MY BRUSH WITH ART

So when I was asked to assist an artist, I thought it was an impossible idea. No artist will let me work on his creation—after all, a stroke could decide whether the work goes under the hammer at Christie’s or is left to rot in the artist’s dump. I would probably be allowed to pass on the palette or wipe out colours from the canvas.

So when I dialed artist G.R. Iranna’s number, I was surprised when he said I could work on his canvas. “But I know nothing about art…you’ll have to teach me,” I said. He was being incredibly nice about letting me work with him. Did he know what he was getting into? Should I reveal how I cheated in arts class—my mother did all my homework. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure that out and I will let you help me. Artists need assistants,” he said. Now this man must have a halo for sure.

On the appointed day, as I entered Iranna’s spacious studio in South Delhi’s Saket, I said a silent prayer—for myself and for Iranna. We spent some time looking at Iranna’s creations that would be part of his forthcoming exhibition in London. And then, he led me to my workplace—an incomplete canvas suspended on the wall. “You’ll work on this,” he said. The canvas had 12 figures in uniforms. Only the one in the centre had facial features; the others would have masks. Iranna had already painted some masks. “The painting depicts blind following, where the youth are misled in the name of religion.” I nodded in agreement and muttered a borrowed remark, “It’s thinking art.”