BE HERE NOW

 

BE HERE NOW

Be here now.
Said my father
How? I asked?
Puzzled by it’s
Seemingly simple
But complex notion
I am here
Isn’t it obvious?

No. My father, said
Your mind is all
Over the place
To be here now
One must truly
Be present.

In body mind and soul
At one with oneself
And the universe
Be here now ridicules
running away
From life experiences
And responsibilities

That’s when the anxiety
Sets in. the anxiety reminds
Me to feel
Really feel
The moment
Love truth anguish

Be here now
Is difficult
As the mind
Listens to the music
In the background
Be here now is interrupted
By Ashira walking in.

So all I can conclude
From this exercise
Is that to be here now
Is not easy.
It demands concentration.
A brain that focuses
Under different circumstances
I am all over the place
But here. Not here.

Usually , over there…

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The SPIRITUAL Artist

druvinka (1) (1) 5*6

Druvinka 2017B

The Spiritual Aritist
Born in 1971, She was sent to art school as she was considered an introvert. She placed herself in a corner in order not to show her work;  never happy with her paintings, she used to hide her works of art.
She was inspired by Cora Abrahams and Nilanthi Weereratne-she was inspired by the conversations she had with them about art and books. (fascinating)
(Anjalendran was a big fan especially during her early years, He sold a lot of her paintings during that time.)
Cora Abraham, a famous art teacher in Colombo took her in as a special child, because her father was in the military.
Druvinka was introduced to many artists and their work by Ms. Abraham; she especially liked TURNER. His paintings of landscapes and the sea — she thought his paintings very mysterious– She was given blank canvases by Cora who said, “Be Free, Druvinka. Be Free! Express yourself!
Druvinka showed exceptional control and hand movement. It was then that her work went up on the walls and was exhibited in a small way.
She had her first solo exhibition at the Galadari Meridian. Arlene (her mum) and Druvinka organized an exhibition because she got a lot of praise and encouragement from her teachers, mentors, peers and other artists. She spent some time in Manchester, she submitted her portfolio of landscapes and was accepted (Manchester University, Portfolio of Landscapes. )
She graduated from Visaka, went to Manchester and then applied to Shanthineketan (got in and went) Why paint and make a living? “Because even if I have to be on the road I will try and make it” to the best of my ability. When she draws the character, the essence, of her inspired content comes through, other than a photographic message. I cannot get rid of the innermost feelings even now. Soul, essence and skill. Unlike early on, she is not at all inhibited by society or shyness.
Druvinka is spontaneous in her approach to her art, never scared of pressing oil colour onto canvas until something comes up. She paints in layers.
“Shanthineketen showed me the truth; India, Incredible India. One cannot bullshit your way through. Out went cushioning, the comfort of Colombo – In India she confronted reality – Felt small. A nobody. So you have to make it work. A survivor. Classmates left me alone, batch mates never exhibited, but Druvinka had experience. She kept to herself gathering information (an introvert) I didn’t know anything, spoke only when she knew the answers.
Druvinka is now secure in her art.—At Shanthineketen she met her husband, Bodh, a super artist and teacher, who controlled her totally. Bodh and a few others, made up a group called “We are International 1998.” They projected their work onto city walls and trees.
You are a great artist, I think you should work” You are a working artist, Bodh criticized her work, made her work, to make it better. She exhibited at the Lionel Wendt in 1995 and 1996. Druvinka is competent in pottery, sculpture, printmaking, textile design, painting, history of art, western, far eastern, and indian.
Druvinka chose to exhibit at Gallery 706 in 1996 where she showed her Embryo series.
This was soon followed by:
· Refugee series
· Karmic forces,
· Rising
· Lingam
· Beneath beyond
For Druvinka the process is crucial. She paints on raw canvas, bamboo paper, and rice paper. She paints vast metaphorical themes such as gods, goddesses, the universe, the afterlife. Therefore, her paintings are large; the largest is 15ft * 6ft. she exhibits at the Barefoot Gallery and has a special relationship with Nazreen Sansoni the curator of the Gallery. They are often mistaken for sisters.
Today, she paints on 1*1 canvases and paper but only for practical reasons. Even though the work is small, the concepts remain large.
1) Magic
2) Tantric
Without the darkness there is no light, dark and light work together — however, dark –eventually light comes out. However much you play with dark, the dark is only used for light to shine. Light is powerful it has to come. Think Leonard Cohen: There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.
I have learnt through my Sadana how to keep nothing inside, only the moment of being, so it’s becoming childlike, wisdom with no knowledge, It’s not possible to connect with the spirit world without being empty.
I no longer paint but only my body is used as an instrument for channeling from above, to canvas, so whatever appears is original and a message. Pathal means the underworld… one of the three worlds
Sadana is sacrificing certain things in life and sitting in meditation till you achieve something that you were searching for. Tantra is `connected to dark and light and represents the cycle of life, which is called: Samsara. Whatever Druvinka indulges in comes out in her paintings.
The 5 elements: water, earth, sky, fire and air, this is the magic and god. That’s what we are made of in illusionary world. The universal truth is Satyam, Shivom, and Sundaram.
Satyam means truth, Shivom is never dying soul, and Sundaram is the beauty of it all.
The spiritual and happy artist; DRUVINKA.
Nazreen Sansoni as told to by Druvinka.
December 2017

 

 

Sweater Weather

 

 

Short days in Michigan

When the leaves turn to

colours of the earth.

 

The old man mowing his lawn

Wearing his slate cashmere v-neck with

holes under the arms, has never bothered

to get the thing darned.

 

Billy used the season to shoot

He would walk out into the woods with his Colt 45

Looked for Rabbit, Deer, if lucky, a Bear.

He wore a brown, round, wool neck sweater

that kept him warm.

It also camouflaged him really well.

 

No-one mentioned the time he was down by

The creek – – a body floated up, face down–

bloated and gross from being in the river for over

A week.

The sheriff hushed It up,

Billy was his son, you see.

 

The Sheriff wore a red lambswool sweater

to suggest authority, or perhaps, danger? and to keep visible.

He was beautiful to look at – A Cary Grant—with manners.

How us County people respected him.

The sole reason we never pursued the body story.

His word was Final.

 

Me, Autumn in Michigan, meant road trips—a six pack of

Molson in the car;  Ruben sandwiches and my best girlfriend.

We’d sing to Joni Mitchell and Carol King—perfect tunes for a fall sunset

that seemed to last forever. At night, Deborah Harry

blasted from the CD deck the stars shining brightly.

 

We did not need the moon or headlights to show us the way.

My girlfriend wore her purple sweater, made of Angora.

It smelled of Opium. I wore a cashmere jersey

in lime green.

 

We drove for days hitting the west coast

Got down at Full Moon Beach.

Threw our sweaters off,

and with it, our angst spinning emotions

Jumped nude into the Pacific Ocean

 

The water was cold.

We could very well had been swimming in

Lake Michigan—but,

It was worth it.

For the Road Trip.

2261 miles of it.

NS May 7th 2017.

conversation

“Do you believe in spirits”?
she asks, visibly shaken.
“I took a photo of you, above your head is a distinct white image, outlined in blue…floating”
“Is it ominous”? I retort.
“No” she replies. “Not at all, on the contrary, It’s your guardian angel”.
“Let’s have a cigarette” I say, as i ponder the possibility of my very own guardian angel.
“It could have been the spirit of the library” she murmurs.
Somehow, I don’t think so. the thought fills me with a private glee.
“Send me a picture. 300 dpi via email should be fine”
“I will”. she promises.

Back in Colombo and I have yet to receive the email.
Is my guardian angel still around? or has she disappeared?
From me, from the photograph?
After a job well done?