Blog
YELLOW BELLY
27 Nov 2011
LET THE ROMANCE START -
When i kiss the lips of immortality, remember me! come see me atleast once in your life time, get me yellow flowers, bright like the sun! SEE, how bright my grave looks, surrounded by grey, O, how envious will all be... make me beautiful
But then He said, ' what was missing was felt irretrievable. The extreme uncertainties of subsisting without working made excesses necessary and breaks definative. Though suicide has taken many, drink and the devil takes care of the rest. If you take this on face value then you are very NAIVE...'
You see, how beautiful death is for me... it makes itself so accomodating with arms wide open to embrace me, to understand my sorrow and comfort my being... while it will make love to me and take my soul away... I shall be HIS forever... how honest and truthful HE is!
HE will free me from mortal gestures and teach me how to be HIS. How can I refuse his call when he promises me all this with such conviction. I shall respond with utter submision to HIS touch...
'HOME-PAGE'
03 Jan 2011
Home,
Your place or mine?
Like other love affairs, home shapes us as we shape it. We lavish our time and creativity, hoping that in return it gives us affection, security and means of self reflection. Nurturing every personal file it contains, we hope that it gives us pleasure, comfort and sanctuary.
when we wrote about home, as artists, we wrote a borderless home. We found home to be a multi-level structure that may contain several homes on different and identical levels, a condition that allowed personal fulfillment.
We found home in stories, in conversation, in songs and through our art which has transcended beyond the conceptual field of boundary identification. On the seven hundred and sixtieth day of being away, memories had marked a period of fading time. Time that had faded for one stood still for another as dreams were woven for another home, the realities of which only remained in memoirs of the artists.
Yet, when addressing the politics and surrealism of everyday life, the art making went on to eliminate race, political affiliations and wrote to alert the public about abuses occurring beyond the headlines of the artist’s mundane life. It told the story of a journey, of neighbours, of time and tales of the untold.
The borderless home became a process of mapping the route between the arrival and departure. Where the heart is and where the terminal was. It became a place where memories were made and stored, refuge was found, and where we became. It was and is life’s undress rehearsal, its backroom. Home, is where one will do the most important work, where subjects will be explored to make the world and its people alike.
Homepage tells such a tale…
‘We continue to see what we will rather than what there is’
Wright Morris
-Marium Agha
21 Dec 2009
The bashfulness of the line that initiates the form of a drawing on paper is imperfect until compared to the drawings made in its surrounding. Whether they are silent in nature, or strong in approach, the drawing made by the shadow is the most plausible out of all the form experienced. It is alive and always active and it starts from the point where the opaqueness of the subject ends.
It says, such is I, strong and independent and indispose able, I will mark and layer and float.
The Artist applauds and says, ‘it is because of me you exist