Reawakening

Once you dive into what is considered the deep end, you discover a hidden abysis of yet greater depth. Unlike the initial leap of faith, however, once engulfed in any measure of water, traversing further downward seems less foreboding. It is the initial transition from air-to-water, from same-to-different, that provides the biggest shock.

It is important to reflect upon the fact that life is not inherently difficult. It is only when you begin to assign values to the particles of your perception that certain constituents stand out as obstacles blocking your path, or assets worthy of utilization. From an existential-nihilistic viewpoint, existence qualifies as meaningless, and as life is not a game with clear-cut objectives, there is no such thing as 'failure' or 'success.' The terms, 'failure' and 'success,' are ultimately labels that stem from our emotional desires.

This is a philosophical viewpoint that I formed a while ago, but yet its truth becomes clearer by the day. My self-assigned mission in life is to experience and to appreciate ― and what better place to do as such than in India!

I feel as if my time has come to undergo a process of reawakening within an intellectual sense. It is time for me to restructure my views and values. I am not the same person that I was a few years back and I must acknowledge this if I ever want to substantiate my life objectives. One very important realisation for me, a few years back, was that I am nothing at all like my parents: I have different values; different passions; a different aptitude. Going to university allowed me to grow into my own person and discover myself. Going to India allowed me to venture beyond the viewable horizon, into the mysterious, limitlessly expansive world beyond; a place where I can grow and develop yet moreso! I feel determined to do something; now I must simply decide what that something will be!

I am so lucky (and not to mention, grateful) to have been given this opportunity — I cannot emphasise that enough! Poverty and pollution aside, I like being in India a lot! It is nice, for once, to be living in a foreign country rather than just 'visiting' it. This is a genuine experience; not a manufactured one such as the tourist packages that have you nestled away within a sectioned-off 'tourist zone.' God forbid the idea of actually encountering a country's inhabitant!

Half a year in this tantalising place will give me time to fully climatise and see beyond the explicit into the more subtle. In my time here, I hope to discover the hidden beauty within the ugly, and the hidden ugly within the beauty.

Sitting in an auto-rickshaw on my way to a big market-street called Laxmi Road, I passed by some roadside vendor stands selling clay/mud ceramics. I have admired such simple yet elegant forms of craftwork through the device of photographs for many years but never before in real-life; I was very touched. In fact, I have felt more emotionally moved in the past two weeks than I thought possible! In a land of such corruption, poverty and pollution, the beauty really stands out. Just as when an artist paints a colour next to its complimentary, the striking contrast between the ugly and the beautiful in India drives them to amplify one another!

There is just simply so much that I could write regarding my experiences in India that I do not know where to begin! I am off to an Islamic wedding in ten minutes time; perhaps I will blog about that afterwards.

Culture Shock

I cannot compile into mere words, the complexity of my feelings.

I am so glad to be here but yet so distraught at the same time. Since I have been in India, my perspective has been fluctuating between two modes of operation; one in which I find everything beautiful and amazing, and a second in which I feel like a fish out of water. I would be inclined to believe, however, that my predominant disposition is that of gratitude. I need this experience. It is a package deal that comes with both good and bad components — what is worth bearing in mind is that both of these constituents will ultimately help to build a better me.

Up until now, I have had a romanticist's view of the developing world. I have spent years living in Asia within my mind but only now am I actually living here. Looking at the work of the 19th-century orientalist painters or throwing-open a copy of National Geographic is absolutely incomparable to the real thing. I now realise that whenever I have picked-up a travelogue to read, my mind has created an entirely artificial world. Is it that I am too imaginative or, more likely, is it that  'interpretation of life'  to  'written language'  to  'interpretation of written language'  always leads to distortion?

I have made a similar remark before but I will reiterate for emphasis: I feel that I am calling my own bluff!

I have a tendency to frown-upon people who project themselves as being worldly ignorant. Little did I know until recently that I was, in fact, such a person myself! While still in England, I actually went so far as to assert that I would suffer a subaverage degree of culture shock from coming over to India. Clearly, when put to the test, that proved false!

Being here is sobering, invigorating, numbing, stimulating, and depressing. I cannot say for sure, but I believe it to be guilt mixed with pity that is overwhelming my otherwise jolly façade.

I feel so sick with rage by the reality of how people over here are exploited by the fat-cats of the Western World! Annoyance saturates my being with far greater intensity than ever before whenever I think back to the comments I have heard game producers make in the past regarding outsourcing. Reflective thoughts about quotes from years-upon-years ago are now cascading around my skull cavity in a wild attempt to break-free and avenge the injustices of our economically-unequal world.

I feel guilt mostly for the fact that I am sat here on my big, fat arse doing nothing to help solve these problems. Some people write a blog post or two — or perhaps even a book — and then feel an alleviation of their guilt. Dear reader, please realise that writing this does nothing to satisfy my guilt. I am fully aware of how I am currently doing absolutely nothing for the world. In fact, I would go so far as to say that I am taking without giving.

Games do not help the world. They simply fuel consumerism, which in turn, lines the pockets of the big-boys at the top of the capitalist triangle.

I will end by recommending a magnificent book that I have recently finished reading: Nine Lives: In Search of the Sacred in Modern India. I have read a fair amount of travel literature over the years and this one book in particular deserves ranking right up at the top, parallel to my other favourite, Beijing Coma. What makes Nine Lives such a wonderful book is how it manages to capture modern India in so many different lights, thus offering a broad spectrum of knowledge and empathy to the reader. My most enjoyed story in the book is one of an aging Jain monk who reflects back on her life and tells of the harsh discipline that she and her friend had to willingly endure in pursuing their faith.

Here's a small extract:

"Buddhist ascetics shave their heads; Jains pluck their hair out by the roots. Buddhist monks beg for food; Jains have to have their food given to them without asking. All they can do is to go out on gowkari — the word used to describe the grazing of a cow — and signal their hunger by curving their right arm over their shoulder. If no food comes before the onset of the night, they go to bed hungry."

Photography: The Great Sensory Injustice!

I am now, of-course, the oldest that I have ever been. Yet, I have never before felt so damn naïve! I am now learning the difference between the coffee-table traveller and the actual traveller! No quantity of books or photographs could have prepared me for 'the real world.'

From the second I was out of the airplane and my foot bore residence on Indian sole, I felt like I had entered an entirely new world. I felt a mixture of emotions with self-anger and excitement being the domineering two. I now know how little I really know, and that, in itself, is knowledge — or perhaps socratic knowledge.

Outside the airport, a company-hired driver was waiting for me. My first shock came on the Mumbai-Pune Expressway when a passing mini-van (smaller in size than a UK car) revealed a family living inside the back compartment, opening cupboards and tinkering around with utensils in full plain sight!

Another of the initial shocks was the realisation of how non-literal my spoken English is. So many of the word combinations and phrases that seem to make perfect sense in British English are confusing and contradictory in Indian English. Even saying a phrase as simple as 'no thanks' can be confusing to some Indians as 'thanks' implies that the recipient has done or is about to do something qualifying for an expression of gratitude. In fact, thanking an Indian (in Hindi/Marathi/etc) should only be done during moments in which one really does feel very, very grateful — it can be seen as facetious otherwise!

I have seen so much contrast and variety since in India. Never in Britain would one see a lively carnival booming out music less than two meters away from a busy road, where drivers and pedestrians compete for space on which to travel. Even Indian candyfloss is made in a very Indian way, with a naked flame used to caramelise the sugar and bright-pink pigment sprinkled on-top to capture the eye!

Everything is incredibly colourful — even the rubbish bins! Interestingly, Indian use of colour is disciplined very differently to in the West. My knowledge of colour theory (which mostly comes from James Gurney's books and blog), dictates that vibrancy should be constrained and used sparingly, whereas, so far as I can tell, Indian colour theory seems to employ high chroma colours which are constrained by a limited range of hues (typically two or three colour frequencies). Both colour systems are nice in different ways but my God, I cannot speak for how artistically invigorating it is to witness a whole new world of colour. The women here are beautiful! They understand colour so much better than the average non-artistic Westerner; which is evident in how the vibrancy of their colour-themed attire is greatly complemented against the warm darkness of their skin! Indian skin is the perfect canvas onto which so many forms of colour can be applied.

The time here is 06:30 and I am about to start my first day of work in the studio. I have not slept much in the last few days out of jet-lag mixed with partying and apprehension for today — a peculiar combination to say the least! I am not nervous, but nor am I confident.

I have been studying a lot (in the way of reading material) for the specific area of game art to which I will be contributing. I understand the subject area from a naïve-artist perspective but not from a technical-artist perspective. I am trying to absorb as much objective knowledge as I can such that the subjective artist within will not be constrained by limited technical ability. I am going to spend today familiarising myself with the tool-set and planning how I can enhance the existing aesthetics. That is about all I can say without violating my non-disclosure agreement.

I really want to connect with this culture and I really want to connect with this studio.

Over and out.