Light signifies the beginning, the fantasy wave that teleports you into a realm where space, time, gender, identity, caste, creed et al becomes irrelevant because the artist’s soul is boundless and cannot be defined. Light strikes the moment you embrace all of you - your sexuality, your virtue, your sin, your lust and your conformities. This show is an allegory of my soul denouncing hibernation and evolving, embracing the dark, the outcast, the bright, the good and ugly. The only thing that matters is you and your creation.

We live in a world wherein out roles and lives are defined and judgement engulfs us but an artist lives different lives, in and out of different realms and parallel universes, constantly seeking inspiration and living in transience. I am Akshita Gandhi and this is all of me, an artist whose soul has come undone. 

“Half a pound of tuppenny rice, 

Half a pound of treacle, 

That’s the way the money goes, 

Pop! goes the weasel.

 

I am sans virtue and vice

No bound, no form, no label 

Into the quantum realm I go

To make love to my easel 

 

Conform or sin? I rolled a dice

I was tried for treason 

My soul embraced the artist’s prose

My brush became my beacon. 

 

Ascending I said, “Let there be light!”

Embracing all my demons 

Sigmund Freud and Aphrodite 

Shaman in hand with evil

 

No caste no creed no gender no time

An artist of rebellion 

My wings and lust both epitomised 

Pop! Goes the weasel.”

Mixed Media on Canvas

“Mixed Media on Canvas”

Lightbox

“Lightbox”

 Mixed Media on Canvas

“ Mixed Media on Canvas”

Lightbox

“Lightbox”

Mixed Media on Canvas

“Mixed Media on Canvas”

Lightbox

“Lightbox”

Lightbox

“Lightbox”

Mixed Media on Canvas

“Mixed Media on Canvas”

Lightbox

“Lightbox”

Mixed Media on Canvas

“Mixed Media on Canvas”

Mixed Media on Canvas

“Mixed Media on Canvas”

Lightbox

“Lightbox”

Photograph

“Photograph”

photograph

“photograph”

“Half a pound of tuppenny rice, 

Half a pound of treacle, 

That’s the way the money goes, 

Pop! goes the weasel.

 

I am sans virtue and vice

No bound, no form, no label 

Into the quantum realm I go

To make love to my easel 

 

Conform or sin? I rolled a dice

I was tried for treason 

My soul embraced the artist’s prose

My brush became my beacon. 

 

Ascending I said, “Let there be light!”

Embracing all my demons 

Sigmund Freud and Aphrodite 

Shaman in hand with evil

 

No caste no creed no gender no time

An artist of rebellion 

My wings and lust both epitomised 

Pop! Goes the weasel.”