Early memories of painting…red powder…green powder…yellow powder…blue powder… A long-handled brush in my 5-year-old hand. Mix the powders in water. Make my marks on newsprint paper.
Later, faces on the blackboard with chalk. Wiping them quickly before the teacher entered. Drawing and doodling on hot summer afternoons.
I grew up in New Delhi, and by today’s standards we would be considered poor – there was no refrigerator, no television, and no radio. It never occurred to me that art could be an option. I had no voice, or strength of my own. That would come years later. But first I had to experience the challenges as a new immigrant – leaving family…walking into the unknown in Canada. Life required a focus on raising a family and career, with little time for art.
When my children became teenagers, I started taking painting classes. But a few months into it, a debilitating accident derailed me. I lost the dexterity of my hands. It was a setback, but I never gave up.
While in rehab, I would exercise my nerve-damaged fingers and arms by attempting to draw, following the lessons in the book “Drawing from the Right Side of the Brain” by Betty Edwards which I had bought just before the accident. I knew I had to keep at it, I had to keep moving my fingers and arms. Drawing became part of my physio.
Moving forward. Juggling a full-time job. Managing life crises and daily challenges. I studied under some well-known artists that I admired. They guided me in honing my skills and ability to express myself. In the last few years I have experimented with and developed my own style, which varies according to subject matter and medium.
Today, I have more time for my art. I am able to undertake commissions for portraits, landscapes, and abstracts, which I find both challenging and rewarding. (Check out my PET PORTRAITS FOR CHARITY!)
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