Looks like I love sunsets and sunrises too much. But mostly, I love silhouettes.
Thanks for dropping by!
Tag: Porcupine Tree
Looks like I love sunsets and sunrises too much. But mostly, I love silhouettes.
Thanks for dropping by!
Of late, I have been very productive; or so I’d like to think. I’m either working and interviewing people, or I’m reading a book, playing keyboard, trying to cook (that isn’t so productive) and sketching/painting. I guess it’s because all my friends are out of town, I’m making the best of my alone time. Anyway, I used to go for art class when I was 11. (I’m 22 now). I was clumsy. I always got my thin lines messed up, painted the sky a bit too dark or a bit too light, spilled drops of watery paint while getting the brush across the page after having dipped it in a bowl, or spill the entire bowl of water onto my sketch… I figured it wasn’t my thing. Then I had a ligament tear in my right index finger and that turned out to be a cheap excuse to never go to drawing class again. I wouldn’t say I regret it, because I don’t regret too many things.
But my drawing teacher, Supriya’s mother, she is my favourite artist. I have seen so many artists do their thing, but everytime I see Supriya’s mother paint, I’m inspired. She is always bent over her desk making incredible paintings – Tanjore paintings, blade paintings, I don’t know the names of the others. Pardon my ignorance. But she can do wonders with simple colour pencils. You have to see it to believe it. She stays up all night to just get that perfect lip or eye. There is absolutely no painting she can’t rectify! Give her a five-year-old’s house painting and she’ll turn it into a classy frame-able one! She’s the most meticulous person I know, when it comes to art. And my little bit of talent comes from her teaching.
Unfortunately, I’m not sharing her artwork here. I’m sharing some paintings I made in drawing class. Also, after eleven years, I picked up a pencil with the intention of drawing again, stuck to cartoon characters for convenience. I’m saving the best (my favourite) for the last. The paintings are below, in an approximate chronological order.
In between, Supriya and I used to paint this Jumbo colouring book I’d bought from Disney. Although it doesn’t count as entirely our art, since the outlines were already there, we’d take hours together, spread out newspapers all over the room and paint these, Aladdin and Jasmine being our favourite.
Now for something I made today. I finally decided to actually paint a scenery of sorts. After beginning to draw again, from a couple months ago, I’d stuck to water colour pencils. Today, I bought paints, a palatte, borrowed paint brushes from Prerana and made this. I was confused about what to paint and while listening to Arriving Somewhere But Not Here, happened to notice this album art on glancing at my phone. So I decided I’d draw this. It was a bit messy. Almost tore the page because I used to much water. But I’m not too let down.
And then I made these.
This was followed by this typical landscape scenery painting. I love the tree on the right. I clicked the picture after it was framed, so it’s not too clear.
I still can’t paint stuff from my imagination. I need a picture to copy from. So until I get better, I intend to keep it going. Anyway, I have a box of paints to finish now. : )
You can come back here for more. I’ll keep uploading them.
Or in the category box, click on My Artwork and you’ll be directed here in future.
Last night I dreamt of Steven Wilson from Porcupine Tree. I dreamt that I was at a mall and I happened to see him there and made conversation with him. He turned from celebrity to acquaintance to friend within minutes. He was not his snobby self at all in my dream. Unlike in another dream I had years ago. In that one, I was married to him and he rode a Bullet, but he never smiled. He was a snob. Don’t be surprised for I’ve seen stranger things in my dreams.
I’m conveniently using this dream as a peg for this blog post. I’m going to briefly recap, only through multimedia, my favourite gigs so far. And I can’t boast about it because I haven’t gone for many. You see, living in India, we are completely deprived of all the Rock music in the world.
Anyway, I was going through my archive and found pictures I had clicked of Steven Wilson, John Wesley and Colin Edwin. This was when I didn’t know that some sort of God was standing in front of me and doing a sound check. This was at IIT Mumbai in December 2009. I didn’t know Porcupine Tree much back then. But I traveled all the way to Bombay anyway and it’s one of the best decisions I have made in life. It’s the cheapest (Rs.600 ticket) concert I’ve been to and the second best concert in my life! It was so amazing standing in almost the first row, alone on an elevated platform, with just around 2000 people. It almost (just almost) felt like Porcupine Tree were playing just for me.
John Wesley stood in front of me and he is the opposite of snobby Steven Wilson. He is all about the feel. He connects with the audience. And he made eye contact with me once. Ahhh! Mad mad day! I found these pictures. They’re very random, but they’re of the band nevertheless and they were caught on camera by me.
My favourite concert was Metallica in Bangalore! Oh man! Just recollecting that night sends shivers down my spine. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get any pictures of the gig, but I did record most of the songs. Every time I listen to the Fade to Black recording a huge smile spreads across my face. It’s just such a good feeling to have watched your favouritest song live.
Here is a link of that recording. This is how MAD it was. Nothing Else Matters was hilarious because everyone is singing but no one can go as deep as James Hetfield. One is just beautiful. Imagine it with the audience swaying hands.
That’s my experience of Metallica.
My next concert was Opeth. Although not a very big fan, I enjoyed the concert very much because the previous day I met them and got acquainted with them. And Oh! I fell in love with the drummer, Martin Axenrot and also Åkerfeldt of course. The concert itself was a big blur because of reasons I can’t state. Apparently, my dad reads this blog sometimes. :P But it was enjoyable and somehow, very memorable.
That’s pretty much it. Of course Iron Maiden were in Bangalore twice. I went just once. And it was too insignificant for me because I was a dumb kid in a pink tshirt at a Rock concert head banging all over the place. I’d rather not talk about it.
I seriously hope India can bring in some more good bands. Not metal bands. I’m not into metal. I want some good rock and roll. I want Alter Bridge. Or even someone like Mark Knopfler or Roger Waters. I want!!
-This fucking guy. He ran after me so fast. I couldn’t take it. My feet were hurting. My calves were killing me. My hip felt like it would bend over like jelly and never straighten up again. My chest was congested. I wanted to fucking stop running. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see where I was going. Every five meter stretch developed out of the darkness and disappeared as I ran past.
I looked over my shoulder. The black figure of this guy was bloody quick. He was closing in on me and I knew that within seconds he’d catch up and then what? Take my sack? Or maybe the slipper on my right foot? Nah! He’ll take the shoe on my left foot. Can’t afford that! No man on planet would part with another one of these shoes for a beggar like me!
Shit why is the wretched guy –hic- Ugh! God damn hiccoughs in the middle of the night! Screw the hiccoughs! Need light! Can’t see where I’m going!
Ah! –hic- a street lamp. “Thank you –hic- asshole!” I shouted to the Guy up there and showed him the finger. I had turned into that road with the expensive fucking coffee.
-I saw the man make an obscene gesture towards the sky. He may have shouted something. I couldn’t hear him over the guitar solo of Fade to Black on my ipod, the best music for a mid-night jog.
A few seconds ago, I had encountered this ragged, messy man, who stood in the middle of the road, muttering to himself, until he spotted me. The second I approached him, he broke into a run.
The man constantly looked over his shoulder as he ran. His behaviour was peculiar. Perhaps he is being pursued I thought and looked over my shoulder. No one. Does he see something that I don’t? I felt rather disquieted. I wasn’t one for horror stories.
He took a right turn and disappeared into road where Barista stood. I went after him thinking maybe I could help him if something was wrong.
I entered the road and unplugged my ear phones. The faint plop of water dripping echoed around the street. Wind whistled through the open windows of the deserted buildings. A lone cat mewed its way through the dark street. A few rats shuffled their way into underground drains. A lone street lamp lit the street. The waning moon hung limply in the starless sky. There was no sign of the man.
“Hello? Are you alright sir?” I shouted into the darkness.
-“Hello? Are you alright sir?” he shouted.
What does he –hic- take me for? I wasn’t going to fall for the oldest trick in the fucking book. The Asshole alone knows to how many people I have had to be a gentle man to. And He knows how I’ve made a run with their fucking money after that as well.
I stood beside an open window on a tiny alley on the same street. I could hear the fucking dork’s voice and footsteps. A cat mewed somewhere. Hungry just like me –hic- I’m sure.
I heard his footsteps approaching. If he saw me, I’d slip out of the other end of the alley which would take me to that huge fucking road with those bloody uniformed men all over it.
There! He spotted me!
“Bloody hell man! Leave me –hic- alone!” I shouted at him and ran towards the cursed big road.
“Argh! Dust in my eyes! Fuck this shit!”
–He ran again. “Fuck this shit,” he shouted roughly. He sounded mighty angry. I could only see his back, but it seemed like he had his face in his hands, perhaps wiping his nose or rubbing his eyes. But he ran.
He ran into the other end of the alley and well into the main road that joined it.
“HEY WATCH OUT!”
That is the last image I vividly remember of him. There was a blinding flash of light. For a split second, the mad old man stood there, his hands having just come away from his eyes. He turned and stared right at me. The light from the truck cast a halo behind him. And just like that the bright white light engulfed him and he was gone.
My ipod fell down. The ear phones remained in my hand.
Did you ever imagine the last thing you’d hear as you’re fading out was a song?
Arriving somewhere but not here…
I came, I saw, I captured
Never stop dreaming
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