Summer can be most unkind when water is scarce.

These posters were made for Perch Project, to encourage people to put out a bowl of water and some grain for the birds and other small critters. The idea is simple really; a little bit goes a long way.

Fill those bowls and keep them full- ‘full.fill’

The forms are inspired by Charles Harper, whose work I’ve been fascinated with since I was a kid. His posters for US NPS are all over my house.

I can be rather obsessive compulsive about my work space and stationery. Since work is a refuge, my tools and space it seems, also define me to an extent.  Though I can go crazy in stationery stores, I’ve never bought in bulk. I’ve always bought a little at a time, so all my implements have stories. My most prized tools are the ones that are either gifted to me or hand-me-downs. Postits are generously strewn on my table and my lists are endless. A Rubberband Planner was added to my Moleskine family; I can’t function without either. Among things I love most, are two 0.6 and 0.8 Rotring pens handed down to me by my parents. Add to that, a yellow Rotring tikky and purple Zebra knock clutch pencils.  The rest consists of my Lamy, Staedtler fineliners (with a killer opening mechanism), Pelikan watercolours, Winsor Newton inks, Fiskars scissors, chewed up erasers and metal boxes filled with itsy stuff (which I collect). The rest of the stuff is in a beautifully aging wooden drawer unit. A ginormous mug of tea has to be present at all times. Right now, I’m confined to two tables and the rest of the room is taken up by my cat. Occasionally, I share my work space with a squirrel that will alternate sleeping in my hair and eating by my Mac.
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I can be rather obsessive compulsive about my work space and stationery. Since work is a refuge, my tools and space it seems, also define me to an extent. 

Though I can go crazy in stationery stores, I’ve never bought in bulk. I’ve always bought a little at a time, so all my implements have stories. My most prized tools are the ones that are either gifted to me or hand-me-downs.

Postits are generously strewn on my table and my lists are endless. A Rubberband Planner was added to my Moleskine family; I can’t function without either.

Among things I love most, are two 0.6 and 0.8 Rotring pens handed down to me by my parents. Add to that, a yellow Rotring tikky and purple Zebra knock clutch pencils. 

The rest consists of my Lamy, Staedtler fineliners (with a killer opening mechanism), Pelikan watercolours, Winsor Newton inks, Fiskars scissors, chewed up erasers and metal boxes filled with itsy stuff (which I collect). The rest of the stuff is in a beautifully aging wooden drawer unit. A ginormous mug of tea has to be present at all times.

Right now, I’m confined to two tables and the rest of the room is taken up by my cat. Occasionally, I share my work space with a squirrel that will alternate sleeping in my hair and eating by my Mac.

Mohan

Here’s what Somesh wrote- http://somsesh.blogspot.com/2010/08/anniyama-nilayam-45.html

I thought of Mohan, the memory still very vivid. For the next hour or so, a conversation (with Somesh) followed.

I still remember him. Dark weathered skin, gleaming white teeth which formed the most heartfelt smile. Clad in white, his clothes hung loose, but his skin, it clung to his bones. Mohan had polio and was confined to his wheelchair, which I’m sure had seen better days.

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For two years now, those sentences have been stashed away in the Drafts section of my blog. There have been many times I’ve thought of him since. Sometimes when Somesh urged me to finish this piece, sometimes when I passed someone in a wheelchair and sometimes when I stumbled on his postcards. The thing is, there are memories that disarm you so completely, you seldom reach for them. And yet there are triggers, like a strong whiff from a spice-box that hasn’t been opened in a long time. So, I’m going to try this again.

A rather shy child, I clung to my mother’s cotton kurta and stayed partially hidden from view. The car park of the office that we now stood in, echoed with my mother’s giggles and as I listened to a conversation unfold, I caught sight of a smile that disarmed me. Ma took hold of the wheelchair and began wheeling it out of the premise and I walked with her. Dhun would join us there. I was quiet, but took in the details- I still remember him. Dark weathered skin with gleaming white teeth, which formed the most heartfelt smile; clad in white, his clothes hung loose, but his skin, it clung to his bones.

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IDF finally put it up, so here it is!

A set of posters I had submitted, won in the Communication Design category. They can be viewed in the post below.

The posters are up on the IDF website as well, with a small write up.

The jury included Aishwarya Pathy, Anupam Poddar, Divya Thakur, Preeti Vyaas, Rajeev Thakker, Rajshree Pathy, Rohit Bal, Vicky Richardson and the award was presented by Christian Louboutin.

This has to be the most factual, dry post I have ever written (even though I’m pretty kicked) so,

P.S. My dad bought me a big bar of Dairy Milk Silk.

For the first time my Nana-Nani asked for my work. When my Nana received my couriered poster; “Lovely, lovely, lovely, really wonderful”, was his reaction. He’s never that expressive. I was thoroughly embarrassed when my Nani’s friends knew before mine did. It’s so cute how much this means to them.

Right now, I honestly have miles to go before I sleep, but soon the pile of work will be a manageable mound and I will once again start making for the blog. The conference had some brilliant speakers, of which Rahul Mehrotra ad Thomas Heatherwick have really got me thinking. Can’t wait to see how this unfolds.

To say something, by saying nothing.

A set of posters I made, won the IDF award 2013 for Communication Design. IDF was kind enough to sponsor my my trip to Mumbai and the conference as well. The award was handed to me by the very sought after, Christian Louboutin (I was the only one there, who didn’t know who he was and was glared at in disbelief while I sheepishly and frantically googled his name on my phone). 

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These are posters I made for my blog because I had felt passionately about something. My blog has been a place of refuge in a sense and maybe this is a small milestone for me and my blog.

Maybe good things come out of letting yourself truly feel, letting yourself be vulnerable, maybe even to other people’s stories. 

Courtesy, my parents, I grew up in a house where Harper’s posters, neatly framed, graced (and still do) each room, where Ansel Adam’s black and whites, yellowed a little by lamination, brought the walls to life and the most interesting cuttings from magazines scrupulously mounted on board, formed a grid on the cupboard. Everyday they drew me in and everyday I discovered something new.

One day, my dad showed me a photograph by Eugene Smith- a black and white of a mother bathing her almost teenage daughter, who lay stiff and disturbingly lifeless in her arms. He told me about the Mercury poisoning in Minamata, Japan, that had affected this child and so many others .

I was quite young, but the intensity with which it pierced me, was something I will never forget. In that moment, I think I understood empathy. No one had to tell me about what the mother had to endure; for once, I didn’t know, I felt.

Since then, there has been a growing fascination with the power of a visual. To say so much, by saying nothing at all. This is probably where my love for making posters stems from.

To be able to express something you feel strongly about and have it find resonance among others; that in itself is the award, or reward. The sense of happiness I feel, when it does resonate with someone else, is still unparalleled.

I love what I do.

Ironically, what I make, makes me.

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You’ll Never Walk Alone

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YNWA. 

It’s true, you never do.

I started this after the Liverpool-ManCity game. Stevie G, Captain Fantastic indeed. Also, for Carra who retires end of the season- in my world he’s like one of those rock solid Greek columns.

Inspired by the filigree on the Shankly Gates, the letters started out as pencil on paper. Spent some time bent over a light-table, a few iterations later, I vectored them.

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I stood, now alone, but for a cold, grey and damp basement and cars for company. I saw her off and watched her tiny frame peering at me from the back of a cab. My roommate of three years. Although we had just ceased to be so. My face looked like it had been rained on and the dark cloud that hung over me wasn’t done just yet. In that moment I realised how this almost 2D being had occupied one of the biggest spaces in me.

It came back all too quickly as we walked behind her, now a bride- so elegant, so calm. Once again I saw her off, to start yet another beautiful journey. I welled up and swallowed hard to fight the moist eyes (partly because I didn’t want my liner to drip and look like I walked off the sets of Michael Jackson’s Thriller). She has a new roommate now and she gets to do it all over again. And do it happily, she shall. We never made promises or proclamations, we never pledged allegiance. We’ve never had to, because I guess we always knew. 

I lugged a ginormous bag sheepishly (it was too large for five days and I told myself it was the woolens) up a flight of stairs and saw the flowers that hung so festively over a door. A year in planning became so real then. It turned out to be a doorway, funnily into the past, the future and into love itself. The hugs fit like warm socks and snug gloves. We fit like cogs, anticipating the other’s moods, movements, silences, quirks and the sometimes obscure sense of humour that few get. 

Five days of revelry folded in exhaustion. Aching feet, sleepy faces; we packed, to make our way back to our respective destinations and realities. I thought of the vacant cab ride alone, to the airport. It is very rare that the thought of spending time by myself is a daunting one. For the moment it felt much like staring at the blank page of a newly opened notebook; the compulsion to fill it with something worthwhile.

Couple of hours later, I sat at the airport, scrunched in a chair with a pair of glass birds in my hand. A dear friend called an hour before I left- traveled half way across town in insane traffic to spend a cab rides worth of time with me and then head all the way back. He gave me the pair of birds; one for Perch and one for me. 

It was a happy sort of disbelief. It never does end, does it? We just pick up where we left off and we never really walk alone. These are the people who make me want to love being me. 

Two lovely people told me they were getting hitched. I wasn’t totally surprised, because I saw it coming. What I didn’t see coming, was how happy I was for them. They’re both incredibly sensitive and passionate people- individually and together, and I’m glad to be a part of their world. They’re both UI designers (workaholics) and (keeping that bit in mind) this is a little card I made for them. I love them dearly and wish them more happiness, love, puppies and kittens. A few close friends are tying the knot so, I’m off for a bit, to join in the revelry and the resultant rowdiness. I shall have another post up in a weeks time.
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Two lovely people told me they were getting hitched. I wasn’t totally surprised, because I saw it coming. What I didn’t see coming, was how happy I was for them. They’re both incredibly sensitive and passionate people- individually and together, and I’m glad to be a part of their world.

They’re both UI designers (workaholics) and (keeping that bit in mind) this is a little card I made for them. I love them dearly and wish them more happiness, love, puppies and kittens.

A few close friends are tying the knot so, I’m off for a bit, to join in the revelry and the resultant rowdiness. I shall have another post up in a weeks time.

Winter Sun

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Winter mornings are witness to my dog and four cats finding patches of sun in and around the house. The large canopies divide the yellow and disperse it all over. Everywhere I look there is a yellow patch exuding warmth and in its midst, a dog or cat soaking it all up. Its almost as if they mock me, for I seem to be soaking in the rays from a screen, with tea and coffee for reinforcements. At least at night we’re all bundled together and act as each other’s reinforcements.

A lot has been happening, there’s a lot of work-in-progress and even though I’m putting more hours in, I can’t find the time to make something for the blog. There’s a lot of ideas piled up and hopefully as soon as I see an opening, I’ll get to it.

In the meantime, as long as I’m making and doing, I can’t complain.  We put in a lot of work into the Perch Project and it felt great when Perch was asked to do a little radio interview and was covered by two newspapers- at least the resource would make its way to someone who’d want to use it. Perch is growing slowly and it has been quite unexpected, but very welcome. It’s much like how I played with my pieces of lego; we’re making it up as we go along and learning- learning a little more about what we stand for and possibly about ourselves. I think the most rewarding bit is when someone writes in and says the project helped them help. 

Two things I seem to keep reverting to- a talk by Neil Gaiman and one by Steve Jobs. At different points I identify with different parts of the speech. Perhaps they remind me in subtle and amusing ways of things I already know, but find myself forgetting. 

A bit from the Jobs speech-

“Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later.

Again, you can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever.”

A bit from Gaiman’s address-
“When you start off, you have to deal with the problems of failure. You need to be thickskinned, to learn that not every project will survive. A freelance life, a life in the arts, is sometimes like putting messages in bottles, on a desert island, and hoping that someone will find one of your bottles and open it and read it, and put something in a bottle that will wash its way back to you: appreciation, or a commission, or money, or love. And you have to accept that you may put out a hundred things for every bottle that winds up coming back.”

Maybe, a few of those bottles are coming back. It’s such a high when that does happen, it makes you want to do it all over again, to endure, just to have a couple more coming back.

Uttarayan Edition, Perch

I love mulling over back-stories, but I guess that’s only once the event has passed. Last week was eventful, to say the least. We went back and forth like little wind-up toys, until we realised it was 4 a.m. Many calls, emails, chat and whatsapp messages later, we shuffled elements on the art-board, only to realise we were far from happy with it.

We were attempting a poster for our Uttarayan Edition on Perch. Uttarayan, is commonly celebrated in Ahmedabad (and I suppose in some other parts of the country), as a kite flying festival. Preparations start months in advance as people customise their manja (kite string) to be able to cut another’s kite. Kites aren’t the only things it cuts unfortunately. Scores of birds get cut, mangled and most of the time, in spite of being treated, they don’t make it. If they do, they are grounded for life. 

After much deliberation over the tone of our message, Somsesh and I decided we didn’t want to tell people what they should and shouldn’t do, but rather make an appeal to be kind, show some love- Dheel de.

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After putting in a lot of hours, putting sleep on hold and dissecting every last detail, we had a poster we were proud to put up. The frustrations that met us along the way, were humbling, but the fact that we pulled through, saw sleepy smiling eyes. 

This tiny journey has been integral to shaping Perch in some ways, for it often made us question who we are and what stance we take. Taking a preachy stance often puts people on the defensive. I know it puts me off majorly. So we choose instead, to believe that there are some awesome people who won’t turn a blind eye. To them, we shall provide aid and well designed material as best we can. If it helps even a small section of urban wildlife, I will be truly grateful.

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And finally to the kind people who’ve been generous with their support. Thank you. It was very unexpected, but very heartening. Big love to everyone who shared and helped us get the word around. We even did a tiny radio interview- the behind-the-scenes kind of people that we are, we passed the buck on to the other, but decided to take it up finally, because we thought it would help.

With all the outrageous things that have been happening in this country, it’s great to see that there are people who give a shit. 

What started out as an idea for a flyer on Uttarayan, has now become a part time job, like Somesh said in his post. I can’t wait to see where it goes.

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