As Is Rahul Inamdar
In my inward looking monotones, art is a practice of less. The lesser, the subtler, the deeper. Add, remove, add, remove – one must work till the work says it’s done. art demands surrender. 14 years into art, the gap between my works and my process is reducing. One must master the techniques, and give up the inevitable craving for control that comes along with it. Embrace the medium – and get out of its way. Pigments float in a film of oil covering the canvas, nudged to settle in place – only to be scraped to their remnants. Another dash of pigment, bursts and floats on the tense linen canvas. In each moment, the work moves. In minutes, the beginning is forgotten. Layers and layers of transparent pigments, worked and reworked turn into a luminous expansive space. The textures are the stories of the making – of the powdered charcoal being broken into lines under the light caress of the rolling pin. Drywall knives, trowels, wipers – the tools across trades play a part. With the physics of the medium and the colour internalized, tools become the means to fulfil the intent. Each roll of the pin becomes a cycle of time. This ever-shifting cyclicality mirrors the nature’s way to evolve. The entire process is simplified so that the mind can be in the moment with the work. Even editing is reduced to being binary – the work stays or it doesn’t. Working with the canvas is one part of the practice. The real learning happens between works. With a process concocted to deliver serendipity, absorbing the work is a part of my evolution. Time spent with the work sharpens the perception. Layer by layer the subtleties start opening up, the work comes to life in the mind’s eye. What are the works about? Nothing. These works are non-objective. Like a piece of music, they do not need to be understood, but felt. Standing in front of them, going over them bit by bit, absorbing each nuance with an indrawn breath, getting drawn in, is an experience to be had.