Artist Note – Is Beauty A Bad Word
manisha gera baswani
A lone feather sits softly on the parched pavement waiting for the destined gust that would make it fly again.
A serpentine twig twists itself in many embraces yearning to become an object of desire.
Ochre coloured seeds, like little moons lie strewn on the dew soaked grass. Broken branches of a rain fed tree fall in a careless dance as they kiss the earth.
Hungry for beauty in the mundane ,I bring home this bounty of Gods, this overlooked gift and house them in the four walled garden I call ‘ Home’.
I transport these objects around the house so they may own their niche or alcove. And sometimes, they find their own home within my home – and in doing so, transport me.