Up-Cycling

Sometime ago, I showed a close friend of our family some pictures of a bicycle I painted for my sister and later that night he sent me this mail...

"please share the photos of your effort-

want to send to ... (his daughters)-

send also the pics of the details of the handle bar etc- if you explain the art it would add more value- like the guide at Belur temple!!"

...which led to a rather detailed email that inspired this post.

Initially, my sister just wanted me to paint the cycle because my father, who passed away 17 yrs ago, had bought it for her. This was her first and only adult sized bike. It is one of the few things she is attached to and took with her after she got married. But due to disuse, the cycle was beginning to rust. In fact, if we want to make the cycle usable now, we will have to change the rims as parts of it has rusted. So she came up with the bright idea to have it repainted so she can keep it as a piece of art, maybe with the plants she has upstairs.

The project started some months ago when I took the cycle to their terrace, got the wheels removed and sanded out most of the rust. But because of bad weather (scorching sun and a little rain) not much work got done there and we put the project on the back burner. Finally, we brought the cycle back to my house, gave it a base coat and kept it in a room in the back yard.

I started off with painting it, but ran out of paints in the middle, misplaced my paint brushes, then mildly injured my hand. The project took a nose dive. There was no hurry to get it done. Suddenly, one day, I was bursting with the mood to paint and in the last few weeks, the momentum just picked up - just in time for my sister's wedding anniversary.

The front mudguard was the first to be done as it was easy to dismantle. I tried removing the back wheel, but realised it needed a lot more re-assembly and decide to leave it assembled while painting. Instead of painting each part separately, I just wrapped some parts in paper while I sprayed the others. The back mudguard was the last part to be done as there were so many things that had to be covered to paint it. 

The designs were chosen to be simple and subtle since the colours contrast quite vividly. Therefore, I used green on green, blue on blue/blue-green and a darker orange that looks subtle under a yellow bulb, but contrasts well in sunlight or tube light/white light.

The seat was made to look completely different, even in terms of the design style, as if the cycle wasn't kitschy enough. 

The handlebar with the bell lent itself well to look like a snail in a garden and the grips already had a skeletal look built into it, so fish bones worked themselves in easily.

I tried to keep as many of the original fittings intact, including all the reflectors. The only new addition was the seat cover, as my sister misplaced the old one (after the project started and it was given into her keeping). She however thinks her husband may be the culprit :-D. I don't think the poor bloke knows he's the fall guy.

There is a whole other story about what happened the night we wanted to surprise them with the gift, but we'll keep that for another day.

It the end, it turned out much better than we imagined and my sister and brother-in-law were thrilled to have it. Yay!

Just smile and wave, boys

There comes a time in your life when you understand and adopt the wisdom of Skipper's (the Penguin from Madagascar) "Just smile and wave, boys".

When you are younger, in college, in your 20s, you fight for your ideals. You argue logically to defend your decisions. You get flustered that no one listens to you. AND NO ONE EVER LISTENS TO YOU. And your arguments get more fervent. Then you go home and vent to you mom, who is the only one, who by this time, has accepted that trying to convince you otherwise is futile. And nobody listens to her either. You are pronounced guilty of being a burden to your parents, whether they worry or not; and they are blamed of not brainwashing you enough.

No matter how logical your arguments may seem or how many facts you use to support it, the same stupid issues of how you choose to live your life will always be brought up by someone. Not just one someone - Everyone who thinks they are looking out for you will bring it up.

Slowly, as you near 30, it will peter out, but there will still be those one or two people who will insist on advising you, though you may have told them in no uncertain terms, that you are not interested in listening to them. That's when you adopt the "Just smile and wave, boys" attitude. You smile and nod and mumble something noncommittal until they think you agree with them and go away.

I recently was told, for the millionth time, by someone I know (who was earnestly being well meaning), that she wanted me "married and with children" soon. Then you hear the stories. "Give up these romantic ideas about marrying for love. I wasn't in love with my husband when we got married. I didn't even particularly like him. Even now I sometimes wish I wasn't married to him. But my sister, who was in love with a boy since she was in 11th std ( 11th grade), said she wouldn't marry unless I did. So I married the first guy that was introduced to me, as both our families didn't have any objections. Can you imagine how much I should have been worried about change and adjustment? I had a PhD and the Govt was willing to fund a documentary based on my research. I left all that, got married and moved to a new country!"

And all I'm thinking is, "So, basically, your sister is a bitch who forced you to spend the rest of your life with some random dude so that she could happily marry the man she loved? And you think she cared for your happiness like you "care" for mine? Seriously?!"

What these people don't realise is that when they were my age they made their own decisions, about their own lives. Sure, they may regret some of it now, but when they made these decisions, they believed they were mature enough to do so. Why do they not believe the same of me? Why should someone else's idea of "settled" bind me? Have I given any reason for anyone to believe that I am immature, don't know what I'm doing or cannot take care of myself?

It is impossible to get this category of people off your back if you try to fight them. They believe they are your well-wishers and will shove their opinions down your throat. Nothing you say will be acceptable to them and given half a chance, they will try to run your life. "I've ordered food for you. Eat!" "Do you really think you want to take that job? I mean, do you think you can do it?" (Why the **** would I apply to that job, in the first place, if thought I couldn't do it)? "I know this boy in London (or Singapore) who you can marry instead of working."

By this point, all you want to do is get away as quickly as you possibly can. Your best escape is to "just smile and wave", while you make your own plans.

"I learnt everything from... cartoons"

I have a night shirt that says this:

(Of course, I wouldn't go back in time). But this is what I perceive is people's perception of me. 

The date a cartoon character part got me thinking - what cartoon character would I date? Kermit? Roger Rabbit? Tintin? (Personally I'd pick Richard Feynman, but he's technically not a cartoon). Maybe Mickey Mouse. I don't know why, but I have always found him fascinating.

I love watching cartoons. I still watch them and contrary to popular belief I don't think watching TV kills your imagination. I mean, without Discovery Channel, how are you going to dream of visiting all those amazing and exotic places you have never seen? And it lets you know that there is so much more than you think and that it's okay to open your mind and go wild.

One of my earliest famous quotes was, "I learnt everything from cartoons". This was when I was about three-and-a-half years old and my sister just came back home on vacation from boarding school. I'm told she was extremely surprised and wondered where I learnt to speak so much English and I apparently said, "I learnt everything from cartoons". This may not be untrue.

I had the advantage of spending my very early years in a foreign country - in Oman, in addition to having "hip" parents. Being in the the "Gulf", in the days when TV programming in general was very limited, gave us huge exposure to a variety of children's shows. We got shows from all over the world - American, British, French cartoons, Arabic children's shows, educational cartoons, war cartoons (lots of American war cartoons from the 40s) - in Arabic (original and dubbed) and in English.

I never learnt any Arabic, but I certainly did learn most of my English from there. These cartoons were our first exposure to "western" culture. And music. I'm not a huge fan of Tom and Jerry, but I must give it credit for not only our early education in Western Classical music but also to exposure to jazz. Tchaikovsky, Chopin, Bizet - all the greats. I learnt every Beatles song I know (well, almost) from The Beatles cartoons. Taught my niece and nephew to rock to Bohemian Rhapsody by The Muppets (watch the video here). Taught them rock (the good music from my days) in general through both The Muppets and Alvin and the Chipmunks and pop through Sesame Street.

The Beatles

We learnt random facts: Apples contain Arsenic (GI Joe) (actually it contains a cyanide compound, but now you know to believe those grandma's tales about apple seeds being poisonous); the scientific name for a platypus used to be ornithorhynchus paradoxus; how a phonograph works; omelette du fromage.

Cartoons are your first exposure to stereotypes, politics, war. We've watched so many American war shorts, learnt those songs, sang along - all without specifically thinking it was propaganda. (Personally, I just thought they were just being patriotic!) And as you grow up, you learn to appreciate social/political satire. Not just language, you learn nuances, word plays. You learn to read between the lines of the caricature.

Oh, Apu!

Everything I know in Spanish, I learnt from Dora. I learnt practical jokes from Woody Woodpecker. I learnt to envy the mind so brilliant, that which came up with Meet The Beat Alls. And I learnt that cats are the coolest (ThunderCats. Swat Kats. Top Cat. KlondaikeKat (he always gets his mouse) ). 

So boys and girls, the next time you see your kids watching cartoons and you want to join them, give in. And always remember Garfield's words, "If it's on television, it must be true".

Coping

Today, I met a mother who came to get an educational assessment for her child, to test for any learning disabilities. The school the child is in recommended it. This child reminded me so much of a younger myself. 

I'm not saying I have a learning disability - I haven't been formally tested and diagnosed. But it is not impossible. My scores were always below expectations. My note books/homework books were mostly empty (you have to see them to believe how little I wrote). I was sooo slow in writing in class. My handwriting sucked in exams (that was a trick I learnt to use). I was and am a slow reader - I skip words, and if they repeat (like names), I just convert them into symbols in my head instead of reading them. I still have trouble spelling - so much that I avoid using big words in any written communication. I'm not competent in any language, (it's embarrassing really); even my English is restricted. 

When I was young (going back about 25 years), learning difficulties, ADHD were not problems schools recognised. If you were a problem child, you were lazy, disobedient, stupid, inattentive, naughty or just a bad person. Teaching then focused on punishing errors - not remediating them. If your notes or homework were incomplete, you missed lessons while you were sent out of class to complete them. If you were unable to read well, you were made to read more in class - that embarrassed you and dented your confidence. If you made spelling errors, you had to write the words thousands of times, effectively learning only how to complete the "imposition" instead of the intended spellings. If your grades were low, you were physically punished until you fell sick - once again leading you to miss class. If you didn't know your tables, you were ostracized. You were prohibited library, music and games periods, essentially depriving you of means of teaching yourself or providing something to look forward to. All-in-all, instead of learning, you ended up with lesser teaching and more hate for words or numbers.

I think I was smart enough, so I learnt to cope. I learnt how to communicate well with a limited vocabulary, tricks to write my exams in such a way that I didn't fail, ways to hide my inability to spell. To count tables on my fingers. To make myself look intelligent. I always feel I've missed out on so many skills just because I didn't have someone to each me how to learn them. I am grateful for spell check and calculators at the touch of a finger. But think of how much more someone like me could have possibly done with a little help.

It is heartening to see that school systems and, more importantly, SOCIAL systems are changing now. The focus is on helping students learn. On taking off pressure when possible. We now try to understand why a child is having difficulty with something and try to find a different way for the child to learn. Sometimes, we try and get them exemptions (I'm not a fan of exemptions. I believe you should work towards giving the child that skill) - from maths, or languages, or whatever is affecting them most - just to make things a little easier. We may not be there yet, but we are getting there.

The key to remediation, however, is early recognition and intervention. I cannot stress how important this is. We need to spread awareness. We need to catch the problem in the child before s/he begins to dislike reading or maths, before their confidence is beaten down, before the child is defeated. All that child needs, is a different style of learning. The earlier a child is taught his/her style, the faster s/he will cope. 

For early intervention to work, we need to equip our teachers to recognize these situations. We need to open the minds of our doctors that a child may not "grow into it". (They may grow into it, but what's the harm in giving a little help early?) And parents! And as a society in general, we need to accept that learning difficulties are real. It doesn't mean your child is stupid - it's more like s/he is a little short and will need that stool to reach the book on the top shelf. Now there is nothing wrong with that, is there?

Recently, I've been in a mood to paint t-shirts. And I've been having sooo much fun with them.

It all started with my niece asking me to paint her and her brother shirts similar to something I picked up in Barcelona - inspired by the mosaic work on the ceiling of Park Güell. It took me about 9 hours a shirt, but they looked sooo awesome in the end! Here they go...

Here are a few more I did.

Here's one of my fav from a long time ago.

Why I sometimes like guided tours

I've travelled a little bit. A good bit according to some, but just not enough if you ask me. I'd like to travel more. Much more. And differently - be less touristy and more like them snooty "travellers". But that's not exactly my style.

I'd love to randomly go some place (various restrictive factors aside), and then what? I'm usually at a loss about what to do, where to start. No matter how much I research - and THAT I do, trust me! - all that goes out of the window and I'm left lost, not knowing what to do next.

I'm a creature that loves the familiar. I'd rather be told how a new software/program works instead of playing and discovering for myself. I preferred being taught the lessons in class instead of reading the books. And I'd rather someone shows me around a new place, tell me what to see. Basically, just get me going. Also, I do tend to get lost a little - but that's a whole different story.

I like taking tours cause I like stories. I like to know what I'm looking at. While I know that I can get this information by reading about it, I really like to leave everything behind when I travel. I like to carry a free mind - have as little to think about as necessary. Art, I can get engrossed in. People, culture - I'd love to be a part of. Shopping - you can't stop me! But with architecture, I can appreciate only so much. I get dreadfully bored when I don't know the whos and whys.

It is true that I have slept on every bus tour I have gone on (yes, I've gone on a few). But I would put that down to having unskilled guides - or in this case, a really boring droneful recorded voice. What I love are small group tours, tours which are personalised and intimate. Tours on which you get to know your guides and become friends with them.

Like Inez in Cairo. She was a young woman. A student of archaeology. She told us her stories and history from her point of view.  Since it was just two of us and her, it was a nice and at our pace. We booked the tour locally, with the hostel we stayed (they had a deal we made use of) and Inez and a car with a driver were ours for the next couple of days. She was also our guide on a day trip to Alexandria we booked with them. This was just perfect since we had already built an amazing rapport with her. 

Tanya and Inez

Another of my favourite tours is Brightside in Barcelona. It was a tour on a bike with a sidecar. The tour was tailored based not just on what we'd already seen, but also on what the guide perceived to be our interests from our interaction. Joao, our guide, was charming and knowledgeable and made you feel thoroughly comfortable. The ride itself was soooo much fun that when we went back to Barcelona, we took another tour with them. I have to thank TripAdvisor for finding these guys.

Joao, Vidya and Me

For someone like me who is so not a social person and has no clue how to make friends or even start conversations, leave alone find fellow travellers to hang out with in a new place, personalized tours totally rock :-)

Larger-than-life Art

I have always loved art that is loud, bold, big and bursting. Everyone knows that. I'm all about loud colours, kitsch, quirky. That is so me.

Recently, I realised that I was also fascinated by artists took things/stories that are larger than life and made them human. Stories, fables and legends we grew up with, Gods and demons, villains and heroes - and made them relatable. Made the stories believable. Like they really could have happened.

I have always had a fascination for renaissance artists, but this time, when I visited the Louvre, these particular works caught my attention. They got me thinking, turned the light bulb in my head that did not question the stories on and made me smile.

My favorite was Bartolomeo Vivarini's The Virgin nursing the Child. I was very excited about this.

La Vierge allaitant l'Enfant
Bartolomeo VIVARINI

It made me think of my mother (a pediatrician) and breast feeding awareness and how powerful this image would be in such a campaign. What was particularly striking was that both Mother Mary and the Infant Christ have halos, indicating their divinity. Jesus may be God, but this portrayal reminds us He was human. And if despite being God, if He needed mother's milk, you can imagine how important it is for mortal children.

Then there was Daniele Ricciarelli's Battle of David and Goliath.

Le Combat de David et Goliath
Daniele RICCIARELLI, dit Daniele da VOLTERRA

For the very first time, it occurred to me that Golaith is not this inhuman or mythical giant. Just a large man. Maybe like my baby brother - 6', broad shouldered... Very human.

Another painting that made me stop was Luis de Morales' La Pieta.

La Pietà
Luis de MORALES

It was the eyes. The circles under the eyes. The dark circles under His eyes, the gaunt face - all natural for a man with His injuries (from the crucifixion). And Mother Mary's - the face of a mother filled with pain. This stood out, in my mind, more than Michelangelo (one of my all-time favourite artist AND ninja turtle)'s Pieta at St. Peter's, for it's humanity.

In complete contrast, I found the Christ in Paolo Caliari's The Marriage at Cana completely unrelatable.

Les Noces de Cana
Paolo CALIARI, dit VÉRONÈSE

The painting itself is festive and full of life, with the characters interacting with each other, like guests at any feast, interested in the wedded couple, the musicians, the food and drink. All except Christ.

Les Noces de Cana - detail

Christ in this, to me, looks stoned (with no disrespect) distant, not part of the scene - almost as if He were painted in by a different artist. His face reveals no expression and stands out from the rest of the celebration.  And it's not just the expression, even the colours seem to stand out. It's not as if He is looking at you - He looks through, without touching you. Despite the rest of the painting, this one detail puts a sea of distance between you and the work.