Amonoprint is a one-of-a-kind-print. I work with Chine colle paper and use a technique which is essentially a collage," says Suzanne Benton, the American artist whose art was recently on display at the American Center in New Delhi. "The printing plate is inked and the colle papers are placed one on top of the other and glued; along with the image, the whole is then run through a press and when it comes out, the result is a monoprint." As we walk through her exhibits, I notice that many of the prints are circular and they depict Krishna. "They are in a circle because it is so cosmic; it's the cosmic egg," says Benton.
"And the Krishnas?" Benton explains: "When I came to India, the stories people told me were of Krishna. In America, the Krishna story is a myth, but in India, the Krishna story has layers and layers. This is where it can be told and understood."
In the moonlight
We stood in front of a particularly colourful monoprint called 'In the moonlight'. It is a miniature painting of Krishna and Radha in a garden. Krishna is sitting and looking into Radha's eyes and she is looking lovingly into Krishna's eyes.
"He's a god but she has the power," says Benton. "What do you mean - to us, Krishna is always the god with supreme power," I exclaim. "Yes, but in this, Krishna is the god with the manly properties - I wanted to work with your gods and images and present them to you in fresh light - I wanted to show Krishna as a man." As we speak, I notice more and more detail in the monoprint. The lovers are in a corner. It is night and the sky is the colour of denim. The garden is dense with trees - dark in the background and slightly brighter in the foreground. Small colourful flowers like strings of fairy lights are blossoming on the branches. Above the trees hangs a bright moon flooding the garden with its light, but in no way, detracting from the secrecy that pervades the print.
"You know the magic of an evening? Can you sense the air?" asks Suzanne. I can, but can't put it into words. Everything here is blossoming - we have to allow love to happen - it's mysterious. In the same print, Radha is dancing behind a bunch of trees. She is dancing ecstatically by herself, with her hands posed as though she were holding a musical instrument. Why is she doing this I wonder, but before I ask the question, Benton has the answer. "We have all had those times in our privacy and solitude when we have wanted to sing to ourselves - have you ever heard music and wanted to dance by yourself?" asks Benton, her eyes lighting up.
I now shift my focus to the significance of colour, all in neat geometric designs around the central image. "Colour means a lot to me," says Benton. "It informs me of the work - look at the monoprints here," she says pointing to monoprints showing Krishna and Radha. "You see that Krishna is dark blue and Radha is also blue - but she is a shade lighter than him because she is reflecting his colour."
Using vivid colours
"Are the colours so vivid because of India?" I ask. She repliles: "Yes, the colours are more dynamic because of India."
We walk around the show with Benton showing me her other works: portrait boxes, metal masks and fixed pastels. The first of these - portrait boxes - is very interesting. Benton uses a special paper called 'Fabriani' to make these boxes (yes, regular boxes) and paint two faces - (the public and the private/everyday face) of the same person. So we see the image of a man called Pankaj as he is at work; intense, focused, brows almost knitted, on one side of the box; but look on the other side and the same man is a completely relaxed person at peace with himself.
"If I did the face in a traditional way, it would be glossed over," says Benton, so I thought "what else can I do with the face? I can put it in a box."
And it's the same who-you-really-are face that Benton brings to life in her metal mask stories. As she went round the world she realised how the ancient form of mask making "helped people share the stories of their lives. The mask is a window to the soul - the stories people told me were real stories - these people became honest the moment they put on a mask," she says.
"What is the philosophy behind all your art?" I ask as a final question. "Making a work of art is meditation," says Benton. "Work is meditation."
"And the Krishnas?" Benton explains: "When I came to India, the stories people told me were of Krishna. In America, the Krishna story is a myth, but in India, the Krishna story has layers and layers. This is where it can be told and understood."
In the moonlight
We stood in front of a particularly colourful monoprint called 'In the moonlight'. It is a miniature painting of Krishna and Radha in a garden. Krishna is sitting and looking into Radha's eyes and she is looking lovingly into Krishna's eyes.
"He's a god but she has the power," says Benton. "What do you mean - to us, Krishna is always the god with supreme power," I exclaim. "Yes, but in this, Krishna is the god with the manly properties - I wanted to work with your gods and images and present them to you in fresh light - I wanted to show Krishna as a man." As we speak, I notice more and more detail in the monoprint. The lovers are in a corner. It is night and the sky is the colour of denim. The garden is dense with trees - dark in the background and slightly brighter in the foreground. Small colourful flowers like strings of fairy lights are blossoming on the branches. Above the trees hangs a bright moon flooding the garden with its light, but in no way, detracting from the secrecy that pervades the print.
"You know the magic of an evening? Can you sense the air?" asks Suzanne. I can, but can't put it into words. Everything here is blossoming - we have to allow love to happen - it's mysterious. In the same print, Radha is dancing behind a bunch of trees. She is dancing ecstatically by herself, with her hands posed as though she were holding a musical instrument. Why is she doing this I wonder, but before I ask the question, Benton has the answer. "We have all had those times in our privacy and solitude when we have wanted to sing to ourselves - have you ever heard music and wanted to dance by yourself?" asks Benton, her eyes lighting up.
I now shift my focus to the significance of colour, all in neat geometric designs around the central image. "Colour means a lot to me," says Benton. "It informs me of the work - look at the monoprints here," she says pointing to monoprints showing Krishna and Radha. "You see that Krishna is dark blue and Radha is also blue - but she is a shade lighter than him because she is reflecting his colour."
Using vivid colours
"Are the colours so vivid because of India?" I ask. She repliles: "Yes, the colours are more dynamic because of India."
We walk around the show with Benton showing me her other works: portrait boxes, metal masks and fixed pastels. The first of these - portrait boxes - is very interesting. Benton uses a special paper called 'Fabriani' to make these boxes (yes, regular boxes) and paint two faces - (the public and the private/everyday face) of the same person. So we see the image of a man called Pankaj as he is at work; intense, focused, brows almost knitted, on one side of the box; but look on the other side and the same man is a completely relaxed person at peace with himself.
"If I did the face in a traditional way, it would be glossed over," says Benton, so I thought "what else can I do with the face? I can put it in a box."
And it's the same who-you-really-are face that Benton brings to life in her metal mask stories. As she went round the world she realised how the ancient form of mask making "helped people share the stories of their lives. The mask is a window to the soul - the stories people told me were real stories - these people became honest the moment they put on a mask," she says.
"What is the philosophy behind all your art?" I ask as a final question. "Making a work of art is meditation," says Benton. "Work is meditation."
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