Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Pinaki's site is a pleasure to navigate. Sit with a bit of time, cause you are likely to be swept into another world. His photography is beautiful & so are the quotes he uses. And if that were not enough he writes rather well. The layout of the site is clean and no-nonsense & keeps your attention to where it should be. Will give you a quick glimpse of work, for more of this you can visit Pinaki. (all the pictures & the quotes & words below are from his site)
And to really read the man, go to his blog.

Art is the most intense mode of Individualism that the world has known... it is this fact that makes the public try to exercise over it in an authority that is as immoral as it is ridiculous, and as corrupting as it is contemptible. It is not quite their fault. The public has always, and in every age, been badly brought up. They are continually asking Art to be popular
Oscar Wilde, The Soul of Man Under Socialism

Middle EastWe, who are parts of Adam, heard with him / The song of angels and of seraphim. / Our memory, though dull and sad, retains / Some echo still of those unearthly strains
Remembered Music, Rumi
She said: "There’s a whole sea between us"
I said: "I’m a strong swimmer"
Waddah al Yemen

Crush not the ant, who stores golden grain: / He lives with pleasure, and will die with pain: Learn from him rather than to secure the spoil / Of patient cares and persevering toil.
Compassion, Sa'di

Muharram in Bombay

Knives that will draw blood hours later string into picture.
In bunches at the end of chains, they will be used to lash backs and remind Muslims of the massacre of the prophet Muhammed's grandson, Imam Hussain.
Other dagger-like knives will be held in the hand to cut vertically into the forehead.
Here, they're put on display, for sale. Imamwada Road, deep in the heart of Bombay's traditional Muslim stronghold, is lined with thousands of knives, and buyers, every year.
A white horse is led through the procession, with about 10 knives in its back, blood pouring down its sides. My stomach turned inside out when I saw it, but people later told me that those were dummy knives and fake blood. Looked very real in the half-light and excitement. It represents Imam Hussain's horse, Dool Dool, and hints at what happened to its master on the battlefield of Karbala.

Every day you play with the light of the universe.
Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water.
You are more than this white head that I hold tightly
as a bunch of flowers, every day, between my hands
Pablo Neruda
The room was everything I wanted in my photograph, but the Rajasthani prostitute in Calcutta’s (now Kolkata’s) infamous Sonagachi red light district threw me out before I could ask politely. Peach underwear was laid out on the right hand corner of the floral bedspread, a little temple was decked out to the left, above the doorway. There was a little dressing table, too, and soft light through pink curtains. She had the kind of back that shows off bone and muscle structure, and the light would, I know, have looked fantastic across it.

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