I suddenly started photographing trees well over a decade ago. For years, I had been oblivious to trees and their presence all this time - and yet, once I started registering them in my midst, I could not stop looking at or taking pictures of them. The more I photographed trees, the more I looked, really looked, at each tree I encountered, I realised that no tree is the same and that each possesses an unique character and personality.
Several years ago, when I chanced upon artist, Andy Goldsworthy's incredible site-specific installations and Daniel Schilkret's gorgeous morning altars wrought using materials from the landscape itself, I was inspired to create similar works myself. At that time, I called Delhi home and was going through a very challenging mental health period, struggling with frequent bouts of debilitating anxiety - and seeking refuge in nature became and continues to be a crucial way to address it. I lived in a DDA (Delhi Development Authority) colony in Sarita Vihar, which was once described as being the capital's greenest neighborhood. I could testify to this fact for there was so much greenery outside my flat alone: a huge peepal tree sang songs on windy nights while I spotted crows and squirrels merrily snacking on the fat bright red silk cotton flowers laden trees outside my study window.
Of late, I have begun experimenting with the intersection of three things that particularly fascinate me: words, art, and photography. I have also been thinking a great deal about the idea of a poem, namely the poem being an elastic, fluid, hybrid entity. I recall once writing a poem about falling leaves on a fallen golden brown maple leaf as part of my first creative writing assignment during my undergraduate studies: the leaf was as much as a poem as the poem itself. It took me years to realise the latter though.
