I was taken in the morning by the master carver, Umesh Singh, and we rode his bike through the crowded streets of Jaipur at his home in a quiet neighborhood, near the public market of raw materials. Umesh is a traditional Indian wood carver and earns a living by carving and selling small statues and motifs of idealized spiritual figures of Asia and the animals, which was once the region-free. He's very stoic, proud man, and brings with itspecific authority of a man who has perfected his craft. I had met the day before his small stand of sandalwood sculptures, art in the neighborhood of the palace, and he invited me to go home so I could see how he went to work on their own. I was very curious to know if the Indian contemporary artisans to exploit the riches of ancient tradition and popular knowledge, or if his art was insensitive to the weight of too gentrified "modernization." I was hopingthat this meeting with some of my questions Umesh solve.
We arrived at his house after about 15 minutes, hold on tightly to the back of his bike. Umesh lived in a dilapidated building that a modest way directly into a variety of organically linked with each other households were connected. The quarter is traditionally Indian and seemed old as time itself when you enter his apartment, he sat in a small room in front of the house andI had a cup of Chai tea. I sipped it with gratitude, because it gave me an object to draw attention to my wavering, and only looked at the engravings, and along the walls. I was soon to his brother, that was a mistake, that the family was negotiating with a consultant, to meet, and we had our first small talk that has come into a home for the first time. I found that with who, who is married lives in the house, and some 'of themCarving family history.
I was then taken to the royal house and entered a small courtyard that opens to the sky. The walls would be real grateful for a fresh coat of paint and all over the place to be overlooked in a state of happy, comfortable. I sat in a chair that was placed in a sort of corridor area adjacent to the courtyard. On the floor next to me were a couple of tool boxes, can not be recognized in the car at home compromised, and a square top, emerging countriesWork area from the rest of the court.
Umesh early in the hallway where I was and sat cross-legged on the blanket. He was ready to begin the course and opened the toolbox, a handful of long metal tool and inspected each of them intense. He gave me the tools that has formed from steel bars with sharp blades on each opposite end. He also showed me pieces of various sizes, files, drills, and collection of sandpaper, which he used toscrape and cut away the negative areas of the logs that will turn into beautiful statues.
Then he gave me a lecture on the nature of wood, the sculptor of its forms goods. Umesh place copies of teak and ebony wood in hand, but it was the sandalwood, the price was material in his field. He pulled out a semi-tiger character from the bag and instructed me to smell it. I, the smell of fresh sandalwood. I stroked and rubbed smooth, sides Woody and Iwas the superiority of sandalwood feel than that of teak. Umesh was very pleased with sandalwood and it was obvious that define this type of timber, its role in the world served.
Umesh started and then I sat there watching him waste away alone on a piece of sandalwood. He shaved pieces here, pieces there with controlled and precise strokes of a file. His movements were made with precision and with confidence. It was sculpture since he was a kid and it wasalso clear that every move he knew that from the depths of his being. He was probably the same piece that he made a hundred times, and his plans seemed indelibly in his mind are carved.
Carving Umesh was a family trade, and his father was a carver, like his father before him. He told me a story about how, when his father was a young man sculpture, would walk down the street covered with dust, sandalwood, and everyone would be able to hear the nextfrom a distance. Umesh then pushed together in a pile of sandalwood powder and put it in his hand. "Listen, listen," he said. I did. "Smell Right," he said with a smile. "It smells of incense, I said." Yes, like incense, "he said, had the history and the pure joy of his craft. Umesh was certainly a proud craftsmen of the period of the past, a relic of what people were also in place.
We did talk in this period and that he would on his work with thecurious smile of a child and asks me a question. "Are you married?" He asked. "No, I do not." "You should be married," he said. "You have a girlfriend?" he continued.
"Yes, I know," I said and then went on to describe a bit '. "Will you marry me?" He asked. "I do not know," I said a little 'taken aback. "I think you should marry," said Umesh with a little 'sly, mischievous smile.
Umesh continued the character worked in a drawing of a tigerHis father went into the house. I was immediately presented to him, and we shook hands. Umesh had to go to the palace are to take care of the family carving and I was leaving the family in the care of his father, who is the owner of Carver. His name was Shyam Singh and his son, he was taught carving by his father and so was sandalwood handicrafts since he was a kid.
Shyam then his son took over his place on the ceiling and began work immediatelyAnimal Carving decorations on a pre-set shape. I again sat in silence, watching. I was paralyzed from the ancient movements of his hands, as he cut wood and scraped with the blade. He has worked with the precision of what his son but he was also an incredibly high level of absolute certainty about him that was evident in every blade strikes. It seemed to be a part of the woodcut and sculpture who has worked with for a few meditative concentrationHours. He shows me his progress, and, occasionally, I would touch the figure and rub the fresh powder on him, nod, smile, and then again on hand to carve out a little 'more than him. The process of carving is almost incredible expenditure of time and two hours of solid work with a piece left that was not near the end when they started.
Curiosity soon fell on me and I took a scrap piece of sandalwood and a knife and tried to carve something into it. It took a good fitForce to bite even the knife in the woods, and I could not cut with any degree of accuracy. I laughed at me and chuckled Shyam even with my feeble attempt. I knew then that art takes years after years of constant practice to get a grip, and perfect for a lifetime.
I knew I was in the presence of the old tradition, as I was master of this. I felt at this moment of quiet sculpture in the world that there is nothing morehonestly as a small company working by hand. Now I know that a degree of traditional artistic spirit has been the influx of modern brevity and triviality survived. But it is not likely to endure. In the case of Umesh Singh and Shayam me sad that I heard his last breath, a very ancient tradition of Indian art. Umesh children do not carry the family trade, and knows that the next generation of the knowledge chain popular music will end with him. "There is not enough money in woodCarving, "he said to me, unfortunately, this is the story of our time, money driven, .. There is no room for tradition, patience, and the hot hand We live in a world where the price tags that determine the value and money brings the price of our attention we will no longer control Umesh Singh and Shayam;. reunion of the old craftsmen, goodbye.
* In the fall of 2006, written in South India
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