This was a natural destination for Anu at one point, this collector of beautiful images, of laughter and gaiety and celebrations, of her universe where pain needs to be hidden, where flowers stand in for that which is happy and beautiful, of tenderness and joy. She fought the need to create these works but they broke through her resistance, taking form, shaping her and themselves, blooming into jewels on her canvas, perfuming the air with their bouquet. Anu’s artistic energies directed her towards abstraction where genres such as still-life had no play, but she succumbed to their germination – a seeding from within her latent self that she had no control over. With a mere nod towards the distorted line, they held their own with a captivating presence.

And, yet, one cannot help wonder whether they represent a mis-en-scene of a scene within a scene, a story within a story, or a trompe l’oeil where the eye is deceived into believing what isn’t. What do they represent, these blossoms with their heady fragrance? Is this a jubilant interlude in her journey, or are they messengers of something altogether more foreboding, the artist’s license to distract and withdraw, their kernels holding a message more resolute and potent than their fragile appearance? Even if it be so, these giddy, ecstatic arrangements captivate us, drawing attention the way a vase of flowers attracts attention. At this moment, right now, they are all that matters. Enjoy.

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