Skip to main content

Drawing Together

Being able to tune into Adobe MAX online this year has been an absolute treat. Loved too many of the sessions to specifically call out. But listening to Wendy MacNaughton, prompted me to sit in one of her classes though I am not her target demographic. For a little while, it took me back in time to my own childhood when I took drawing classes on Sunday mornings. My teacher brought his two kids along to class so they learned along with us. The youngest was my age and quite a proficient artist. But his father never gave him any special attention or credit. He was just one of the kids he was teaching. Mr. M taught us all to look and things with love just as MacNaughton says. We went outside where we could sit under the shade of a tree and draw its trunk. 

Through his eyes, I learned to appreciate the character of gnarled tree-trunk, respect the work nature had done over time to create this giant thing of beauty that stood unassumingly outside our classroom. We drew leaves in spring time when they were shiny, young and green. Mr. M showed us how to mix colors to get the shades of green that looked close to what nature had made. When autumn came, we would draw the dry leaves much the same way. Mr. M's oldest was already in college and we were all in awe of her. She loved to draw faces and just about everyone in class had pencil sketch of their face she had done at some point. Seeing our faces in the way that she saw us was fascinating. I remember feeling I was looking at someone familiar but still a relative stranger when I saw my face in her notebook. There was something she had captured that gave me pause. I was too young to understand what to make of it. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Cheese Making

I never fail to remind J that there is a time and place for everything. It is possibly the line she will remember me by when I am dead and gone given how frequently she hears it. Instead of having her breakfast she will break into a song and dance number from High School Musical well past eight on Monday morning. She will insist that I watch and applaud the performance instead of screaming at her to finish her milk and cereal. Her sense of occasion is seriously lacking but then so is mine. Consider for example, a person walks into the grocery store with the express purpose of buying detergent because they are fresh out of it and laundry is only half way done. However instead of heading straight for detergent, they wander over to the natural foods aisle and go berserk upon finding goat milk on sale for a dollar a gallon. They at once proceed to stock pile so they can turn it to huge quantities home-made feta cheese. That person would be me. It would not concern me in the least that I ha...

Part Liberated Woman

An expat desi friend and I were discussing what it means to return to India when you have cobbled together a life in a foreign country no matter how flawed and imperfect. We have both spent over a decade outside India and have kids who were born abroad and have spent very little time back home. Returning "home" is something a lot of new immigrants like L and myself think about. We want very much for that to be an option because a full assimilation into our country of domicile is likely never going to happen. L has visited India more often than I have and has a much better pulse on what's going on there. For me the strongest drag force working against my desire to return home is my experience of life as a woman in India. I neither want to live that suffocatingly sheltered existence myself nor subject J to it. The freedom, independence and safety I have had in here in suburban America was not even something I knew I could expect to have in India. I never knew what it felt t...

Under Advisement

Recently a desi dude who is more acquaintance less friend called to check in on me. Those who have read this blog before might know that such calls tend to make me anxious. Depending on how far back we go, there are sets of FAQs that I brace myself to answer. The trick is to be sufficiently evasive without being downright offensive - a fine balancing act given the provocative nature of questions involved. I look at these calls as opportunities for building patience and tolerance both of which I seriously lack. Basically, they are very desirous of finding out how I am doing in my personal and professional life to be sure that they have me correctly categorized and filed for future reference. The major buckets appear to be loser, struggling, average, arrived, superstar and uncategorizable. My goal needless to say, is to be in the last bucket - the unknown, unquantifiable and therefore uninteresting entity. Their aim is to pull me into something more tangible. So anyways, the dude in ques...