Aparupa: Story

While an artist paints her composition of a brewing relationship, the same blossoms in a couple, forming a parallel reality.

Free writing

She is an eccentric artist who lives in her own world. Painting is her life and that’s all she loves doing. She has few friends rather acquaintances. She works in her small studio with the smell of greasy paint, scattered and strewn all over the room. The sides of the walls are lined with her half done canvases. A big window on one side where the sunlight comes streaming in. She finds inspiration from the people and places around her; the winding streets, the by lanes, the quaint little shops dotting the pavement and the colourful people and their relationships. She often wakes up in the middle of her sleep and paints till the weee hours of the morning. She uses her bare hands to paint, mixing colours on the canvas itself. Hands move like they are being driven by an external imaginary source. And finally what turns out is a magnificent painting rich in colours and moving strokes. One night after a rather tiring day at work she was fast asleep on her single bed, dreaming her beautiful dreams. She woke up suddenly with an urge to paint. But she didn’t know quite what. Her hands wanted to feel the wetness of paint on the canvas. She took a fistful of vermillion paint and started smearing it on the canvas. Her hands and fingers moved rapidly across it confidently in smooth violent strokes. But she still didn’t know what she was making. Her both hands were moving fiercely across the blank canvas filling up empty spaces. She stopped finally. And she went back to see what it was that she’d painted. And after observing it for a while she felt that the painting represented a storm, a brewing storm of flaming red. It looked destructive and menacing and it seemed to be coming closer and closer. She moved onto the next canvas. Her both hands got to work. It was like a strange energy had taken over her. She just couldn’t stop her hands from spiralling through the canvas. She churned out image after image without even thinking what the picture might entail. She wasssssssssssssssssssssss. She wanted to let it all out. It was like she had a story to tell but wasn’t quite sure how to express it till it all came together in the end. It was like a jigsaw puzzle she was working on. Meanwhile in the same by lanes of her apartment was a couple who met quite by chance and went through the same emotional turmoil expressed in the artist’s compositions.

There life stories get entangled and manipulated in the artists minds composition which she expresses on her canvas with a milieu of colours.

Thoughts and ideas for the plot

• Metaphorical way of portraying the paintings(relationship of couple)- nature- mood and colour of landscape or cityscape, abstract strokes, lines and patches of colour, suggestive of a form, depicting the mood, emotion and stage in relationship,
• Peaks in a relationship- when a person proclaims his or her love to the other, whether the other person reciprocates or rejects the feeling, external forces that hinder love from blossoming
• Quick fast paced story which happens in a span of a day. Passionate, poetic and lyrical imagery and writing.

• The story emphasizes on the relationship they share, their thoughts and feelings without much dialogue. It also describes the emotional and physical tension that builds between the two (but which fails to get materialised?). These get communicated through body gestures and facial expressions.

Body- Eye contact, Proximity, Touch, Lips, Smile, Feet/legs/toes, Hands/fingers

Response/ reaction- Wait, hesitate, motion, think, embarrass, wonder, confident, long, dramatic, calm, silent, observe, hurt (through gestures)

Setting- open space,two people- the man and woman

DRAFT 1

Blank canvas. Movement of hands across the canvas. Pale blue with small, abrupt streaks of orange and chrome. Two of them sitting in an open space, away from each other. They only communicate through eye contact initially. Every time he turns around, he’s looking up; she’s looking down, catching each other’s eye occasionally.

The streaks get denser as her fingers dipped in saffron contract and expand in crisp movements. The woman’s chin rest on her hands as she observes the man, showing an interest in him. The man responds to it by sitting with his arms folded, trying to subtly observe her.

Smears and swirls of pale yellow with the smooth warm movement of her palm in waves. The woman looks away from the man, is lost in thought, looking at her feet, as if looking within her for an answer. The man relaxes and crosses his legs.

Sparks of vermillion and burnt orange.The man- taps his shoes, not looking up. The woman’s feet close in. she looks up again at the man. Feeling the movement, the man looks up as well and catches the woman’s gaze. Embarrassed she shifts her gaze.

Purple hatches and gradients. The man takes a seat closer to her. She squirms in her seat. He smiles. She returns his smile shyly. He scratches his head, she fixes her dress.

Specks of grey and green. He is about to start a conversation when a mother with a baby walks in and sits, hindering their view of each other. Disappointed, the woman folds her hands and presses it to her lips. The man stares at his palm.

Warm rays of golden yellow. The mother leaves in a while. The man and woman make eye contact. The woman decides to sit opposite him. He seems to be sizing her (eye movement up and down). Her eyes downcast with a half smile.

Swishes of red and vermillion. He goes and sits next to her, at the edge of the bench. Tension.

Deeper red and brown swirls. Her hands resting on her lap, contract. He crosses his hands, looks at her. Her toes squirm, she looks away.

Purple and navy blotches. He moves closer, places his left hand casually on the bench. The tension builds. She purses her lips, gives a shy sidelong glance.

Ochre and magenta washes. They both inch closer to each other. The tension reaches its zenith.

Burnt orange and red peaks. He reaches for her hand. She looks at him longingly.

The artist is painting in a mad frenzy. Splashes of red, vermillion and burnt orange. She abruptly stops. Steps back. Squints her eyes and stares at her brilliant composition. Frowns. Takes a fistful of white and smears it all over the canvas.