sylvia

I've just finished installing 'the vanishing'.

It's part of the show 'Stains on my Chintz', curated by Paula Sengupta and opens tomorrow night at the Harrington Street Arts Centre.

I'm sitting at the computer, and there is a lot of discussion going on down there, Archana's laugh, Tamal's calling out and giving instruction. Dharminder is up the ladder and ten people telling him 'up, down, right, left'.

Happy with the work, in spite of the 5,000 glass bullets still floating out there somewhere on the Indian Ocean.

Sylvia rang about one hour ago. She and Graham arrived tonight. That's her, circa 1940. Hand coloured sepia. I must ask her if she remembers the studio.

I'm about to go out and meet Andrea at the airport, then go home to the Bella Vista and flake.

Chelo!

dhakuria lakes

My mother was a great swimmer in her youth. She won many races and trophies of which she is still very proud. Sylvia phoned me yesterday at 6.30 am and we talked for some time about Calcutta.

She told me that she, her sister Pam and her cousin Rita, used to go for midnight dips at Dhakuria Lakes.

I walked there again this morning.