Persis Chhapkhanawalla
Recluse, quiet, poet, a lover of music, I first picked up my paintbrushes when just a child. Later I picked up diplomas, jobs, responsibilities and the humdrum of a busy existence in India’s largest metropolis. But something kept drawing me to the warmth of those brushes against my fingers.
When I returned to colours, I found that they had never left but, were infact quietly waiting for me. Mumbai’s seashores and green pockets remained alive and waiting on my empty canvases.
Over the years, nature has become my muse, and colours, my closest friends. These are finicky things, I’ve learnt. My muse is moody and my friends demand all I have got. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
My art is not my profession or my hobby. It is my compulsion. Like somebody who periodically gets possessed by a compelling inner force. The subject of all my paintings might be seen as the sea, or the mountains but in reality the subject is – me. I feel a deep unity with vast expanses of air, water and sky. My colours are my language.
