During the lockdown due to COVID-19, my dying terrace became a place which I rummaged through
to understand and express my feelings, anxieties, observations and insights.
Strangely, this dying terrace helped me express my thoughts on what it means to be safe, alive,
anxious, and to have gratitude and gentleness. I felt as if my existence was a mirror image of the
terrace.
The terrace that was full of drying Poppies, shrivelling Petunias and disappearing Sweetpeas. It also had blooming Desi Gulabs and giant Semal flowers that were dropping all over the space. The dying and the living both need care. I felt the urge to depict the passing of time as it moved across my terrace garden and my body. The body so fragile and vulnerable and yet so strong. It needs protection and in turn, can protect.
The following series is a work in progress.
The terrace that was full of drying Poppies, shrivelling Petunias and disappearing Sweetpeas. It also had blooming Desi Gulabs and giant Semal flowers that were dropping all over the space. The dying and the living both need care. I felt the urge to depict the passing of time as it moved across my terrace garden and my body. The body so fragile and vulnerable and yet so strong. It needs protection and in turn, can protect.
The following series is a work in progress.
