Tag Archives: Sheena

Card Party

Thought I’d blog about my new cards because they are the business! The other day I found these boxes of blank cards made from handmade paper in a store and I had to make them mine. I’d already decided that printed, glossy cards were just not going to cut the mustard.

I love me some of that handmade aesthetic but I wasn’t quite sure what I wanted. I still have the handwriting of a seven year old  so that was out, cutouts were ridiculous and tedious, I suck at Photoshop (unless you want to hire me in which case its like I was born-to-edit), letterpress was favoured but my family’s printshop has been reduced to rubble and then I had it – my grandfather’s beast of a typewriter!

So yes, each card is individually typed out, which leaves lots of room for imperfections and I am okay with that. I chose the tan for the paper because with age and the crinkles and creases, it starts to look like well worn suede. It does take a little while longer than handing off cards to a printer but who am I kidding? I have lots of spare time. I had enough spare time to make a card tower. Also punching those keys makes the most satisfying sounds.

Only card party I’m throwing. Happy Diwali. I’m off to Calcutta tomorrow.

In the last year


Pyramids


Burj Khalifa


Taj Mahal


Eiffel Tower

Good year for monuments at least, if not particularly monumental.

Bricklane

I absolutely adored Bricklane. I don’t want to gush too much but let’s just say I used the words ‘vibe’ and ‘love’ a lot. Plus my stylish friend Jake, his boyfriend Pedro and friend made for excellent company on the Sunday afternoon we had lunch at the Spitalfields market, shopped at the Upmarket and made our way to Bricklane.

Street sign- in English, and Bengali

It’s an unlikely amalgamation – the South Asian immigrant community, consisting mainly of Bangladeshis that run the businesses and the masses of hipsters and kooky characters that congregate on Sunday (and other days) to wander around, illegally set up stalls selling vintage wares on the street, visit sample sales, listen to music and drink in the beer gardens/compounds, but strangely enough it works, making Bricklane one of the most sought after neighbourhoods in London.

We traipsed around until we found a cute bar to drink Pimms in, stopped by a couple of shops and sales, bought some sunglasses, listened to a really great band from Argentina that were busking, and checked out all the street art.

The mother and child portrait wasn’t always headless, only when part of the building was broken down. Called Ma o Shishu, and painted by Ben Slow (who paints beautiful romanticized portraits of women), with Joe Deane and Joseph Loughborough, you can view the full piece on his flickr.

The 12-metre crane in Hanbury Street, just off Brick Lane, is by Belgian street artist Roa whose artworks can be found all over London. But the crane is a focal symbol in Bangladeshi culture and was therefore chosen to represent the neighbourhood.

Space Invaders

Spotted some of the work of French street artist Invader on my trip. I wonder at his work, (mostly) mosaic tiles arranged like the pixelated Space Invaders of the classic video game and pasted up in various locations all over the world. Read more about him by him here. His new work RubikCubism is also rather genius.

London

Paris

The last one is disguised as a leaf on the tree, hopefully you can spot it. Also, I just saw the marvelous Banksy film Exit from the Giftshop, where the protagonist (I think?) is the cousin of Space Invader. Great film, go watch.

Redonda

Kunaal is back. We played with lights.

Potato Soup

I love soup. One of my favourite folk tales is Stone Soup, where the travellers trick a whole community into donating ingredients for soup which they all share. Anyway, it’s been raining incessantly and I’ve been thinking about the soup place on Degraves St in Melbourne with the giant vats of the best soups. Anyone who has visited me in my new home knows all I do these days is stay indoors, wear (ugly) floral maxi dresses and cook. I love making things that require only a handful of ingredients, so anything on Martha Stewart is out. I’ve been making up all the recipes. Cooking by intuition. Farfalle with coriander and walnuts, salami sandwiches with avocado and pesto, tumeric and cumin roasted cauliflower. Yesterday I listened to Manu Chao, thought of Rushad and made potato soup. It was pouring outside and my house was so lovely and breezy, that it just seemed apt. I simmered it for a good hour or so but it was so melty and delicious and worth it. It was also really filling. I made up the recipe so I thought I’d type it out so I could remember it for the future. I miss this boy with all my heart.

(Garlicky-buttery) Potato soup

Serves 2

Ingredients:
5 floury large potatoes
half a cube of chicken or vegetable stock (or make your own)
3 onions
4 garlic cloves
butter or olive oil
cracked pepper

Wash, peel, dice and bring the potatoes to boil covering them with enough water. Peel and add the cloves of garlic.

Saute the onions in butter or oil over medium heat until they soften slightly and even char a wee bit. Add it to the pot and simmer. Add more water if levels get too low. Stir occasionally.

It’s done when it has a creamy consistency. Mash with a fork or potato masher until the soup is as smooth as you’d like. Taste and season.

Stir through more butter, or a spoonful of wasabi, or add tobasco if you’d like. Serve with some crusty bread.

EAT.

LISTEN.

Happy as a clam

Feel free to bypass this self absorbed update on my life and the indulgent things that make me happy. Mostly my new(er) apartment and my newly stocked (STOCKED!!) kitchen. Food and sunshine, who would have thunk it? I’m smitten with the world and Bombay again.

Twilight from my bedroom. And no, I haven’t seen any of the movies, ergo I am cooler than you. I love the light in my house. Sluuuurp.

My spice boxes (there was a bit of a mixup though), inventing recipes, planning ahead and making meals from scratch. French toast for breakfast tomorrow.

Pretty reflections in giant monsoon pools.

And for the few times I actually leave the house – wine, goats cheese pizza and sweet potato gnocchi at the sprawling Pali Village Cafe. Long boozy Sunday brunches at Olive, Mahalaxmi. High tea (they have DIY pani puri and the cutest sammies) at Sea Lounge at the beautiful Taj Mahal Hotel watching the boats. Note: These will leave you as poor as happy and also drunk and unable to take good photos.

Or better yet, get on a boat. I want a yacht. Argh!

On set chai. This is the best thing about the film industry. Beats egos, delays and odious little cunts hands down.

and lastly, going home to Pune to see my friends and the adorable olds. My grandparents are Goan and so kitsch, I did a photostory on them but I’m reluctant to share it just yet.

Also making plans for Europe – I’m going to Edinburgh, London and Paris next month and I’ve been scouring the internet for advice like a madhatter, trying to figure out how to bake a cake in my convection oven (I have to show you what kind of cake!), working for some amazing clients and sale season. I am but a girl after all.

Ultra violet

I don’t know how but in the span of a month, I found myself at two completely separate black light shoots. One was fun because I got to finger paint fluorescent tribal designs on some traditional feather and hide masks, the other because the dancers we dressed were fucking fantastic. Both were splendid, both I photographed. These pictures are from a song sequence in a Bollywood film that I worked on as wardrobe assistant.

Varanasi

I didn’t think I could write too much about Varanasi. I was petrified when we got off that train. It was midnight, there were bodies laid flat all over railway station platform and we were inundated with pleas and requests from rickshaw drivers. They’re very in your face and they thought we were foreigners until I ruined it for them with my awesome Hindi. But I was very overwhelmed and frightened. I spent all night looking through Varanasi photoblogs with our overpriced hotel’s wifi trying to make sense of the place. But the next morning, everything changed and I did. And Varanasi ended up being one of my favourite places.

Tiny alleyways through which no vehicles could fit led us at sunrise to the ghats, to the most stunning, surreal and unexpected view. We spent the morning walking the ghats, watching the babas pray and smoke chillums, people wash themselves and their clothes in the Holy Ganges completely unfazed by the tourist filled boats that sailed past. On the main ghat Dasashwamedh, we bought bracelets with the pictures of Gods, brass agarbati stands and lamps, and the best T-shirt ever which reads – No rickshaw. No hashish. No silk. No change money. No boat. No problem! which are all the things we got asked if we wanted. Countless times over. People kept taking our hands in theirs and demanding money for services like blessing us. Oh, we’ll pass thanks.

The whole place and experience was moving and enticing and raucous, dirty and imperfect and spiritual, and commercial and chaotic and colourful all at once. I spotted a super cool baba I imagined was once an art director fed up with city life and asked to take his picture and he grinned. The Ganga Aarti every evening is very special. It’s beautiful and hard to describe, feverish and fragrant with smoke.We prayed and released our little flower lamps into the Ganga which is something I’d always wanted to do.

I loved the magical light filtering through the claustrophobic alleys.It was nothing short of unsettling though. You can never know when you’ll cross paths with a moody cow or a (covered) corpse will suddenly appear behind you, mourners chanting ‘Bhagwan satya hai’ as they carry it down to the river to the two burning ghats.

We found the German Bakery there to be our favourite spot of solace, where we met lovely travellers and ate delicious organic food while listening to some live classical santoor and tabla.We moved to a guesthouse on the ghats so we could be closer to everything and at night it was especially eerie but wonderful, the sunrise even more so. We took a boatride at dawn to see everything from a different perspective which I recommend everybody does. We spent almost two hours on the water, witnessing some incredible things – from swimming schools to burning corpses. With a little more exploration, and a lot more cycle rickshaw rides (I loved!) to buy stunning silk scarves, and a lazy lunch at El Parador, an absolute gem of a restaurant with delightful service and delicious food; we bade goodbye to Benaras.

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Grass

Nick Drake was (is) amazing. Yet nobody knew who he was until 40 years into the future.

And I went to Lonavala for the weekend

And at sunrise
We found a valley
Full of crystals

A waterfall and an infinite abyss

Everything was neon green
And I wore party shoes.

P.S. I finally have my baby back from the doctor and I’m shooting for Save The Children India in a little village this week. Roadtrips <3