lighthouse Authority of India.