Telegraphe on 18th and 6th, NYC

The crawling king snake slayer

Iphone Panorama glitch 

Escheresque

Steps, Somewhere, 2014

Iphone Instagram Format

Little Zelda on Franklin Av., Brooklyn

jazz in the back, 2014 

Iphone Format

Jazz in the background, looking out the window - A man and a woman playing the crossword, another man writing, another working on his half eaten apple, and a woman reading Stephen King. Its 5pm on a Friday

Ai Wei Wei | The Blog as a 'Social Sculpture' (as seen by Hans Ulrich Obrist)

Paper Trai(n), 2014

Classon Av., Brooklyn 

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I first setup a blogger account in 2010 and 4 years later, my first post. What pushed me over and into the untamed garden was this book - 'Ai Wei Wei Speaks'. In it, through conversations with Hans Ulrich Obrist, you get a glimpse into the artist's thought process, and his fascination with the internet, and blogging in particular. Given his country's dark history, and whose present condition is perhaps still grey, the mere act of arraigning words and images and sounds is an expression of freedom- an act against the state- let alone one that is curated by arguably one of the biggest artist alive today.

The medium is the message. 

What then is our message, for those of us who do not come from such a society? Why do we blog? Born and brought up in the costal city of Madras in Southern India, and then studying abroad in England for 4 years, and now living in New York, I have been fortunate to bounce through the liberal side of the wall. This blog is then perhaps an attempt to confront a medium that has come to define the world we live in - The internet; a city to end all cities, whose center, as described by the French cultural theorist Paul Virilio,  will be nowhere and circumference everywhere.

The rest, the real,
pushed away into the 
periphery; blurry. 

I wonder if Marcel Duchamp would have minded if viewers took photographs of his works or not

The fresh widow, the bicycle wheel 

and the guard who screamed "no photographs!", 2014
 Gagosian Gallery, New York City
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The garden | a reflection of things to follow

Who are you?

Who am  I?

Why are you here?

Why am I already here?

Where are we?

In the belly of an untamed beast

besides the apple-blue-tree;a mouse by (y)our side 

we dive in, within, without a doubt,

peeling our skin

layer by

by layer

like an onion; weeping,

"I got some friends inside the garden!"

"What garden?", she replied

waiting for me 

beside the log

outside.

Before I step back,

back from the undying eye,

I want to see

I want to see!

me in the mirror, 

the unlying mirror,

lying in front of me

reflecting the conspiracy
                                                                                                   that I fail to see

"Who am I?  Where are we?"
 screamed the unknown reader; finally

the lizard wakes from his slumber,

tip-toes out from the tripped-out garden under;

The garden, a magical world within the

world, a desert with no oasis.

We are trapped here forever