arts and masks
It was strange to find Shomiron landing up at my doorstep. He’s an artist who has pride and a lot in his strokes to take pride in. Shomiron’s paintings sell at almost 80k in the local market. I presume 50% is taken by the galleries which do him the favor of providing the walls to hang his absolute beauties. Long ago, I had promised him a photograph of my best friend which he was supposed to translate into charcoal or color. That never happened. So, I assumed that he had come to me just to remind me of my broken promise. But I was wrong. Shomiron had come for a different purpose altogether. He was here to share a grief and perhaps, a mass of regret.
He had come to ask me if I would like to take a look at a few abstracts that he had in his studio which were created by a Norwegian artist he had met in
Norway, during one of his exhibitions. I was surprised. But why would he carry paintings from the West for sale in Dhaka? So, I probed. He gave in finally with tears welling up in his eyes. Those art were all his. He had simply chosen a Norwegian name to put his mark on the canvas. I couldn’t have been sadder. He explained. Apparently the art critics were addicted to European names or desi high selling masters. Names like his which only painted women artists were not of interest to the art circle. So he had reverted back to his old habits of painting abstracts. And they were beautiful. Those pieces were rare and rewarding for any audience that sought beauty and meaning in art. I was told that the circle in the gallery was divided about his creations. Some said they made sense. Some said they were brilliant strokes of a Norwegian master. Some said they would be able to sell them at nothing less than half a million.
I heard Shomiron out and convinced him to go back home, change the signatures, re sign and claim his beauties back from masked walls. He deserved to be real.
On board Z5 001, September 21, 2008
