This painting holds a special place in my heart because it marks the first time I truly embraced the idea of repurposing a canvas. Years ago, this large canvas was created as a backdrop for a showcase piece titled Garden For Your Mind, washed in soft shades of sand blue. Large letters had once been pasted across it, and even after the show ended, stubborn glue marks remained—traces of an old story that refused to disappear.
For a long time, the canvas sat quietly untouched in a corner of my studio. Then one day, I came across an emotive image of Ladakh, a high altitude region in northern India known for its barren, dessert-like mountains and traditional Tibetan-influenced architecture and something stirred in me. The sweeping sand dunes and wide desert landscape felt perfect for hiding the scars left behind by tape and glue. What once felt like imperfections slowly became texture, depth, and character.
What looked deceptively simple became one of the most labour-intensive paintings I have ever created. Over many weekends and more than 200 hours, I built layers upon layers into the vast openness of sand dunes—searching for dimension, warmth, and atmosphere within an almost monochromatic landscape.
Perhaps that is why this piece feels especially fitting for Labour Day.
Under an azure blue sky and a warm yellow ochre backdrop, broken brick walls and humble sheds patched together with recycled zinc sit quietly beneath the harsh May sun. I could almost smell the rusted steel holding the structures together.
At the heart of the painting, stands two scraggly cows —a large one leading, with a smaller companion close behind. As I painted them, I realised I was also painting a reflection of myself: quietly working, enduring, building layer by layer.
I am not entirely sure what Labour Day means to the world today, but this painting reminded me that there is dignity in steady work, beauty in persistence, and pride in creating something meaningful with our own hands.
