A visual chronicle of a period of existential angst of a Thirtysomething.
When I first started building things about 10 years ago, it was just about creating something that made someone smile. Definitely a period that I would call romantic, my life was inspired by the creations of Le Corbusier, Philippe Starke and Pavarotti. And Porsche, Herman Miller and LEGO. And my mom’s Brother sewing machine. Some of it functional, and some of it was just purely emotional. But all brought a smile to the person it was created for. That was the core idea.
It was not about utilization, or about NPS scores and certainly not about Life Time Value of the customer. Now, after years in Product, I believe I have a good grasp of creating things that people would use and pay for, but there is also a creeping sensation of losing the core idea of it.
May, this year was when I decided to take a break from my job. I was leading Product at I company with a mission I believed in, where we had an actual Product (the user was not the product). Perhaps in an event that can be seen as a manifestation of a quarter-life crisis, I traveled, spent some time with my parents and sat for extended periods looking at what was immediately around me.
The sights I saw, even though mere shadows on the wall (from Plato’s Allegory of the Cave), were quite spectacular with depth at every layer I chose to look at.
The drawings below were created on a 6 inch iPhone screen with the Paper app. I chose this particular medium because I was unfamiliar with it. I chose it for the tension in terms of not knowing what the outcome would look like, through which I hoped to let go of the attachment I held with making things look good.
Drawn on the last day in our house in Singapore, this captures the world that I and my girlfriend had created for ourselves. Earthy tones, an abundance of plants and the layered rugs all have their own stories to tell and we were a part of it. We were not happy though.
My friends’ daughter, she’s 2 here. Spending some time with her made me think about the human mind and the way we identify ourselves with the particular voice that we have in our head. And to peek at the actual purpose of having that voice, having that identification and its relation to the practice of meditation.
On my way to Delhi, at an airport Starbucks, I can’t help but notice the use of brown/wood and grey/concrete palette that has come to define what a coffee joint should look like. The plumbing on the ceiling was exposed, like the innards of a giant beast, making it somehow vulnerable and comforting at the same time.
Life in Delhi is interesting. There is chaos that fills the streets every day, but it is the same chaos that acts as the creator of the beauty that defines the city. Looking out from our balcony, I see the lives of many painted out in balconies that are on the buildings across. Each ready to narrate a different story of struggle and existence, if only someone would listen.
The flowing beaches of Ganga, forming a palette in every shade of green. It is easy to see why our ancestors saw divine beauty in her. Yes, her, as in Ganga is perceived as feminine in India, as is most rivers. Perhaps because they bring life, harvest and uncontrollable chaos, which is traditionally captured in literature through the feminine.
On a hill right next to the river at Rishikesh, there is an ashram that was built by Mahesh Yogi, abandoned since the 70s. The floors are cracked and the paint on the ceiling has formed patterns with a beauty that only age can bring. Sitting on the top of the hill at the Yogi’s residence listening to the waters flowing below, I think about all the souls who come to the shores of Ganga every year, in search of retribution.
Sitting at my parent’s house, I see the rolling hills of Kottayam blanketed by plantations of Rubber and kissed by the rains of monsoon. I hear thunder at a distance and the rain from the hills nearby getting closer and closer.
It gets frighteningly dark at times during the monsoon, but there’s always sunshine that follows it. Maybe not today, but definitely tomorrow.
This is the last one for now, and it is one that I do not fully understand as I was in a state of delirium from not sleeping for over 30 hours and on a plane when I drew this. I see the anguish in the orange and love in the blue.
