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27 Jun

25 x 25 cm, Ink, Watercolour, Acrylic, Collage

Version 2 of a painting I had made last year (which you will find on the blog here). The painting was recycled for Appa’s birthday last September: I think I painted a few touches on the original, and otherwise cut and pasted bits of it here and there. Immensely enjoyable … I love the little subtle things you can do and end up creating ‘is-that-painted-or-pasted?’ riddles at various spots in the composition! I think this piece looks nicer in its physical form, though, than in the scan — it all seems to blend better there!


Butterfly in Collage – for Revati

9 Feb

A birthday card for my sister, Revati. Using a photograph for reference, I hunted through magazine pages to find the right bits of printed paper from advertisements and other photos. Finally touched it up a little bit with pen, colour-pencil and pastel marks.

Card - for Revati

Collage, Pastel; 19×14 cm approx.


by Aileen Fisher

What do caterpillars do?

Nothing much but chew and chew.

What do caterpillars know?

Nothing much but how to grow.

They just eat what by and by

Will make them be a butterfly

But that is more than I can do,

However much I chew and chew.

Puppies! – for Shalini

19 Dec

Two of the darlings at the school Shibumi – I did these as part of a birthday gift for my friend Shalini.


Pastel, 20 x 29 cm approx


Mixed Media, 20 x 26 cm approx

Poems Illustrated – for Shalini

1 Dec

Last year I illustrated a few of Sarah Teasdale’s poems for Shalini on her birthday, and put them together into a little book to give her. I used acrylic paints (some of my first acrylic paintings, these were) with a palette knife. The approach to making the pictures was really quite experimental, and so, also fun.


I went out on an April morning
All alone, for my heart was high,
I was a child of the shining meadow,
I was a sister of the sky.

There in the windy flood of morning
Longing lifted its weight from me,
Lost as a sob in the midst of cheering,
Swept as a sea-bird out to sea.


In the silver light after a storm,
Under dripping boughs of bright new green,
I take the low path to hear the meadowlarks
Alone and high-hearted as if I were a queen.
What have I to fear in life or death
Who have known three things: the kiss in the night,
The white flying joy when a song is born,
And meadowlarks whistling in silver light.