Deepti Saxena

For my consciousness of time and space, or time and circumstances, I derive the sense of movement from the forming map of our age. Each time period makes for fresh profiles of humanity so that my organs of sight and touch respond to the Kalayug-the period profuse with not nature’s contours but mankind’s own inventions. This way the faces in my art form novel expressions.

The information reaching the artist’s eyes depends on her touch-memory. Added to this, the principle of memory gives me a
sense of balance and cohesion and I quickly recognize anything that is top-heavy, lop-sided or in any way unbalanced.

And that is how come my finely molded head studies even though they are only made up of the jumble of townscapes, traffic lights,
autos, lorries, cell phones and all such non-emotive stuff of everyday life. Non-descript as my raw material is, I turn it to account
by animating each object in company with other such object to form wholes of minds concentratedly pondering over life experience.

This is difficult. But so art is. Art tries to digest hardware into pliable, emotive experience. And so here what we have are reflective
miens. Heads that attempt to become minds. The eyes of these clearly etched profiles is concentrated. Each sketched persona as if looking into the future. The air is one of expectancy or introspection, as if to know how to cope with
whatever fate has been ordained for it.

Certainly, we need pioneers or those who make meaning and value out of even poor material and I can be one of those. I am no romantic but a realist bent upon extracting feelings or felt thought, out of the debris of the age to turn dry stoics and stones into a semblance of honey.

A difficult job. But miracles do happen, that is if an artist so wills them with his or her full being.