When I fall, I fly - An Exhibition at Kalakriti Art Gallery

Can an elephant fly? Of course, says Sunil Lohar for if it has to fall, to fly.

Can it bear the pain of the fall? The fall is beautiful in an artiste's mind. A fall is conceived in the un-fathomed womb of an artiste's memory and carefully weighed in the subtle balance of pain and pleasure so that it stripes-off the stigma called 'the fall'.

The fall is painful, burdensome, but in the clamoured chambers of the mind, one is expected to face 'the fall' with absolute conviction, with internal philosophy, with absolute peace which springs from the restrained patience. The subtle being called thought filled in candour and care waits itself for a shelf-period and then it flies.

Now the opaque physicality of the pachyderm which one has seen as an animal is only savouredas a perceived image in the mind of the anxious creator.

At this moment the creator fosters a meditative calmness for when his creation flies, they are absolutely relieved from the entanglements of societal cliches and yearn to take a form.

Now the creator feels the child is born before the father. He has to give a form to this burden and hence the logic behind it is that whatever his experience has fetched may get lost in the vanity but be asks his fingers to speak for him, for the creator believes that his fingers will never lie.

Be it lifting of the Govardhanagiri by Sri Krishna, there is this metamorphosed burden descending on the humanity, but one is expected not to forget the fact that even such Govardhanagiris of the universe have peaceful meadows and meandering rivers all within it.

Caves and caverns, ponds and water bodies with an imaginary halo of attachment to the burden; life within the life wfcll maintained, but in its totality the feel of such a stifling pain is pretentiously calm.

Remember, burden at its untouched disposition is totally content within itself. It is the disposition of this burden always pining to levitate itself from the surface of the earth and dislodge itself.

It is this mountainous burden of the humanity looking forward for a shoulder to rest. The mountain bearing so many lives on it endures the pain with hope, that one day the mountain would levitate and ascend itself, for it only requires a little finger of a divine lad to rest.

Is the finger a balance? or the lifter the savior? Never mind the burden has rested itself enough in the fall only to fly. The finger being the pivot and the savior as a universal bearer are unfathomed plans of the hoary past of the dark human, be it the black-god himself.

Be it the perceived bird, the flying donkey, the ballooned buildings and the air lifted human beings, all of them are deceivingly real, for the artiste is bent upon creating a make-believe form so that one only creates the form with all his invested training just to break it, so that he allows the content of his imagination fall and then to fly.

The birds, the creepers, the trees, the humans are visual jargons to ascend the land of timeless flight.

The flower of the form is so much tended and nursed by the creator under the command of water colour; said to be a medium which requires restrain, the flower reveals-the connection. The flower is colourful, filled with fragrance of the other world, bloomed to its fullest.

But the ephemeral weight of the flower is borne by the tree only to bear a fruit. The burden of a fruit is more important than the burden of the flower, for a flower has to fall for a fruit to fly.