Figments of Imagination

Look into my eyes - 2

2018-06-13T12:55:00.001+05:30

A post after a bit long gap. Nothing to write. Nothing to say. Just a late night sketch after coming back from a long day in office.

Two more sketches

2018-05-23T19:30:00.000+05:30

It is fun to sketch the faces from various angles, with various expressions, with various mediums. The first one is done with glass marker pencil. I like that one because of the oily feel and extra darkness sometimes. While the next one is a dry sepia pencil. I like the think lines it makes and the texture it creates on the paper!

Without fear

2018-05-15T06:27:00.001+05:30

"চিত্ত যেথা ভয়শূন্য, উচ্চ যেথা শির,

জ্ঞান যেথা মুক্ত, যেথা গৃহের প্রাচীর

আপন প্রাঙ্গণতলে দিবসশর্বরী

বসুধারে রাখে নাই খণ্ড ক্ষুদ্র করি,"

A profile in charcoal

2018-05-04T10:59:00.002+05:30

Not a word to !

Those big big eyes

2018-04-25T12:44:00.002+05:30

"Yakayak az dil do chashm-e jadoo basad farebam baburd taskin;
Kise pari hai jo jaa sunaave piyare pi ko hamaari batiyan.
Cho sham’a sozan cho zarra hairan hamesha giryan be ishq aan meh;
Na neend naina na ang chaina na aap aaven na bhejen patiyan."

- Khusrau

Suddenly, using a thousand tricks, the enchanting eyes robbed me of my tranquil mind;
Who would care to go and report this matter to my darling?
Tossed and bewildered, like a flickering candle, I roam about in the fire of love;
Sleepless eyes, restless body, neither comes she, nor any message.

trans. M Rehman

On a windy day

2018-04-18T13:05:00.001+05:30

My soul is awakened, my spirit is soaring
And carried aloft on the winds of the breeze;
For above and around me the wild wind is roaring,
Arousing to rapture the earth and the seas.

- Anne Brontë

Expressions 3

2018-04-11T15:56:00.002+05:30

Now no joy but lacks salt,

That is not dashed with pain

And weariness and fault;

I crave the stain of tears, the aftermark

Of almost too much love,

The sweet of bitter bark

And burning clove.

- Robert Frost

Sanguine dry on paper

Sad, but yet not sad

2018-04-04T10:04:00.002+05:30

The face is often set in stone,

Perfectly unreadable,

Yet a ripple underneath the skin

Can be seen slowly rising.

A little curl in the corner of lips,

Downcast eyes,

Sad, but yet not sad,

That's what I surmise.

Expressions 2

2018-03-13T22:19:00.000+05:30

Thousands of different emotions generate in our mind (as per the scientists) or heart (as per the poets) everyday. They come out and reach others through our expressions. The expression of the face may be the primal one.

A sketch in red

The Tenth Muse

2018-03-08T12:35:00.001+05:30

Men always needed inspiration to succeed. Great men needed even greater inspiration. And then no mortal women could inspire them so, that the Greeks created the nine Muses. For they were immortal. For they together would inspire them to create great deeds of human arts. But little did they realize that a mere mortal women would be more inspiring to the generations to come. A women to so excel in arts to become the Tenth Muse.

Semi Portraits 3

2018-02-28T12:18:00.002+05:30

Sometimes you see a face. Then you re-imagine it entirely in a different manner in your mind. But when it is out on the paper it might again be totally not what you saw first. Human mind has strange ways!!!

abstraction of colors

2018-02-20T20:25:00.002+05:30

I got inspired by Pinterest - a nice place to be inspired from now and then. I made my own version of this with crayons and a bit of marker lines here and there. The problem of crayons is they don't blend well. Next time I'll make a similar one using pastels, may be.

Look at me again!

2018-02-07T09:05:00.000+05:30

"...Saying thus,

She looked at me -

look at me long and hard

'Till I drew my gaze away."

Pride

2018-01-24T14:59:00.000+05:30

Once upon a time lived a beautiful girl in a village. She was proud of her beauty. When the King saw her, he was fascinated and kidnapped her to his palace. She cried so much that her dress became salty. A few weeks later, when she got used to the lavish life of the palace, she wondered, "Why did I cry in the first place?" She was even more proud of her beauty.

A few months passed by. The King lost his interest. She fell to the back ranks. Now she was sad again. Soon, another King attacked the country and carried off all the ladies from the Harem. In the palace of the new King, she again found status. She was proudest of her beauty.

Soon, there was a great drought and famine. To please the Gods, the King offered his greatest beauty of concubines as a sacrifice. But the priests found that the girl had a missing toe. This was imperfection so another girl was sacrificed instead. She remained proud of her missing toe for the rest of her life!

Portrait with crayons

2018-01-10T07:19:00.000+05:30

I have found a wonderful medium that suits me in a box of crayons. It is a small box (Faber castell, set of 12) that I had initially bought for my son. But since he seems to be more inclined to eat them, I thought of using those instead.

It is not versatile and never easy to use with almost zero blending capacity. The colors aren't as intense as I'd like them to be. So, I use my black marker to allow a bit more contrast in the composition, opposing the yellow of a warm night lamp.

Twice done

2018-01-03T13:38:00.000+05:30

One side - the face of happiness;

The other side is life,

Colorful, a little sad.

Like two sisters,

Different by fate -

One has a mask, the other has none.

Like Virtues and sins

Balanced in one.

A pair of lives

Twice done.

গ্রামের বাড়ি

2017-12-27T13:55:00.002+05:30

My father had moved to a small town, not very far from our ancestral village, after my elder sister was born. The house we had in town was big enough, with a sprawling yard, long veranda, a fruit and vegetable garden, and even a small tank for my father's pisciculture endeavors. Yet my grand-parents would fill stifled whenever their visit lasted more than a couple of days. A week was a stretch!

Our home in the village was almost without boundaries, in the midst of fresh nature and green air.

Any typical house in villages of North Bengal would be like that - Thatched roof, mud or bamboo walls, boundaries lined by areca nut, eucalyptus, and other trees rising like tall flag-posts. Yes, I miss those innocent days. The nature has fallen in the hands of men. Hardly would you find a house like that anymore.

pen on paper

Look into my eyes

2017-12-20T07:56:00.001+05:30

"Those with eyes don't see the reality,

Those without sees pretty well inside.

Mysterious is the way of the world,

Seeing and believing is never implied."

Putting my son's crayons to good use :P

Old abandoned roads

2017-12-12T22:30:00.002+05:30

The Himalayas have a inexplicable mystery entwined within. You can feel it. Specially when alone. Specially when walking through the misty mountains under the shade of lofty pines. In the dense Sal forests of Terai and Dooars. By the occasional shallow and swift flowing rivers. Or the numerous cascades and falls. Or the old roads that are 'abandoned for a reason'!

Saudade

2017-12-07T08:05:00.001+05:30

I can still feel the wind on my face,

When I sit in silence, Or when a distant tree

bends in the wind; I long for that wind on my face.

The Story of an old drawing

2017-11-29T23:23:00.001+05:30

Many many years ago, when I was just a school boy, I found a stunning photograph in a book. A young man sitting on a small boat and playing a simple bamboo flute. I copied that in my sketchbook in pencil. A couple of years passed by. One day I found that drawing again. A shaky pencil sketch. I tore the page off for a reproduction on a bigger scale. Bought an art paper about 24x34 inches, pearly white in color. Got a bottle of black permanent ink and a size 4 brush.

It took about an hour and fifteen minutes to bring it to almost completion. All I needed to do was sign it. Then my mother called from the kitchen. Actually she was calling me for quite sometime for dinner. I thought in a hurry, "Let me finish my dinner and come back to sign it". But the heaven intended otherwise. It was winter. I was wearing a shawl, the end of which caught a little bit of the ink bottle, kept so carelessly open. In a blink of an eye, the painting was smeared beyond repair. Then to make matters worse the ink fell on the new carpet on the floor. It was a big ugly black blotch. I gave up. Collected the bottle and the brush and then called my mother to rescue.

I was sad that the painting was gone so soon, but happy than I didn't get a beating for ruining the carpet. My uncle used the other side for his rough architectural drawings.

After almost two decades I found that small pencil sketch reference. This time in a much smaller scale, I put it in my notebook. Also being cautious, I used dry media!

one loves the sunset

2017-11-22T11:56:00.000+05:30

"I am very fond of sunsets. Come, let us go look at a sunset now."
"But we must wait," I said.
"Wait? For what?"
"For the sunset. We must wait until it is time."

"One day," you said to me, "I saw the sunset forty-three times!"And a little later you added:
"You know-- one loves the sunset, when one is so sad..."
"Were you so sad, then?" I asked, "on the day of the forty-three sunsets?"

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Late afternoon

2017-11-15T14:38:00.002+05:30

The summer is hot and humid in Bengal. Although a little cooler in the north. We would ride a bicycle along the dusty village road that would lead us far far away. The sun would slowly start settling in the western horizon. Still glaring at the scorching earth. The pasture should have been green, but it was never green. It was kind of yellowed, just like the yellow of the sun. even the clouds would feel yellow, not white. An orange tint would highlight the tree silhouettes. Hey even the sky would feel so warm orange.

How you look at me

2017-11-08T12:40:00.000+05:30

One of my favorite dry mediums is the glass marking pencil. It is very cheap and very brittle at times. Just enough Oily and just enough dry. Not too dark and not at all light. And usually true black.

Sanguine

2017-10-31T20:23:00.000+05:30

I didn't know that sanguine also meant blood red. Neither did I know that pencils are available in sanguine, till I bought one. Then I came to know that people can have a temperament called sanguine!

I can't be sanguine that she is of sanguine temperament. But I'm sanguine having drawn her in sanguine.