A note by Pascal Bruckner to a new series of works, by entitled ‘Pondicherry’ by Sebastian Cortes at Tasveer in Chennai:
After seeing Sebastian's photographs, one notices the predominant tonality of this town: the washed-out grey. It constitutes a web of harmonics and subtle shades, a clever compromise between the ancient and the new, the facades repainted white, the ochre or pastel tones of the houses, the burgundy floors, the vivid green of the palm trees and the wear-and-tear caused by the sea air, the climate and the monsoon-rains.
The ashram of Aurobindo, by deciding to paint its buildings in sparkling grey, slightly uniform, slightly regimental, turns its back on what verily constitutes the charm and beauty of this place, this perpetually unresolved rivalry of colours and their myriad shades. This grey that sometimes veers to green or to blue lends to Pondicherry its poignant charm, a blend of languor and nostalgia.
An invisible patina covers the most flaming things that seem to have become bygone even before coming out, to a point where they vanish into nothingness, suspended on the edge of the abyss. One gets a taste here of a time of quality, a taste of reminiscence, very different from the hurly-burly of big cities.
Here the present seems already past, like a fugitive trail dimming away almost as soon as it has appeared. Look at these interiors photographed by Sebastian, both empty and overloaded at once, filled with bric-a -brac of beds, clocks, lifeless lamps, sagging sofas set in chiaroscuro against flaky walls. They lead us on to another dimension. The tonality of this parallel world exudes a kind of soft, impalpable melancholy that evokes an idleness bordering on the miraculous. As if we had always lived in it and were returning home.
Nothing is lost, nothing is to be regained, we are experiencing the satiny weft of time that flows on and strips us threadbare, makes of us eternal travelers condemned to transience. It is nothing very important or grandiose, just a heady perfume, a wink of light, a shuffling of naked feet, just the bare essence, a weightless enchantment that feels like joy.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
‘Pondicherry’ by Sebastian Cortes
Posted by शांत प्रशांत at 1:02 AM