Kenistudio

Listen to your Canvas (Part 2) Rough initial sketch of Yagyaseni Draupadi There is more life to an unfinished painting than one with finesse. There is no pressure to get the form, structure or details right during these stages and the hands move before the brain judges. These moments are meditative and peaceful for an artist. Colors merge on the canvas and make their own symphony. The brush strokes may be loose, forms may not have formed yet and the structure may be uncertain. Yet there is an undeniable presence of Draupadi emerging, rising slowly from the divine fire.  Why does an unfinished face sometimes feel more alive than a finished one? That question alone is strong. Perhaps because, at this stage, the painting suggests more than it explains. The viewer searches for meaning inside ambiguity. Imagination begins participating in the image, filling gaps that the brush has intentionally or unintentionally left behind. A partially formed face can sometimes carry archetype more po...

Listen to the Canvas Sometimes, there is a strange moment in painting that feels almost supernatural. You begin by doing something completely practical covering the intimidating white canvas with leftover paint from the palette, that people call the “dirt pile”. I never mix my dirt pile paint into a dull, midtone grey. It loses character. I like to loosen up my shoulder with sweeps of these muddy greens and warm browns, bright magentas and pale blues. Whatever remains in the “dirt pile.” Nothing intentional. Nothing sacred. Just an attempt to kill the glare of white, and hence begins the story of a painting. Toning a canvas Recently, while blocking in a painting of Draupadi, I noticed that the warm flesh tones emerging on the face were not planned at all. They were simply stains from the background layer, accidental mixtures of leftover paint rubbed thinly across the surface. These appeared before I consciously designed them. I did not invent the form. I merely recognized and reinforce...

Painting Light – Bringing Matsya to Life Matsya - Manu One of the greatest joys of oil painting is watching light emerge layer by layer. This painting was never intended to rely on dramatic contrasts alone. I wanted the light to feel as though it originated from Matsya Himself, gently illuminating King Manu's face and hands. The warm glow across Manu's chest, neck, and chin was built using transparent glazes of  Quinacridone Sienna  (with  PO48 ), one of my favourite pigments. Its rich golden warmth has a depth that I have always found difficult to replace. Since this pigment is no longer manufactured, every painting that contains it feels a little more special to me. I'm glad that it became part of this one. The fish is the only true source of light in the painting. I wanted its glow to gently illuminate Manu's face and hands, hinting that this is no ordinary creature. The Divine often reveals itself softly before it reveals itself gloriously. Stages of painting Workin...

Matsya Avatara - When the Divine Arrived as a Tiny Fish Among the ten principal incarnations of Lord Vishnu, Matsya Avatara is the very first. It begins not with a mighty battle or a grand miracle, but with an act of compassion. One morning, King Manu was offering water, arghya, as part of his daily prayers when he noticed a tiny fish struggling in his cupped hands. The little fish pleaded for protection, explaining that larger fish would soon devour it if left in the river. Manu looked at the fish affectionately and was overcome by protective spirit for the little fish that came to him for refuge. He then placed the fish in his kamandalu, a small pot. But by the very next day, the fish had outgrown it. So Manu moved it to a larger vessel. Soon that too became too small. He carried the fish to a pond, then to a lake, and eventually to the mighty ocean. Yet wherever it was placed, the fish continued to grow until it became vast beyond imagination. It was then that Manu realised this was...

Ramayana has moments that are grand and unforgettable. Like the breaking of Shiva's bow, the building of the bridge to Lanka, the great battles, and then there are quieter moments that speak just as deeply to the heart. Shabari's Patience Shabari's story is one of those moments. She spent years waiting for Rama. Everyday she prepared herself with the same faith, never knowing whether that would be the day He would arrive. She simply continued to wait with unwavering devotion, never allowing hope to fade into doubt. That quiet patience has always moved me. Every morning, I imagine Shabari waking before sunrise. She cleans her little hut, finishes her daily chores, walks into the forest to gather berries, and returns home to place them carefully in a basket. Then, almost without thinking, she steps behind the familiar tree and looks down the forest path. Not because she knows Rama will come that day, but because love keeps hoping. After years of waiting, perhaps... today. In ...

 Shabari – A Work in Progress There is a quiet joy in watching a painting slowly become itself. This is my current work in progress: Shabari, one of the most touching devotees in the Ramayana. Her unwavering patience, humility, and unconditional love for Rama have always moved me deeply. These photographs span several stages of the painting over many weeks. At first, I focus only on establishing the large shapes, colours, and relationships. The painting often looks awkward, unfinished, and even a little strange. That's completely normal and honestly, one of my favourite parts of oil painting. Every layer teaches me something about the next. Gradually, the forms begin to find their structure. The expression becomes clearer. The tree, the hut, the light, and finally the little details all begin to support the story rather than compete with it. I still have quite a bit of work left before I can call this painting finished, so I'll save the final reveal for another post.  I hope y...

 Before and After Glazing – An Old Master's Secret One of the most fascinating stages of an oil painting is glazing. These two images show the painting before and after several transparent glaze layers. At first glance, the difference may seem subtle, but glazing transforms a painting in ways that are difficult to achieve by simply mixing colours opaquely. The technique has a long and distinguished history. During the Renaissance, many of the great masters built their paintings in stages, allowing each layer to dry before applying thin, transparent films of colour over the surface. Artists such as Jan van Eyck, Titian, and later Rembrandt used glazing to create extraordinary depth, luminosity, and richness that became hallmarks of classical oil painting. The science behind it is just as fascinating as the history. Opaque paint reflects most of the light directly from its surface. Transparent pigments behave differently. Light passes through the transparent glaze, reflects from the ...