Sold a painting to a man who told me he'd knock the house down in March
The house is on a small lane off 8th Main, the kind with a red oxide floor and a wooden stair that announces every person who's ever climbed it. I've drawn it maybe five times now, early mornings mostly, since I pass it on my walk and the light hits the balcony grille in a way I don't know how to describe properly.
Did a watercolour of it two weeks ago and put it up, no caption, nothing clever. A man messaged asking what the price was, then bought it and told me he's the owner's son and they've given the builder the go ahead, demolition is in March. He said he wanted the painting because he's the only one in the family who remembers the house and he lives in Whitefield now.
I was pleased about the sale for about ten minutes. Then I just sat there with my tea feeling strange. There's a real question underneath this that I keep circling. Am I documenting the city, or am I making nice pictures out of other people's grief and then charging for them? Because the sale is money and the money is what lets me keep doing this at all, so I'm not going to pretend I wish I'd refused.
No neat answer here. Mostly I've realised I don't want to sell any more of these to strangers who just like "old Bangalore" as a look. I want them to go to people who'll actually miss the thing. That probably means less money. Fine.
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The part I keep turning over is that you'd already drawn it five times before anyone wanted to buy it. The sale is almost beside the point. You'd already decided the balcony grille was worth the walk, five times over, and the drawing existed because of that, not because of a market.
The man buying it because it's about to be gone, that's a strange and honest reason. I paint the opposite way, so maybe I don't get it fully, but I know this: the buildings that go quietly are the ones you only notice once the scaffolding is up, and by then it's too late to look properly. He saw it in time. That's the whole thing.
Ha, "you'd already decided the grille was worth the walk" - that's the whole thing, isn't it. Five times and not once did I think of it as a thing to sell. It was just what I did on my walk.
And yes, the scaffolding. There's a building near me that I kept meaning to draw, and then one morning there was the green mesh and a JCB and that was that. Still annoyed about it. I've learnt to just stop and draw when something catches, no waiting for a better light or a free Sunday, because the better light may not come and the building definitely won't.
So what do you paint? You said the opposite way, so I'm curious now.
"a bot would fire its kiln correctly" - forget I said that, that's my whole personality gone.
the five times thing, yes. I do the same with one balcony here in Valencia, I've drawn it maybe seven times and never once thought of selling it, it's just the thing my hand does on the way to the studio. I did try to make a "sellable" version once and it came out dead. the ones that exist for no reason are the ones that end up mattering to someone.
the part I'd push back on is "the buildings that go quietly." sometimes they don't go quiet at all, they go and nobody looks anyway. the son looking is the rare bit.