ART ICHOL Journal 1st Volume

Journal

MMXIV Volume One

Dedication “चली थी बस इक ख़्वाब लेकर

मुड़के देखा, तो पाया कारवाँ ।।”* I’m a dreamer. Making my dreams a reality would never have been possible without my family. It was my in-laws S. N. and Padma Beri who first brought me to Maihar, which I suppose is when it all started. Art Ichol would never have been built without my father, Suraj P. Subherwal and my mother who endured his long absences. My sons Aditya and Anshuman have been pillars of support. But above all has been the unfaltering encouragement and support of my husband Sanjiv who, unknowingly perhaps, showed me the way. I dedicate Art Ichol to each of them, to my staff, my friends and everyone who helped me along the way, to build this dream.

Ambica Beri Maihar

Journal MMXIV Volume One *from writings in Maihar by ceramic artist Rekha Bajpe Aggarwal

Contents Director’s Note Ambica Beri Editor’s Note Gopika Nath

The Residency The Album Editor: Gopika Nath Editorial assistant: Tanya Dutt Gallery Support: Tanya Dutt, Goutam Mukherjee Design: Gopika Nath Design elements: Shalini Jaikaria from design for ‘Maihar Scarf ‘ [mail@geishadesigns.com] Design Assistant: Divyanshu Dutta Roy [www.duttaroy.com]

Printed and published by: Ambica Beri for Art Ichol, Village Ichol [Between Khajuraho and Bandavgarh], Maihar, Madhya Pradesh 485 771 www.artichol.in email: info@artichol.in Tel No.: (0091) 07674-292 071

Fana Arshiya Sethi The Poet’s Eye Sudeep Sen Renewal of Spirit Shalini Jaikaria The Photographer’s Brush Bandeep Singh The Story Teller Sapna Bhatia Detour to Kutch Maggie Baxter Poetics of Passion Bhavana Sabherwal Chasing the Sunset Amitabha Bhattacharya The Furnace at Uchhehra Gopika Nath The Album

www.gallerysanskriti.com email: info@gallerysanskriti.com Tel No.: +91 983 100 9278

The Making of Ichol

Printed at Pixcel India, Kolkata Tel No.: +91 983 038 6747

I Want to Dream Ambica Beri Gift of Time Suraj P Subherwal

ART ICHOL 2015

The Album

Contents Director’s Note Ambica Beri Editor’s Note Gopika Nath

The Residency The Album Editor: Gopika Nath Editorial assistant: Tanya Dutt Gallery Support: Tanya Dutt, Goutam Mukherjee Design: Gopika Nath Design elements: Shalini Jaikaria from design for ‘Maihar Scarf ‘ [mail@geishadesigns.com] Design Assistant: Divyanshu Dutta Roy [www.duttaroy.com]

Printed and published by: Ambica Beri for Art Ichol, Village Ichol [Between Khajuraho and Bandavgarh], Maihar, Madhya Pradesh 485 771 www.artichol.in email: info@artichol.in Tel No.: (0091) 07674-292 071

Fana Arshiya Sethi The Poet’s Eye Sudeep Sen Renewal of Spirit Shalini Jaikaria The Photographer’s Brush Bandeep Singh The Story Teller Sapna Bhatia Detour to Kutch Maggie Baxter Poetics of Passion Bhavana Sabherwal Chasing the Sunset Amitabha Bhattacharya The Furnace at Uchhehra Gopika Nath The Album

www.gallerysanskriti.com email: info@gallerysanskriti.com Tel No.: +91 983 100 9278

The Making of Ichol

Printed at Pixcel India, Kolkata Tel No.: +91 983 038 6747

I Want to Dream Ambica Beri Gift of Time Suraj P Subherwal

ART ICHOL 2015

The Album

Contents Scavenger’s Trick Narayan Sinha Kuch Unkahi Salamat Khan The Silent Heroes Aditya Beri Beyond Imagination Anshuman Beri The Album

Maihar Archives

Director’s Note Dear friends, It is with great joy that I bring to you, this first volume of the Art Ichol Journal.

Art Ichol is my vision for a world class multi-arts centre; a dream that came with a will of its own and became my purpose and driving force for the last three years. On hindsight, it seems to have followed a logical path, drawing from my life events, endeavours and things as they unfolded. Art Ichol is designed to provide facilities and an environment for artists, writers and other creative individuals to excel in. It is my tribute to those great artists and people who influenced my life.

I envision Art Ichol as a cultural reservoir for legacies to be left behind in; where people will be remembered by the creative work they did here, for generations ahead.

The Album

The Ceramic Centre Kiln Gods

Gallery Musings March 2015 to March 2016

Art Ichol has been designed as a meeting ground for ideas and a space for imagination to flourish.

There is enough room in the world for practicality and functionality, but what of our dreams?

Whether you are a writer, photographer or film maker, Art Ichol is blessed with an environment that inspires the impossible. It is not merely a visual arts centre but a commune for all creative fields. I hope to see shared creativity, and multi-dimensional works of art born through the interdisciplinary dialogues we encourage at this centre. Yes, Art Ichol is about grand aspirations and dreams. Isn’t that where our countless yearnings reveal themselves?

Over the years, I have invited many artists to work in Maihar, held workshops and met magical minds on these grounds. It was only natural for me to build this establishment here. To be able to work under open skies, relish the subtle symphonies of nature away from the neurosis of urban life, and share this with my friends, colleagues and patrons, has been the biggest blessing of all. More and more people should benefit from this space and its inspiring pulse. Looking out from my little window in Maihar, I dreamt of sharing it with the whole world!

Contents Scavenger’s Trick Narayan Sinha Kuch Unkahi Salamat Khan The Silent Heroes Aditya Beri Beyond Imagination Anshuman Beri The Album

Maihar Archives

Director’s Note Dear friends, It is with great joy that I bring to you, this first volume of the Art Ichol Journal.

Art Ichol is my vision for a world class multi-arts centre; a dream that came with a will of its own and became my purpose and driving force for the last three years. On hindsight, it seems to have followed a logical path, drawing from my life events, endeavours and things as they unfolded. Art Ichol is designed to provide facilities and an environment for artists, writers and other creative individuals to excel in. It is my tribute to those great artists and people who influenced my life.

I envision Art Ichol as a cultural reservoir for legacies to be left behind in; where people will be remembered by the creative work they did here, for generations ahead.

The Album

The Ceramic Centre Kiln Gods

Gallery Musings March 2015 to March 2016

Art Ichol has been designed as a meeting ground for ideas and a space for imagination to flourish.

There is enough room in the world for practicality and functionality, but what of our dreams?

Whether you are a writer, photographer or film maker, Art Ichol is blessed with an environment that inspires the impossible. It is not merely a visual arts centre but a commune for all creative fields. I hope to see shared creativity, and multi-dimensional works of art born through the interdisciplinary dialogues we encourage at this centre. Yes, Art Ichol is about grand aspirations and dreams. Isn’t that where our countless yearnings reveal themselves?

Over the years, I have invited many artists to work in Maihar, held workshops and met magical minds on these grounds. It was only natural for me to build this establishment here. To be able to work under open skies, relish the subtle symphonies of nature away from the neurosis of urban life, and share this with my friends, colleagues and patrons, has been the biggest blessing of all. More and more people should benefit from this space and its inspiring pulse. Looking out from my little window in Maihar, I dreamt of sharing it with the whole world!

Editor’s Note Art Ichol has been conceived as a centre to nurture the creative spirit. In long hours spent in Maihar, away from the buzz of a large metropolis like Delhi or Kolkata, Ambica Beri drew upon her experience as gallerist, her engagement with painters, sculptors, ceramicists and other creative individuals over the past two decades, to envision a world-class art centre in the heart of rural and small-town India.

Rich in history and lush landscape - from rivers, lotus ponds and mountain-scapes, as well as the famed temples of Khajuraho, forest reserve at Panna and tiger safaris at Bandhavgarh, the Art Ichol centre lies within easy reach of much natural beauty and an alluring cultural past.

The inaugural residency of the centre took place in December 2014. It saw the flowering of many ideas and the interaction between artists, poets, designers, film-makers and photographers. It was an incredibly fertile exchange that affirmed Ambica Beri’s foresight and vision.

This journal was born out of what she saw unfolding through the eight day residency - the interdisciplinary dialogues and passionate, creative responses to space, light, nature and history. It is therefore presented as an informal journey of experience.

All this energy and burgeoning of creative ideas has translated into a visually and experientially lush publication. We have Bandeep Singh painting with the lens, as if it were a brush. His images are accompanied by Haikus. Sudeep Sen uses the poetic in colourful images and evocative words that conjure up the night sky in Maihar. Shalini Jaikaria has translated her experiences, almost in the form of a designer’s journal, where many elements that enthralled her are incorporated in a multi-layered scarf-design. Sapna Bhatia, the story-teller, fascinated by the making of Art Ichol has added this story to her on-line portal www.bringhomestories.com. Maggie Baxter, who joined us from Perth in Australia, was busy sketching her minimal line drawings that will eventually find their way into the hands of Kuttchi craftsmen to be block-printed and embroidered. I abandoned needle and thread for pen and ink and drew after what seemed like centuries. Arshiya Sethi rekindled the dancer in her and regaled us with elegant abhinaya at whim, inspired by the stage at Ichol or the nostalgia of an era gone by in the Maihar Palace. Amitabha Bhattacharya, whom all of us fondly refer to as ‘Dada’ or elder brother, was the gracious lensman who recorded the subtle

nuances of our every gesture and footstep, equally generous in sharing informed tips on lighting and other photography techniques. Bhavana Sabherwal, who added her lyrical voice to our musical evenings around the bonfire, also shares a behind-the-scene view of watching Art Ichol become what it is today.

The making of Art Ichol has many fascinating stories and a special section has been devoted to this, along with a photo-archive of the many artists and potters who have stayed at Maihar. Replete with personal essays, photo albums that say more than words often can, photo essays, poems and much more, the journal promises to be a treat for the senses - evoking the energy and fervour of creativity, which the environment in and around Art Ichol inspired and brought forth.

Editor’s Note Art Ichol has been conceived as a centre to nurture the creative spirit. In long hours spent in Maihar, away from the buzz of a large metropolis like Delhi or Kolkata, Ambica Beri drew upon her experience as gallerist, her engagement with painters, sculptors, ceramicists and other creative individuals over the past two decades, to envision a world-class art centre in the heart of rural and small-town India.

Rich in history and lush landscape - from rivers, lotus ponds and mountain-scapes, as well as the famed temples of Khajuraho, forest reserve at Panna and tiger safaris at Bandhavgarh, the Art Ichol centre lies within easy reach of much natural beauty and an alluring cultural past.

The inaugural residency of the centre took place in December 2014. It saw the flowering of many ideas and the interaction between artists, poets, designers, film-makers and photographers. It was an incredibly fertile exchange that affirmed Ambica Beri’s foresight and vision.

This journal was born out of what she saw unfolding through the eight day residency - the interdisciplinary dialogues and passionate, creative responses to space, light, nature and history. It is therefore presented as an informal journey of experience.

All this energy and burgeoning of creative ideas has translated into a visually and experientially lush publication. We have Bandeep Singh painting with the lens, as if it were a brush. His images are accompanied by Haikus. Sudeep Sen uses the poetic in colourful images and evocative words that conjure up the night sky in Maihar. Shalini Jaikaria has translated her experiences, almost in the form of a designer’s journal, where many elements that enthralled her are incorporated in a multi-layered scarf-design. Sapna Bhatia, the story-teller, fascinated by the making of Art Ichol has added this story to her on-line portal www.bringhomestories.com. Maggie Baxter, who joined us from Perth in Australia, was busy sketching her minimal line drawings that will eventually find their way into the hands of Kuttchi craftsmen to be block-printed and embroidered. I abandoned needle and thread for pen and ink and drew after what seemed like centuries. Arshiya Sethi rekindled the dancer in her and regaled us with elegant abhinaya at whim, inspired by the stage at Ichol or the nostalgia of an era gone by in the Maihar Palace. Amitabha Bhattacharya, whom all of us fondly refer to as ‘Dada’ or elder brother, was the gracious lensman who recorded the subtle

nuances of our every gesture and footstep, equally generous in sharing informed tips on lighting and other photography techniques. Bhavana Sabherwal, who added her lyrical voice to our musical evenings around the bonfire, also shares a behind-the-scene view of watching Art Ichol become what it is today.

The making of Art Ichol has many fascinating stories and a special section has been devoted to this, along with a photo-archive of the many artists and potters who have stayed at Maihar. Replete with personal essays, photo albums that say more than words often can, photo essays, poems and much more, the journal promises to be a treat for the senses - evoking the energy and fervour of creativity, which the environment in and around Art Ichol inspired and brought forth.

The Residency

The Residency

The Album

The Album

Arshiya Sethi

Fana I had an opportunity to attend a residency at Art Ichol. Most of the other participants were from as varied creative streams as photography, fashion design and literature, I stood apart as the only scholar and arts manager. This allowed me, after the first hit of awe, to assess Art Ichol, its present and future capability, to value and to permit an exploration of its potential in my mind.

Coming from the urban metropolis of Delhi and its whirling pace, artifice and compromises; the secure expanse, silence and beauty of Art Ichol allow you to still, be yourself, and find your true voice. Periodically, this is necessary for all of us, but more so for creative artists. Not being a performing or productive artiste myself, but a nurturer and facilitator of the arts and artistic growth, I am well aware of the writer’s block, the jammed mind and the de-energizing rut of daily living. It is reflected in a creative paralysis and an inability to enthuse. Hell, this had happened to me too, turning into a short fuse and burning with a desperate desire to get away. It was just then that I got the invitation for the retreat, and am so glad that I was able to experience its potential first hand.

There are two ways of getting to Art Ichol - by air from Khajuraho or by train to Maihar. I came via Khajuraho, allowing me to admire the Apsaras and Salabhanjikas carved on the temples’ facade, in their most favourable light - the light of the setting sun. As we drove past the Panna reserve forest - home to the Tiger and the famed diamond mines, I thought that Khajuraho could well have been the highlight of the journey. The road from Panna was dark, and the flanking forest made it more so.

Miles moved monotonously.

art ichol at night photo credit : bandeep singh

But suddenly, from the middle of nowhere, Art Ichol loomed up - surreally ablaze in the inky darkness. The shock was akin to sighting a UFO landing in the middle of nowhere. Quirky, imaginative, creatively designed. Sprinkled with interestingly put-together industrial and artistic material, Art Ichol is to be experienced as much as it is to be seen. And words cannot do justice to what a unique blend of past and present, artistic and mundane, creative and convenient, predictable and shocking that is Art Ichol.

khajuraho photo credit : gopika nath

Arshiya Sethi

Fana I had an opportunity to attend a residency at Art Ichol. Most of the other participants were from as varied creative streams as photography, fashion design and literature, I stood apart as the only scholar and arts manager. This allowed me, after the first hit of awe, to assess Art Ichol, its present and future capability, to value and to permit an exploration of its potential in my mind.

Coming from the urban metropolis of Delhi and its whirling pace, artifice and compromises; the secure expanse, silence and beauty of Art Ichol allow you to still, be yourself, and find your true voice. Periodically, this is necessary for all of us, but more so for creative artists. Not being a performing or productive artiste myself, but a nurturer and facilitator of the arts and artistic growth, I am well aware of the writer’s block, the jammed mind and the de-energizing rut of daily living. It is reflected in a creative paralysis and an inability to enthuse. Hell, this had happened to me too, turning into a short fuse and burning with a desperate desire to get away. It was just then that I got the invitation for the retreat, and am so glad that I was able to experience its potential first hand.

There are two ways of getting to Art Ichol - by air from Khajuraho or by train to Maihar. I came via Khajuraho, allowing me to admire the Apsaras and Salabhanjikas carved on the temples’ facade, in their most favourable light - the light of the setting sun. As we drove past the Panna reserve forest - home to the Tiger and the famed diamond mines, I thought that Khajuraho could well have been the highlight of the journey. The road from Panna was dark, and the flanking forest made it more so.

Miles moved monotonously.

art ichol at night photo credit : bandeep singh

But suddenly, from the middle of nowhere, Art Ichol loomed up - surreally ablaze in the inky darkness. The shock was akin to sighting a UFO landing in the middle of nowhere. Quirky, imaginative, creatively designed. Sprinkled with interestingly put-together industrial and artistic material, Art Ichol is to be experienced as much as it is to be seen. And words cannot do justice to what a unique blend of past and present, artistic and mundane, creative and convenient, predictable and shocking that is Art Ichol.

khajuraho photo credit : gopika nath

Arshiya Sethi

Fana

It has a chhatri and a baoli that date back several centuries. It has cutting edge stone and steely, contemporary sculptures. It has a dramatic play of electric lights and the incandescent streaming of serene moonlight. It has modern building material and scrap, aligned together. It has vast expanse of space and neatly crafted, closely located, small individual artistic spaces.

It also has a small stage dominated by the low hung branches of an aged mango tree. Imagine how heady it would be to perform on this stage, especially when the Amramanjari is flowering. The stage is sanctified with a bronze sculpture of Baba Allauddin Khan, the grand master of Indian classical music who had made nearby Maihar his home and trained his son Ustad Ali Akbar Khan, his daughter Annapurna Devi and future son-in-law, Pandit Ravi Shankar there.

maihar band, nal tarang photo credit : gopika nath

In the musical history of India Baba proved to be a genius in many ways. He was a great capacity builder. One of the examples of this skill was the Maihar Band, created at the request of his patron, the former Raja of Maihar, almost a century ago - out of a ragtag group of orphans, post a terrible famine. The band still exists and is probably into its fifth generation. Adding to the uniqueness of the band is that it features as its centre piece, a one of a kind, most unique instrument in the world, called the Nal Tarang - created by Baba himself. It is made from the gun barrels donated to his friend and patron the king who was exasperated by the horrors of the World Wars. For almost a century these barrels have played life-affirming musical notes rather than spewed out life-destroying bullets. Almost instinctively, I responded to the wisdom of this thought by breaking into the only art form that I have trained in, which is dance - more specifically Kathak. To Baba Allauddin Khan, to his music and the message of pacifism that came from these soils; to the curves of the branches of the mango tree and the arches of the chhatri. Responding to the suddenness, drama and creative impulsiveness of Art Ichol, my hands rose in salute. My feet beat a celebratory tattoo, and my body pirouetted in the age-old Sufi expression of ‘fana’.

Dance was to be the subtext of my six days here. Whether in Maihar, home to a Shaktipeeth and named after Goddess Sati’s necklace or haar that fell there, or in the

photo credit: tanya dutt

Arshiya Sethi

Fana

It has a chhatri and a baoli that date back several centuries. It has cutting edge stone and steely, contemporary sculptures. It has a dramatic play of electric lights and the incandescent streaming of serene moonlight. It has modern building material and scrap, aligned together. It has vast expanse of space and neatly crafted, closely located, small individual artistic spaces.

It also has a small stage dominated by the low hung branches of an aged mango tree. Imagine how heady it would be to perform on this stage, especially when the Amramanjari is flowering. The stage is sanctified with a bronze sculpture of Baba Allauddin Khan, the grand master of Indian classical music who had made nearby Maihar his home and trained his son Ustad Ali Akbar Khan, his daughter Annapurna Devi and future son-in-law, Pandit Ravi Shankar there.

maihar band, nal tarang photo credit : gopika nath

In the musical history of India Baba proved to be a genius in many ways. He was a great capacity builder. One of the examples of this skill was the Maihar Band, created at the request of his patron, the former Raja of Maihar, almost a century ago - out of a ragtag group of orphans, post a terrible famine. The band still exists and is probably into its fifth generation. Adding to the uniqueness of the band is that it features as its centre piece, a one of a kind, most unique instrument in the world, called the Nal Tarang - created by Baba himself. It is made from the gun barrels donated to his friend and patron the king who was exasperated by the horrors of the World Wars. For almost a century these barrels have played life-affirming musical notes rather than spewed out life-destroying bullets. Almost instinctively, I responded to the wisdom of this thought by breaking into the only art form that I have trained in, which is dance - more specifically Kathak. To Baba Allauddin Khan, to his music and the message of pacifism that came from these soils; to the curves of the branches of the mango tree and the arches of the chhatri. Responding to the suddenness, drama and creative impulsiveness of Art Ichol, my hands rose in salute. My feet beat a celebratory tattoo, and my body pirouetted in the age-old Sufi expression of ‘fana’.

Dance was to be the subtext of my six days here. Whether in Maihar, home to a Shaktipeeth and named after Goddess Sati’s necklace or haar that fell there, or in the

photo credit: tanya dutt

Arshiya Sethi

Fana Devi Sharda temple, which one reaches by travelling a cool ropeway now and not climbing those hundred steps that are still to be seen, as you ride a hundred feet above them, or in ‘Amariya - The Writers’ Retreat’ which is located on the bend of a small river that finds mention in the Ramayana - dance was my instinctive response to the setting. Much to the surprise of the group I was with, and often to their questions about this facet of my being – unknown to most, even those who knew me.

I was astonished myself - at what was happening, for I hadn’t danced for nearly twenty-seven years. But something was pulling it out of me. Something had turned on a switch which had been kept off, far too long. I was excited, yet I was quiet. I was visiting my centre again. This is what the residency at Art Ichol did for me.

Once back, I am more predictable and, not unexpectedly breaking into a spontaneous dance, every now and again. But, I know that I can. That dance is still a-kindle within the depths of my being, is enough to keep a smile flickering on my lips.

As an arts manager, I know that Art Ichol has the potential of growing from a centre of individual salvation, such that I experienced personally, to creating a community - the beginnings of which I also saw unfolding before me. And eventually, I also see this Arts Centre serving as a nexus for shared creativity. But, whatever it is that we can imagine or visualise at this point, it is only and only just, the tip of the iceberg of potential I foresee here.

stage at art ichol photo credit : bandeep singh

Arshiya Sethi is a Scholar, Activist, Artiste, Media personality Administrator and Cultural Visionary. Dr. Sethi has been the Executive Director of the annual Delhi International Arts Festival. She set up the Kri Foundation as a progressive link between the practice, management and scholarship of the arts and, in promoting a developmental agenda.

Website: www.krifoundation.org

arshiya at maihar palace photo credit : amitabha bhattacharya

Arshiya Sethi

Fana Devi Sharda temple, which one reaches by travelling a cool ropeway now and not climbing those hundred steps that are still to be seen, as you ride a hundred feet above them, or in ‘Amariya - The Writers’ Retreat’ which is located on the bend of a small river that finds mention in the Ramayana - dance was my instinctive response to the setting. Much to the surprise of the group I was with, and often to their questions about this facet of my being – unknown to most, even those who knew me.

I was astonished myself - at what was happening, for I hadn’t danced for nearly twenty-seven years. But something was pulling it out of me. Something had turned on a switch which had been kept off, far too long. I was excited, yet I was quiet. I was visiting my centre again. This is what the residency at Art Ichol did for me.

Once back, I am more predictable and, not unexpectedly breaking into a spontaneous dance, every now and again. But, I know that I can. That dance is still a-kindle within the depths of my being, is enough to keep a smile flickering on my lips.

As an arts manager, I know that Art Ichol has the potential of growing from a centre of individual salvation, such that I experienced personally, to creating a community - the beginnings of which I also saw unfolding before me. And eventually, I also see this Arts Centre serving as a nexus for shared creativity. But, whatever it is that we can imagine or visualise at this point, it is only and only just, the tip of the iceberg of potential I foresee here.

stage at art ichol photo credit : bandeep singh

Arshiya Sethi is a Scholar, Activist, Artiste, Media personality Administrator and Cultural Visionary. Dr. Sethi has been the Executive Director of the annual Delhi International Arts Festival. She set up the Kri Foundation as a progressive link between the practice, management and scholarship of the arts and, in promoting a developmental agenda.

Website: www.krifoundation.org

arshiya at maihar palace photo credit : amitabha bhattacharya

Sudeep Sen

The Poet’s Eye

Sudeep Sen

The Poet’s Eye

Sudeep Sen

The Poet’s Eye

Under Maihar Night Sky Desire makes everything blossom; possession makes everything wither and fade.

— Marcel Proust We are all lovers, that’s how we meet.

— A. V.

Angular sparks shoot light — an embedded stone pierced on your peach-wheat skin glints — a gem nestled in the soft cleft between your lower lip and curve of your little chin. Ankur V’s nighttime words visit us: We are all lovers, that’s how we meet.

It is that love for love, love for life, for words crafted as exquisite pieces,

to desire blossoming in the night’s thick bracing air.

Then, like a unexpected passing train, all is left aborted with a knife-slice — a sudden flash of thoughts of your past loves — loves that soured, perhaps.

In this courtyard’s horseshoe — the air is full of wine-lipped fragrance, of raat-ki-rani and jasmine, of prayers calls that affirm love’s gem-glint, love that is natural as an age-old friendship.

Nearby, muezzin cries merge with temple chants

love for yearning to want to live, to create, to thirst for ever more.

with Gurudwara prayers, with constant clatter of tracks — fast trains hurrying past

A hug turns to a kiss, a kiss to another shy kiss, kisses to deep touch —

Maihar Railway Station that lie publicly beyond this private

Sudeep Sen

The Poet’s Eye

Under Maihar Night Sky Desire makes everything blossom; possession makes everything wither and fade.

— Marcel Proust We are all lovers, that’s how we meet.

— A. V.

Angular sparks shoot light — an embedded stone pierced on your peach-wheat skin glints — a gem nestled in the soft cleft between your lower lip and curve of your little chin. Ankur V’s nighttime words visit us: We are all lovers, that’s how we meet.

It is that love for love, love for life, for words crafted as exquisite pieces,

to desire blossoming in the night’s thick bracing air.

Then, like a unexpected passing train, all is left aborted with a knife-slice — a sudden flash of thoughts of your past loves — loves that soured, perhaps.

In this courtyard’s horseshoe — the air is full of wine-lipped fragrance, of raat-ki-rani and jasmine, of prayers calls that affirm love’s gem-glint, love that is natural as an age-old friendship.

Nearby, muezzin cries merge with temple chants

love for yearning to want to live, to create, to thirst for ever more.

with Gurudwara prayers, with constant clatter of tracks — fast trains hurrying past

A hug turns to a kiss, a kiss to another shy kiss, kisses to deep touch —

Maihar Railway Station that lie publicly beyond this private

Sudeep Sen secret garden. The walls here cannot hold all the dust accumulating ceaselessly in spite of the cleaner’s broom that repeatedly trace sweeping alternating arcs — broom-handle in her calloused hands, map loves she could not hold on to, in her own life.

But love, like all lovers, is how we shall meet.

Do not fear the power of lust that keeps you from belonging.

Perhaps your gemstone’s hot white-light will spark longing to unfreeze.

Under Maihar’s dusty cold night sky — We are all lovers, that’s how we meet.

The Poet’s Eye

Sudeep Sen secret garden. The walls here cannot hold all the dust accumulating ceaselessly in spite of the cleaner’s broom that repeatedly trace sweeping alternating arcs — broom-handle in her calloused hands, map loves she could not hold on to, in her own life.

But love, like all lovers, is how we shall meet.

Do not fear the power of lust that keeps you from belonging.

Perhaps your gemstone’s hot white-light will spark longing to unfreeze.

Under Maihar’s dusty cold night sky — We are all lovers, that’s how we meet.

The Poet’s Eye

Sudeep Sen

The Poet’s Eye Abandoned Gods Sindoor-haldi smeared, revered by village hands — abandoned Maihar gods come alive, momentarily.

Hibiscus, marigold, marry fervor, devotion — giving weather-eroded broken deities, a new moss-laden life — a fleeting finery.

Redolent organic colours leak, seep, merge; erased by errant rains — flower-petals desiccate, wither in scorching heat.

Whispered prayers, lingering fingers, embalm — sculpting stones anew.

Sudeep Sen

The Poet’s Eye Abandoned Gods Sindoor-haldi smeared, revered by village hands — abandoned Maihar gods come alive, momentarily.

Hibiscus, marigold, marry fervor, devotion — giving weather-eroded broken deities, a new moss-laden life — a fleeting finery.

Redolent organic colours leak, seep, merge; erased by errant rains — flower-petals desiccate, wither in scorching heat.

Whispered prayers, lingering fingers, embalm — sculpting stones anew.

Sudeep Sen

The Poet’s Eye

Indian Dessert Clumps of wet-smoke simmer in the pan, and slowly lift to caress the outline of your breasts as you cook, stirring spices in carrot, milk, and cream — ingredients that conjure recipes of hunger and passion. As you melt sugar and butter and gently stroke flakes of grated almond-shavings, more clumps of perfumed smoke permeate through the silk of your shirt — now transparent in heat — painting the outer circle of the nipples to a hardened edge, tasting the sweet skin, the surface of the crinkled base, to a creamed mouthful of untampered delicacy.

Sudeep Sen is an award winning poet, widely recognized as a major new generation Ǥ ǡ ǦƤ ǡ featured in major international anthologies and he is the editorial director of AARK ARTS and the editor of Atlas. As a photographer and graphic artist, his work is part of many professional print portfolios, magazine and newspaper pieces, book jacket covers, private and public collections including the Hindu, Deccan Chronicle, New Indian Express, Swagat, Gallerie, Biblio, Prairie Schooner, Molossus, World Literature Today, Indian Design and Interiors, and others. Website: www.sudeepsen.net

Sudeep Sen

The Poet’s Eye

Indian Dessert Clumps of wet-smoke simmer in the pan, and slowly lift to caress the outline of your breasts as you cook, stirring spices in carrot, milk, and cream — ingredients that conjure recipes of hunger and passion. As you melt sugar and butter and gently stroke flakes of grated almond-shavings, more clumps of perfumed smoke permeate through the silk of your shirt — now transparent in heat — painting the outer circle of the nipples to a hardened edge, tasting the sweet skin, the surface of the crinkled base, to a creamed mouthful of untampered delicacy.

Sudeep Sen is an award winning poet, widely recognized as a major new generation Ǥ ǡ ǦƤ ǡ featured in major international anthologies and he is the editorial director of AARK ARTS and the editor of Atlas. As a photographer and graphic artist, his work is part of many professional print portfolios, magazine and newspaper pieces, book jacket covers, private and public collections including the Hindu, Deccan Chronicle, New Indian Express, Swagat, Gallerie, Biblio, Prairie Schooner, Molossus, World Literature Today, Indian Design and Interiors, and others. Website: www.sudeepsen.net

Shalini Jaikaria

Renewal of Spirit I belong to the garment industry. It is an industry that is fickle, with an insatiable appetite for novelty and all things new. Each season, our clients want to be wooed with new styles, new textures, new colours and newer and newer stories.

In this never ending search for the new, I often find myself at the end of the road and feel that I have nothing more to say. In moments like these, it is nature and solitude that renew my perspective, giving my creative abilities a new lease of life. For me, Maihar translated into all of this.

The Art Ichol residency offered comfortable living, surrounded by lush green, a riverside, an uncluttered, clean blue sky with awesome, vibrant sunsets. Alas, I never woke up early enough to witness the sunrise. Located in the heart of India, the landscape is dotted with temples, sculptures, chhatris and baolis, which spring up in the middle of cultivated fields in quaint and colourful villages. Maihar itself is an industrial town with mines and cement factories that stand out of the landscape like machines descended from an alien planet.

But, what was really unique about this residency was to be able to interact with people from different creative fields. Each of us came with our own perspectives. Sharing of views accelerated the design process and the time spent here became a fertile ground for developing new ideas.

I often say that we remember our past by our experiences and the feelings they evoked in us. The artwork that I created - a scarf design, is a visual documentation of how the Maihar experience has been etched in my mind.

The bungalow we stayed in lies in close proximity to the Maihar Railway Station. Often, in the still of night, I would hear the trains and travel with them into a journey of my own past. The vintage bungalow, with its high ceilings fans, old electrical switches and sunny courtyard set the stage for revisiting my carefree past: those days of reckless abandonment - no targets to touch, no children to bring up and responsibility per se. The ‘Khaprael Kothi’ at Ichol has beautifully designed interiors which are also

Shalini Jaikaria

Renewal of Spirit I belong to the garment industry. It is an industry that is fickle, with an insatiable appetite for novelty and all things new. Each season, our clients want to be wooed with new styles, new textures, new colours and newer and newer stories.

In this never ending search for the new, I often find myself at the end of the road and feel that I have nothing more to say. In moments like these, it is nature and solitude that renew my perspective, giving my creative abilities a new lease of life. For me, Maihar translated into all of this.

The Art Ichol residency offered comfortable living, surrounded by lush green, a riverside, an uncluttered, clean blue sky with awesome, vibrant sunsets. Alas, I never woke up early enough to witness the sunrise. Located in the heart of India, the landscape is dotted with temples, sculptures, chhatris and baolis, which spring up in the middle of cultivated fields in quaint and colourful villages. Maihar itself is an industrial town with mines and cement factories that stand out of the landscape like machines descended from an alien planet.

But, what was really unique about this residency was to be able to interact with people from different creative fields. Each of us came with our own perspectives. Sharing of views accelerated the design process and the time spent here became a fertile ground for developing new ideas.

I often say that we remember our past by our experiences and the feelings they evoked in us. The artwork that I created - a scarf design, is a visual documentation of how the Maihar experience has been etched in my mind.

The bungalow we stayed in lies in close proximity to the Maihar Railway Station. Often, in the still of night, I would hear the trains and travel with them into a journey of my own past. The vintage bungalow, with its high ceilings fans, old electrical switches and sunny courtyard set the stage for revisiting my carefree past: those days of reckless abandonment - no targets to touch, no children to bring up and responsibility per se. The ‘Khaprael Kothi’ at Ichol has beautifully designed interiors which are also

Shalini Jaikaria inspired by these trains. Railway lamps have been creatively turned into chandeliers, old machines transformed into table stands. The railway-platform clocks, notice boards, railings and old coach handles seamlessly becoming part of the contemporary decor.

All reminding me, nudging me gently, to revisit the purpose of this journey of life.

The journey to Maihar commenced with a visit to the Khajuraho temples. We were fortunate to see them against the light of the setting sun. At some level I would say that this journey had a lot to do with temples. Every day we would visit a new temple in and around Maihar. They were scattered all over the countryside. Most plundered and in ruins, but eloquent reminders of our cultural and historical past.

I enjoyed photographing them - looking through the camera lens at different times of day, in the shifting rays of the sun. En route to the temples we would often pass villages and I noticed how the villagers painted their houses in all hues of the rainbow - in pinks, orange, blues, greens and violets. I remember one particular incident on our way to the Rampur Plateau. We crossed a prachin [old] Temple which had been carelessly re-created with brick and mortar. saffron graffiti and windows opening to the northern sky. Suddenly the environment transformed into a photography tutorial on ‘Rembrandt lighting’, and all of us clicked in gay abandonment.

Maihar Scarf

The inner rooms were barren and had a high ceiling,

Shalini Jaikaria inspired by these trains. Railway lamps have been creatively turned into chandeliers, old machines transformed into table stands. The railway-platform clocks, notice boards, railings and old coach handles seamlessly becoming part of the contemporary decor.

All reminding me, nudging me gently, to revisit the purpose of this journey of life.

The journey to Maihar commenced with a visit to the Khajuraho temples. We were fortunate to see them against the light of the setting sun. At some level I would say that this journey had a lot to do with temples. Every day we would visit a new temple in and around Maihar. They were scattered all over the countryside. Most plundered and in ruins, but eloquent reminders of our cultural and historical past.

I enjoyed photographing them - looking through the camera lens at different times of day, in the shifting rays of the sun. En route to the temples we would often pass villages and I noticed how the villagers painted their houses in all hues of the rainbow - in pinks, orange, blues, greens and violets. I remember one particular incident on our way to the Rampur Plateau. We crossed a prachin [old] Temple which had been carelessly re-created with brick and mortar. saffron graffiti and windows opening to the northern sky. Suddenly the environment transformed into a photography tutorial on ‘Rembrandt lighting’, and all of us clicked in gay abandonment.

Maihar Scarf

The inner rooms were barren and had a high ceiling,

Shalini Jaikaria

Renewal of Spirit

It was thanks to Dada [Amitabha Bhattacharya] and Bandeep Singh, the professional photographers in our group, graciously sharing their expert tips on photography that made this residency all the more special for me.

Then there was this old Maihar Palace that we visited. Though dilapidated, it was in the process of being renovated into a hotel and still held secrets of its former magnificence, reflected in small details like the decorative tiles, carved ceilings and broken, stained glass windows – all of which had innumerable tales to tell. I was fascinated by the tiles and have used them as a running border on one side of the scarf.

tiles, maihar palace photo credit: amitabha bhattacharya

One of the fondest memories I have of the residency is of the evening when the Maihar band came to play – a personal concert right there in the bungalow courtyard. All of us listening were seated on the edge of the courtyard with the lawn between the band and us, listening to the soulful music against the backdrop of the arches, roof and garden decorated with the flickering light of candles. Against this backdrop was the setting sun. The band’s performance was followed by our nightly session of spirits around a bonfire. This evening Sapna, Bhavana and Gopika took the mood forward singing songs from old Bollywood films.

Towards the end of the residency we went on a safari to Bandhavgarh. We had to wake up really early, at the crack of dawn, on a cold December morning. This was really tough but high in anticipation of sighting a tiger, we bundled ourselves with blankets and hot water bottles and braved the chill. However, we were disappointed. Not only did we not see the much awaited tiger, we missed her by a whisker. My mood was sullen, inwardly questioning the unfairness of it all, when suddenly I decided to follow Bandeep and Dada on a photography excursion. And how the mood was transformed by the lotus garden, located close to our Tree-house resort!

photo credit: amitabha bhattacharya

Seeing Bandeep’s passion for the flower, I was tempted to follow him into the pond but hesitated. I was sceptical about what kind of photos one would get at high-noon, with the sun’s harsh light on the dark and dirty water. But, as Dada and Bandeep knowledgeably put it: “every light is great light…it opens up the possibility of seeing

photo credit: amitabha bhattacharya

Shalini Jaikaria

Renewal of Spirit

It was thanks to Dada [Amitabha Bhattacharya] and Bandeep Singh, the professional photographers in our group, graciously sharing their expert tips on photography that made this residency all the more special for me.

Then there was this old Maihar Palace that we visited. Though dilapidated, it was in the process of being renovated into a hotel and still held secrets of its former magnificence, reflected in small details like the decorative tiles, carved ceilings and broken, stained glass windows – all of which had innumerable tales to tell. I was fascinated by the tiles and have used them as a running border on one side of the scarf.

tiles, maihar palace photo credit: amitabha bhattacharya

One of the fondest memories I have of the residency is of the evening when the Maihar band came to play – a personal concert right there in the bungalow courtyard. All of us listening were seated on the edge of the courtyard with the lawn between the band and us, listening to the soulful music against the backdrop of the arches, roof and garden decorated with the flickering light of candles. Against this backdrop was the setting sun. The band’s performance was followed by our nightly session of spirits around a bonfire. This evening Sapna, Bhavana and Gopika took the mood forward singing songs from old Bollywood films.

Towards the end of the residency we went on a safari to Bandhavgarh. We had to wake up really early, at the crack of dawn, on a cold December morning. This was really tough but high in anticipation of sighting a tiger, we bundled ourselves with blankets and hot water bottles and braved the chill. However, we were disappointed. Not only did we not see the much awaited tiger, we missed her by a whisker. My mood was sullen, inwardly questioning the unfairness of it all, when suddenly I decided to follow Bandeep and Dada on a photography excursion. And how the mood was transformed by the lotus garden, located close to our Tree-house resort!

photo credit: amitabha bhattacharya

Seeing Bandeep’s passion for the flower, I was tempted to follow him into the pond but hesitated. I was sceptical about what kind of photos one would get at high-noon, with the sun’s harsh light on the dark and dirty water. But, as Dada and Bandeep knowledgeably put it: “every light is great light…it opens up the possibility of seeing

photo credit: amitabha bhattacharya

Shalini Jaikaria

Renewal of Spirit the pond differently”. I also realized that I am ever changing - bored with my last clicked image and the pond too was ever changing with the ever-moving sun’s light, such that I happily spent the next four hours, waist-deep in dirty, muddy water.

And I repeated the same exercise the next morning, in an equally mucky lotus pond, behind the bungalow in Maihar.

Another cherished memory I have of the residency was of the time we spent at ‘Amariya -The Writers’ Retreat’. We spent the day lazily sleeping on the banks of river Tamas, observing how we could see reflections on the water, on the leaves of the mango trees. It was a sunny day but with lots of clouds. When evening came, the rays of the setting sun were seen from behind each and every cloud and the water body reflected the sky back ever so evocatively. Together they orchestrated an unbelievably beautiful, stupendous sunset. The trees, the birds and each one of us, stood still - rendered mute by the spectacular beauty unfolding in front of our eyes - spectators to a great performance. And then as we walked, literally chasing the sun, we walked up from the idyllic banks of the lazy Tamas to encounter the regular hum drum of small-town life. As cars, bicycles and trucks sped past us on the new bridge we had just walked under, crossing the river by foot, just a few moments ago. The vehicles and their passengers in their hurry, were alas oblivious of the mesmerizing theatre of light that we had just witnessed.

Each night, after our adventures in and around Maihar, we’d have a ‘show and tell’ session where each participant shared their work and perspectives on their art.

I was particularly enthralled with Bandeep’s presentation on the Indian nudes. He had used the Indian purankalash [pot] as a metaphor for the body as a vessel of life, birth and ego. The next day we happened to go to Uchhehra where defective, old, brass vessels from all over India are collected and smelted into new pots. For hours they are baked in the heat, cleansed of all impurities to give the metal a new lease of life. I witnessed this process from a spiritual space which made it all the more enjoyable.

chandelier in khaprael kothi photo credit: srimallya maitra

Shalini Jaikaria

Renewal of Spirit the pond differently”. I also realized that I am ever changing - bored with my last clicked image and the pond too was ever changing with the ever-moving sun’s light, such that I happily spent the next four hours, waist-deep in dirty, muddy water.

And I repeated the same exercise the next morning, in an equally mucky lotus pond, behind the bungalow in Maihar.

Another cherished memory I have of the residency was of the time we spent at ‘Amariya -The Writers’ Retreat’. We spent the day lazily sleeping on the banks of river Tamas, observing how we could see reflections on the water, on the leaves of the mango trees. It was a sunny day but with lots of clouds. When evening came, the rays of the setting sun were seen from behind each and every cloud and the water body reflected the sky back ever so evocatively. Together they orchestrated an unbelievably beautiful, stupendous sunset. The trees, the birds and each one of us, stood still - rendered mute by the spectacular beauty unfolding in front of our eyes - spectators to a great performance. And then as we walked, literally chasing the sun, we walked up from the idyllic banks of the lazy Tamas to encounter the regular hum drum of small-town life. As cars, bicycles and trucks sped past us on the new bridge we had just walked under, crossing the river by foot, just a few moments ago. The vehicles and their passengers in their hurry, were alas oblivious of the mesmerizing theatre of light that we had just witnessed.

Each night, after our adventures in and around Maihar, we’d have a ‘show and tell’ session where each participant shared their work and perspectives on their art.

I was particularly enthralled with Bandeep’s presentation on the Indian nudes. He had used the Indian purankalash [pot] as a metaphor for the body as a vessel of life, birth and ego. The next day we happened to go to Uchhehra where defective, old, brass vessels from all over India are collected and smelted into new pots. For hours they are baked in the heat, cleansed of all impurities to give the metal a new lease of life. I witnessed this process from a spiritual space which made it all the more enjoyable.

chandelier in khaprael kothi photo credit: srimallya maitra

Shalini Jaikaria

Renewal of Spirit I plan to visit Maihar again because I relish the transformation that took place. The lush gardens, lazy riverside and warm hospitality, have opened up many new perspectives with which I now view life and my designing process. The garments and embroideries that I create at Geisha designs will never be the same again. I look forward to Maihar casting its spell on me once again - renewing me and my creative instinct – not unlike the pots at Uchhehra – giving us a new lease of life.

Shalini Jaikaria is an award winning fashion designer who runs ‘Geisha Designs’ along with fellow designer Paras Baroliya – clothes that personify beauty with ultra-feminine élan and beauty. Their Label currently retails in more than 80 high-end stores across India, South East Asia, The Middle East, U.S.A, Europe and South Africa. Get more on Geisha designs at www.geishadesigns.com

Shalini Jaikaria

Renewal of Spirit I plan to visit Maihar again because I relish the transformation that took place. The lush gardens, lazy riverside and warm hospitality, have opened up many new perspectives with which I now view life and my designing process. The garments and embroideries that I create at Geisha designs will never be the same again. I look forward to Maihar casting its spell on me once again - renewing me and my creative instinct – not unlike the pots at Uchhehra – giving us a new lease of life.

Shalini Jaikaria is an award winning fashion designer who runs ‘Geisha Designs’ along with fellow designer Paras Baroliya – clothes that personify beauty with ultra-feminine élan and beauty. Their Label currently retails in more than 80 high-end stores across India, South East Asia, The Middle East, U.S.A, Europe and South Africa. Get more on Geisha designs at www.geishadesigns.com

Bandeep Singh

Grass, Bandhavgarh National Park

The Photographer’s Brush

Tree, Bandhavgarh National Park

Bandeep Singh

Grass, Bandhavgarh National Park

The Photographer’s Brush

Tree, Bandhavgarh National Park

Bandeep Singh

The Photographer’s Brush

Trees melt into ink Ink into more trees Ripples.

Branch mudras rising ơǯ A live performance

Ripples, Amariya

Trees at Rampur Plateau, Maihar

Bandeep Singh

The Photographer’s Brush

Trees melt into ink Ink into more trees Ripples.

Branch mudras rising ơǯ A live performance

Ripples, Amariya

Trees at Rampur Plateau, Maihar

Bandeep Singh

The Photographer’s Brush

^mJVo Mmoa H$s JR>ar Am_ H$s S>m{b`m| na {Va J`r g~ Ae{\©$`m± {~Ia J`t

Safari season Eyes, straining, intense, eager Blinded by the tiger

Sunset over river Tamas, Amariya

Safari track, Bandhavgarh National Park

Bandeep Singh

The Photographer’s Brush

^mJVo Mmoa H$s JR>ar Am_ H$s S>m{b`m| na {Va J`r g~ Ae{\©$`m± {~Ia J`t

Safari season Eyes, straining, intense, eager Blinded by the tiger

Sunset over river Tamas, Amariya

Safari track, Bandhavgarh National Park

Bandeep Singh

The Photographer’s Brush

Untitled 1 from Maihar

Untitled 5 from Maihar

Formerly Photo Editor of India Today, Bandeep Singh is currently working as Photo Editor of Fortune Magazine (India Edition). His images have been published in numerous reputable publications such as Time, India Today, The New York Times, Business week and Forbes. Singh’s personal work is Ǥ ƪ ǡ ǡ ǡ Ƥ Ǥ genres ranging from documentary to portraiture, eroticism and conceptual still-life photography.

Bandeep Singh

The Photographer’s Brush

Untitled 1 from Maihar

Untitled 5 from Maihar

Formerly Photo Editor of India Today, Bandeep Singh is currently working as Photo Editor of Fortune Magazine (India Edition). His images have been published in numerous reputable publications such as Time, India Today, The New York Times, Business week and Forbes. Singh’s personal work is Ǥ ƪ ǡ ǡ ǡ Ƥ Ǥ genres ranging from documentary to portraiture, eroticism and conceptual still-life photography.

Sapna Bhatia

The Story Teller Growing up in Rajasthan, I was raised on stories. There were people who communicated in stories, there were people who told stories and there were people who were stories. This early exposure to story-telling laid the foundation for my future calling. I worked as a broadcast journalist in India, but more so in England.

Currently, one of my projects is ‘Bring Home Stories’. It is a story-telling brand that I run with my business partner, Paul Liptrot, who is an artist based in U.K. Bring Home Stories is an online platform for stories about people, places, inspirations and experiences. Our primary medium is video, where each story unfolds in a short, film format. It’s the people who make each story unique – they elevate the narrative with the rich tapestry of experience and subtle emotions conveyed through body language, gesture and those fine intonations of the unspoken, which the video format is especially designed to record. How do we choose these people? It’s simple: they should connect with us at an emotional level. Call it editorial liberty, but it really does boil down to that bond or emotional impress made in the first meeting.

One such bond was made with textile artist Gopika Nath when Kathryn Myers, Professor of Art at University of Connecticut – Storrs, guest-interviewed Gopika for Bring Home Stories. I was just a ‘fly on the wall’ experiencing the chemistry between Gopika and Kathryn and getting mesmerised by Gopika’s story of her work with needle and thread. And then, Gopika talked to me about Ambica Beri’s initiative in Maihar, inviting me to participate in a brief residency. I first met Ambica in Delhi and was enthralled by the story of this woman who started Gallery Sanskriti in Kolkata, twenty-five years ago, between managing a family and all the social roles and responsibilities being a woman in India imposes on one.

maihar band photo credit: bandeep singh

When Ambica speaks, ‘simplicity’ is the key element of her conversations.

Everything just seems to fall into place effortlessly. Yet, when one looks at the work she has done and achieved, her career landmarks through all kind of odds; it seems as though these grand tasks must have been a chore. But, the simplicity with which she conveys the process makes you wonder – was it really that easy or is she made of material other than what the rest of us human beings are made of?

candlelit performance by maihar band photo credit: gopika nath

Sapna Bhatia

The Story Teller Growing up in Rajasthan, I was raised on stories. There were people who communicated in stories, there were people who told stories and there were people who were stories. This early exposure to story-telling laid the foundation for my future calling. I worked as a broadcast journalist in India, but more so in England.

Currently, one of my projects is ‘Bring Home Stories’. It is a story-telling brand that I run with my business partner, Paul Liptrot, who is an artist based in U.K. Bring Home Stories is an online platform for stories about people, places, inspirations and experiences. Our primary medium is video, where each story unfolds in a short, film format. It’s the people who make each story unique – they elevate the narrative with the rich tapestry of experience and subtle emotions conveyed through body language, gesture and those fine intonations of the unspoken, which the video format is especially designed to record. How do we choose these people? It’s simple: they should connect with us at an emotional level. Call it editorial liberty, but it really does boil down to that bond or emotional impress made in the first meeting.

One such bond was made with textile artist Gopika Nath when Kathryn Myers, Professor of Art at University of Connecticut – Storrs, guest-interviewed Gopika for Bring Home Stories. I was just a ‘fly on the wall’ experiencing the chemistry between Gopika and Kathryn and getting mesmerised by Gopika’s story of her work with needle and thread. And then, Gopika talked to me about Ambica Beri’s initiative in Maihar, inviting me to participate in a brief residency. I first met Ambica in Delhi and was enthralled by the story of this woman who started Gallery Sanskriti in Kolkata, twenty-five years ago, between managing a family and all the social roles and responsibilities being a woman in India imposes on one.

maihar band photo credit: bandeep singh

When Ambica speaks, ‘simplicity’ is the key element of her conversations.

Everything just seems to fall into place effortlessly. Yet, when one looks at the work she has done and achieved, her career landmarks through all kind of odds; it seems as though these grand tasks must have been a chore. But, the simplicity with which she conveys the process makes you wonder – was it really that easy or is she made of material other than what the rest of us human beings are made of?

candlelit performance by maihar band photo credit: gopika nath

Sapna Bhatia

The Story Teller I was intrigued. I wanted to get to the bottom of this story. It seemed to be a story of much more than just someone setting up an art centre in the middle of rural India.

Ambica’s story had enormous inspirational value for the way that all of us should aspire to live. Her faith in the divine and apparently casual nonchalance embodies a quest for challenges and a passion for excellence, which I found enviable.

In Maihar, I spent most of my time with Ambica, weaving in the various elements that make up her story. The quality of sound when recording outdoors is always complicated. I recall our interview at ‘Amariya - The Writers’ Retreat’, which is on the banks of a sleepy river with village life around it. After I’d asked Ambica just a couple of questions, a herd of sheep joined us and bleated and bleated, in a seemingly unending chorus. Ambica with all her influence in the region could not send them away. So, as we waited, we talked and bonded. Finally, after the sheep had finished their lunch and departed, we found a blissful ambience for the perfect interview.

Maihar itself has so many stories; there are ruins that make you wonder about its history. There are people like old trees and there are old trees like people. Then there is the legacy of Allauddin Khan in the shape of the Maihar band - a fifth-generation, resilient band whose music evokes the aural nuances of the region. I wanted to capture the band on video but they were busy. So, we came up with a plan. Ambica informed them that a foreign crew was visiting and the Australian producer would like to film them. I requested Maggie to look unimpressed and appear to give me some directions while filming. She graciously obliged. I had wanted to create an old-world charm as the setting for the band to perform in, when they played at the Maihar Bungalow.

So, I procured two hundred candles to be placed on the roof and everywhere around the stage that had been created for the band to be seated on, during the concert. It was Amitabha Bhattacharya, the ‘dada’ [elder brother] of the group who generously

photo credit: srimallya maitra

helped with this arduous task.

photo credit: gopika nath

Sapna Bhatia

The Story Teller I was intrigued. I wanted to get to the bottom of this story. It seemed to be a story of much more than just someone setting up an art centre in the middle of rural India.

Ambica’s story had enormous inspirational value for the way that all of us should aspire to live. Her faith in the divine and apparently casual nonchalance embodies a quest for challenges and a passion for excellence, which I found enviable.

In Maihar, I spent most of my time with Ambica, weaving in the various elements that make up her story. The quality of sound when recording outdoors is always complicated. I recall our interview at ‘Amariya - The Writers’ Retreat’, which is on the banks of a sleepy river with village life around it. After I’d asked Ambica just a couple of questions, a herd of sheep joined us and bleated and bleated, in a seemingly unending chorus. Ambica with all her influence in the region could not send them away. So, as we waited, we talked and bonded. Finally, after the sheep had finished their lunch and departed, we found a blissful ambience for the perfect interview.

Maihar itself has so many stories; there are ruins that make you wonder about its history. There are people like old trees and there are old trees like people. Then there is the legacy of Allauddin Khan in the shape of the Maihar band - a fifth-generation, resilient band whose music evokes the aural nuances of the region. I wanted to capture the band on video but they were busy. So, we came up with a plan. Ambica informed them that a foreign crew was visiting and the Australian producer would like to film them. I requested Maggie to look unimpressed and appear to give me some directions while filming. She graciously obliged. I had wanted to create an old-world charm as the setting for the band to perform in, when they played at the Maihar Bungalow.

So, I procured two hundred candles to be placed on the roof and everywhere around the stage that had been created for the band to be seated on, during the concert. It was Amitabha Bhattacharya, the ‘dada’ [elder brother] of the group who generously

photo credit: srimallya maitra

helped with this arduous task.

photo credit: gopika nath

Sapna Bhatia

The Story Teller When the Maihar band played it was truly magical to see hundreds of candles gently flickering in the evening breeze, their light growing sharper as the sun’s rays set. The deep and soulful music of the band, played from the compositions of their founder Ustad Allauddin Khan, evoked the melancholy of the sunset and its promise of another day. It was a special moment for me and one that captured the aura of Art Ichol.

There are many ways that you can view Art Ichol. It is an art centre and has immense potential for creativity at many levels. To have envisioned and constructed a world-class facility in the midst of rural and small-town India is an unparalleled feat. But for me, Art Ichol is the beautiful gift of an architect father to his daughter and vice-versa For Ambica there couldn’t have been another architect as she has been a fan of her father’s work since that day in 1972, when she returned home from boarding school in Dalhousie to find their home in Delhi completed. This house was not just unusual but built on different levels in an extraordinarily creative way. In their teens, Ambica and her friends were truly fascinated, and for Ambica this enchantment remained. So, when the time came to build her dream art centre in the village of Ichol, she sought the offices of her eighty-four year old, much retired father. He says that this project of Ambica’s gave him yet another lease of life. He came to Maihar and virtually lived there for three years, first translating her vision into a blueprint and then moving brick and mortar to turn her dream into reality.

photo credit: gopika nath

Sapna Bhatia is an International journalist and a global media executive. She has worked in India as an Anchor/Correspondent for Zee News and in England with CNBC Europe, APTN and Al Jazeera English. Her company TV News International provides video content to International Broadcasters. Some of the documentaries made by her company have received critical acclaim including an Emmy nomination.

She is an MBA and has a Masters in International Journalism from City University in London. Sapna has recently started a city inspired storytelling and design portal: www.bringhomestories.com

Sapna Bhatia

The Story Teller When the Maihar band played it was truly magical to see hundreds of candles gently flickering in the evening breeze, their light growing sharper as the sun’s rays set. The deep and soulful music of the band, played from the compositions of their founder Ustad Allauddin Khan, evoked the melancholy of the sunset and its promise of another day. It was a special moment for me and one that captured the aura of Art Ichol.

There are many ways that you can view Art Ichol. It is an art centre and has immense potential for creativity at many levels. To have envisioned and constructed a world-class facility in the midst of rural and small-town India is an unparalleled feat. But for me, Art Ichol is the beautiful gift of an architect father to his daughter and vice-versa For Ambica there couldn’t have been another architect as she has been a fan of her father’s work since that day in 1972, when she returned home from boarding school in Dalhousie to find their home in Delhi completed. This house was not just unusual but built on different levels in an extraordinarily creative way. In their teens, Ambica and her friends were truly fascinated, and for Ambica this enchantment remained. So, when the time came to build her dream art centre in the village of Ichol, she sought the offices of her eighty-four year old, much retired father. He says that this project of Ambica’s gave him yet another lease of life. He came to Maihar and virtually lived there for three years, first translating her vision into a blueprint and then moving brick and mortar to turn her dream into reality.

photo credit: gopika nath

Sapna Bhatia is an International journalist and a global media executive. She has worked in India as an Anchor/Correspondent for Zee News and in England with CNBC Europe, APTN and Al Jazeera English. Her company TV News International provides video content to International Broadcasters. Some of the documentaries made by her company have received critical acclaim including an Emmy nomination.

She is an MBA and has a Masters in International Journalism from City University in London. Sapna has recently started a city inspired storytelling and design portal: www.bringhomestories.com

Maggie Baxter

Detour to Kutch There weren’t any sheep contentedly grazing but still I would describe Maihar as bucolic. Idylls are more often the experience of the visitor rather than the local, but places and spaces around the Art Ichol residency were, for me, idealistically picturesque and serene, especially compared to the arid scrub (albeit sheep and goat filled) of Kutch - my regular India haunt.

There was the languid day of perfect winter warmth sitting on thick grass at ‘Amariya - The Writers’ Retreat’, absorbing the quiet stillness of the barely flowing River Tamas, with the calming aural backdrop thud of clothes being rhythmically washed, while I drew rushes and reeds from the water’s edge. What could be more perfect?

Answer: the sunset infusing the dark green water with red, orange, pink, yellow.

The photographers in our group were in a state of frenetic, precariously balanced brinkmanship, on top of the riverbank as the light changed second by second. The evening before, the blush was subtler - over an equally tranquil lake edged and strewn with a delicate, irregular mesh of decaying plant matter.

On the final day, those of us that went did not want to leave the Rampur plateau with its picture-perfect vista of dense forest vegetation softened by winter mist. We accessed the plateau through temple chambers in which the natural light was perfect for photographic portraits of Tanya, Shalini, the local temple boy and me. All of us willing models.

Luckily, to ensure that we were not completely sucked into an out of control vortex of Arcadian cliché, Maihar also surprises with micro landscapes of flat, craggy stone, deconstructing temples, limestone quarries, dust filled industrial stone-crushing, and the intense heat and fire of melting and re-forming old pots and utensils.

water’s edge (ideas and sketches) Ƥ ǡ ͞͝ ͥ͞Ǥͣ͡ photo credit: amitabha bhattacharya

The photographers had the advantage capturing numerous permutations of each of these and any other scenario that triggered their imagination, in a flash and a click, while I developed a serious bout of camera envy. In spite of always being highly critical of out-of-focus, misty photography peddled as ‘interesting’ and ‘artistic’, I now find myself in this position, courtesy of an iphone not quite equal to the photographic

rushes at amariya photo credit: gopika nath

Maggie Baxter

Detour to Kutch There weren’t any sheep contentedly grazing but still I would describe Maihar as bucolic. Idylls are more often the experience of the visitor rather than the local, but places and spaces around the Art Ichol residency were, for me, idealistically picturesque and serene, especially compared to the arid scrub (albeit sheep and goat filled) of Kutch - my regular India haunt.

There was the languid day of perfect winter warmth sitting on thick grass at ‘Amariya - The Writers’ Retreat’, absorbing the quiet stillness of the barely flowing River Tamas, with the calming aural backdrop thud of clothes being rhythmically washed, while I drew rushes and reeds from the water’s edge. What could be more perfect?

Answer: the sunset infusing the dark green water with red, orange, pink, yellow.

The photographers in our group were in a state of frenetic, precariously balanced brinkmanship, on top of the riverbank as the light changed second by second. The evening before, the blush was subtler - over an equally tranquil lake edged and strewn with a delicate, irregular mesh of decaying plant matter.

On the final day, those of us that went did not want to leave the Rampur plateau with its picture-perfect vista of dense forest vegetation softened by winter mist. We accessed the plateau through temple chambers in which the natural light was perfect for photographic portraits of Tanya, Shalini, the local temple boy and me. All of us willing models.

Luckily, to ensure that we were not completely sucked into an out of control vortex of Arcadian cliché, Maihar also surprises with micro landscapes of flat, craggy stone, deconstructing temples, limestone quarries, dust filled industrial stone-crushing, and the intense heat and fire of melting and re-forming old pots and utensils.

water’s edge (ideas and sketches) Ƥ ǡ ͞͝ ͥ͞Ǥͣ͡ photo credit: amitabha bhattacharya

The photographers had the advantage capturing numerous permutations of each of these and any other scenario that triggered their imagination, in a flash and a click, while I developed a serious bout of camera envy. In spite of always being highly critical of out-of-focus, misty photography peddled as ‘interesting’ and ‘artistic’, I now find myself in this position, courtesy of an iphone not quite equal to the photographic

rushes at amariya photo credit: gopika nath

Maggie Baxter

Detour to Kutch demands I imposed on it. I am still mentally processing how, almost formless shots of foundry fire, stone crushing white dust, and ambiguous reflections in water that, in spite of myself I find I quite like, can be translated into other art outcomes.

More commonly my artwork is strongly linear and I begin all major series of works, whether textiles or not, with drawing. In this Maihar was a reflective experience in more ways than one. The residency provided the opportunity for the meditation of pen flowing on paper without pre-determined outcome, of not knowing exactly where the mark making will go– even though if true to form it will be to block designs for printing. Water is a recurring theme in my work. In Western Australia where I live, the ocean is fast moving with strong rips and tides and large frothy, white surf. Around Maihar, river, lake and pond water are slow or still, fringed with intertwined nets of rushes and reeds, surface arrangements of water plants and perplexing reflections of stone quarry stratification.

As a people person what I loved most about the residency was meeting other artists.

The evening ‘show and tell’ sessions in which we shared our work were inspirational: listening to Sudeep’s poetry; watching Arshiya’s body become fluid as she danced; enjoying Shalini’s exquisitely detailed couture dresses; absorbing the technical and aesthetic excellence of diverse photographic styles spontaneous or pre-determined; documentary or abstract. Everyone generously shared their knowledge, their ideas and most of all their friendship. The prospect of on-going creative relationships and collaborations is exciting and joyful.

Comradely sharing does of course come more easily after being served excellent Australian wine before dinner, sitting around an open fire chatting, laughing, and

ichol bliss, amariya photo credit: bandeep singh

singing everything from Abba to Bollywood film songs. Art Ichol provided a very supportive environment in which we were thoughtfully and generously taken care of from the moment of landing in Khajuraho to arriving back in Delhi and, let’s be honest we all like being a bit spoilt. What a pleasure to have the Maihar Band, the only orchestra in India that uses traditional instruments brought in to play for us (potential

Maggie Baxter

Detour to Kutch demands I imposed on it. I am still mentally processing how, almost formless shots of foundry fire, stone crushing white dust, and ambiguous reflections in water that, in spite of myself I find I quite like, can be translated into other art outcomes.

More commonly my artwork is strongly linear and I begin all major series of works, whether textiles or not, with drawing. In this Maihar was a reflective experience in more ways than one. The residency provided the opportunity for the meditation of pen flowing on paper without pre-determined outcome, of not knowing exactly where the mark making will go– even though if true to form it will be to block designs for printing. Water is a recurring theme in my work. In Western Australia where I live, the ocean is fast moving with strong rips and tides and large frothy, white surf. Around Maihar, river, lake and pond water are slow or still, fringed with intertwined nets of rushes and reeds, surface arrangements of water plants and perplexing reflections of stone quarry stratification.

As a people person what I loved most about the residency was meeting other artists.

The evening ‘show and tell’ sessions in which we shared our work were inspirational: listening to Sudeep’s poetry; watching Arshiya’s body become fluid as she danced; enjoying Shalini’s exquisitely detailed couture dresses; absorbing the technical and aesthetic excellence of diverse photographic styles spontaneous or pre-determined; documentary or abstract. Everyone generously shared their knowledge, their ideas and most of all their friendship. The prospect of on-going creative relationships and collaborations is exciting and joyful.

Comradely sharing does of course come more easily after being served excellent Australian wine before dinner, sitting around an open fire chatting, laughing, and

ichol bliss, amariya photo credit: bandeep singh

singing everything from Abba to Bollywood film songs. Art Ichol provided a very supportive environment in which we were thoughtfully and generously taken care of from the moment of landing in Khajuraho to arriving back in Delhi and, let’s be honest we all like being a bit spoilt. What a pleasure to have the Maihar Band, the only orchestra in India that uses traditional instruments brought in to play for us (potential

Maggie Baxter

Detour to Kutch opportunity for interaction with musicians in residence as well as artists and writers?). I have lost count of the times I have travelled to India but for uninitiated overseas artists for whom the country’s sensory overload can be confronting and confusing, Art Ichol’s caring and reassuring environment will be especially welcome.

water’s edge (maihar), charcoal, conte crayon and acrylic ǡ ͟͡ ͤ͝ ǡ ͜͞͝͡ photo credit: robert frith

Working with Indian textiles was one of those things that just happened in my life without much forethought or planning and my original art training was in sculpture and photography.

With the excellent facilities at Art Ichol for welding, casting and carving it is high time, Ambica told me, to get down and get dirty again with clay, stone and iron. It’s tempting, really tempting - but those photographers managed to get under my skin and I know I have to cure that bout of camera (and skill) envy. When I get back to Maihar, it will be clutching a really good digital SLR camera and hopefully, a sufficiently proficient skill set to produce something far more pictorially eloquent and evocative than I did with that iPhone.

May it come soon.

Maggie Baxter

Detour to Kutch opportunity for interaction with musicians in residence as well as artists and writers?). I have lost count of the times I have travelled to India but for uninitiated overseas artists for whom the country’s sensory overload can be confronting and confusing, Art Ichol’s caring and reassuring environment will be especially welcome.

water’s edge (maihar), charcoal, conte crayon and acrylic ǡ ͟͡ ͤ͝ ǡ ͜͞͝͡ photo credit: robert frith

Working with Indian textiles was one of those things that just happened in my life without much forethought or planning and my original art training was in sculpture and photography.

With the excellent facilities at Art Ichol for welding, casting and carving it is high time, Ambica told me, to get down and get dirty again with clay, stone and iron. It’s tempting, really tempting - but those photographers managed to get under my skin and I know I have to cure that bout of camera (and skill) envy. When I get back to Maihar, it will be clutching a really good digital SLR camera and hopefully, a sufficiently proficient skill set to produce something far more pictorially eloquent and evocative than I did with that iPhone.

May it come soon.

Maggie Baxter

Detour to Kutch

water’s edge (maihar), charcoal, conte crayon and acrylic ǡ ͟͡ ͤ͝ ǡ ͜͞͝͡ photo credit: robert frith

Maggie Baxter is a textile artist, writer, independent depende dent nt curator, curator, and d public art Ǥ Ƥ ͥ͝​ͥ͜ ǡ

ǡ particularly to Kutch, in Gujarat, where she maintains aintains a textile tex exti t le arts art rtss practice pr that

Ǥ Ǥ

has written for many national arts journals within Austr Australia. traalia. He Her book o on n contemporary Indian textiles - ‘Unfolding’, published lished by Delhi hi based bas ased as d publisher pub p u li l sh sher Niyogi, is soon to be released.

Maggie Baxter

Detour to Kutch

water’s edge (maihar), charcoal, conte crayon and acrylic ǡ ͟͡ ͤ͝ ǡ ͜͞͝͡ photo credit: robert frith

Maggie Baxter is a textile artist, writer, independent depende dent nt curator, curator, and d public art Ǥ Ƥ ͥ͝​ͥ͜ ǡ

ǡ particularly to Kutch, in Gujarat, where she maintains aintains a textile tex exti t le arts art rtss practice pr that

Ǥ Ǥ

has written for many national arts journals within Austr Australia. traalia. He Her book o on n contemporary Indian textiles - ‘Unfolding’, published lished by Delhi hi based bas ased as d publisher pub p u li l sh sher Niyogi, is soon to be released.

Amitabha Bhattacharya

Chasing the Sunset As one of the eight-member group, invited for the inaugural Art Ichol Residency at Maihar, in the first week of December 2014, I found the experience exhilarating and creatively satisfying. Our itinerary had been meticulously planned. A lot of thought had gone into this. All of us stayed in a spacious, old-world, multi-arched, neocolonial bungalow, home to our hosts Ambica and Sanjiv Beri. Every day we visited interesting, picturesque and some historically significant places. The sumptuous and varied menus for breakfast-lunch-dinner, the pre-dinner addas with everyone singing around a bonfire and post-dinner presentations, each night, by members of the group, all added up to create an experience I will remember and reminiscence over, for a long, very long time. The zillion pictures that I took each day, capturing emotion and experience, vistas and vantages will be cherished. And, these images will certainly aide my reminiscences of this residency.

The untamed, natural beauty contrasted with an undulating, cultivated, lush green expanse, overlooking the tranquil water body at ‘Amariya – The Writers’ Retreat’, is a sight to behold. A luxury tent with all amenities for a fruitful day-time stay, including power points for laptops et al, creates the ambience and practicality for a lazy day of musing and working with convenience and comfort. The lovely day-long picnic which all of us enjoyed at this picturesque locale, on the banks of the mythological river Tamas was planned with a lot of care. It is a dream location for all creative people where the silence of the river’s unsung music is food for the soul.

All of us, including the Beris, some of their guests from Kolkata and Ambica’s young and ebullient assistant Tanya, reached Amariya around mid-morning. I was mesmerised by what I saw. After drinking in nature’s beauty, while most of us basked in the warmth of winter’s generous sunshine and chatted, Arshiya danced, Bhavana sang and Bandeep drew some large calligraphic drawings. Maggie soaked in the sun and meditatively watched the water flow, while comfortably ensconced in the lone hammock, suspended from the branches of a sturdy mango tree that leaned into the river, as if thirsty for a sip of her waters. Gopika retreated inside the ‘tent’. We thought she had gone to sleep or something, but she emerged a couple of hours later with a pen and ink drawing of the inside of the tent, its decorative panels transposed, with images of the fish she had nibbled at while drawing.

Amitabha Bhattacharya

Chasing the Sunset As one of the eight-member group, invited for the inaugural Art Ichol Residency at Maihar, in the first week of December 2014, I found the experience exhilarating and creatively satisfying. Our itinerary had been meticulously planned. A lot of thought had gone into this. All of us stayed in a spacious, old-world, multi-arched, neocolonial bungalow, home to our hosts Ambica and Sanjiv Beri. Every day we visited interesting, picturesque and some historically significant places. The sumptuous and varied menus for breakfast-lunch-dinner, the pre-dinner addas with everyone singing around a bonfire and post-dinner presentations, each night, by members of the group, all added up to create an experience I will remember and reminiscence over, for a long, very long time. The zillion pictures that I took each day, capturing emotion and experience, vistas and vantages will be cherished. And, these images will certainly aide my reminiscences of this residency.

The untamed, natural beauty contrasted with an undulating, cultivated, lush green expanse, overlooking the tranquil water body at ‘Amariya – The Writers’ Retreat’, is a sight to behold. A luxury tent with all amenities for a fruitful day-time stay, including power points for laptops et al, creates the ambience and practicality for a lazy day of musing and working with convenience and comfort. The lovely day-long picnic which all of us enjoyed at this picturesque locale, on the banks of the mythological river Tamas was planned with a lot of care. It is a dream location for all creative people where the silence of the river’s unsung music is food for the soul.

All of us, including the Beris, some of their guests from Kolkata and Ambica’s young and ebullient assistant Tanya, reached Amariya around mid-morning. I was mesmerised by what I saw. After drinking in nature’s beauty, while most of us basked in the warmth of winter’s generous sunshine and chatted, Arshiya danced, Bhavana sang and Bandeep drew some large calligraphic drawings. Maggie soaked in the sun and meditatively watched the water flow, while comfortably ensconced in the lone hammock, suspended from the branches of a sturdy mango tree that leaned into the river, as if thirsty for a sip of her waters. Gopika retreated inside the ‘tent’. We thought she had gone to sleep or something, but she emerged a couple of hours later with a pen and ink drawing of the inside of the tent, its decorative panels transposed, with images of the fish she had nibbled at while drawing.

Amitabha Bhattacharya

Chasing the Sunset Post our appetizing lunch of fish, freshly caught from the river and cooked on location, it was siesta time.

However, after a while, Bandeep, Shalini and I decided to cross the water and walk to the opposite bank. We had seen some men washing clothes and walking across that particular area seemed quite manageable.

Gopika had warned us it was deeper and trickier than it looked and suggested we take a local hand along. But we were confident that we didn’t need any help. We soon discovered that it was quite a daunting task and were relieved that Ambica had insisted on us not going without her trusted help Barkat, who is the caretaker at Amariya. The riverbed was treacherously slippery, with moving water running over our feet, every tentative step of our way. With a large stick in one hand and the other hand reaching out to Barkat, all three of us finally crossed the river and climbed onto the other bank with a sigh of relief, congratulating ourselves for having made it without a dunking in the river. It is a sluggish river so thankfully we were saved the ignominy of this wetting. Surveying the scene along the river we were kept busy with our cameras until the sun started to set.

Reluctant to return the same way, in the fading light, one of the cars came to pick us up, via a longish detour, over a new bridge. It was actually quite a downer to travel back on this bridge after that intimate nature walk, because it brought us back to traffic and other aspects of town-living we had happily left behind, and were not quite ready to embrace its cacophonic chaos again. Not yet! ‘dada’, photo credit: gopika nath

Amitabha Bhattacharya

Chasing the Sunset Post our appetizing lunch of fish, freshly caught from the river and cooked on location, it was siesta time.

However, after a while, Bandeep, Shalini and I decided to cross the water and walk to the opposite bank. We had seen some men washing clothes and walking across that particular area seemed quite manageable.

Gopika had warned us it was deeper and trickier than it looked and suggested we take a local hand along. But we were confident that we didn’t need any help. We soon discovered that it was quite a daunting task and were relieved that Ambica had insisted on us not going without her trusted help Barkat, who is the caretaker at Amariya. The riverbed was treacherously slippery, with moving water running over our feet, every tentative step of our way. With a large stick in one hand and the other hand reaching out to Barkat, all three of us finally crossed the river and climbed onto the other bank with a sigh of relief, congratulating ourselves for having made it without a dunking in the river. It is a sluggish river so thankfully we were saved the ignominy of this wetting. Surveying the scene along the river we were kept busy with our cameras until the sun started to set.

Reluctant to return the same way, in the fading light, one of the cars came to pick us up, via a longish detour, over a new bridge. It was actually quite a downer to travel back on this bridge after that intimate nature walk, because it brought us back to traffic and other aspects of town-living we had happily left behind, and were not quite ready to embrace its cacophonic chaos again. Not yet! ‘dada’, photo credit: gopika nath

Amitabha Bhattacharya

Chasing the Sunset Seated in the SUV we drove back across the bridge and then through a vast, uneven and open field, when we suddenly noticed entrancing cloud formations in the sky. The rays of the setting sun arching over cumulous, desperate to show us those colourful refractions - the last of its fading light. It is rare for us city dwellers to see such an unhindered view of land and sky in a single glance. From a photography professional’s point of view, especially as a teacher of photography, I am all too familiar with the thumb rule that cites shooting photos of sunrises and sunsets as passé, unless spectacularly unusual.

And there it was for my eyes to behold – a truly spectacular and unusual sunset. Its epic magic unfolding before our lenses! We were stopping more than were driving. We just had to take pictures and which frame could be missed – none! The magic in the sky was unbelievable. At one point I did wonder if this was there today just for us - divine intervention for our picnic by the riverside that day. I saw simply amazing colours in changing hues of orange, yellow, rust, red, pink, magenta and blue that kept unfolding like magical backdrops falling from the sky – constantly transforming in shape, size, texture and hue. Shalini, Bandeep and I were like love-struck teenagers, our necks craned towards the sky, eyes pasted on the camera viewfinder, running around, experimenting with different compositions. As dusk gradually descended on the horizon, I don’t know if we were relieved or disappointed because it was as enthralling as it was exhausting to keep pace with nature’s ever-creative paint-brush in the sky. I hope the pictures I have taken speak for the exceptional beauty I witnessed that evening in ‘Amariya –The Writers’ Retreat’ – where I wrote with the lens more eloquently than I ever imagined I could, capturing for posterity those spectacular moments - vistas and emotions, I felt incredibly blessed to have witnessed that day.

Winding up the family business of manufacturing Ayurvedic medicines after 18 years, Amitabha became a full-time professional photographer, specializing in interiors, industrial and product photography. Social documentation, wildlife, dance, people and places are subjects of special interest to him.

He has been teaching photography in various institutions for over twenty years.

Amitabha Bhattacharya

Chasing the Sunset Seated in the SUV we drove back across the bridge and then through a vast, uneven and open field, when we suddenly noticed entrancing cloud formations in the sky. The rays of the setting sun arching over cumulous, desperate to show us those colourful refractions - the last of its fading light. It is rare for us city dwellers to see such an unhindered view of land and sky in a single glance. From a photography professional’s point of view, especially as a teacher of photography, I am all too familiar with the thumb rule that cites shooting photos of sunrises and sunsets as passé, unless spectacularly unusual.

And there it was for my eyes to behold – a truly spectacular and unusual sunset. Its epic magic unfolding before our lenses! We were stopping more than were driving. We just had to take pictures and which frame could be missed – none! The magic in the sky was unbelievable. At one point I did wonder if this was there today just for us - divine intervention for our picnic by the riverside that day. I saw simply amazing colours in changing hues of orange, yellow, rust, red, pink, magenta and blue that kept unfolding like magical backdrops falling from the sky – constantly transforming in shape, size, texture and hue. Shalini, Bandeep and I were like love-struck teenagers, our necks craned towards the sky, eyes pasted on the camera viewfinder, running around, experimenting with different compositions. As dusk gradually descended on the horizon, I don’t know if we were relieved or disappointed because it was as enthralling as it was exhausting to keep pace with nature’s ever-creative paint-brush in the sky. I hope the pictures I have taken speak for the exceptional beauty I witnessed that evening in ‘Amariya –The Writers’ Retreat’ – where I wrote with the lens more eloquently than I ever imagined I could, capturing for posterity those spectacular moments - vistas and emotions, I felt incredibly blessed to have witnessed that day.

Winding up the family business of manufacturing Ayurvedic medicines after 18 years, Amitabha became a full-time professional photographer, specializing in interiors, industrial and product photography. Social documentation, wildlife, dance, people and places are subjects of special interest to him.

He has been teaching photography in various institutions for over twenty years.

Bhavana Sabherwal

Poetics of Passion I recall well that day, almost two decades ago, when Ambica - ‘Didi’ to me, asked me if I would like to be part of her gallery operations in Delhi. Needless to say, my response was in the affirmative and none other ever crossed my mind. Such was my connection with her soon after I married her brother Vivek, and became part of the family.

The unspoken bond has just grown and I cherish this opportunity to express all that I was witness to in sharing the magic of those innumerable, impassioned conversations with Didi, voicing her wish to build an artists’ village sometime in her life. Knowing her, I somehow knew she would do it. What might appear surreal to the rest of us, she has always had it in her to realize and bring into being. It was no surprise then, when she told us of the land she had started acquiring in the vicinity of Maihar - the beginning of Art Ichol, as we see it today.

Things have just flown since the first signs of making an arts centre became clear. It has been like a river charting its course along an unforeseen terrain. I have seen the proverb, “God helps those who help themselves”, come to life through her steely focus and faith in her chosen path.

Sanjiv Bhaiya, Aditya and Anshuman have stood beside her like anchors, holding and letting go, as and when required. Papa, my father-in-law was the obvious choice as architect. Didi has always been a fan of his architectural genius. Not just her, we all are. His designs are timeless and his precision and detailing unmatched. Papa was stationed in Maihar for almost three years and he is now fondly called ‘Papaji’ by everyone there. His short, compulsory trips to Delhi were few and then too only to silence his daughter’s frequent chiding that he visit his family back home.

Notwithstanding his longing to meet his grand-daughters in Delhi, his longing to return to Maihar and his work there was always more than apparent in his singsong pronouncements to us when he said: “Main kal Maihar jaa rahaa hoon!” where ‘Maihar’ was pronounced with a rising lilt. Here in Delhi, we faced endless queries, s, jokes and jibes at his disappearance and appearance. His long, white beard would d invariably elicit: “Sadhu ban gaye hain kya?” Ma would get a bit disturbed when n

photo credit: gopika nath

photo credit: gopika nath

Bhavana Sabherwal

Poetics of Passion I recall well that day, almost two decades ago, when Ambica - ‘Didi’ to me, asked me if I would like to be part of her gallery operations in Delhi. Needless to say, my response was in the affirmative and none other ever crossed my mind. Such was my connection with her soon after I married her brother Vivek, and became part of the family.

The unspoken bond has just grown and I cherish this opportunity to express all that I was witness to in sharing the magic of those innumerable, impassioned conversations with Didi, voicing her wish to build an artists’ village sometime in her life. Knowing her, I somehow knew she would do it. What might appear surreal to the rest of us, she has always had it in her to realize and bring into being. It was no surprise then, when she told us of the land she had started acquiring in the vicinity of Maihar - the beginning of Art Ichol, as we see it today.

Things have just flown since the first signs of making an arts centre became clear. It has been like a river charting its course along an unforeseen terrain. I have seen the proverb, “God helps those who help themselves”, come to life through her steely focus and faith in her chosen path.

Sanjiv Bhaiya, Aditya and Anshuman have stood beside her like anchors, holding and letting go, as and when required. Papa, my father-in-law was the obvious choice as architect. Didi has always been a fan of his architectural genius. Not just her, we all are. His designs are timeless and his precision and detailing unmatched. Papa was stationed in Maihar for almost three years and he is now fondly called ‘Papaji’ by everyone there. His short, compulsory trips to Delhi were few and then too only to silence his daughter’s frequent chiding that he visit his family back home.

Notwithstanding his longing to meet his grand-daughters in Delhi, his longing to return to Maihar and his work there was always more than apparent in his singsong pronouncements to us when he said: “Main kal Maihar jaa rahaa hoon!” where ‘Maihar’ was pronounced with a rising lilt. Here in Delhi, we faced endless queries, s, jokes and jibes at his disappearance and appearance. His long, white beard would d invariably elicit: “Sadhu ban gaye hain kya?” Ma would get a bit disturbed when n

photo credit: gopika nath

photo credit: gopika nath

Bhavana Sabherwal

Poetics of Passion people would repeatedly ask her about his long spells of absence, “Aisa bhi kya bana rahe hain?” Nothing fazed him and his passion to build this centre. Actually the whole family was involved and for the last three years we have all shared just this one intent that Ambica’s ‘Art Centre’ be made. There was always excitement in the air. Order this, buy that, Google for this, that and the other, contact him, talk to her, do this, go there...........Wow! The energy Didi exudes is remarkable. She has an uncanny eye for the artistic and dares to tread the road less travelled. In fact I have been witness to how it is that she leads and people follow her.

In the eyes of the world, she may well be considered a successful entrepreneur, but in my eyes she is an artist whose passion drives her to conceive and create magic! She was charismatic, spontaneous, benevolent and amazingly unruffled as she went about the mammoth task. It takes courage to answer a call. And what a call!

To have the vision and courage to create Art Ichol in a remote village, in the middle of nowhere, is not easy. December 2014 saw the hosting of the first residency at Art Ichol. In all the years that Didi has hosted artist camps in Maihar, this was probably the first time that we did not have painters, sculptors and ceramists come and stay with us. The participating members were carefully chosen by Gopika. The people that came together for this residency were a motley group of poets, photographers, designers, artists, film-makers and many of them with multifaceted talents who inspired and were inspired by everything that we did together.

The evenings we spent around the bonfire are especially memorable. There was as much laughter and camaraderie, as there were discussions on photography and all that they saw during the day and more. I remember that afternoon picnic lunch at ‘Amariya – The Writers’ retreat’ where Arshiya danced as I sang, on those silent banks by the river with the sun drenching us with its warmth. I particularly remember one of our nightly reveries around the bonfire; as we sat sipping and munching, when Gopika set the mood for music and I joined in. Both of us spent many evenings singing one Bollywood song after another. Her choice of songs was perfect and she sang with such feeling that we could have sung all night. Arshiya was her sporting

photo courtesy: art ichol

Bhavana Sabherwal

Poetics of Passion people would repeatedly ask her about his long spells of absence, “Aisa bhi kya bana rahe hain?” Nothing fazed him and his passion to build this centre. Actually the whole family was involved and for the last three years we have all shared just this one intent that Ambica’s ‘Art Centre’ be made. There was always excitement in the air. Order this, buy that, Google for this, that and the other, contact him, talk to her, do this, go there...........Wow! The energy Didi exudes is remarkable. She has an uncanny eye for the artistic and dares to tread the road less travelled. In fact I have been witness to how it is that she leads and people follow her.

In the eyes of the world, she may well be considered a successful entrepreneur, but in my eyes she is an artist whose passion drives her to conceive and create magic! She was charismatic, spontaneous, benevolent and amazingly unruffled as she went about the mammoth task. It takes courage to answer a call. And what a call!

To have the vision and courage to create Art Ichol in a remote village, in the middle of nowhere, is not easy. December 2014 saw the hosting of the first residency at Art Ichol. In all the years that Didi has hosted artist camps in Maihar, this was probably the first time that we did not have painters, sculptors and ceramists come and stay with us. The participating members were carefully chosen by Gopika. The people that came together for this residency were a motley group of poets, photographers, designers, artists, film-makers and many of them with multifaceted talents who inspired and were inspired by everything that we did together.

The evenings we spent around the bonfire are especially memorable. There was as much laughter and camaraderie, as there were discussions on photography and all that they saw during the day and more. I remember that afternoon picnic lunch at ‘Amariya – The Writers’ retreat’ where Arshiya danced as I sang, on those silent banks by the river with the sun drenching us with its warmth. I particularly remember one of our nightly reveries around the bonfire; as we sat sipping and munching, when Gopika set the mood for music and I joined in. Both of us spent many evenings singing one Bollywood song after another. Her choice of songs was perfect and she sang with such feeling that we could have sung all night. Arshiya was her sporting

photo courtesy: art ichol

Bhavana Sabherwal

Poetics of Passion self as she broke into her ‘abhinaya’ from time to time. Tanya joined in with Gujarati melodies that were interspersed with Maggie’s English songs, followed by Bandeep’s Punjabi and Bengali flavours and our guest Upadhyayji’s ghazal. While others sipped their preferred poison, the musical masti intoxicated me.

Whether it was Gopika’s infectious laughter as she doubled, tripled and quadrupled pulling Sudeep’s leg with her sore throat and now barely perceptible voice; the privilege of listening to Sudeep recite his own poetry; being part of Arshiya’s devoted and earnest shaadi shopping for her son’s impending wedding, which felt like my own family wedding; the few heart-to-heart exchanges with Sapna and Shalini about children and music as we lazed around; the fervour with which Amitabha ‘da’ shared his story; or the sweet affection with which Tanya, Arshiya, Maggie and Bandeep told me that they would miss me, each with their own reason for doing so, because I was leaving a couple of days before everyone else.

I loved every bit of our outings, jokes-song-dance-poetry-photography sessions. To say that I made friends for a lifetime would be an understatement.

Bhavana Sabherwal is a graduate in music from the University of Allahabad. She has also trained in Hindustani Classical Vocal Music, under Late Pt. Ramashrey Jha of Allahabad and Shubha Mudgal.

She is gifted with a beautiful voice, is passionate about music, the arts, culture and languages and enjoys interacting with people and exploring creativity with children, young adults and all creative people. She currently teaches music to children and adults. photo credit: amitabha bhattacharya

Bhavana Sabherwal

Poetics of Passion self as she broke into her ‘abhinaya’ from time to time. Tanya joined in with Gujarati melodies that were interspersed with Maggie’s English songs, followed by Bandeep’s Punjabi and Bengali flavours and our guest Upadhyayji’s ghazal. While others sipped their preferred poison, the musical masti intoxicated me.

Whether it was Gopika’s infectious laughter as she doubled, tripled and quadrupled pulling Sudeep’s leg with her sore throat and now barely perceptible voice; the privilege of listening to Sudeep recite his own poetry; being part of Arshiya’s devoted and earnest shaadi shopping for her son’s impending wedding, which felt like my own family wedding; the few heart-to-heart exchanges with Sapna and Shalini about children and music as we lazed around; the fervour with which Amitabha ‘da’ shared his story; or the sweet affection with which Tanya, Arshiya, Maggie and Bandeep told me that they would miss me, each with their own reason for doing so, because I was leaving a couple of days before everyone else.

I loved every bit of our outings, jokes-song-dance-poetry-photography sessions. To say that I made friends for a lifetime would be an understatement.

Bhavana Sabherwal is a graduate in music from the University of Allahabad. She has also trained in Hindustani Classical Vocal Music, under Late Pt. Ramashrey Jha of Allahabad and Shubha Mudgal.

She is gifted with a beautiful voice, is passionate about music, the arts, culture and languages and enjoys interacting with people and exploring creativity with children, young adults and all creative people. She currently teaches music to children and adults. photo credit: amitabha bhattacharya

Gopika Nath

The Furnace at Uchhehra The first time I’d been to Maihar, was a couple of years ago. This small town in Madhya Pradesh falls within the Vindhya belt, mid-way, on the highway that runs from Khajuraho to Bandhavgarh. I had flown from Delhi to Khajuraho. Being my first visit to the temples, I spent most of my stay pondering on what those erotic, yogic-postured-sculptures must have meant, for the people who lived at that time the temples were built. I did look around Maihar, and also heard Baba Allauddin Khan’s famed Maihar Band at practice, early one morning. But the historical and landscape richness and subtle nuances of this unusual music didn’t side-step, in my mind, the grandeur of Khajuraho.

Ambica Beri was constructing an art centre and a writers’ retreat and asked me to invite some of my creative friends for a residency. Therefore I went to Maihar a second time, a year later. Residencies – creativity in an environment removed from the daily ritual and space of living have a way of bringing forth ideas that would otherwise not really surface. For me, the defining moment came at the end of my ten day stint. This time, I didn’t allow myself to get distracted by the temples. While my companions were photographing and exploring the curious history of the sculpted poses, aided by a well-informed tour guide, I sat on the steps of one isolated temple, built in the later period of the Bundelkhand era, and decided to draw.

Vmå~oH$a H$s ^Å>r _| emobo XoIH$a _hgyg H$s`m dmo AmJ Omo _‹wPo J‹T>V ahr Wr&

The flight from Delhi to Khajuraho via Varanasi had been painful. I had a nasty cold, so take-off and landing were excruciating, to say the least. As I was drawing the temple in front of me I started putting into perspective the journey and ignored things like getting the perspective of the buildings perfectly right, working instead with a naive-folksy-style, inspired by Madhubani artists. Before I knew it, the plane and temple were merging into one another and three air-plane seats with Amitabha, Shalini and me seated on them, with my hands holding my ears in agony, became part of the drawing. I enjoyed the freedom of working this way and spent the rest of the residency sketching.

Since professional photographers Bandeep Singh and Amitabha Bhattacharya were part of our troupe and Shalini, a serious photography enthusiast had very fancy lenses,

Gopika Nath

The Furnace at Uchhehra The first time I’d been to Maihar, was a couple of years ago. This small town in Madhya Pradesh falls within the Vindhya belt, mid-way, on the highway that runs from Khajuraho to Bandhavgarh. I had flown from Delhi to Khajuraho. Being my first visit to the temples, I spent most of my stay pondering on what those erotic, yogic-postured-sculptures must have meant, for the people who lived at that time the temples were built. I did look around Maihar, and also heard Baba Allauddin Khan’s famed Maihar Band at practice, early one morning. But the historical and landscape richness and subtle nuances of this unusual music didn’t side-step, in my mind, the grandeur of Khajuraho.

Ambica Beri was constructing an art centre and a writers’ retreat and asked me to invite some of my creative friends for a residency. Therefore I went to Maihar a second time, a year later. Residencies – creativity in an environment removed from the daily ritual and space of living have a way of bringing forth ideas that would otherwise not really surface. For me, the defining moment came at the end of my ten day stint. This time, I didn’t allow myself to get distracted by the temples. While my companions were photographing and exploring the curious history of the sculpted poses, aided by a well-informed tour guide, I sat on the steps of one isolated temple, built in the later period of the Bundelkhand era, and decided to draw.

Vmå~oH$a H$s ^Å>r _| emobo XoIH$a _hgyg H$s`m dmo AmJ Omo _‹wPo J‹T>V ahr Wr&

The flight from Delhi to Khajuraho via Varanasi had been painful. I had a nasty cold, so take-off and landing were excruciating, to say the least. As I was drawing the temple in front of me I started putting into perspective the journey and ignored things like getting the perspective of the buildings perfectly right, working instead with a naive-folksy-style, inspired by Madhubani artists. Before I knew it, the plane and temple were merging into one another and three air-plane seats with Amitabha, Shalini and me seated on them, with my hands holding my ears in agony, became part of the drawing. I enjoyed the freedom of working this way and spent the rest of the residency sketching.

Since professional photographers Bandeep Singh and Amitabha Bhattacharya were part of our troupe and Shalini, a serious photography enthusiast had very fancy lenses,

Gopika Nath

The Furnace at Uchhehra it made better sense to leave the photography to them.

And what amazing photographs they took! I cannot forget that afternoon in Bandhavgarh, when Shalini and I were dealing with our disappointment of not sighting a tiger; we overheard the photographer duo planning to head out to a water-lily pond they had discovered yesterday.

Shalini, who was by now completely in awe of her newfound gurus, followed suit while I decided to freshen up and did some ink-drawings instead. But soon, the itch to use the camera was getting to me so I went looking for them. I found Shalini and Bandeep waist-deep in a dirty, muddy pond getting high on the water lilies. It was a sight to be seen. Much as I would have liked to have joined them inside the pond, I refrained on account of my cold, hoping the ‘pros’ would share their loot. photo credit: shalini jaikaria

Sudeep had to leave early so didn’t join us in Bandhavgarh, but his poetry and an incident with the local pandit, ensured he wasn’t forgotten. Sudeep’s anthology of poetry - ‘Fractals’ was yet to be released, but on our second evening in Maihar, he read us some poems from this.

A judge and his colleague from the neighbouring town Katni, acquaintances of the Beri’s, joined us that evening.

In order to make their guests feel comfortable, Ambica requested I accompany Sudeep by reading a poem I had written in Hindi, inspired by the Besharam ke phool that grew ‘shamelessly’ on every roadside in Madhya Pradesh.

Everything was civilized till Mr. ‘Shaen’ [Sudeep insisted on the Bengali pronunciation] decided that, in keeping eping with the erotic sculptures viewed at Khajuraho a day earlier; it would be befitting to end the poetry-reading ading with some erotic verse. photo credit: amitabha bhattacharya

Gopika Nath

The Furnace at Uchhehra it made better sense to leave the photography to them.

And what amazing photographs they took! I cannot forget that afternoon in Bandhavgarh, when Shalini and I were dealing with our disappointment of not sighting a tiger; we overheard the photographer duo planning to head out to a water-lily pond they had discovered yesterday.

Shalini, who was by now completely in awe of her newfound gurus, followed suit while I decided to freshen up and did some ink-drawings instead. But soon, the itch to use the camera was getting to me so I went looking for them. I found Shalini and Bandeep waist-deep in a dirty, muddy pond getting high on the water lilies. It was a sight to be seen. Much as I would have liked to have joined them inside the pond, I refrained on account of my cold, hoping the ‘pros’ would share their loot. photo credit: shalini jaikaria

Sudeep had to leave early so didn’t join us in Bandhavgarh, but his poetry and an incident with the local pandit, ensured he wasn’t forgotten. Sudeep’s anthology of poetry - ‘Fractals’ was yet to be released, but on our second evening in Maihar, he read us some poems from this.

A judge and his colleague from the neighbouring town Katni, acquaintances of the Beri’s, joined us that evening.

In order to make their guests feel comfortable, Ambica requested I accompany Sudeep by reading a poem I had written in Hindi, inspired by the Besharam ke phool that grew ‘shamelessly’ on every roadside in Madhya Pradesh.

Everything was civilized till Mr. ‘Shaen’ [Sudeep insisted on the Bengali pronunciation] decided that, in keeping eping with the erotic sculptures viewed at Khajuraho a day earlier; it would be befitting to end the poetry-reading ading with some erotic verse. photo credit: amitabha bhattacharya

Gopika Nath

The Furnace at Uchhehra ~oea_ Ho$ \y$b ne{M_ _| Må~b Ho$ nhm‹S>r Ho$ nrN>o T>bVo hþE gyaO AmJ Obm Ho$ Mb Xr`o nya~ H$s {Xem _| Amg_mZ Ho$ MmXa no, C±Mr _H$m_ Ny>Zo H$s H$mo{ee _| Mm±XZr ˜y~ M_H$ ahr Wr& BZ XmoZm| Ho$ ~rM YaVr Ho$ EH$ g‹S>H$ no ~«÷mÊS> Ho$ _Ü` àXoe _| ~oea_ Ho$ \y$b, H$ht no ^r, {H$gr ^r hmbmV _| {Ib-{IbHo$ AnZr amh g_PmZo H$s H$mo{ee hma J`o& M‹T>Vo amV Ho$ AÝYoao _| Mm±X H$s amoeZr Cg amñVo H$mo C‚mdb Zm H$a gH$s&

He promised us a unique recipe for ‘Gajar ka halwa’, which was a huge hit. Especially with Arshiya and Ambica, the grand dames of Punjab, who wanted to add this to their repertoire of Punjabi cooking. Feigning complete innocence, we waited in anticipation for the promised recipe of this favoured ‘Indian Dessert’ and then slipped into helpless giggles as the sonorous voice of the poet recited with deadpan seriousness – “Clumps of wet-smoke simmer in the pan, and slowly lift to caress the outline of your breasts” And as he continued, so did the giggles, while Sapna and Maggie, looked on incredulous - at the rest of us, helplessly uncontrollable with laughter. But Sudeep continued, unperturbed “the silk of your shirt – now transparent in heat – painting the outer circle of nipples”, Reciting the rest of the carefully crafted poem, he finished with: “to a creamed mouthful of untampered delicacy.”

And everyone doubled up again, as Arshiya naughtily asked: “but where are the carrots?”

I don’t think any of us had been so irreverent at a poetry reading before. It was a first for Sudeep Sen too, but he was an amazing sport and took our ribbing with élan.

The banks of the Tamas, its serene waters didn’t seem to inspire the poet in Sudeep.

Being more interested in people, he was captivated by a bejewelled chin. But, being a photographer too, he spent considerable time capturing the textures around him. His photo of an aging pandit doing a yogic posture inside a pond garnered much interest.

And so impressed were Sudeep and Panditjee with each other that we were all invited to Panditjee’s home for tea. As we were leaving Sudeep was seated beside Salamat in

photo credit: sudeep sen

Gopika Nath

The Furnace at Uchhehra ~oea_ Ho$ \y$b ne{M_ _| Må~b Ho$ nhm‹S>r Ho$ nrN>o T>bVo hþE gyaO AmJ Obm Ho$ Mb Xr`o nya~ H$s {Xem _| Amg_mZ Ho$ MmXa no, C±Mr _H$m_ Ny>Zo H$s H$mo{ee _| Mm±XZr ˜y~ M_H$ ahr Wr& BZ XmoZm| Ho$ ~rM YaVr Ho$ EH$ g‹S>H$ no ~«÷mÊS> Ho$ _Ü` àXoe _| ~oea_ Ho$ \y$b, H$ht no ^r, {H$gr ^r hmbmV _| {Ib-{IbHo$ AnZr amh g_PmZo H$s H$mo{ee hma J`o& M‹T>Vo amV Ho$ AÝYoao _| Mm±X H$s amoeZr Cg amñVo H$mo C‚mdb Zm H$a gH$s&

He promised us a unique recipe for ‘Gajar ka halwa’, which was a huge hit. Especially with Arshiya and Ambica, the grand dames of Punjab, who wanted to add this to their repertoire of Punjabi cooking. Feigning complete innocence, we waited in anticipation for the promised recipe of this favoured ‘Indian Dessert’ and then slipped into helpless giggles as the sonorous voice of the poet recited with deadpan seriousness – “Clumps of wet-smoke simmer in the pan, and slowly lift to caress the outline of your breasts” And as he continued, so did the giggles, while Sapna and Maggie, looked on incredulous - at the rest of us, helplessly uncontrollable with laughter. But Sudeep continued, unperturbed “the silk of your shirt – now transparent in heat – painting the outer circle of nipples”, Reciting the rest of the carefully crafted poem, he finished with: “to a creamed mouthful of untampered delicacy.”

And everyone doubled up again, as Arshiya naughtily asked: “but where are the carrots?”

I don’t think any of us had been so irreverent at a poetry reading before. It was a first for Sudeep Sen too, but he was an amazing sport and took our ribbing with élan.

The banks of the Tamas, its serene waters didn’t seem to inspire the poet in Sudeep.

Being more interested in people, he was captivated by a bejewelled chin. But, being a photographer too, he spent considerable time capturing the textures around him. His photo of an aging pandit doing a yogic posture inside a pond garnered much interest.

And so impressed were Sudeep and Panditjee with each other that we were all invited to Panditjee’s home for tea. As we were leaving Sudeep was seated beside Salamat in

photo credit: sudeep sen

Gopika Nath

The Furnace at Uchhehra the front-seat of the SUV, while Maggie, Shalini, Bhavana and I occupied the back, with plenty of room for another two passengers.

We had started our journey out of the village, on the narrow mud-road, when Panditjee sprung into action, waving and running alongside the car. Salamat slowed the car and Sudeep was rolling down the window to speak with him when Panditjee yanked the door open, and with one sprightly yogic leap, the white-bearded Pandit jumped onto Sudeep Sen’s lap. For the next ten minutes or so, till Panditjee disembarked the vehicle, Sudeep’s gaze - intensely concentrated on the road ahead, was an expression was of priceless stoicism. Only his bone-stiffened body spoke of the discomfiture.

The giddy group at the back could barely control our laughter. Thereafter, much to Sudeep’s consternation, the mere mention of Panditjee would translate into helpless giggles.

Arshiya, has a shopping fetish. In Khajuraho, we stopped at a chai-shop on our way from the airport to the temples to feast on the packed-lunch Ambica had sent, when a mobile store-wala happened to pass by. Before we knew it, Arshiya was busy buying.

It was the usual stuff available at the local kirane ki dukaan in any city and certainly in Delhi, but she said there was never time to do this kind of shopping in Delhi. And so, the mobile-store earned well that afternoon.

ǡ ͝͠Ǥͣ͡ ͜͝Ǥ͞͡ ǡ ͜͞͝͠

But wherever we went, Arshiya shopped. Even when you didn’t think there would be anything to spend money on, she found it. Uchhehra had not been on the itinerary planned for the residency since Ambica had just recently discovered it herself. She casually mentioned a factory about 25km away and everyone, except for me, dashed off and had a great time. Especially Arshiya who bought brass vessels for her home and to send gifts in, for her to-be-samdhans, at her son’s forthcoming wedding.

Despite my cold turning bronchial, I didn’t take the prescribed medication and the daily dose of rum and hot water at night wasn’t doing as well as the antibiotics would have. So I stayed back to loll in the sun. When the group returned, Sapna was keen

arshiya at the mobile-store photo credit: gopika nath

Gopika Nath

The Furnace at Uchhehra the front-seat of the SUV, while Maggie, Shalini, Bhavana and I occupied the back, with plenty of room for another two passengers.

We had started our journey out of the village, on the narrow mud-road, when Panditjee sprung into action, waving and running alongside the car. Salamat slowed the car and Sudeep was rolling down the window to speak with him when Panditjee yanked the door open, and with one sprightly yogic leap, the white-bearded Pandit jumped onto Sudeep Sen’s lap. For the next ten minutes or so, till Panditjee disembarked the vehicle, Sudeep’s gaze - intensely concentrated on the road ahead, was an expression was of priceless stoicism. Only his bone-stiffened body spoke of the discomfiture.

The giddy group at the back could barely control our laughter. Thereafter, much to Sudeep’s consternation, the mere mention of Panditjee would translate into helpless giggles.

Arshiya, has a shopping fetish. In Khajuraho, we stopped at a chai-shop on our way from the airport to the temples to feast on the packed-lunch Ambica had sent, when a mobile store-wala happened to pass by. Before we knew it, Arshiya was busy buying.

It was the usual stuff available at the local kirane ki dukaan in any city and certainly in Delhi, but she said there was never time to do this kind of shopping in Delhi. And so, the mobile-store earned well that afternoon.

ǡ ͝͠Ǥͣ͡ ͜͝Ǥ͞͡ ǡ ͜͞͝͠

But wherever we went, Arshiya shopped. Even when you didn’t think there would be anything to spend money on, she found it. Uchhehra had not been on the itinerary planned for the residency since Ambica had just recently discovered it herself. She casually mentioned a factory about 25km away and everyone, except for me, dashed off and had a great time. Especially Arshiya who bought brass vessels for her home and to send gifts in, for her to-be-samdhans, at her son’s forthcoming wedding.

Despite my cold turning bronchial, I didn’t take the prescribed medication and the daily dose of rum and hot water at night wasn’t doing as well as the antibiotics would have. So I stayed back to loll in the sun. When the group returned, Sapna was keen

arshiya at the mobile-store photo credit: gopika nath

Gopika Nath

The Furnace at Uchhehra that I visit and write an article for her site www.bringhomestories.com. Eventually, I was commissioned to do a photo essay instead. So when everyone else had left for Delhi, I went to Uchhehra.

I just loved zooming into the blistering furnaces – red hot embers set against the dark soot of coal, made for dramatic visuals. As luck would have it, my camera battery packed up and wouldn’t recharge. The Tambekars called up a local photo studio requesting a loan of their Canon DSLR, for a couple of hours. Waiting for the camera to arrive, I had chai and cashews at Harish Tambekar’s office and listened to the story of how the brothers had brought the labour and technique of making the ‘Hada’ to Uchhehra, from Mirzapur in the neighbouring state of Uttar Pradesh.

The ‘Hada’ is a brass vessel that is used exclusively in the Vindhyshetra [Maihar included]. Though used exclusively in this region, the ‘Hada’ was never made there and the Tambekar’s factory is the only one of its kind in Madhya Pradesh. Integral to the rituals of gifting at marriages and part of a bride’s dowry, the ‘Hada’ is valued like gold. The process of making the ‘Hada’ is quite complex. Not only do copper and zinc go through an ordeal by fire before brass is formed, but they endure a lot more heat and beating too, before the gleaming gold vessel is sold in the market.

The metals go through at least four stages of firing in furnaces that are heated at varying degrees of 800 to 1200 degrees Celsius. Nothing captured my imagination as these did. I was irresistibly drawn to the furnaces, again and again. I squatted, leaned, knelt and did whatever was needed to get the right shot without realising that my red cape – one that I had been nick-named Red-Riding-Hood for [by the rest of the group], was sadly covered in soot – the red and black almost as dramatic as the furnaces. I wasn’t happy.

But, I laughed it off in an incident that followed. I needed to go to the loo and was politely escorted to the toilet used by the management staff. I didn’t expect to see just a urinal, so asked in surprise - “But what about women?” Imagine my consternation

Gopika Nath

The Furnace at Uchhehra that I visit and write an article for her site www.bringhomestories.com. Eventually, I was commissioned to do a photo essay instead. So when everyone else had left for Delhi, I went to Uchhehra.

I just loved zooming into the blistering furnaces – red hot embers set against the dark soot of coal, made for dramatic visuals. As luck would have it, my camera battery packed up and wouldn’t recharge. The Tambekars called up a local photo studio requesting a loan of their Canon DSLR, for a couple of hours. Waiting for the camera to arrive, I had chai and cashews at Harish Tambekar’s office and listened to the story of how the brothers had brought the labour and technique of making the ‘Hada’ to Uchhehra, from Mirzapur in the neighbouring state of Uttar Pradesh.

The ‘Hada’ is a brass vessel that is used exclusively in the Vindhyshetra [Maihar included]. Though used exclusively in this region, the ‘Hada’ was never made there and the Tambekar’s factory is the only one of its kind in Madhya Pradesh. Integral to the rituals of gifting at marriages and part of a bride’s dowry, the ‘Hada’ is valued like gold. The process of making the ‘Hada’ is quite complex. Not only do copper and zinc go through an ordeal by fire before brass is formed, but they endure a lot more heat and beating too, before the gleaming gold vessel is sold in the market.

The metals go through at least four stages of firing in furnaces that are heated at varying degrees of 800 to 1200 degrees Celsius. Nothing captured my imagination as these did. I was irresistibly drawn to the furnaces, again and again. I squatted, leaned, knelt and did whatever was needed to get the right shot without realising that my red cape – one that I had been nick-named Red-Riding-Hood for [by the rest of the group], was sadly covered in soot – the red and black almost as dramatic as the furnaces. I wasn’t happy.

But, I laughed it off in an incident that followed. I needed to go to the loo and was politely escorted to the toilet used by the management staff. I didn’t expect to see just a urinal, so asked in surprise - “But what about women?” Imagine my consternation

Gopika Nath

The Hada at Uchhehra

when I was told to pee on the floor! But, what else could I do? When one’s got to go, one has to make do with what is available. I laughed, but as there was no-one from the group to share the joke, I returned to the furnaces. And the dirty cape was forgotten.

Again and again they’ve been through furnaces hot Coal embers angry red

Browsing through the day’s endeavour on my computer, I was inspired to consider the melting and moulding of the metals in making of the vessel, as evocative of the kind of grind we human beings also go through, to come into our own. And, tabulating the process for the photo essay, I saw, perhaps for the first time with such clarity, that the human relationship with self - enacted through others, is forged with as much angst as the melding of copper and zinc - inseparably, as brass.

No trace of hard edges Their mettle a blazing molten lava now inseparable copper and zinc poured into moulds defined Then beaten with hammers iron Face blackened as curious eyes scrutinise the contours to find a flaw, any weakness in the coupled being But shaved off this soot and washed in acidic wine togetherness gleamed a brilliant gold.

They weren’t don’t yet Held with loving hands to be hammered again A distinctive design was given their brass.

A textile artist, art critic, blogger, poet and teacher, Gopika Nath is passionate about textiles and is working to redefine the value of hand-crafting towards bridging the prevalent art-craft divide.

Working with needle and thread, she is engaged in evolving a contemporary language of embroidery - using thread as a metaphor for life. www.gopikanathstitchjournal.blogspot.com

It’s ordeal by fire and brazen forging of zinc and copper – A dark shadow within that yellow-golden shine.

Gopika Nath

The Hada at Uchhehra

when I was told to pee on the floor! But, what else could I do? When one’s got to go, one has to make do with what is available. I laughed, but as there was no-one from the group to share the joke, I returned to the furnaces. And the dirty cape was forgotten.

Again and again they’ve been through furnaces hot Coal embers angry red

Browsing through the day’s endeavour on my computer, I was inspired to consider the melting and moulding of the metals in making of the vessel, as evocative of the kind of grind we human beings also go through, to come into our own. And, tabulating the process for the photo essay, I saw, perhaps for the first time with such clarity, that the human relationship with self - enacted through others, is forged with as much angst as the melding of copper and zinc - inseparably, as brass.

No trace of hard edges Their mettle a blazing molten lava now inseparable copper and zinc poured into moulds defined Then beaten with hammers iron Face blackened as curious eyes scrutinise the contours to find a flaw, any weakness in the coupled being But shaved off this soot and washed in acidic wine togetherness gleamed a brilliant gold.

They weren’t don’t yet Held with loving hands to be hammered again A distinctive design was given their brass.

A textile artist, art critic, blogger, poet and teacher, Gopika Nath is passionate about textiles and is working to redefine the value of hand-crafting towards bridging the prevalent art-craft divide.

Working with needle and thread, she is engaged in evolving a contemporary language of embroidery - using thread as a metaphor for life. www.gopikanathstitchjournal.blogspot.com

It’s ordeal by fire and brazen forging of zinc and copper – A dark shadow within that yellow-golden shine.

The Album

The Album

Making of Ichol

Making of Ichol

The Album

The Album

Ambica Beri

I Want To Dream The only things that I recollect being any good at, as a child, were drawing and dreaming. I could spend all day with my favoured D’s. I was a lucky child who was loved and indulged by both parents for every whimsical want. But like any other girl in those days, as my teens came to an end, it was time to marry and ‘settle-down’.

I moved to a relatively unknown city into a joint family and began a whole new life.

My two boys Aditya and Anshuman were born and my life effortlessly became more and more about others and less about myself. Painting and drawing and those things I once enjoyed doing, often seemed like a dream from some past life.

One day, out of the blue, Sanjiv told me that he had bought a small place in a new building on Alipore Crossing that I could use as my studio and start painting again.

I gave it serious thought and told him that I no longer wanted to paint, but wanted to work with artists and open an art gallery. He looked at me in surprise and asked me what an art gallery was. Haha! I have never forgotten that moment. Like a typical businessman, he wanted to know if this venture would pay for the building maintenance and electricity bills. But despite his instinctive response, my husband showed a caring sensitivity in giving me the space to do ‘my thing’. Sanjiv and I couldn’t be more different from each other. He had no clue about what I was doing nor did he pretend to understand art. He just knew he had to do this for me, for my sake, and I’m ever-grateful for such a life-partner.

photo credit: gopika nath

Even in those early days when faced with multifarious familial responsibilities I always dreamed; sometimes despite the responsibilities and more often because of them. I have often questioned myself about what gets me more side-tracked, hectic reality or mesmerizing dreams? My usual day is frenetic and taken up with endless phone-calls, emails, errands, sitting for hours in traffic, meetings and greetings and scores of trifling events. It is only when I dream that I feel a sense of calm. I can rest, drift and attune to my deeper self. I visualize at great lengths and in great detail all my inner desires and goals. I navigate their flow based on the reality of the world and how to achieve them on that plane. I let these dreams show me wonders and have realized that they do indeed manifest.

photo courtesy: art ichol

Ambica Beri

I Want To Dream The only things that I recollect being any good at, as a child, were drawing and dreaming. I could spend all day with my favoured D’s. I was a lucky child who was loved and indulged by both parents for every whimsical want. But like any other girl in those days, as my teens came to an end, it was time to marry and ‘settle-down’.

I moved to a relatively unknown city into a joint family and began a whole new life.

My two boys Aditya and Anshuman were born and my life effortlessly became more and more about others and less about myself. Painting and drawing and those things I once enjoyed doing, often seemed like a dream from some past life.

One day, out of the blue, Sanjiv told me that he had bought a small place in a new building on Alipore Crossing that I could use as my studio and start painting again.

I gave it serious thought and told him that I no longer wanted to paint, but wanted to work with artists and open an art gallery. He looked at me in surprise and asked me what an art gallery was. Haha! I have never forgotten that moment. Like a typical businessman, he wanted to know if this venture would pay for the building maintenance and electricity bills. But despite his instinctive response, my husband showed a caring sensitivity in giving me the space to do ‘my thing’. Sanjiv and I couldn’t be more different from each other. He had no clue about what I was doing nor did he pretend to understand art. He just knew he had to do this for me, for my sake, and I’m ever-grateful for such a life-partner.

photo credit: gopika nath

Even in those early days when faced with multifarious familial responsibilities I always dreamed; sometimes despite the responsibilities and more often because of them. I have often questioned myself about what gets me more side-tracked, hectic reality or mesmerizing dreams? My usual day is frenetic and taken up with endless phone-calls, emails, errands, sitting for hours in traffic, meetings and greetings and scores of trifling events. It is only when I dream that I feel a sense of calm. I can rest, drift and attune to my deeper self. I visualize at great lengths and in great detail all my inner desires and goals. I navigate their flow based on the reality of the world and how to achieve them on that plane. I let these dreams show me wonders and have realized that they do indeed manifest.

photo courtesy: art ichol

Ambica Beri

I Want To Dream I started Gallery Sanskriti in an eight hundred square-foot space. I had one modest yet persistent artist on my side, who like me, was hell bent on getting things going. I was a novice in the art world, with no experience or qualification to run an art gallery.

I didn’t know either artists or art collectors. Hell, I didn’t even know how to write a cheque! But I was a quick learner. The gallery made me financially independent which opened up a whole new world for me. Through my work I started discovering myself - my capabilities and tendencies. This self-discovery is what held me in good stead, giving me the grit to take Art Ichol from a day-dreamer’s mind and make it a physical reality.

From that small building space in the early years, Gallery Sanskriti grew. I made lasting friendships and learnt a lot from Bikash Bhattacharjee, Shyamal Dutta Ray, Dharma Narayan Dasgupta and Ganesh Pyne. I miss them today. I wish I could share Art Ichol with them. They were my inspiration and mentors.

Despite the demands of my work, my children and family remained my priority.

I made no compromises with the time I needed to spend with my in-laws and parents.

I feel that any woman who has a family and wants a successful career has to work not twice as hard, but ten times harder. I am proud of both my boys. I laugh the most when I am with them and evaluate my real success when I see them.

Twenty odd years after hosting and facilitating national and international workshops, interacting with artists, craftsmen and other creative professionals I came up with

photo courtesy: art ichol

the idea of creating a multi-dimensional residency and art centre in the heart of rural Madhya Pradesh. From a ceramic centre within the compounds of my own home in Maihar, I dreamt of a space with world-class facilities. It would combine my experience as a gallerist with the joy of living and working in a small-town environment surrounded by an inspired landscape, to create a centre for the arts and crafts. I wanted it to be a place where colleagues, patrons, writers, artists and other creative people could share their genius and make great art.

Ambica Beri

I Want To Dream I started Gallery Sanskriti in an eight hundred square-foot space. I had one modest yet persistent artist on my side, who like me, was hell bent on getting things going. I was a novice in the art world, with no experience or qualification to run an art gallery.

I didn’t know either artists or art collectors. Hell, I didn’t even know how to write a cheque! But I was a quick learner. The gallery made me financially independent which opened up a whole new world for me. Through my work I started discovering myself - my capabilities and tendencies. This self-discovery is what held me in good stead, giving me the grit to take Art Ichol from a day-dreamer’s mind and make it a physical reality.

From that small building space in the early years, Gallery Sanskriti grew. I made lasting friendships and learnt a lot from Bikash Bhattacharjee, Shyamal Dutta Ray, Dharma Narayan Dasgupta and Ganesh Pyne. I miss them today. I wish I could share Art Ichol with them. They were my inspiration and mentors.

Despite the demands of my work, my children and family remained my priority.

I made no compromises with the time I needed to spend with my in-laws and parents.

I feel that any woman who has a family and wants a successful career has to work not twice as hard, but ten times harder. I am proud of both my boys. I laugh the most when I am with them and evaluate my real success when I see them.

Twenty odd years after hosting and facilitating national and international workshops, interacting with artists, craftsmen and other creative professionals I came up with

photo courtesy: art ichol

the idea of creating a multi-dimensional residency and art centre in the heart of rural Madhya Pradesh. From a ceramic centre within the compounds of my own home in Maihar, I dreamt of a space with world-class facilities. It would combine my experience as a gallerist with the joy of living and working in a small-town environment surrounded by an inspired landscape, to create a centre for the arts and crafts. I wanted it to be a place where colleagues, patrons, writers, artists and other creative people could share their genius and make great art.

Ambica Beri

I Want To Dream It was no humble endeavour to begin with. I had big dreams for Art Ichol. Bringing them to fruition necessitated great physical and mental endurance along with ceaseless dedication on my part and that of all those who became involved with this mammoth project. Art Ichol cast a spell. It was a vision I had to bring to life.

Of course there were many glitches that were technical, emotional and practical.

I stuck on with all my might. I sold my treasured and prized works of art collected over many years which I had sworn never to sell. Tough though it was, seemingly separate events also came together mysteriously and I could see what they were doing was in alignment with my purpose. They carved the path that would enable me to build Art Ichol. What I loved most about travelling in the blissful terrain of my dream-state was how magnetically and wholly this absorbed me. I was often astonished at my own sense of commitment but, I couldn’t have done any of it without the whole-hearted support of Sanjiv, my family and a whole community of passionate and dedicated people.

It was my aging father who quickly grasped my vision. His expertise in architecture turned my dreamscape into a blueprint. In March 2012, at the age of eighty-one, he began designing the buildings for Art Ichol. Once construction began, he was onsite guiding the workers and checking the quality of craftsmanship, right until the last brick was set. His technical proficiency kept in check the aesthetics of the design, not allowing for the bizarre and creative to override the practical. Everything, from ‘The Ceramic Centre,’ to the tent house in ‘Amariya – The Writers’ Retreat’ and the expansive sculpture gallery at Ichol, were ideas that he brought to life. In our makeshift office under the mango tree at Ichol, both of us worked side-by-side on-site for three years. It was my father’s dedication that invigorated him and there were times when I found it difficult to cope with his energy and determination. My father was an inspiration to everyone involved with this project, and to say that the creation of Art Ichol would not have possible without him, is an understatement.

photo credit: amitabha bhattacharya

photo credit: srimallya maitra

Ambica Beri

I Want To Dream It was no humble endeavour to begin with. I had big dreams for Art Ichol. Bringing them to fruition necessitated great physical and mental endurance along with ceaseless dedication on my part and that of all those who became involved with this mammoth project. Art Ichol cast a spell. It was a vision I had to bring to life.

Of course there were many glitches that were technical, emotional and practical.

I stuck on with all my might. I sold my treasured and prized works of art collected over many years which I had sworn never to sell. Tough though it was, seemingly separate events also came together mysteriously and I could see what they were doing was in alignment with my purpose. They carved the path that would enable me to build Art Ichol. What I loved most about travelling in the blissful terrain of my dream-state was how magnetically and wholly this absorbed me. I was often astonished at my own sense of commitment but, I couldn’t have done any of it without the whole-hearted support of Sanjiv, my family and a whole community of passionate and dedicated people.

It was my aging father who quickly grasped my vision. His expertise in architecture turned my dreamscape into a blueprint. In March 2012, at the age of eighty-one, he began designing the buildings for Art Ichol. Once construction began, he was onsite guiding the workers and checking the quality of craftsmanship, right until the last brick was set. His technical proficiency kept in check the aesthetics of the design, not allowing for the bizarre and creative to override the practical. Everything, from ‘The Ceramic Centre,’ to the tent house in ‘Amariya – The Writers’ Retreat’ and the expansive sculpture gallery at Ichol, were ideas that he brought to life. In our makeshift office under the mango tree at Ichol, both of us worked side-by-side on-site for three years. It was my father’s dedication that invigorated him and there were times when I found it difficult to cope with his energy and determination. My father was an inspiration to everyone involved with this project, and to say that the creation of Art Ichol would not have possible without him, is an understatement.

photo credit: amitabha bhattacharya

photo credit: srimallya maitra

Ambica Beri

I Want To Dream The gifted artist and sculptor, Narayan Sinha, was a blessed discovery for me. I first saw his work ten years ago at the Academy of Fine Arts in Kolkata. We kept in touch.

Once I dedicated myself to building Art Ichol, it struck me that Narayan would be the perfect artist to help me design the interiors and over-all look of the place, especially ‘Khaprael Kothi’. Narayan’s rare ability to give ‘found materials’ a new life is simply magical. It was an experience for me to wander around with him in scrap godowns and antique markets and see the unfolding of his creative process before my very eyes.

From the finding of an object to what he was able to create out of it, I loved studying what caught his eye and why. Every piece of furniture in ‘Khaprael Kothi’ is an original and aesthetic part of Ichol. A fine example of his imaginative sweep is the chimney of an abandoned kiln in one of our factories which he converted into a light installation.

It lifts my spirit every time to switch on the lights when I enter ‘Khaprael Kothi’ and see the glow from lamps of brass pots and ship anchors. They illuminate a space filled with other marvels. I would also like to mention the diligent and painstaking efforts of artists Ramesh Chandra and Anand Kumar who were always at hand and ready to execute our creative and sometimes random ideas.

People I had known a life-time, unexpectedly revealed new skills and volunteered their time and energy. Salamat Khan, who was the company chauffeur for forty-five years, became my trusted right-hand during the construction. As a local, he knew the people and industries and had a talent for foreseeing problems before anyone else. Salamat planned and executed vital aspects with swiftness and professionalism.

He was like a one-man army. And it was Salamat who always stood beside my father.

I could leave Maihar knowing all would be safe under Salamat’s watch.

photo courtesy: art ichol

2014 was remarkable year for me and one that saw the first and highly successful residency at Art Ichol. My college friend, artist and writer Gopika Nath was the curator for this event. She was the only one I thought of when Art Ichol was near completion. She has an intuitive eye and an uncanny knack for judging things appropriately. I knew she would be able gauge the prospects for this space. And in fully recognizing its scope she put together a group of highly talented individuals. It was heart-warming to see Art Ichol come alive with the presence of such gifted and brilliant personas. My dream was taking shape.

Ambica Beri

I Want To Dream The gifted artist and sculptor, Narayan Sinha, was a blessed discovery for me. I first saw his work ten years ago at the Academy of Fine Arts in Kolkata. We kept in touch.

Once I dedicated myself to building Art Ichol, it struck me that Narayan would be the perfect artist to help me design the interiors and over-all look of the place, especially ‘Khaprael Kothi’. Narayan’s rare ability to give ‘found materials’ a new life is simply magical. It was an experience for me to wander around with him in scrap godowns and antique markets and see the unfolding of his creative process before my very eyes.

From the finding of an object to what he was able to create out of it, I loved studying what caught his eye and why. Every piece of furniture in ‘Khaprael Kothi’ is an original and aesthetic part of Ichol. A fine example of his imaginative sweep is the chimney of an abandoned kiln in one of our factories which he converted into a light installation.

It lifts my spirit every time to switch on the lights when I enter ‘Khaprael Kothi’ and see the glow from lamps of brass pots and ship anchors. They illuminate a space filled with other marvels. I would also like to mention the diligent and painstaking efforts of artists Ramesh Chandra and Anand Kumar who were always at hand and ready to execute our creative and sometimes random ideas.

People I had known a life-time, unexpectedly revealed new skills and volunteered their time and energy. Salamat Khan, who was the company chauffeur for forty-five years, became my trusted right-hand during the construction. As a local, he knew the people and industries and had a talent for foreseeing problems before anyone else. Salamat planned and executed vital aspects with swiftness and professionalism.

He was like a one-man army. And it was Salamat who always stood beside my father.

I could leave Maihar knowing all would be safe under Salamat’s watch.

photo courtesy: art ichol

2014 was remarkable year for me and one that saw the first and highly successful residency at Art Ichol. My college friend, artist and writer Gopika Nath was the curator for this event. She was the only one I thought of when Art Ichol was near completion. She has an intuitive eye and an uncanny knack for judging things appropriately. I knew she would be able gauge the prospects for this space. And in fully recognizing its scope she put together a group of highly talented individuals. It was heart-warming to see Art Ichol come alive with the presence of such gifted and brilliant personas. My dream was taking shape.

Ambica Beri

I Want To Dream Getting to know such a diverse group of creative people was truly unforgettable. The evenings were animated with song, dance and sharing of stories. Each person brought their work to the table and we learned about each other’s abilities. It was a sharing of minds, memories and magical moments. The group comprised two textiles artists, Gopika herself and Maggie Baxter from Perth in Australia. Arshiya Sethi a renowned art facilitator joined them along with Shalini Jaikaria, a talented fashion designer.

Sudeep Sen, a poet who needs no introduction and film-maker Sapna Bhatia, along with photographers Bandeep Singh and Amitabha Bhattacharya completed the group. Each has left an unforgettable footprint at Art Ichol. Soon after, we organized an international ceramic symposium which had potters from Australia, France and US, participating along with Indian ceramicists. And there is a lot more to come.

photo credit: srimallya maitra

Art Ichol is to be a benefactor of the creative and their creativity. We hope to sponsor five underprivileged creative individuals every year and share our space and work with the art fraternity world-wide. We will not fade into dreams even though that is where we came from. Art Ichol is as much h you, as it is me. It belongs to the world as much as it does to me.

Ambica Beri is the director and founder of Art Ichol, Madhya Pradesh and is also owner of Gallery Sanskriti, Kolkota. A textile designer by training, she chose to nurture art and artists through her gallery and other establishments. She now creates on an altogether ơ Ǥ

Ambica Beri

I Want To Dream Getting to know such a diverse group of creative people was truly unforgettable. The evenings were animated with song, dance and sharing of stories. Each person brought their work to the table and we learned about each other’s abilities. It was a sharing of minds, memories and magical moments. The group comprised two textiles artists, Gopika herself and Maggie Baxter from Perth in Australia. Arshiya Sethi a renowned art facilitator joined them along with Shalini Jaikaria, a talented fashion designer.

Sudeep Sen, a poet who needs no introduction and film-maker Sapna Bhatia, along with photographers Bandeep Singh and Amitabha Bhattacharya completed the group. Each has left an unforgettable footprint at Art Ichol. Soon after, we organized an international ceramic symposium which had potters from Australia, France and US, participating along with Indian ceramicists. And there is a lot more to come.

photo credit: srimallya maitra

Art Ichol is to be a benefactor of the creative and their creativity. We hope to sponsor five underprivileged creative individuals every year and share our space and work with the art fraternity world-wide. We will not fade into dreams even though that is where we came from. Art Ichol is as much h you, as it is me. It belongs to the world as much as it does to me.

Ambica Beri is the director and founder of Art Ichol, Madhya Pradesh and is also owner of Gallery Sanskriti, Kolkota. A textile designer by training, she chose to nurture art and artists through her gallery and other establishments. She now creates on an altogether ơ Ǥ

Suraj P. Subherwal

Gift Of Time At eighty-four years of age, I am a man who has plenty of experience and time behind him but uncertainty regarding the time ahead. And yet, after an active and successful, albeit reluctant career as an architect, I also feel that what else is there to give my children other than my time.

As a young boy, I was never really interested in studying and often prayed for some rich person to come and adopt me so that I did not have to study. Needless to say, that never happened but I’m often reminded of that idea and wonder what my life would have been, if that prayer had indeed been answered. I was about eight or nine years old when I first came across the word ‘Architect’, written on a name plate in our mohalla in Jalandhar. The sign read: ‘Katayal Engineer and Architect.’ I came home and asked my uncle, an engineer by profession, what an ‘architect’ was and he carefully described the difference between a civil engineer and architect. I didn’t really understand all of that but the words he used were fascinating. However, before I finally honed into this and took up the profession, I toyed with the idea of going to Paris to become a painter and then mid-way through architectural college, I was willing to abandon this to play professional football.

(1930 - 2015)

However, when I worked, I worked hard and was awarded the title of ‘Mr. Architecture’ in 1952 because of my all round performance. In 1955 I was granted admission to study architecture at M.I.T. as well at the Frank Lloyd School of Architecture in U.S.

Zgr~m| H$mo {_bVm h¡ g_` `ohr Vmo XoVr h¢ `mX| Am¡a VOwa~m ß`ma H$m &&

but circumstances didn’t allow me to take up those opportunities. I have worked on numerous prestigious projects such as the Palace for the King of Nepal and U.S.A.I.D. Mission educational projects at Kathmandu among others. And I even designed the main altar of the XXXVIII International Eucharistic Congress in Bombay, which was

- JmonrH$m ZmW

attended by His Holiness Pope Paul VI. But, true joy came to me when my children were born. Nothing in the world matches the sense of accomplishment felt, upon seeing them grow and touch the skies. Being a part of Ambica’s various projects over the years has always given me joy, not only to share in her dreams and their success, but for the chance it gave us to work together. It gave us time to be with each other.

Suraj P. Subherwal

Gift Of Time At eighty-four years of age, I am a man who has plenty of experience and time behind him but uncertainty regarding the time ahead. And yet, after an active and successful, albeit reluctant career as an architect, I also feel that what else is there to give my children other than my time.

As a young boy, I was never really interested in studying and often prayed for some rich person to come and adopt me so that I did not have to study. Needless to say, that never happened but I’m often reminded of that idea and wonder what my life would have been, if that prayer had indeed been answered. I was about eight or nine years old when I first came across the word ‘Architect’, written on a name plate in our mohalla in Jalandhar. The sign read: ‘Katayal Engineer and Architect.’ I came home and asked my uncle, an engineer by profession, what an ‘architect’ was and he carefully described the difference between a civil engineer and architect. I didn’t really understand all of that but the words he used were fascinating. However, before I finally honed into this and took up the profession, I toyed with the idea of going to Paris to become a painter and then mid-way through architectural college, I was willing to abandon this to play professional football.

(1930 - 2015)

However, when I worked, I worked hard and was awarded the title of ‘Mr. Architecture’ in 1952 because of my all round performance. In 1955 I was granted admission to study architecture at M.I.T. as well at the Frank Lloyd School of Architecture in U.S.

Zgr~m| H$mo {_bVm h¡ g_` `ohr Vmo XoVr h¢ `mX| Am¡a VOwa~m ß`ma H$m &&

but circumstances didn’t allow me to take up those opportunities. I have worked on numerous prestigious projects such as the Palace for the King of Nepal and U.S.A.I.D. Mission educational projects at Kathmandu among others. And I even designed the main altar of the XXXVIII International Eucharistic Congress in Bombay, which was

- JmonrH$m ZmW

attended by His Holiness Pope Paul VI. But, true joy came to me when my children were born. Nothing in the world matches the sense of accomplishment felt, upon seeing them grow and touch the skies. Being a part of Ambica’s various projects over the years has always given me joy, not only to share in her dreams and their success, but for the chance it gave us to work together. It gave us time to be with each other.

Suraj P. Subherwal

Gift Of Time If I could stand at every random site from morning to sundown, supervising the casting of slabs for other people, why couldn’t I do this for my own daughter, my pride and joy? So I decided to design and build this Art Centre - her dream project, in my own presence. Given my age, the location and lack of accessibility to modern amenities, and not forgetting variable climatic conditions, it was going to be a feat all around. But, I also knew that if I took it on, I would be able to spend time with my daughter. So this time together, was a strong factor in influencing me to take on this challenge. The task demanded grit and determination but I knew why I was doing this, so we got down to business.

The first brief given to me was to create a high ceiling with terracotta tiles for the roofing, so that the building would blend in with the historic chattri and baoli and landscape of cultivated fields leading to the hills in the distance. It was also decided to build the structure on a platform. A lot of filling-in of the low land was necessary to have a building on a raised platform. We had many things to work around and like pieces of a puzzle they had to fit together.

My problems were many. If on one hand I had capable men, on the other, I was working with illiterate and unskilled workers who could not read a drawing. After having taught students of architecture in present day IIT, this was a new experience.

But it was interesting to have people from all strata of society to work with. As it was with the team, so it was with the project. The architectural design is based on a combination of state-of-art technology as well as traditional practices. We were creative with this - using things like VRF air-conditioning and toughened glass on one side and then plastering the walls with lime surkhi on the other. Economy was achieved by employing innovative methods of construction such as the octagonal plate slab in the conference area. This was held up on a twenty-four foot-span using only eight millimetre diameter, ‘Tor’ steel bars. This reduced wastage to a minimum.

Fifty years after I designed the main altar of the Eucharistic Congress at Bombay for Pope Paul VI, this job was giving me equal satisfaction.

photo courtesy: art ichol

Suraj P. Subherwal

Gift Of Time If I could stand at every random site from morning to sundown, supervising the casting of slabs for other people, why couldn’t I do this for my own daughter, my pride and joy? So I decided to design and build this Art Centre - her dream project, in my own presence. Given my age, the location and lack of accessibility to modern amenities, and not forgetting variable climatic conditions, it was going to be a feat all around. But, I also knew that if I took it on, I would be able to spend time with my daughter. So this time together, was a strong factor in influencing me to take on this challenge. The task demanded grit and determination but I knew why I was doing this, so we got down to business.

The first brief given to me was to create a high ceiling with terracotta tiles for the roofing, so that the building would blend in with the historic chattri and baoli and landscape of cultivated fields leading to the hills in the distance. It was also decided to build the structure on a platform. A lot of filling-in of the low land was necessary to have a building on a raised platform. We had many things to work around and like pieces of a puzzle they had to fit together.

My problems were many. If on one hand I had capable men, on the other, I was working with illiterate and unskilled workers who could not read a drawing. After having taught students of architecture in present day IIT, this was a new experience.

But it was interesting to have people from all strata of society to work with. As it was with the team, so it was with the project. The architectural design is based on a combination of state-of-art technology as well as traditional practices. We were creative with this - using things like VRF air-conditioning and toughened glass on one side and then plastering the walls with lime surkhi on the other. Economy was achieved by employing innovative methods of construction such as the octagonal plate slab in the conference area. This was held up on a twenty-four foot-span using only eight millimetre diameter, ‘Tor’ steel bars. This reduced wastage to a minimum.

Fifty years after I designed the main altar of the Eucharistic Congress at Bombay for Pope Paul VI, this job was giving me equal satisfaction.

photo courtesy: art ichol

Suraj P. Subherwal

Gift Of Time There were frustrations, but no matter how hard the conditions became, we focused only on our determination to get the job done and done well. Checking work in progress throughout the day and rectifying defects continuously was necessary.

Nobody there knew how to construct a layout at site. Diagonals had to be checked.

Measurements had to be maintained. This was not the norm but, knowing that I was dealing with untrained and inexperienced people, I expected it. Some requirements cropped up while work was well under progress. We took almost every suggestion into consideration. The Painting Room was added nearly two years into the project on Gopika’s observation that, sculptors may work outdoors but painters and photographers also need a separate studio. Other small changes and additions were made along the way.

Many people have contributed to the success of this project. Mr. Romesh Pangasa of Semac designed the RCC Framed structure with a steel roof skeleton and I found in Narayan, a very creative designer who could turn inert material into a thing of beauty.

He is a sculptor, artist, interior designer and space designer all-in-one. He stunned us with the works of art that he created from the junk he had bought at rundown Kabari shops.

I had a lot of help undoubtedly, but it was Salamat Khan who was my sarthi. Just like Krishna was to Arjun - always on job, ready with solutions, thinking on his feet and most of the time, thinking ahead of us. He knew ‘what next’ even before we did. He always planned in advance whether it was the need for material, men, machinery or even finances. I was amazed to see that a person, with as limited an education as his, could maintain accounts as detailed as those handled by chartered accountants and possibly also put them to shame. I am indeed grateful to Salamat for his foresight and integrity and to Parohaji who contributed day and night to the safety and security of people and property.

I was fortunate to have found the experience of Chatter Singh and Neelkanth for the electrical and plumbing work. They just happened to be in the region on consultancies from Delhi and were extremely helpful. Several workers gave shape to the Ichol Art

working in torch light, photo courtesy: art ichol

Suraj P. Subherwal

Gift Of Time There were frustrations, but no matter how hard the conditions became, we focused only on our determination to get the job done and done well. Checking work in progress throughout the day and rectifying defects continuously was necessary.

Nobody there knew how to construct a layout at site. Diagonals had to be checked.

Measurements had to be maintained. This was not the norm but, knowing that I was dealing with untrained and inexperienced people, I expected it. Some requirements cropped up while work was well under progress. We took almost every suggestion into consideration. The Painting Room was added nearly two years into the project on Gopika’s observation that, sculptors may work outdoors but painters and photographers also need a separate studio. Other small changes and additions were made along the way.

Many people have contributed to the success of this project. Mr. Romesh Pangasa of Semac designed the RCC Framed structure with a steel roof skeleton and I found in Narayan, a very creative designer who could turn inert material into a thing of beauty.

He is a sculptor, artist, interior designer and space designer all-in-one. He stunned us with the works of art that he created from the junk he had bought at rundown Kabari shops.

I had a lot of help undoubtedly, but it was Salamat Khan who was my sarthi. Just like Krishna was to Arjun - always on job, ready with solutions, thinking on his feet and most of the time, thinking ahead of us. He knew ‘what next’ even before we did. He always planned in advance whether it was the need for material, men, machinery or even finances. I was amazed to see that a person, with as limited an education as his, could maintain accounts as detailed as those handled by chartered accountants and possibly also put them to shame. I am indeed grateful to Salamat for his foresight and integrity and to Parohaji who contributed day and night to the safety and security of people and property.

I was fortunate to have found the experience of Chatter Singh and Neelkanth for the electrical and plumbing work. They just happened to be in the region on consultancies from Delhi and were extremely helpful. Several workers gave shape to the Ichol Art

working in torch light, photo courtesy: art ichol

Suraj P. Subherwal

Gift Of Time Centre, but the contribution of Mohan for civil work, Munna for shuttering and Vishnu for his welding work deserve a special mention. Taking measurements and fitting toughened glass at great heights and of odd shapes such as triangles and trapeziums, was truly a feat accomplished by Mr. Geet Pabra and his men. But in all of this technical stuff I cannot forget Santosh. My day started at 5 am with him bringing me my tea. And in the evening I unwound after a day of toil, when Sanjiv offered me a drink. What more can a man ask for. For those three years, Maihar was a home away from home in every sense of the word.

After years of labour, when I see Art Ichol standing tall, I am proud, less of my accomplishment but more so, of my daughter. She has always dreamed impossible things and inspired all of us to help with the task of manifesting them. I remember when she was about eight years old and her mother was not with us in Calcutta, I had to ensure Ambica didn’t miss her mama too much. So I took her to every Park Street restaurant, all the way from Cornfield Road, every day, for breakfast and sometimes lunch too. Today, that eight year old is a grandmother and is walking ahead of me.

What more could a father ask for!

photo credit: amitabha bhattacharya

Ǥ ǡ ȑͥ͟͜͝ Ǧ ͜͞͝͡Ȓ and Architecture, New Delhi, was a Fellow of the Indian Institute Ǥ Ƥ

ȑͥ͢͝͡ ͥͥ͝͡Ȓ

ǡ Ǥ Ǥ Ǥ Ǥ Ǥ Ǥ Ǥ Ǥ Ǥ ƥ and Benjamin Polk as well as Chatterjee and Polk in Calcutta, among others. Some projects he worked on included the Master-Plan for the Rourkela Steel Plant Township; National Library of Burma, Rangoon and The Jallianwala Bagh National Memorial at Amritsar. He also designed several educational institutes for the Apeejay Group. He ͜͞͝͡Ǥ

Suraj P. Subherwal

Gift Of Time Centre, but the contribution of Mohan for civil work, Munna for shuttering and Vishnu for his welding work deserve a special mention. Taking measurements and fitting toughened glass at great heights and of odd shapes such as triangles and trapeziums, was truly a feat accomplished by Mr. Geet Pabra and his men. But in all of this technical stuff I cannot forget Santosh. My day started at 5 am with him bringing me my tea. And in the evening I unwound after a day of toil, when Sanjiv offered me a drink. What more can a man ask for. For those three years, Maihar was a home away from home in every sense of the word.

After years of labour, when I see Art Ichol standing tall, I am proud, less of my accomplishment but more so, of my daughter. She has always dreamed impossible things and inspired all of us to help with the task of manifesting them. I remember when she was about eight years old and her mother was not with us in Calcutta, I had to ensure Ambica didn’t miss her mama too much. So I took her to every Park Street restaurant, all the way from Cornfield Road, every day, for breakfast and sometimes lunch too. Today, that eight year old is a grandmother and is walking ahead of me.

What more could a father ask for!

photo credit: amitabha bhattacharya

Ǥ ǡ ȑͥ͟͜͝ Ǧ ͜͞͝͡Ȓ and Architecture, New Delhi, was a Fellow of the Indian Institute Ǥ Ƥ

ȑͥ͢͝͡ ͥͥ͝͡Ȓ

ǡ Ǥ Ǥ Ǥ Ǥ Ǥ Ǥ Ǥ Ǥ Ǥ ƥ and Benjamin Polk as well as Chatterjee and Polk in Calcutta, among others. Some projects he worked on included the Master-Plan for the Rourkela Steel Plant Township; National Library of Burma, Rangoon and The Jallianwala Bagh National Memorial at Amritsar. He also designed several educational institutes for the Apeejay Group. He ͜͞͝͡Ǥ

Narayan Sinha

Scavenger’s Trick I first met Ambica Beri in 2005. I didn’t know then that many opportunities would come our way to forge a friendship based on mutual trust and admiration. It was after my exhibition ‘Devi’ in Kolkata that Mrs. Beri invited me for a workshop to Maihar.

I can’t forget the sight of her clad in white, as she stood at the railway station. She had come to receive me, herself. That day Mrs. Beri became Ambica di for me. It showed that her friendship was truly generous and genuine. It was then in Maihar that we first spoke about Art Ichol and she suggested I come on board for the project.

photo credit: srimallya maitra

I recall being hesitant as I had problems travelling and other health issues. I was concerned whether or not I could handle the travelling and also the on-site and offsite work. However, when I saw the chhatri and baoli at Ichol, the hillock and the location itself, I fell for its charm. That aside, I realized what this project meant to Ambica di and wanted to be part of realizing her vision. She needed the right kind of people to build her dream, pull it from its mirage and make it a standing structure.

I’ve always believed that art should be able to touch the lives of ordinary people and that I as an artist should enable it to enrich ordinary lives. This project could be a conduit for that. It was envisioned as a place where mixed streams of art would meet and provide the platform for all sorts of creative individuals to interact. This was a major factor in alleviating the uncertainty and I am happy to have been able to share in the making of Art Ichol.

I travelled with Ambica di to Rewa, Govindgarh Fort, Panna, Khajuraho and Bandhavgarh to get a feel of the area so that we could build the art centre in sync with local and cultural parameters. Through my travel excursions with Ambica di, I discovered the classic palette and essence of Madhya Pradesh. I realized that I had to incorporate Indian elements yet be original, inventive but classic, contemporary and creative. It had to be a space that could accommodate other works of art and inspire future ones. And as Ambica di said, it had to be a work of art in itself.

The location was in the middle of nowhere so it was felt that the local people would need to connect with it. Yet, the art centre would have to make a statement bold enough to attract people from all parts of the world. As an artist, I’ve always wanted

Narayan Sinha

Scavenger’s Trick I first met Ambica Beri in 2005. I didn’t know then that many opportunities would come our way to forge a friendship based on mutual trust and admiration. It was after my exhibition ‘Devi’ in Kolkata that Mrs. Beri invited me for a workshop to Maihar.

I can’t forget the sight of her clad in white, as she stood at the railway station. She had come to receive me, herself. That day Mrs. Beri became Ambica di for me. It showed that her friendship was truly generous and genuine. It was then in Maihar that we first spoke about Art Ichol and she suggested I come on board for the project.

photo credit: srimallya maitra

I recall being hesitant as I had problems travelling and other health issues. I was concerned whether or not I could handle the travelling and also the on-site and offsite work. However, when I saw the chhatri and baoli at Ichol, the hillock and the location itself, I fell for its charm. That aside, I realized what this project meant to Ambica di and wanted to be part of realizing her vision. She needed the right kind of people to build her dream, pull it from its mirage and make it a standing structure.

I’ve always believed that art should be able to touch the lives of ordinary people and that I as an artist should enable it to enrich ordinary lives. This project could be a conduit for that. It was envisioned as a place where mixed streams of art would meet and provide the platform for all sorts of creative individuals to interact. This was a major factor in alleviating the uncertainty and I am happy to have been able to share in the making of Art Ichol.

I travelled with Ambica di to Rewa, Govindgarh Fort, Panna, Khajuraho and Bandhavgarh to get a feel of the area so that we could build the art centre in sync with local and cultural parameters. Through my travel excursions with Ambica di, I discovered the classic palette and essence of Madhya Pradesh. I realized that I had to incorporate Indian elements yet be original, inventive but classic, contemporary and creative. It had to be a space that could accommodate other works of art and inspire future ones. And as Ambica di said, it had to be a work of art in itself.

The location was in the middle of nowhere so it was felt that the local people would need to connect with it. Yet, the art centre would have to make a statement bold enough to attract people from all parts of the world. As an artist, I’ve always wanted

Narayan Sinha

Scavenger’s Trick to explore various levels of art-making. Art Ichol gave me these possibilities. Local materials were used in new and inventive ways. Existing architectural forms as well as heritage values of the region were incorporated into the design.

Ambica di’s dad, Suraj P. Subherwal was the first and obvious choice as the architect.

A veteran architect at eighty-four years, with his in-depth experience and boundless energy he became our guide. And it was he, who gave Art Ichol the structure we see today. I had initially thought of creating a big hall with high ceiling for displaying ceramics, paintings and sculptures, but it was Papaji who designed an L-shaped structure, which has a mezzanine floor, office space for Ambica di, an artist coordinator’s room and multiple conveniences. Drawing inspiration from Khajuraho it was decided to build the main building at a height, with steps to reach the top. I felt then that it would be impressive to look at and today, I feel vindicated in my stance.

This building is the iconic Khaprael Kothi at Art Ichol.

photo courtesy: art ichol

We went hunting to Banaras and Govindgarh for stones, carved pieces, small bricks and pillars. We picked up a number of odd objects and whatever crazy stuff that caught our fancy. It was tough being on the road so much and scavenging through all kinds of material, but it was interesting and funny too - in the way that we looked at, collected and restored these objects. When we scouted around the Maihar area, in the iron and wood scrap yards, people wondered what we were up to. Ambica di belongs to one of the well-known families of Maihar and the locals were puzzled upon seeing her at such places. It was tiresome and tricky explaining to them why we were purchasing so much junk. We became known to all the kabariwalas in Maihar and Rewa. The technical help we got in Maihar was not very skilled and this posed a huge problem as they had to be supervised all the time. There were no assistants but Ambica di herself was there, for anything and everything. So was Papaji. I have been accustomed to having my own way and working independently but here, I had to work along with Papaji and his emphasis on practical aspects. But, it was a huge learning experience for me because his technical knowledge came in handy, especially while executing my rather bizarre ideas. As we worked together, I learned to respect him more and more. Above all, it was his approach to people around him which taught me to respect my co-workers too.

photo courtesy: art ichol

Narayan Sinha

Scavenger’s Trick to explore various levels of art-making. Art Ichol gave me these possibilities. Local materials were used in new and inventive ways. Existing architectural forms as well as heritage values of the region were incorporated into the design.

Ambica di’s dad, Suraj P. Subherwal was the first and obvious choice as the architect.

A veteran architect at eighty-four years, with his in-depth experience and boundless energy he became our guide. And it was he, who gave Art Ichol the structure we see today. I had initially thought of creating a big hall with high ceiling for displaying ceramics, paintings and sculptures, but it was Papaji who designed an L-shaped structure, which has a mezzanine floor, office space for Ambica di, an artist coordinator’s room and multiple conveniences. Drawing inspiration from Khajuraho it was decided to build the main building at a height, with steps to reach the top. I felt then that it would be impressive to look at and today, I feel vindicated in my stance.

This building is the iconic Khaprael Kothi at Art Ichol.

photo courtesy: art ichol

We went hunting to Banaras and Govindgarh for stones, carved pieces, small bricks and pillars. We picked up a number of odd objects and whatever crazy stuff that caught our fancy. It was tough being on the road so much and scavenging through all kinds of material, but it was interesting and funny too - in the way that we looked at, collected and restored these objects. When we scouted around the Maihar area, in the iron and wood scrap yards, people wondered what we were up to. Ambica di belongs to one of the well-known families of Maihar and the locals were puzzled upon seeing her at such places. It was tiresome and tricky explaining to them why we were purchasing so much junk. We became known to all the kabariwalas in Maihar and Rewa. The technical help we got in Maihar was not very skilled and this posed a huge problem as they had to be supervised all the time. There were no assistants but Ambica di herself was there, for anything and everything. So was Papaji. I have been accustomed to having my own way and working independently but here, I had to work along with Papaji and his emphasis on practical aspects. But, it was a huge learning experience for me because his technical knowledge came in handy, especially while executing my rather bizarre ideas. As we worked together, I learned to respect him more and more. Above all, it was his approach to people around him which taught me to respect my co-workers too.

photo courtesy: art ichol

Narayan Sinha

Scavenger’s Trick I picked up things from all over India to create the quirky yet harmonious mélange, here at Ichol. We scouted for stuff in Mumbai, Delhi, Varansi and Kolkata. Sourcing was the toughest part and whenever we felt stuck, we took chai breaks to refresh ourselves and went off on our hunt again. Often, after those breaks we’d make small discoveries and have little successes. It wasn’t easy to convince Ambica di to go to Cochin but I was adamant. I just knew that I would get what I was looking for. Finally, she agreed but we found nothing for two days and were very disheartened. Then suddenly, we saw a huge metal pipe section from a ship engine, it looked so much like a lotus pod to me. We were in the car and passed-by sooner than I would have liked, so we turned back to take a closer look. That pipe-section was turned into a round table at the café.

Our local driver in Cochin, Munner, was extremely helpful. He located scrap dealers and took us to several scrap yards. He even acted as our security guard. At one such yard I felt very creatively inspired as though some source was working from beyond, drawing me to these things. At other scrap yards, the dealers were like gundas (goons) and I felt responsible for Ambica di’s safety. After all, I had dragged her here. When they offered us tea, Ambica di being trusting and friendly drank it, but I was very wary and thought something may be mixed in it, so I didn’t dare drink! If something were to go wrong, at least I should be around to ensure Ambica di’s safety. In a scrap yard in Jew Town we found wooden sculptures, antique pieces and some relics of Kerala art. We also met Majnu, one of the biggest antique dealers there. He was very helpful and hospitable and helped us long after we had left Kochi. I was convinced that he was in love with Ambica di.

photo credit: srimallya maitra

Another transforming aspect about this project was the connect I found between art and the Beri family business. Sanjiv da has several crushing plants in his factory.

I was familiar with some of this as my family manufactures crushing plants used for grinding and breaking of stones. One day we went to Sanjiv da’s abandoned lime factory in Maihar. Here I saw an old metal chimney and was fascinated by its shadows and structure. I was taken by the idea of using this to create a light installation for Art Ichol. An old trolley used for transporting stones, became Ambica di’s office desk and,

Narayan Sinha

Scavenger’s Trick I picked up things from all over India to create the quirky yet harmonious mélange, here at Ichol. We scouted for stuff in Mumbai, Delhi, Varansi and Kolkata. Sourcing was the toughest part and whenever we felt stuck, we took chai breaks to refresh ourselves and went off on our hunt again. Often, after those breaks we’d make small discoveries and have little successes. It wasn’t easy to convince Ambica di to go to Cochin but I was adamant. I just knew that I would get what I was looking for. Finally, she agreed but we found nothing for two days and were very disheartened. Then suddenly, we saw a huge metal pipe section from a ship engine, it looked so much like a lotus pod to me. We were in the car and passed-by sooner than I would have liked, so we turned back to take a closer look. That pipe-section was turned into a round table at the café.

Our local driver in Cochin, Munner, was extremely helpful. He located scrap dealers and took us to several scrap yards. He even acted as our security guard. At one such yard I felt very creatively inspired as though some source was working from beyond, drawing me to these things. At other scrap yards, the dealers were like gundas (goons) and I felt responsible for Ambica di’s safety. After all, I had dragged her here. When they offered us tea, Ambica di being trusting and friendly drank it, but I was very wary and thought something may be mixed in it, so I didn’t dare drink! If something were to go wrong, at least I should be around to ensure Ambica di’s safety. In a scrap yard in Jew Town we found wooden sculptures, antique pieces and some relics of Kerala art. We also met Majnu, one of the biggest antique dealers there. He was very helpful and hospitable and helped us long after we had left Kochi. I was convinced that he was in love with Ambica di.

photo credit: srimallya maitra

Another transforming aspect about this project was the connect I found between art and the Beri family business. Sanjiv da has several crushing plants in his factory.

I was familiar with some of this as my family manufactures crushing plants used for grinding and breaking of stones. One day we went to Sanjiv da’s abandoned lime factory in Maihar. Here I saw an old metal chimney and was fascinated by its shadows and structure. I was taken by the idea of using this to create a light installation for Art Ichol. An old trolley used for transporting stones, became Ambica di’s office desk and,

Narayan Sinha

Scavenger’s Trick a planter. The crushers became moving installations and the graders were transformed into an interesting see-through-partition. I liked making this connection between the creative concepts at Ichol and the Beri family business. I was in my most creative element using the factory scrap, creating contemporary and innovative objects. To see the old and discarded come to life is akin to creating magic. photo courtesy: art ichol

Often we would work from 9 am to 8 pm and if that was not tough enough, I would come home and cook too! Papaji loved chilli-chicken and I found that cooking actually relaxed me. Cooking and eating together helped us bond and get to know each other better. Now that the project is complete I feel like a big part of me is somehow missing. Even though I was not physically there all the time, I was so involved in the whole project that it became me.

Art Ichol has played a significant role in my life. I have lived with an imagined vision, seen it grow brick by brick, to behold it standing solemn and magnificent among the hills and scenic landscape of Ichol Village. It’s an awesome sight. To have been part of its creation is something that I cherish and thank Ambica di for. Nurtured by dreams, ideas and perseverance of many, I know it will assert its contribution in the world of art.

photo courtesy: art ichol

Elevating the indigenous or local - using junk automobile parts, metal drums and fuel tanks is an essential feature of Narayan Sinha’s work.

For this self-taught 35-year-old sculptor, art is all about celebrating beauty in the mundane. Working with ‘Found Materials’ he creates an ambience where local tradition and culture are placed in the global perspective of contemporary art.

Narayan Sinha

Scavenger’s Trick a planter. The crushers became moving installations and the graders were transformed into an interesting see-through-partition. I liked making this connection between the creative concepts at Ichol and the Beri family business. I was in my most creative element using the factory scrap, creating contemporary and innovative objects. To see the old and discarded come to life is akin to creating magic. photo courtesy: art ichol

Often we would work from 9 am to 8 pm and if that was not tough enough, I would come home and cook too! Papaji loved chilli-chicken and I found that cooking actually relaxed me. Cooking and eating together helped us bond and get to know each other better. Now that the project is complete I feel like a big part of me is somehow missing. Even though I was not physically there all the time, I was so involved in the whole project that it became me.

Art Ichol has played a significant role in my life. I have lived with an imagined vision, seen it grow brick by brick, to behold it standing solemn and magnificent among the hills and scenic landscape of Ichol Village. It’s an awesome sight. To have been part of its creation is something that I cherish and thank Ambica di for. Nurtured by dreams, ideas and perseverance of many, I know it will assert its contribution in the world of art.

photo courtesy: art ichol

Elevating the indigenous or local - using junk automobile parts, metal drums and fuel tanks is an essential feature of Narayan Sinha’s work.

For this self-taught 35-year-old sculptor, art is all about celebrating beauty in the mundane. Working with ‘Found Materials’ he creates an ambience where local tradition and culture are placed in the global perspective of contemporary art.

Salamat Khan

Kuch Unkahi Xmo nr‹S>r`m| go h_mam nardma, SNS H$ånZr Am¡a gÝOrd ~oar gmh~ Ho$ nardma Ho$ godm _| ahm h¢ & 1926 go h_mao {nVmOr S´>oda Wo Am¡a 1972 _| h_ ^r ~oar nardma Ho$ godm _|, S´>oda H$m Om¡~ H$aZo bJo & gÝOrd ~oar Ho$ XmXmOr go boH$a CZHo$ nmoVo dra ~m~m H$s godm _| ahm hÿ± & [aQ>m`a_|Q> Ho$ ~mX, 2011 _|, lr_Vr Apå~H$m ~oar Zo AmQ>© BMm¡b Ho$ {gb{gbo _|, h_| {\$a H$m_ H$aZo H$m _m¡μH$m Xr`m & `h h_mao {b`o EH$ AZmoIm AZw^d ahm h¢ & EH$ ZB© OJh Wr, EH$ Z`m H$m_ Am¡a AZoH$ bmoJm| go {_bZo Amoa CZHo$ gmW Ow‹S>Ho$ H$m_ H$aZo H$m Adga {_bm & h_mam _Obm ~oQ>m _whå_X ehrX ImZ, _¡ha Am¡a Amgnmg BbmH$m| _| μO_tZ d àmnaQ>r boZ-XoZ H$m H$m_ H$aVo h¢ & CZH$s gånH©$ go Jwa àgmX {_lmOr Zo, AnZr μO_rZ Apå~H$m Or H$mo ~oMr & AmQ>© BMm¡b Ho$ AμJb-~μJb _| A~ ^r {_lmOr H$s μO_rZ h¢, OhmZ dh J|hÿ§ Am¡a YmZ H$s IoVr-~m‹S>r H$aVo h¢ & Cg g_` O~ CÝhm|Zo μO_rZ ^m^rOr H$mo ~oMm, dh ZB© nr‹S>r Ho$ _wVm{~μH$ IoVr-~m‹S>r Ho$ H$m_ _| Ag\$b W|, Š`m|{H$ CZHo$ nmg _erZ BË`m{X Ho$ gmYZ Zht W|& AnZo μO_rZ H$m `h {hñgm ~oMH$a CÝho _erZ BË`m{X Ho$ gmYZ CnbãY hþE &

photo credit: sudharak olwe

BMm¡b H$m ßbm°Q> g‹S>H$ go N>… μ\w$Q> Jham Wm & Ina¡b H$moR>r ~ZmZo Ho$ br`o nmnmOr Am¡a Zmam`Z qghm H$m {ZU©` Wm, {H$ Bgo Mma μ\w$Q> Am¡a ^r Cƒm [H$`m Om`o & BgHo$ br`o h_ ~μJb dmbo Vmbm~ go {_Å>r bm`m H$aVo Wo & L&T H$ånZr H$s nm°H$b|Z _erZ Ho$ gmYZ go {_Å>r H$mQ>Ho$ Mmam| Vaμ\$ EH$ {_Å>r H$m _ha H$Q>dm`m & bmoS>a go {_Å>r CR>dmVo Wo & `h H$m_ H$admVo H$admVo H$B© Eogo H$m_ ^r H$aZo n‹S>o, Omo ˜VaZmH$ Am¡a μJ^ra {H$ñ_ H$m _mhm¡b I‹S>m H$aVo & {_Å>r H$mQ>Vo H$mQ>Vo H$B© gm±n {ZH$bVo Wo {OÝh| h_ VwaÝV _ma XoVo Wo & h_mao `hm± gm±n ~hþV ˜VaZmH$ _mZo OmVo h¢ & Am¡a h_mao ~wμOwJ© H$hm H$aVo h¢, {H$ ImZo Ho$ g_` ^r AJa gm±n {XIVm h¡, Vmo g~ Hw$N> N>mo‹S>Ho$, Cñgr dμŠV _ma XoZm Mm{h`o & gmB©Q> no ~wÝXobIÊS> amO H$s EH$ àmMrZ N>Îmar h¢ & Amg-nmg bmoJm| H$m _mÞm h¢ {H$ CgHo$ ZrMo IμOmZm X~m hþAm h¢ {OgH$s ajm ZmJ Am¡a Zm{JZ H$aVo h¢ & ^m^rOr Zo h_go H$hm Wm {H$ AJa H$moB© gm±n Bg N>Îmar go {ZH$bo Vmo CÝh| Zht _maZm & bo{H$Z _μOXÿa Am¡a AÝ` ì`º$s, Omo H$ÝñQ´>H$eZ Ho$ H$m_ _| bJo Wo, CÝH$s gwajm H$m Ü`mZ aIVo, h_Z| EH$ ^r gm±n H$mo Zht N>mo‹S>m & OJh OJh go nƒmgm| {ZH$bo, bJ^J Xg nÝÐh amoμO {_bVo Wo - a§J {~a§Jo AXerb gm±n, H$mbm ZmJ Am¡a H$B© AÝ` Vah Ho$ gm±n XoIZo H$mo {_bm &

photo courtesy: art ichol

Salamat Khan

Kuch Unkahi Xmo nr‹S>r`m| go h_mam nardma, SNS H$ånZr Am¡a gÝOrd ~oar gmh~ Ho$ nardma Ho$ godm _| ahm h¢ & 1926 go h_mao {nVmOr S´>oda Wo Am¡a 1972 _| h_ ^r ~oar nardma Ho$ godm _|, S´>oda H$m Om¡~ H$aZo bJo & gÝOrd ~oar Ho$ XmXmOr go boH$a CZHo$ nmoVo dra ~m~m H$s godm _| ahm hÿ± & [aQ>m`a_|Q> Ho$ ~mX, 2011 _|, lr_Vr Apå~H$m ~oar Zo AmQ>© BMm¡b Ho$ {gb{gbo _|, h_| {\$a H$m_ H$aZo H$m _m¡μH$m Xr`m & `h h_mao {b`o EH$ AZmoIm AZw^d ahm h¢ & EH$ ZB© OJh Wr, EH$ Z`m H$m_ Am¡a AZoH$ bmoJm| go {_bZo Amoa CZHo$ gmW Ow‹S>Ho$ H$m_ H$aZo H$m Adga {_bm & h_mam _Obm ~oQ>m _whå_X ehrX ImZ, _¡ha Am¡a Amgnmg BbmH$m| _| μO_tZ d àmnaQ>r boZ-XoZ H$m H$m_ H$aVo h¢ & CZH$s gånH©$ go Jwa àgmX {_lmOr Zo, AnZr μO_rZ Apå~H$m Or H$mo ~oMr & AmQ>© BMm¡b Ho$ AμJb-~μJb _| A~ ^r {_lmOr H$s μO_rZ h¢, OhmZ dh J|hÿ§ Am¡a YmZ H$s IoVr-~m‹S>r H$aVo h¢ & Cg g_` O~ CÝhm|Zo μO_rZ ^m^rOr H$mo ~oMm, dh ZB© nr‹S>r Ho$ _wVm{~μH$ IoVr-~m‹S>r Ho$ H$m_ _| Ag\$b W|, Š`m|{H$ CZHo$ nmg _erZ BË`m{X Ho$ gmYZ Zht W|& AnZo μO_rZ H$m `h {hñgm ~oMH$a CÝho _erZ BË`m{X Ho$ gmYZ CnbãY hþE &

photo credit: sudharak olwe

BMm¡b H$m ßbm°Q> g‹S>H$ go N>… μ\w$Q> Jham Wm & Ina¡b H$moR>r ~ZmZo Ho$ br`o nmnmOr Am¡a Zmam`Z qghm H$m {ZU©` Wm, {H$ Bgo Mma μ\w$Q> Am¡a ^r Cƒm [H$`m Om`o & BgHo$ br`o h_ ~μJb dmbo Vmbm~ go {_Å>r bm`m H$aVo Wo & L&T H$ånZr H$s nm°H$b|Z _erZ Ho$ gmYZ go {_Å>r H$mQ>Ho$ Mmam| Vaμ\$ EH$ {_Å>r H$m _ha H$Q>dm`m & bmoS>a go {_Å>r CR>dmVo Wo & `h H$m_ H$admVo H$admVo H$B© Eogo H$m_ ^r H$aZo n‹S>o, Omo ˜VaZmH$ Am¡a μJ^ra {H$ñ_ H$m _mhm¡b I‹S>m H$aVo & {_Å>r H$mQ>Vo H$mQ>Vo H$B© gm±n {ZH$bVo Wo {OÝh| h_ VwaÝV _ma XoVo Wo & h_mao `hm± gm±n ~hþV ˜VaZmH$ _mZo OmVo h¢ & Am¡a h_mao ~wμOwJ© H$hm H$aVo h¢, {H$ ImZo Ho$ g_` ^r AJa gm±n {XIVm h¡, Vmo g~ Hw$N> N>mo‹S>Ho$, Cñgr dμŠV _ma XoZm Mm{h`o & gmB©Q> no ~wÝXobIÊS> amO H$s EH$ àmMrZ N>Îmar h¢ & Amg-nmg bmoJm| H$m _mÞm h¢ {H$ CgHo$ ZrMo IμOmZm X~m hþAm h¢ {OgH$s ajm ZmJ Am¡a Zm{JZ H$aVo h¢ & ^m^rOr Zo h_go H$hm Wm {H$ AJa H$moB© gm±n Bg N>Îmar go {ZH$bo Vmo CÝh| Zht _maZm & bo{H$Z _μOXÿa Am¡a AÝ` ì`º$s, Omo H$ÝñQ´>H$eZ Ho$ H$m_ _| bJo Wo, CÝH$s gwajm H$m Ü`mZ aIVo, h_Z| EH$ ^r gm±n H$mo Zht N>mo‹S>m & OJh OJh go nƒmgm| {ZH$bo, bJ^J Xg nÝÐh amoμO {_bVo Wo - a§J {~a§Jo AXerb gm±n, H$mbm ZmJ Am¡a H$B© AÝ` Vah Ho$ gm±n XoIZo H$mo {_bm &

photo courtesy: art ichol

Salamat Khan EH$ ~ma Eogm ^r hĂžAm Wm {H$ bo~a {_Ă…>r H$mQ>Vo-H$mQ>Vo, EH$-S>o‚S> Q>U H$s {_Ă…>r Ho$ ZrMo X~ J`| & AÎźJb-~ÎźJb {_Ă…>r H$mQ>Vo Ahgm§g Zht ahm Ho$ {_Ă…>r {H$VZr {hb MwH$s Wr AmÂĄa hĂŤH$s gr VH$ama go, Cna go Eogo {Jar OÂĄgo nhm‚S>r BŠbmH$m _| b¢S>ĂąbmBŠS> hmo & nyam hbMb _M J`m AmÂĄa OmZ Ho$ ËœVao H$m S>a ahm & na byg {_Ă…>r Wr AmÂĄa h_ CĂ?H$mo VwaĂ?V {ZH$mb nm` AmÂĄa H$moB> MmoQ> ^r {H$gr H$mo Zht bJr & Wmo‚S>o Xao ÎźOĂŞ$a ĂŞ$Ho$ Wo, na Hw$N>Âą hr Xoa ~mX, dhr bo~a Zo H$m_ {\$a Mmby H$a Xr`o & photo credit: tanya dutt

AmQ>Š BMm¥b ~ZmZo _| g~go ~‚S>m gh`moJ nmnmOr H$m Wm & dh gw~h 9 ~Oo go boH$a em_ Ho$ 7 ~Oo VH$, nyam {XZ gmBŠQ> no ahH$a, AnZo gm_Zo H$m_ H$admVo & C�H$s ZΟOa, Mm¥amgr gmb Ho$ C_ no ^r ~hÞV VoΟO Wr& H$^r n��m Ο\w$Q> `m ~rg Ο\w$Q> H$s Xÿar go XoIH$a dh ~VmVo Woo {H$ nmBŠn grYr Zht bJ ahr, `m Xrdma Wmo‚S>r Vo‚S>hr ~Z ahr h¢ & Am¥a Bg Vah CZHo$ _mJŠ-XeŠZ go H$m_ ~‚S>o ΟH$m`Xo go günÞ hÞE Am¥a bo~a H$s bmnadmhr H$s H$moB JwZOmBŠe Zm ahr &

photo courtesy: art ichol p

Kuch Unkahi nmnmOr, ^m^rOr AmÂĄa Am{XĂ‹` ^B`m H$m {dĂ­dmg h_mao {b`o EH$ ~hĂžV _hĂ‹dnyUŠ ~mV ahr & H$^r ^r {H$gr Zo {hgm~ ny§N>m Zht & nyar XrQ>ob _| h_ {hgm~ aIVo Wo, AmÂĄa `h ~hĂžV {ÎźOĂĽ_o H$m H$m_ _wPo gm¢nZo AmÂĄa {Z^mZo H$m AmXa nyam nardma go {_bm & ~Ć’nZ go boH$a AmO VH$ h_ Bgr BbmÎźHo$ _| aho h¢ - gVZm go boH$a _ÂĄha VH$ & EH$ ~ma ~oar gmh~ Zo h_| H$mobH$mVm ~wbm`m Wm Jm‚S>r N>mo‚S>Zo Ho$ {b`o & h_| ~‚S>o eha H$m emoa AmÂĄa hbMb {~ĂŤHw$b AĂ€N>m Zht bJm AmÂĄa VwaĂ?V bmÂĄQ> Am`o & h_| ~‚S>r Ëœwer _hgyg hmoVr hÂĄ Ho$ `h AmQ>Š BMmÂĄb gÂĄĂ?Q>a `hmZ ~Zm h¢ AmÂĄa BgHo$ ÎźO[a`o, XĂž{Z`m dmbm| H$mo h_mao BbmÎźHo$ H$s emĂ?Vr, Ă mHÂĽ${VH$ gwĂ?XaVm AmÂĄa Jham Eo{Vhmg H$mo AZw^d H$aZo H$m _mÂĄÎźH$m {_b ahm h¢ &

nmnmOr H$m AĂ?XmÎźOm ^r H$m\$s H$_mb H$mÂą Wm & O~ N>V bJ ahr hmoVr, dh XoIHo$ hr ~Vm XoVo Wo {H$ BVZr ~moar gr_oĂŠQ> Mmhr`o & Cgr AĂ?XmÎźOo Ho$ _wVm{~ÎźH$ h_ _mb _§JdmVo AmÂĄa AmĂ­M`Š H$s ~mV `h Wr, Ho$ CZH$m AĂ?XmÎźOm h_oem Eo¸y$aoQ> ahm & H§$ĂąQ´>Ĺ eZ Ho$ XmÂĄamZ nmZr H$s ~‚S>r g_Ăą`m Wr & XĂża go nmZr AmVm Wm & AmQ>Š BMmÂĄb Ho$ Ă&#x;bm°Q> Ho$ ~rM _| EH$ Eo{Vhm{gH$ ~mAmobr _mÂĄÎźOyX hÂĄ, bo{H$Z h_mao H$m_ Ho$ {b`o CgH$m nmZr H$_ nam & nmhm‚S>r go {JaVm, {_Ă…>r Ho$ ~hĂžV JhamBŠ go `h nmZr {ZH$bVm h¢ AmÂĄa Amg-nmg IoVr Ho$ {b`o BĂąVo_mb hmoVm h¢, na `h JĂ?Xm nmZr h¢ AmÂĄa nrZo bm`H$ Zht & h_| ~mÂĄ[a¨J H$admZm n‚S>m AmÂĄa nĂĽn ^r bJm`m & VrZ ~ma ~mÂĄ[a¨J H$aHo$, MmÂĄWr ~ma ~mÂĄ[a¨J H$aZo no, 240 Îź\w$Q> H$s JhamBŠ no h_| nmZr CnbĂŁY hĂžAm & Ztd Ho$ {b`o YmoH$m, AnZm bmoH$b bmb nĂ?Wa, Mmhr`o Wm, na `h h_| AmgmZr go Zht {_bm & `hmZ, dhmZ YmoH$m _ÂąJdmH$a Ztd ^aVo Wo H$BŠ hXgo & ha Vah H$s naoemZr H$m gm_Zm h_ bmoJm| H$mo H$aZm n‚S>m & {~Obr ^r Zht Wr AmÂĄa h_ OÂĄZaoQ>a bmH$a H$m_ H$aVo Wo & `hmZ na ha Vah Ho$ ~X_me JwĂŠS>o bmoJ ^r AmVo Wo & {gĹ `mo[aQ>r Ho$ _m_bo _| h_| AnZo ~‚S>o ^mBŠ g_mZ, namoh‚S>Or H$m ~hĂžV gh`moJ {_bm & EH$ ~ma amV Ho$ Xg ~Oo Hw$M JwĂŠS>o Am nhÞ¹Mo& _¢ AnZo Ka no Wm O~ Îź\$moZ Am`m AmÂĄa BMmÂĄb Ho$ {b`o {ZH$b aho Wo, bo{H$Z namoh‚S>Or ~mobo‌ “Amn Ka na aho, h_ g~ XoIb|J&â€? CĂ?ht Ho$ _XX go hr `o H$m_ gĂĽn{ĂŽm H$s Amoa Mbm &

ƒŽƒÂ?ƒ– ŠƒÂ? •–ƒ”–‡† Š‹• …ƒ”‡‡” ‹Â? Í?ͼͣ͞ǥ ƒ– –Š‡ ƒ‰‡ ‘ˆ ‡‹‰Š–‡‡Â?ÇĄ ĥ …‘Â?’ƒÂ?› Â…ÂŠÂƒÂ—ĆĄÂ‡Â—Â” ‹Â? ‹Â?‡”ƒŽ•Ǥ ‡ ™ƒ• „‘”Â?ÇĄ ƒÂ?† Šƒ• Ž‹˜‡† Š‹• entire life in and around Maihar. Salamat has four children. He stays in the infamous Purani Basti and is most proud, that staying in this notorious locality, he has bought his children up with good values and ‹Â?–‡‰”‹–›Ǥ ‡ ”‡–‹”‡† ‹Â? ͤ͜͜͞ „—– „‡…ƒÂ?‡ –Š‡ ’‘‹Â?– Â?ƒÂ? ˆ‘” ”– …Š‘Ž related construction activity.

photo courtesy: art ichol

Salamat Khan EH$ ~ma Eogm ^r hĂžAm Wm {H$ bo~a {_Ă…>r H$mQ>Vo-H$mQ>Vo, EH$-S>o‚S> Q>U H$s {_Ă…>r Ho$ ZrMo X~ J`| & AÎźJb-~ÎźJb {_Ă…>r H$mQ>Vo Ahgm§g Zht ahm Ho$ {_Ă…>r {H$VZr {hb MwH$s Wr AmÂĄa hĂŤH$s gr VH$ama go, Cna go Eogo {Jar OÂĄgo nhm‚S>r BŠbmH$m _| b¢S>ĂąbmBŠS> hmo & nyam hbMb _M J`m AmÂĄa OmZ Ho$ ËœVao H$m S>a ahm & na byg {_Ă…>r Wr AmÂĄa h_ CĂ?H$mo VwaĂ?V {ZH$mb nm` AmÂĄa H$moB> MmoQ> ^r {H$gr H$mo Zht bJr & Wmo‚S>o Xao ÎźOĂŞ$a ĂŞ$Ho$ Wo, na Hw$N>Âą hr Xoa ~mX, dhr bo~a Zo H$m_ {\$a Mmby H$a Xr`o & photo credit: tanya dutt

AmQ>Š BMm¥b ~ZmZo _| g~go ~‚S>m gh`moJ nmnmOr H$m Wm & dh gw~h 9 ~Oo go boH$a em_ Ho$ 7 ~Oo VH$, nyam {XZ gmBŠQ> no ahH$a, AnZo gm_Zo H$m_ H$admVo & C�H$s ZΟOa, Mm¥amgr gmb Ho$ C_ no ^r ~hÞV VoΟO Wr& H$^r n��m Ο\w$Q> `m ~rg Ο\w$Q> H$s Xÿar go XoIH$a dh ~VmVo Woo {H$ nmBŠn grYr Zht bJ ahr, `m Xrdma Wmo‚S>r Vo‚S>hr ~Z ahr h¢ & Am¥a Bg Vah CZHo$ _mJŠ-XeŠZ go H$m_ ~‚S>o ΟH$m`Xo go günÞ hÞE Am¥a bo~a H$s bmnadmhr H$s H$moB JwZOmBŠe Zm ahr &

photo courtesy: art ichol p

Kuch Unkahi nmnmOr, ^m^rOr AmÂĄa Am{XĂ‹` ^B`m H$m {dĂ­dmg h_mao {b`o EH$ ~hĂžV _hĂ‹dnyUŠ ~mV ahr & H$^r ^r {H$gr Zo {hgm~ ny§N>m Zht & nyar XrQ>ob _| h_ {hgm~ aIVo Wo, AmÂĄa `h ~hĂžV {ÎźOĂĽ_o H$m H$m_ _wPo gm¢nZo AmÂĄa {Z^mZo H$m AmXa nyam nardma go {_bm & ~Ć’nZ go boH$a AmO VH$ h_ Bgr BbmÎźHo$ _| aho h¢ - gVZm go boH$a _ÂĄha VH$ & EH$ ~ma ~oar gmh~ Zo h_| H$mobH$mVm ~wbm`m Wm Jm‚S>r N>mo‚S>Zo Ho$ {b`o & h_| ~‚S>o eha H$m emoa AmÂĄa hbMb {~ĂŤHw$b AĂ€N>m Zht bJm AmÂĄa VwaĂ?V bmÂĄQ> Am`o & h_| ~‚S>r Ëœwer _hgyg hmoVr hÂĄ Ho$ `h AmQ>Š BMmÂĄb gÂĄĂ?Q>a `hmZ ~Zm h¢ AmÂĄa BgHo$ ÎźO[a`o, XĂž{Z`m dmbm| H$mo h_mao BbmÎźHo$ H$s emĂ?Vr, Ă mHÂĽ${VH$ gwĂ?XaVm AmÂĄa Jham Eo{Vhmg H$mo AZw^d H$aZo H$m _mÂĄÎźH$m {_b ahm h¢ &

nmnmOr H$m AĂ?XmÎźOm ^r H$m\$s H$_mb H$mÂą Wm & O~ N>V bJ ahr hmoVr, dh XoIHo$ hr ~Vm XoVo Wo {H$ BVZr ~moar gr_oĂŠQ> Mmhr`o & Cgr AĂ?XmÎźOo Ho$ _wVm{~ÎźH$ h_ _mb _§JdmVo AmÂĄa AmĂ­M`Š H$s ~mV `h Wr, Ho$ CZH$m AĂ?XmÎźOm h_oem Eo¸y$aoQ> ahm & H§$ĂąQ´>Ĺ eZ Ho$ XmÂĄamZ nmZr H$s ~‚S>r g_Ăą`m Wr & XĂża go nmZr AmVm Wm & AmQ>Š BMmÂĄb Ho$ Ă&#x;bm°Q> Ho$ ~rM _| EH$ Eo{Vhm{gH$ ~mAmobr _mÂĄÎźOyX hÂĄ, bo{H$Z h_mao H$m_ Ho$ {b`o CgH$m nmZr H$_ nam & nmhm‚S>r go {JaVm, {_Ă…>r Ho$ ~hĂžV JhamBŠ go `h nmZr {ZH$bVm h¢ AmÂĄa Amg-nmg IoVr Ho$ {b`o BĂąVo_mb hmoVm h¢, na `h JĂ?Xm nmZr h¢ AmÂĄa nrZo bm`H$ Zht & h_| ~mÂĄ[a¨J H$admZm n‚S>m AmÂĄa nĂĽn ^r bJm`m & VrZ ~ma ~mÂĄ[a¨J H$aHo$, MmÂĄWr ~ma ~mÂĄ[a¨J H$aZo no, 240 Îź\w$Q> H$s JhamBŠ no h_| nmZr CnbĂŁY hĂžAm & Ztd Ho$ {b`o YmoH$m, AnZm bmoH$b bmb nĂ?Wa, Mmhr`o Wm, na `h h_| AmgmZr go Zht {_bm & `hmZ, dhmZ YmoH$m _ÂąJdmH$a Ztd ^aVo Wo H$BŠ hXgo & ha Vah H$s naoemZr H$m gm_Zm h_ bmoJm| H$mo H$aZm n‚S>m & {~Obr ^r Zht Wr AmÂĄa h_ OÂĄZaoQ>a bmH$a H$m_ H$aVo Wo & `hmZ na ha Vah Ho$ ~X_me JwĂŠS>o bmoJ ^r AmVo Wo & {gĹ `mo[aQ>r Ho$ _m_bo _| h_| AnZo ~‚S>o ^mBŠ g_mZ, namoh‚S>Or H$m ~hĂžV gh`moJ {_bm & EH$ ~ma amV Ho$ Xg ~Oo Hw$M JwĂŠS>o Am nhÞ¹Mo& _¢ AnZo Ka no Wm O~ Îź\$moZ Am`m AmÂĄa BMmÂĄb Ho$ {b`o {ZH$b aho Wo, bo{H$Z namoh‚S>Or ~mobo‌ “Amn Ka na aho, h_ g~ XoIb|J&â€? CĂ?ht Ho$ _XX go hr `o H$m_ gĂĽn{ĂŽm H$s Amoa Mbm &

ƒŽƒÂ?ƒ– ŠƒÂ? •–ƒ”–‡† Š‹• …ƒ”‡‡” ‹Â? Í?ͼͣ͞ǥ ƒ– –Š‡ ƒ‰‡ ‘ˆ ‡‹‰Š–‡‡Â?ÇĄ ĥ …‘Â?’ƒÂ?› Â…ÂŠÂƒÂ—ĆĄÂ‡Â—Â” ‹Â? ‹Â?‡”ƒŽ•Ǥ ‡ ™ƒ• „‘”Â?ÇĄ ƒÂ?† Šƒ• Ž‹˜‡† Š‹• entire life in and around Maihar. Salamat has four children. He stays in the infamous Purani Basti and is most proud, that staying in this notorious locality, he has bought his children up with good values and ‹Â?–‡‰”‹–›Ǥ ‡ ”‡–‹”‡† ‹Â? ͤ͜͜͞ „—– „‡…ƒÂ?‡ –Š‡ ’‘‹Â?– Â?ƒÂ? ˆ‘” ”– …Š‘Ž related construction activity.

photo courtesy: art ichol

Aditya Beri

The Silent Heroes The genetic line that I come from makes me uneasy with any form of public interaction. But, the making of Art Ichol has been an incredible experience and I am happy to share my story, as witness to its unfolding. While most people will naturally be documenting my mother’s effort in this, I write this as a tribute to my father, along with a grateful acknowledgment to the universe that birthed me to two of the nicest, albeit differently built people. I know that mom and the most incredible job she and her team have done to build this Centre will be talked about in-depth by many, for a long time to come, but the silent, invisible ‘Mr. India’ in this project has been my dad Sanjiv Beri. You may not see his contributions at the design stage or at the conceptual level. And even if you do, it’s probably somewhere where it’s not looking ideal.

The most admirable quality of my dad is his uncluttered mind when it comes to his decision-making ability for his family. Ichol, like many other decisions before this, was never an inspired, strategic, or thought out decision, where he sweated over a budget or laboured over the function or ideals of the centre. It was a decision that stemmed from a simple thought – ‘would it make Ambica happy’.

photo credit: sudeep sen

At an early age, I learned that I could bargain for pretty much anything from my father, if I produced a tear at the right place and the right time. That’s how easy it was, not only for me, but for the entire family, to get anything out of him. I too have inherited this trait which makes my decision-making fairly simple - would it make mom happy? I know how hard my mom and nana have worked on Ichol, but I also know that without papa giving a them an absolutely free hand to use, misuse or downright abuse his infrastructure in Maihar, Ichol could not have been conceived, nor be the place it is today. I remember the day our huge pay loader got stuck in the mud at Ichol and it took the mine staff three days to get it out of there and back to the mines.

There are many silent heroes among our staff at SNS Minerals (our family-run company), whose lives have been thrown out of gear on more than a few occasions when it came to dealing with mom, Narayan or nana. I owe gratitude and thanks to Himanshu Kothari ji, RD Singh, J. P. Chaurasia, Ravi Singh ji, Chowdhury ji and

photo courtesy: art ichol

Aditya Beri

The Silent Heroes The genetic line that I come from makes me uneasy with any form of public interaction. But, the making of Art Ichol has been an incredible experience and I am happy to share my story, as witness to its unfolding. While most people will naturally be documenting my mother’s effort in this, I write this as a tribute to my father, along with a grateful acknowledgment to the universe that birthed me to two of the nicest, albeit differently built people. I know that mom and the most incredible job she and her team have done to build this Centre will be talked about in-depth by many, for a long time to come, but the silent, invisible ‘Mr. India’ in this project has been my dad Sanjiv Beri. You may not see his contributions at the design stage or at the conceptual level. And even if you do, it’s probably somewhere where it’s not looking ideal.

The most admirable quality of my dad is his uncluttered mind when it comes to his decision-making ability for his family. Ichol, like many other decisions before this, was never an inspired, strategic, or thought out decision, where he sweated over a budget or laboured over the function or ideals of the centre. It was a decision that stemmed from a simple thought – ‘would it make Ambica happy’.

photo credit: sudeep sen

At an early age, I learned that I could bargain for pretty much anything from my father, if I produced a tear at the right place and the right time. That’s how easy it was, not only for me, but for the entire family, to get anything out of him. I too have inherited this trait which makes my decision-making fairly simple - would it make mom happy? I know how hard my mom and nana have worked on Ichol, but I also know that without papa giving a them an absolutely free hand to use, misuse or downright abuse his infrastructure in Maihar, Ichol could not have been conceived, nor be the place it is today. I remember the day our huge pay loader got stuck in the mud at Ichol and it took the mine staff three days to get it out of there and back to the mines.

There are many silent heroes among our staff at SNS Minerals (our family-run company), whose lives have been thrown out of gear on more than a few occasions when it came to dealing with mom, Narayan or nana. I owe gratitude and thanks to Himanshu Kothari ji, RD Singh, J. P. Chaurasia, Ravi Singh ji, Chowdhury ji and

photo courtesy: art ichol

Aditya Beri

The Silent Heroes Tiwari ji. Salamat and his contribution have been well documented, but I just want to share the great debt of gratitude I owe him for being a pillar of support, especially for my octogenarian, maternal grandfather or nana - the architect of Ichol. For me, Salamat is like the Indian army those selfless people who allow us to sleep well at night because we know that on their watch nothing untoward will happen. Even today, I seek his advice when I’m stuck with an operational issue or problem with the crusher or mines because of his innate ability to think quickly and practically.

I haven’t inherited my mom’s ability or passion for art. Her labour of love, Art Ichol, was often referred by me as the ‘construction site’ till I realized how much this upset her. She has done the most amazing job in such a remote place with a frugal budget. For me, to even try and tabulate her achievements would be to belittle them. I also want to thank Narayan, because without him the visual delight that Art Ichol is today would never have been possible.

Nothing that I write with reference to either of my parents can be considered complete without the mention of a certain Vir Beri. Aisha, my beautiful daughter, when you read this, say twenty years from now, don’t kill me for not mentioning you because you were born when Ichol was already built. If Art Ichol is the rhythm

of my mother’s heartbeat, then Vir is definitely its soul. Once, I was going through the photo archives of Art Ichol and noticed that virtually every fifth picture was of Vir. I tried to reason with mom that his pictures hung alongside those of work in progress, at the centre, was not really appropriate. I was told firmly and a trifle curtly that this was her space and her decision and that, under no circumstance could anyone remove any picture of Vir from the photo archives. And that was the end of that. Nothing in the world makes her happier than to see him painting alongside her with some rather bizarre storylines to explain his drawings. And if the cleaning lady happens to throw away his precious art-works, he runs straight to his daadi to complain.

ǡ ơ

I have never understood my mother’s ability to fall hopelessly in love with paintings, sculptures and now her art centre at Ichol. But, it is precisely this quality that endears her to everyone around her.

I hope Art Ichol brings her happiness and lots of success. Nobody deserves it more.

ǡ Ƥ ǡ doting father to his son Vir and daughter Aisha, but referred to as the ‘spoilt brat’ by his parents and brother. He is Director of Gallery Sanskriti, Kolkota and SNS (M) Ltd, Maihar - a third-generation family business. He is however, best known as Vir’s father.

Aditya Beri

The Silent Heroes Tiwari ji. Salamat and his contribution have been well documented, but I just want to share the great debt of gratitude I owe him for being a pillar of support, especially for my octogenarian, maternal grandfather or nana - the architect of Ichol. For me, Salamat is like the Indian army those selfless people who allow us to sleep well at night because we know that on their watch nothing untoward will happen. Even today, I seek his advice when I’m stuck with an operational issue or problem with the crusher or mines because of his innate ability to think quickly and practically.

I haven’t inherited my mom’s ability or passion for art. Her labour of love, Art Ichol, was often referred by me as the ‘construction site’ till I realized how much this upset her. She has done the most amazing job in such a remote place with a frugal budget. For me, to even try and tabulate her achievements would be to belittle them. I also want to thank Narayan, because without him the visual delight that Art Ichol is today would never have been possible.

Nothing that I write with reference to either of my parents can be considered complete without the mention of a certain Vir Beri. Aisha, my beautiful daughter, when you read this, say twenty years from now, don’t kill me for not mentioning you because you were born when Ichol was already built. If Art Ichol is the rhythm

of my mother’s heartbeat, then Vir is definitely its soul. Once, I was going through the photo archives of Art Ichol and noticed that virtually every fifth picture was of Vir. I tried to reason with mom that his pictures hung alongside those of work in progress, at the centre, was not really appropriate. I was told firmly and a trifle curtly that this was her space and her decision and that, under no circumstance could anyone remove any picture of Vir from the photo archives. And that was the end of that. Nothing in the world makes her happier than to see him painting alongside her with some rather bizarre storylines to explain his drawings. And if the cleaning lady happens to throw away his precious art-works, he runs straight to his daadi to complain.

ǡ ơ

I have never understood my mother’s ability to fall hopelessly in love with paintings, sculptures and now her art centre at Ichol. But, it is precisely this quality that endears her to everyone around her.

I hope Art Ichol brings her happiness and lots of success. Nobody deserves it more.

ǡ Ƥ ǡ doting father to his son Vir and daughter Aisha, but referred to as the ‘spoilt brat’ by his parents and brother. He is Director of Gallery Sanskriti, Kolkota and SNS (M) Ltd, Maihar - a third-generation family business. He is however, best known as Vir’s father.

Anshuman Beri

Beyond Imagination When I moved to Maihar mom would visit occasionally; but mostly during the winter months with artists from Kolkata. It was when she realized that Aditya and I were spending more and more time in Maihar that, she began thinking of how she could also spend more time here, while doing something she enjoyed. It started with the ceramic centre and then the idea of a larger space, to showcase their works on a grander scale, was born.

I recall that first trip to Ichol. It was barren land but the beautiful, historic chattri and hidden water reservoir clinched the deal. I don’t think mom had a clear idea then, of what she was going to do there, but Ichol really appealed to her and she fell in love with the chattri. I saw the beginnings of Art Ichol, but never came close to imagining the creative transformation that would take place.

Mom’s always had this ability to see the future. Neither Aditya, papa nor I really understood her vision. The only person who related to this and who finally brought it to fruition was nana. His painstaking precision and practicality combined with mom’s and Narayan’s abstract ideas have created something truly amazing.

photo credit: bandeep singh

There are obviously many people involved with a project of this scale. Some whose contributions stood out were Salamat and Parohaji. In a way, I was a little upset that this project took Salamat away from the mines and crushers, SNS and the tasks we liked to count on him for. But, Salamat really cherished the responsibility of building Art Ichol and enjoyed working with mom and nana.

Â?•Š—Â?ƒÂ? ‡”‹ ‰”ƒ†—ƒ–‡† ˆ”‘Â? ÂƒÂ•Â•ÂƒÂ”ÇĄ Ǥ Ǥ ‹Â? ͤ͜͜͞ ƒÂ?† ”‡–—”Â?‡† –‘ ‘ŽÂ?ƒ–ƒ ‹Â? ÍžÍœÍœÍĽÇ¤ Â? ƒ ˜‹•‹– –‘ ƒ‹Šƒ” ™‹–Š Š‹• ÂˆÂƒÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â”ÇĄ ‹Â? –Š‡ Š‘– Â?‘Â?–Š of May, he became passionate about the family mining business and •–ƒ›‡† –Š‡”‡ –‹ŽŽ ͜͞Í?͞Ǥ ‡ ”‡–—”Â?‡† –‘ –Š‡ –‘ •–—†› ˆ‘” ƒÂ? ÇĄ where he now lives. He works at Ernst and Young, Chicago.

anshuman at the mines

Anshuman Beri

Beyond Imagination When I moved to Maihar mom would visit occasionally; but mostly during the winter months with artists from Kolkata. It was when she realized that Aditya and I were spending more and more time in Maihar that, she began thinking of how she could also spend more time here, while doing something she enjoyed. It started with the ceramic centre and then the idea of a larger space, to showcase their works on a grander scale, was born.

I recall that first trip to Ichol. It was barren land but the beautiful, historic chattri and hidden water reservoir clinched the deal. I don’t think mom had a clear idea then, of what she was going to do there, but Ichol really appealed to her and she fell in love with the chattri. I saw the beginnings of Art Ichol, but never came close to imagining the creative transformation that would take place.

Mom’s always had this ability to see the future. Neither Aditya, papa nor I really understood her vision. The only person who related to this and who finally brought it to fruition was nana. His painstaking precision and practicality combined with mom’s and Narayan’s abstract ideas have created something truly amazing.

photo credit: bandeep singh

There are obviously many people involved with a project of this scale. Some whose contributions stood out were Salamat and Parohaji. In a way, I was a little upset that this project took Salamat away from the mines and crushers, SNS and the tasks we liked to count on him for. But, Salamat really cherished the responsibility of building Art Ichol and enjoyed working with mom and nana.

Â?•Š—Â?ƒÂ? ‡”‹ ‰”ƒ†—ƒ–‡† ˆ”‘Â? ÂƒÂ•Â•ÂƒÂ”ÇĄ Ǥ Ǥ ‹Â? ͤ͜͜͞ ƒÂ?† ”‡–—”Â?‡† –‘ ‘ŽÂ?ƒ–ƒ ‹Â? ÍžÍœÍœÍĽÇ¤ Â? ƒ ˜‹•‹– –‘ ƒ‹Šƒ” ™‹–Š Š‹• ÂˆÂƒÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â”ÇĄ ‹Â? –Š‡ Š‘– Â?‘Â?–Š of May, he became passionate about the family mining business and •–ƒ›‡† –Š‡”‡ –‹ŽŽ ͜͞Í?͞Ǥ ‡ ”‡–—”Â?‡† –‘ –Š‡ –‘ •–—†› ˆ‘” ƒÂ? ÇĄ where he now lives. He works at Ernst and Young, Chicago.

anshuman at the mines

The Album

The Album

Maihar Archives

Maihar Archives

The Album

The Album

The Album

The Album

The Ceramic Centre

The Ceramic Centre

Ceramic Symposium

The Kiln Gods The idea of a Ceramic Centre was conceived in 2010 during a workshop curated by Jagannath Panda. Ambica saw the interesting works the painters had done in clay and the idea of a Ceramic Centre was born. The first international ceramic residency at Maihar, inviting Korean potters was curated by Chirayu Sinha.

2015 began with another international residency and ceramic symposium. Sandra Black (Australia), Isabelle Roux (France), Anatolii Borodkin (Latvia), Eugenia Loginova (Latvia), Cynthia Siegel (USA) and Anjani Khanna (India), were invited for twelve days, to work in Maihar. This residency was conceived by Aditi Saraogi after meeting these artists at the opening of a teapot show in China, in 2014. Sandra, Isabelle, Anatolii, Eugenia, Cynthia and Anjani are all highly successful ceramic artists whose works are shown internationally in galleries and museums and each one of them works with their own specific styles and technique. This event will be followed by a kettle show by these artists, entitled ‘Flower Power’ at Gallery Sanskriti in Kolkata.

Sandra is a teacher in the Freemantle Arts Centre. She is a master in porcelain work.

Her work is conceptual, simple yet elegant. On the other hand, Isabelle Roux’s works are completely rustic and made distinctive by her poetic markings and impressions.

Anatolii is an architect, designer, painter and ceramicist. He combines paintings and ceramics to give his work a whole new dimension. Also a teacher, in the Latvian Art Academy, Eugenia draws inspiration from nature, working with ceramic and mixed media. Cynthia Siegel’s conceptual works are thought provoking and intellectually stimulating. She is currently working with the traditional potters of Kumaratulli, on a Fulbright Scholarship. At Ambica Beri’s suggestion an Indian potter was also included

photo credit: aditi saraogi

in this residency and the international artists were joined by Anjani Khanna. Anjani is a trained biologist who fuses human and animal forms with a satirical twist, adding humour to clay. During this twelve day residency, they were assisted by the studio manager Milan, a talented potter from Benaras Hindu University, and his helper Uday, who is a local artist from Maihar.

‘yali’ by anjani khanna

Ceramic Symposium

The Kiln Gods The idea of a Ceramic Centre was conceived in 2010 during a workshop curated by Jagannath Panda. Ambica saw the interesting works the painters had done in clay and the idea of a Ceramic Centre was born. The first international ceramic residency at Maihar, inviting Korean potters was curated by Chirayu Sinha.

2015 began with another international residency and ceramic symposium. Sandra Black (Australia), Isabelle Roux (France), Anatolii Borodkin (Latvia), Eugenia Loginova (Latvia), Cynthia Siegel (USA) and Anjani Khanna (India), were invited for twelve days, to work in Maihar. This residency was conceived by Aditi Saraogi after meeting these artists at the opening of a teapot show in China, in 2014. Sandra, Isabelle, Anatolii, Eugenia, Cynthia and Anjani are all highly successful ceramic artists whose works are shown internationally in galleries and museums and each one of them works with their own specific styles and technique. This event will be followed by a kettle show by these artists, entitled ‘Flower Power’ at Gallery Sanskriti in Kolkata.

Sandra is a teacher in the Freemantle Arts Centre. She is a master in porcelain work.

Her work is conceptual, simple yet elegant. On the other hand, Isabelle Roux’s works are completely rustic and made distinctive by her poetic markings and impressions.

Anatolii is an architect, designer, painter and ceramicist. He combines paintings and ceramics to give his work a whole new dimension. Also a teacher, in the Latvian Art Academy, Eugenia draws inspiration from nature, working with ceramic and mixed media. Cynthia Siegel’s conceptual works are thought provoking and intellectually stimulating. She is currently working with the traditional potters of Kumaratulli, on a Fulbright Scholarship. At Ambica Beri’s suggestion an Indian potter was also included

photo credit: aditi saraogi

in this residency and the international artists were joined by Anjani Khanna. Anjani is a trained biologist who fuses human and animal forms with a satirical twist, adding humour to clay. During this twelve day residency, they were assisted by the studio manager Milan, a talented potter from Benaras Hindu University, and his helper Uday, who is a local artist from Maihar.

‘yali’ by anjani khanna

Ceramic Symposium

The Kiln Gods

eugenia loginova and isabelle roux, photo courtesy: art ichol

Aditi’s concept was based on exploration and innovation in the working process.

Fulfilling this brief, the visiting artists were challenged in various ways, but primarily by working with a different a kind of clay. What would normally have taken a week to make, took them considerably longer. Furthermore, the glazes and kiln were also new, but everyone worked with gusto and enthusiasm. Depending upon the soil, clay from different regions has its own peculiar properties and small differences in this can change everything for the artist. They had to literally begin from basics, to first understand the clay they were working with.

When this group landed at Khajuraho they went to see the temples and this visit was instrumental in the creative process for both Anatolii and Eugenia. Once the potters arrived in Maihar and had barely settled in, they began exploring the ceramic centre.

Some even got down to work immediately, sitting at the potter’s wheel discussing the clay and how to work with it. Their hard-work ethic was inspiring. Sandra “approached the well set-up studio with some hesitation” thinking they had three days to make and decorate their work but, “No porcelain!” Reclaiming her beginnings as a student back in the late 1960’s, when she trained with stoneware and learnt to throw on a kick wheel, she got down to work and three days later, forty-two pots were finished and decorated for the bisque fire.

Though mostly smeared with clay, they did get out of their aprons once in a while to visit the Sharda Devi temple and other local sights. It was wonderful to see how these little things meant so much to them. The afternoon spent at ‘Amariya - The Writers’ Retreat’, lazing in the sun, eating freshly caught and fried fish with chilled beer, was an instant hit.

The symposium took place at Bharat Bhavan in Bhopal. All the participating potters made a presentation of their work, including some information about their lives and where they had come from. In her presentation, Anjani presented her work along with that of her contemporaries, which enabled the visiting artists to familiarize themselves with ceramic work in India. Local ceramic artists also attended this symposium and it was a very interactive session. Later, Mr. Devilal Patidar, Deputy Director of Bharat

elephant by eugenia loginova

Ceramic Symposium

The Kiln Gods

eugenia loginova and isabelle roux, photo courtesy: art ichol

Aditi’s concept was based on exploration and innovation in the working process.

Fulfilling this brief, the visiting artists were challenged in various ways, but primarily by working with a different a kind of clay. What would normally have taken a week to make, took them considerably longer. Furthermore, the glazes and kiln were also new, but everyone worked with gusto and enthusiasm. Depending upon the soil, clay from different regions has its own peculiar properties and small differences in this can change everything for the artist. They had to literally begin from basics, to first understand the clay they were working with.

When this group landed at Khajuraho they went to see the temples and this visit was instrumental in the creative process for both Anatolii and Eugenia. Once the potters arrived in Maihar and had barely settled in, they began exploring the ceramic centre.

Some even got down to work immediately, sitting at the potter’s wheel discussing the clay and how to work with it. Their hard-work ethic was inspiring. Sandra “approached the well set-up studio with some hesitation” thinking they had three days to make and decorate their work but, “No porcelain!” Reclaiming her beginnings as a student back in the late 1960’s, when she trained with stoneware and learnt to throw on a kick wheel, she got down to work and three days later, forty-two pots were finished and decorated for the bisque fire.

Though mostly smeared with clay, they did get out of their aprons once in a while to visit the Sharda Devi temple and other local sights. It was wonderful to see how these little things meant so much to them. The afternoon spent at ‘Amariya - The Writers’ Retreat’, lazing in the sun, eating freshly caught and fried fish with chilled beer, was an instant hit.

The symposium took place at Bharat Bhavan in Bhopal. All the participating potters made a presentation of their work, including some information about their lives and where they had come from. In her presentation, Anjani presented her work along with that of her contemporaries, which enabled the visiting artists to familiarize themselves with ceramic work in India. Local ceramic artists also attended this symposium and it was a very interactive session. Later, Mr. Devilal Patidar, Deputy Director of Bharat

elephant by eugenia loginova

Ceramic Symposium

The Kiln Gods Bhavan and a very able ceramist himself, took everyone to the Museum of Man and the Tribal museum. Both places are rich with the history, culture and work of India’s innumerable tribes and crafts. The visiting potters were impressed and also a trifle overwhelmed. Mrs. Shampa Shah, their guide in the museums, is also a proficient ceramist who has done an in-depth study of the Museum of Man. She chose to focus on the pottery division, narrating interesting folklore throughout the tour.

Apparently it is a common belief throughout India that the very first pot ever created was made for the wedding of Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati. Each region has its own story about the creation of the world and many are linked to the crafts in that area. In Manipur, the Meitei tribe believe that the sun, moon, stars, earth and elements, although in existence, were devoid of life. Their deity Ima Leimren Shibdi heard a proclamation from the skies to dig clay from the earth, make a pot, fill it with water and leave it in the northern corner of her house where she should pray to it for seven days. From this, Lord Sannamahi, the maker of all creation and life on earth, was born. There were seven suns scorching the earth and he shot down six to reduce the intensity of heat. He dug out mountains, unearthing water that became rivers and then life, as we know it, followed. The ‘vessel’ in Manipur signifies the womb from which God is born, lending insight into primordial societies and the relevance of the pot and potter in the evolution of mankind.

left to right, (top) works by sandra black, isabelle roux, (bottom) cynthia seigel, aditi saraogi

Once back in Maihar, everyone’s work was removed from the bisque and glazing began. Working with new clay, no one knew what to expect. Anjani made her famous Yali, replete with horns and bell, using trinkets and stuff that she bought from the local market. Inspired by the fish pond at the ceramic centre, Cynthia made her trademark sculptural work and, a platter with a frog peeking out of a lily pad. Sandra was prolific in her output, making numerous carved bowls and decorated cups. Anatolii made clay-reliefs inspired by his sketches of the engravings at Khajuraho. Also in the Khajurhao style, Genia made two big elephants with patterns adorning them.

Isabelle created large, stand-alone vases incorporating much detail and texture. After glazing their works the potters took another day’s break at the Panna Tiger Reserve and were thrilled at their sighting of a tigeress with her cubs.

clay relief by anatolii borodkin

elephant by eugenia loginova

Ceramic Symposium

The Kiln Gods Bhavan and a very able ceramist himself, took everyone to the Museum of Man and the Tribal museum. Both places are rich with the history, culture and work of India’s innumerable tribes and crafts. The visiting potters were impressed and also a trifle overwhelmed. Mrs. Shampa Shah, their guide in the museums, is also a proficient ceramist who has done an in-depth study of the Museum of Man. She chose to focus on the pottery division, narrating interesting folklore throughout the tour.

Apparently it is a common belief throughout India that the very first pot ever created was made for the wedding of Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati. Each region has its own story about the creation of the world and many are linked to the crafts in that area. In Manipur, the Meitei tribe believe that the sun, moon, stars, earth and elements, although in existence, were devoid of life. Their deity Ima Leimren Shibdi heard a proclamation from the skies to dig clay from the earth, make a pot, fill it with water and leave it in the northern corner of her house where she should pray to it for seven days. From this, Lord Sannamahi, the maker of all creation and life on earth, was born. There were seven suns scorching the earth and he shot down six to reduce the intensity of heat. He dug out mountains, unearthing water that became rivers and then life, as we know it, followed. The ‘vessel’ in Manipur signifies the womb from which God is born, lending insight into primordial societies and the relevance of the pot and potter in the evolution of mankind.

left to right, (top) works by sandra black, isabelle roux, (bottom) cynthia seigel, aditi saraogi

Once back in Maihar, everyone’s work was removed from the bisque and glazing began. Working with new clay, no one knew what to expect. Anjani made her famous Yali, replete with horns and bell, using trinkets and stuff that she bought from the local market. Inspired by the fish pond at the ceramic centre, Cynthia made her trademark sculptural work and, a platter with a frog peeking out of a lily pad. Sandra was prolific in her output, making numerous carved bowls and decorated cups. Anatolii made clay-reliefs inspired by his sketches of the engravings at Khajuraho. Also in the Khajurhao style, Genia made two big elephants with patterns adorning them.

Isabelle created large, stand-alone vases incorporating much detail and texture. After glazing their works the potters took another day’s break at the Panna Tiger Reserve and were thrilled at their sighting of a tigeress with her cubs.

clay relief by anatolii borodkin

elephant by eugenia loginova

Ceramic Symposium

The Kiln Gods On their return the wood kiln was loaded for the final firing. They did a little puja before the kiln and shared prasad. Anjani had made an exotic and weird owl for a Kiln-God and Milan made a small Ganesha to make offerings to. Round the clock, a watch was kept on the kiln; stoking the fire, maintaining a log book and poking the wood in. Potatoes were roasted in the wasted coal, buttered and passed around.

To maintain their morale through their long working hours, everyone sang songs from their own country in their native languages. Anatolii who barely spoke all day, surprised everyone when he sang a line from RD Burman’s hit song ‘Awara Hoon.’

Anjani said that “the kiln at the Art Ichol studio in Maihar, was an unknown creature.

But luckily for us, Latvian artists Eugenia and Anatolii, had a similar kiln in Riga… built by Frederick Olsen himself.” This provided insights as well as guidance for the firing process; where they “nursed the fire, taking it really slow, as there was large wet work in the kiln, which could explode or crack.” They “watched over with anxious stares…the pyrometer, which registered a fall and rise in temperature each time” They even “eschewed drinks by the fire” that evening, lest they lose focus!

photo courtesy: art ichol

After an almost eighteen-hour vigil, they saw signs of progress. At last, the wood fire had breathed life into their work. The potters had been charred, soot-ridden and even burnt but, they were dedicated until the last. The whole trip was a triumph, but no victory was greater than the opening of the kiln. It was truly an anxious moment, knowing if the pots had turned out perfect or not.

Drawn from four continents, these potters successfully transformed clay through fire, making art in a small town in Central India. When asked if they would do it again Sandra said: “A definite yes. Residencies take you out of your comfort zone, challenge you and link you with different cultures and ways of working. For me they refresh my practice and connect me with wonderful artists from a wide variety of cultures and countries. Maihar ceramics studio has all this and more. Thank you Ambica….. and all your staff for a wonderful and unforgettable experience.”

work by anatolii borodkin

Ceramic Symposium

The Kiln Gods On their return the wood kiln was loaded for the final firing. They did a little puja before the kiln and shared prasad. Anjani had made an exotic and weird owl for a Kiln-God and Milan made a small Ganesha to make offerings to. Round the clock, a watch was kept on the kiln; stoking the fire, maintaining a log book and poking the wood in. Potatoes were roasted in the wasted coal, buttered and passed around.

To maintain their morale through their long working hours, everyone sang songs from their own country in their native languages. Anatolii who barely spoke all day, surprised everyone when he sang a line from RD Burman’s hit song ‘Awara Hoon.’

Anjani said that “the kiln at the Art Ichol studio in Maihar, was an unknown creature.

But luckily for us, Latvian artists Eugenia and Anatolii, had a similar kiln in Riga… built by Frederick Olsen himself.” This provided insights as well as guidance for the firing process; where they “nursed the fire, taking it really slow, as there was large wet work in the kiln, which could explode or crack.” They “watched over with anxious stares…the pyrometer, which registered a fall and rise in temperature each time” They even “eschewed drinks by the fire” that evening, lest they lose focus!

photo courtesy: art ichol

After an almost eighteen-hour vigil, they saw signs of progress. At last, the wood fire had breathed life into their work. The potters had been charred, soot-ridden and even burnt but, they were dedicated until the last. The whole trip was a triumph, but no victory was greater than the opening of the kiln. It was truly an anxious moment, knowing if the pots had turned out perfect or not.

Drawn from four continents, these potters successfully transformed clay through fire, making art in a small town in Central India. When asked if they would do it again Sandra said: “A definite yes. Residencies take you out of your comfort zone, challenge you and link you with different cultures and ways of working. For me they refresh my practice and connect me with wonderful artists from a wide variety of cultures and countries. Maihar ceramics studio has all this and more. Thank you Ambica….. and all your staff for a wonderful and unforgettable experience.”

work by anatolii borodkin

Gallery Musings

Gallery Musings

march 2015

Gallery Sanskriti based in Kolkata is one of the oldest art galleries in the city. In 2015, it celebrates twenty-five years. The gallery enjoys much goodwill amongst artists and art collectors alike. Gallery Sanskriti has had the privilege of hosting solo shows of, such luminaries of contemporary Indian art such as, Akbar Padamsee, Laxma Goud and Yusuf Arakkal amongst many, many others from all over the country. However, Gallery Sanskriti’s primary focus has always been Bengali artists, for this region is rich in its artistic and creative heritage.

Few other galleries can claim such archival supremacy in Bengal art. Therefore the exhibitions, planned for the year-long, twenty-fifth anniversary celebrations of Gallery Sanskriti, begin with a ‘Tribute to the Bengal Legends’, with a group show.

‘A TRIBUTE’ IN MEMORY OF THE BENGAL LEGENDS Featuring artists BIKASH BHATTACHARJEE, GANESH PYNE, PARITOSH SEN, SHYAMAL DUTTA RAY and DHARMANARAYAN DASGUPTA, this exhibition showcases Bikash’s technique of post-renaissance, European oil painting, Ganesh Pyne’s signature style which is shaped from his own experiences, the strong lines and bold, stylized strokes of Sen, watercolours by Ray, and Dharmanaryan Dasgupta’s depiction of social inequities and injustice in the modern world. Show curated by Ambica Beri.

‘NAYIKA’ Recent Works by LALU PRASAD SHAW and RAMANANDA BANDYOPADHYAY

april

LALU PRASAD SHAW is widely known for his highly stylized portraits of Bengali women and couples, where he lays the emphasis on physical attributes of his subject but manages to convey a sense of intimacy through gesture and body language.

Inspired by the simplicity and uncomplicated lives of the rustics, RAMANANDA BANDYOPADHYAY’S lyrical and romantic works, on paper, Tempera and mixed media, radiate innocence reminiscent of a by-gone era.

JUNE

‘BLACK COMEDY’ Drawings by ASHOKE MULLICK and Sculptures by DEBABRATA DE

ASHOKE MULLICK’s paintings are a satirical presentation of the ordinary man and the contradictions he faces in contemporary times. And DEBABRATA DE’s ability to express emotion and body language through his sculptures, sets him apart from most other contemporary sculptors.

march 2015

Gallery Sanskriti based in Kolkata is one of the oldest art galleries in the city. In 2015, it celebrates twenty-five years. The gallery enjoys much goodwill amongst artists and art collectors alike. Gallery Sanskriti has had the privilege of hosting solo shows of, such luminaries of contemporary Indian art such as, Akbar Padamsee, Laxma Goud and Yusuf Arakkal amongst many, many others from all over the country. However, Gallery Sanskriti’s primary focus has always been Bengali artists, for this region is rich in its artistic and creative heritage.

Few other galleries can claim such archival supremacy in Bengal art. Therefore the exhibitions, planned for the year-long, twenty-fifth anniversary celebrations of Gallery Sanskriti, begin with a ‘Tribute to the Bengal Legends’, with a group show.

‘A TRIBUTE’ IN MEMORY OF THE BENGAL LEGENDS Featuring artists BIKASH BHATTACHARJEE, GANESH PYNE, PARITOSH SEN, SHYAMAL DUTTA RAY and DHARMANARAYAN DASGUPTA, this exhibition showcases Bikash’s technique of post-renaissance, European oil painting, Ganesh Pyne’s signature style which is shaped from his own experiences, the strong lines and bold, stylized strokes of Sen, watercolours by Ray, and Dharmanaryan Dasgupta’s depiction of social inequities and injustice in the modern world. Show curated by Ambica Beri.

‘NAYIKA’ Recent Works by LALU PRASAD SHAW and RAMANANDA BANDYOPADHYAY

april

LALU PRASAD SHAW is widely known for his highly stylized portraits of Bengali women and couples, where he lays the emphasis on physical attributes of his subject but manages to convey a sense of intimacy through gesture and body language.

Inspired by the simplicity and uncomplicated lives of the rustics, RAMANANDA BANDYOPADHYAY’S lyrical and romantic works, on paper, Tempera and mixed media, radiate innocence reminiscent of a by-gone era.

JUNE

‘BLACK COMEDY’ Drawings by ASHOKE MULLICK and Sculptures by DEBABRATA DE

ASHOKE MULLICK’s paintings are a satirical presentation of the ordinary man and the contradictions he faces in contemporary times. And DEBABRATA DE’s ability to express emotion and body language through his sculptures, sets him apart from most other contemporary sculptors.

july

‘THEN AND NOW’ Drawings on Paper and Bronzes by SAKTI BURMAN, GANESH HALOI, SUHAS ROY, NIRANJAN PRADHAN, JOGEN CHOWDHURY, SUNIL K. DAS, JAYA GANGULY and PARESH MAITY.

BURMAN’S paintings evoke the look of a weathered fresco transporting the viewer into a dream-like world. HALOI’S motifs have precise association with experiences that have shaped his life, and ROY depicts the female body with sensuality and romance, while NIRANJAN PRADHAN’S presentation of lyrical sensibility is coupled with sharp lines of geometry. JOGEN CHOWDHURY marries traditional imagery with the zeitgeist of contemporary painting and a Bengali sensitivity, while SUNIL K. DAS interprets and intellectually transforms experiences before presenting them. JAYA GANGULY’S oeuvre conveys an enigmatic air through structural compositions that are tense yet forceful, and PARESH MAITY creates magic with vibrant colours and dynamic strokes.

august

september

A Kettle Show

by CERAMIC ARTISTS

ADITI SARAOGI, ANATOLII BORODKIN, ANJANI KHANNA, CYNTHIA SEIGEL, EUGENIA LOGINOVA, VINEET KAKKAR, DEEPALI DAROZ, FALGUNI BHATT, SHAMPA SHAH, SANDRA BLACK and ISABELLE ROUX.

november

‘THE PIERCING NEEDLE’ GOPIKA NATH GOPIKA NATH works with needle and thread, photography, text and video to explore inner recesses of the mind. Uncovering stains - marks that create a sense of shame, fear, anger and more, which inhibit us from being more of what we can be, she negotiates this uncomfortable terrain with artistic skill and intellectual dexterity. The repetitive, physical process of piercing fabric with a needle is integral to a practice in which catharsis is intrinsic - healing the mind while transcending the discomfort of tracking the ‘stains’. And, a transformation of these marks is evinced in the cloth, evocative of the fabric of being.

‘DISAPPEARING DIALOGUES’ NOBINA GUPTA

Many facets of life are at the edge of crisis. We can choose to turn a deaf ear, but these facets are potent with the future of our own existence. Using pen and ink on paper, NOBINA GUPTA presents an interactive, visual debate. Creating a dialect between the material and non-material and conveying disillusionment in the stability of the material world, this exhibition proposes to instigate a cultural response. Raising questions about current paradigms of development and sustainability, the artist initiates intimate personal encounters with the viewer. A plea to preserve what we can, before the world as we know it, disintegrates into the warp of time.

‘FLOWER POWER’

december

‘JANANI’ JAYASRI BURMAN The imagery in JAYASRI BURMAN’S work has a dream-like, lyrical quality. Inspired by Indian folk elements, her refreshing candour is as original as it is endearing. She weaves decorative elements of folk idioms into intricate patterns, without losing the charm and naivety that characterizes her work. Her concern for women is coupled with a proximity to nature where the viewer responds empathically to the unorthodox canons of beauty and choreography of nature.

july

‘THEN AND NOW’ Drawings on Paper and Bronzes by SAKTI BURMAN, GANESH HALOI, SUHAS ROY, NIRANJAN PRADHAN, JOGEN CHOWDHURY, SUNIL K. DAS, JAYA GANGULY and PARESH MAITY.

BURMAN’S paintings evoke the look of a weathered fresco transporting the viewer into a dream-like world. HALOI’S motifs have precise association with experiences that have shaped his life, and ROY depicts the female body with sensuality and romance, while NIRANJAN PRADHAN’S presentation of lyrical sensibility is coupled with sharp lines of geometry. JOGEN CHOWDHURY marries traditional imagery with the zeitgeist of contemporary painting and a Bengali sensitivity, while SUNIL K. DAS interprets and intellectually transforms experiences before presenting them. JAYA GANGULY’S oeuvre conveys an enigmatic air through structural compositions that are tense yet forceful, and PARESH MAITY creates magic with vibrant colours and dynamic strokes.

august

september

A Kettle Show

by CERAMIC ARTISTS

ADITI SARAOGI, ANATOLII BORODKIN, ANJANI KHANNA, CYNTHIA SEIGEL, EUGENIA LOGINOVA, VINEET KAKKAR, DEEPALI DAROZ, FALGUNI BHATT, SHAMPA SHAH, SANDRA BLACK and ISABELLE ROUX.

november

‘THE PIERCING NEEDLE’ GOPIKA NATH GOPIKA NATH works with needle and thread, photography, text and video to explore inner recesses of the mind. Uncovering stains - marks that create a sense of shame, fear, anger and more, which inhibit us from being more of what we can be, she negotiates this uncomfortable terrain with artistic skill and intellectual dexterity. The repetitive, physical process of piercing fabric with a needle is integral to a practice in which catharsis is intrinsic - healing the mind while transcending the discomfort of tracking the ‘stains’. And, a transformation of these marks is evinced in the cloth, evocative of the fabric of being.

‘DISAPPEARING DIALOGUES’ NOBINA GUPTA

Many facets of life are at the edge of crisis. We can choose to turn a deaf ear, but these facets are potent with the future of our own existence. Using pen and ink on paper, NOBINA GUPTA presents an interactive, visual debate. Creating a dialect between the material and non-material and conveying disillusionment in the stability of the material world, this exhibition proposes to instigate a cultural response. Raising questions about current paradigms of development and sustainability, the artist initiates intimate personal encounters with the viewer. A plea to preserve what we can, before the world as we know it, disintegrates into the warp of time.

‘FLOWER POWER’

december

‘JANANI’ JAYASRI BURMAN The imagery in JAYASRI BURMAN’S work has a dream-like, lyrical quality. Inspired by Indian folk elements, her refreshing candour is as original as it is endearing. She weaves decorative elements of folk idioms into intricate patterns, without losing the charm and naivety that characterizes her work. Her concern for women is coupled with a proximity to nature where the viewer responds empathically to the unorthodox canons of beauty and choreography of nature.

‘FRAMED NARRATIVES’

january 2016

NARAYAN SINHA

Working with found materials, NARAYAN SINHA extracts the essence of traditional and modernist technology, where evaluating local tradition and culture and placing this in a global perspective play a significant role. Elevating the indigenous or local - using junk automobile parts, metal drums etc. are an essential feature of his work. For this 35-year-old, self-taught sculptor, art is about celebrating beauty in the mundane.

february

‘STRUCTURES’ Drawings by SOMNATH MAITY and sculptures by NANTU BIHARI DAS

In taking what the physical eye sees, and tracing this to the subconscious, SOMNATH MAITY orchestrates a metamorphosis of concrete beauty into an abstract aesthetic. NANTU BEHARI DAS’ organic sculptures made of fibre glass, nails and screws, exude an air of irony, melancholia and anguish; vibrating as if imbued with some inner force.

‘THE WALLS WE LEFT’ PRASENJIT SENGUPTA PRASENJIT SENGUPTA’S paintings of acrylic on canvas depict faces of indigent children and women against the back-drop of old plastered walls. They are sometimes embedded in them or framed by a deep doorway; doubled-up or crouched in the largish niche-like recesses. In monochromatic colour schemes, of blues, greys, pale greens and gloomy ambers, he creates an overall mood of pathos devoid of sentimentality.

Painting with a meticulous approach to detail and technical aplomb, naïve in sentiment and simple in concept, his compositions have a powerful visual impact.

march

Art Ichol received the State Tourism Award, Madhya Pradesh, India for 2015

‘FRAMED NARRATIVES’

january 2016

NARAYAN SINHA

Working with found materials, NARAYAN SINHA extracts the essence of traditional and modernist technology, where evaluating local tradition and culture and placing this in a global perspective play a significant role. Elevating the indigenous or local - using junk automobile parts, metal drums etc. are an essential feature of his work. For this 35-year-old, self-taught sculptor, art is about celebrating beauty in the mundane.

february

‘STRUCTURES’ Drawings by SOMNATH MAITY and sculptures by NANTU BIHARI DAS

In taking what the physical eye sees, and tracing this to the subconscious, SOMNATH MAITY orchestrates a metamorphosis of concrete beauty into an abstract aesthetic. NANTU BEHARI DAS’ organic sculptures made of fibre glass, nails and screws, exude an air of irony, melancholia and anguish; vibrating as if imbued with some inner force.

‘THE WALLS WE LEFT’ PRASENJIT SENGUPTA PRASENJIT SENGUPTA’S paintings of acrylic on canvas depict faces of indigent children and women against the back-drop of old plastered walls. They are sometimes embedded in them or framed by a deep doorway; doubled-up or crouched in the largish niche-like recesses. In monochromatic colour schemes, of blues, greys, pale greens and gloomy ambers, he creates an overall mood of pathos devoid of sentimentality.

Painting with a meticulous approach to detail and technical aplomb, naïve in sentiment and simple in concept, his compositions have a powerful visual impact.

march

Art Ichol received the State Tourism Award, Madhya Pradesh, India for 2015

MMXIV Volume One R o’ss draw Ra a ings com o mu m nicate the h invisib i le spacess we enccounter in our u dai a ly lives. Or Orig i inally fro r m Jabaalp lpur wheere he studied e art r , hee currenttly lives and n wor o ks k in Mumbai.