Raqib Shaw

Walking through the somewhat melancholic streets of North London, you find yourself suddenly sensing something in the air. The scent of almond oil and incense leads you to the studio of Raqib Shaw, born in 1974 in Calcutta, beautiful, with delicate features like an Indian prince, yet extravagant, just like his paintings. Created on paper and wood, they are crafted with great meticulousness. Each flower, each skeleton, or exploding woman’s brain is constructed with an outline that resembles a treasure chest filled with vibrant colors and sparkling gemstones. Unlike the paintings of Hieronymus Bosch, to which his works seem somewhat inspired, Shaw's pieces lack the sense of guilt and impending doom. The animals explore pleasure. “My works depict a world that exists in my imagination, a place where beauty, sensuality, sex, and hedonism participate in a delightful orgy; like in a perpetual orgasm, there are no limits, boundaries, or labels, just pleasure for the sheer joy of exploring pleasure.” The auto paint he uses dries in a minute, so it must be manipulated very quickly and cannot be corrected. Dissatisfied with real life, he creates his own world filled with kings, queens, flowers, and Japanese gardens. And when this world is created, he lingers to admire its beauty. “My works are like me! I can't hold back. I want to create artworks in which I would like to live.” And when someone labels him as an Indian artist, he responds: “Please, give me a break. I have never been inspired by carpets and such things. Of course, it's my culture, but it has not inspired me.”