I am fire – firelight,

I am light – firelight

You can’t hold me tight, try as you might.

Am I jesting with you?

Am I joyful and true?

Or am I seeking, seeking truth?

Only love can hold me still –

Because love eternal has her own will!

I am a speck of love and firelight.

The above is my response to Narayan Sinha’s show. Firelight was a huge delight. I spent about three hours meandering through the garden and the house at 12 Queen’s Park navigating the empathetic wooden staircase adorned with insulators turned into florets, a cluster of white roses clumped at the foot of the stairs.

The attempts at foliage and blooms were a great success. Metal or plastic, rubber or wire or gauze or fiberglass, all transformed by Narayan’s wand into denizens of Narayan’s world. This artist has a capacity to think like Antonio Gaudi and whisper sweet nothings into the ears of Monet. Surely he has a magic wand, he can crash, clash and reverberate as though he were a pair of giant cymbals. He can also caress and embrace a gentle petal. He can break into a pirouette as though he were Nureyev. This twist and turn and control of performance, is it pretentious? It is surrealistic or is it un-tempered Narayan?



Firstly, let’s see the documentary and decide. Knowing full well art can manifest even as a whisper, or it can manifest as a cloudburst. Both can coexist. This coexistence is what Narayan handles in almost every exhibit. He wants to introduce the organic part of you to the metaphysical you.

‘The Clutter’ not of words but of typewriter parts vying with one another to talk of pain. Talking typewriters scare me as do ‘The Rebellion’ and ‘Lifeforce’. A menacing Medusa spills out of a wall, it intimidates one and yet it is not negative energy. It may ‘Engulf’ but it does not win the battle. You alone do!

The resonance of some of the installations and works of sculpture accompany you home. The fixation Narayan has about visually recording smells makes him plant the sculpture in a bathroom which does not have the odour of disgust, only harbours an aroma of unanswered questions. Whys and hows, the background effects are the running water and the defunct commode.



Narayan can stage a setting, and disappear into the wings only to breathe life into iron, steel, aluminium or brass. He is the oxygen in the room.

Metal turned chaotic, exotic or simply left to trickle out as if he had cut a vein and the blood tributary was fascinating. Does he enjoy being suicidal? The entire show was a tangled ball of wool that was aesthetic and meaningful. But we are the kittens that want to explore life so we paw at the ball and chase shadows and jump to reach out and catch. The ball never reacts. ‘Let’s play’ is my motto. Somehow I feel Narayan the conjurer has many creative balls of wool in his pockets. He may entertain for many years to come. The exhibition at 12 Queen’s Park is the prescription to cure you of boredom and mediocrity provided you can accept the quinine mixture. Yes, a highly recommended show but be careful of prowling mechanical beasts, discarded horns whether of fibreglass or plastic, antlers and adventitious roots of Banyan trees interspersed with sandstone tires. Tread with awareness; you are stepping on the fabric of Narayan’s dreams.

I am fire – firelight,

I am light – firelight

You can’t hold me tight, try as you might.

Am I jesting with you?

Am I joyful and true?

Or am I seeking, seeking truth?

Only love can hold me still –

Because love eternal has her own will!