A Fluid Prison

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“What just happened?” It is a question we are all going to be asking sooner or later, and hopefully sooner. The world shook, things, people, and places got rearranged. Many people were under some sort of a lockdown, or as I like to call it a ‘fluid prison’ of our own making. 

We either self-quarantined, were forced to stay in and away or some combination of both but still it was a prison of some sort. Soon enough it came down to perception and attitude. Some people played games, read, exercised, and stayed healthy in many respects. Others drank or got lost in social media, they craved their “independence” and looked for ways to get out. 

The way I saw it and subsequently drew it was this fluid prison of my own making. Yes I was stuck, at home, with limited art supplies and physical social interaction, but I had ways of reaching out to friends, I had Netflix, I had my parents, I had good booze and good food, and I had my art. Quite literally having moved into my new work-studio (with spare bedroom) a few weeks before Covid arrived, I had literal art all around me, some of it with the paint still drying. 

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As the paint dried, and I started to feel more and more “imprisoned” over the weeks, my mind said this sucks, I am stuck. But something inside me also kept reminding me how fortunate I was to have all the comforts in this, frankly, tough time for so many. I didn’t feel sad for myself, but I felt the need to express this feeling of entrapment as an artist. I would be lying if I painted a grim picture, it’s not how I felt, even it is how many felt. “But the art I make must be relevant, it must touch someone, it must make sense in these times” – that is what I wanted. In the end, I painted what I felt and I hope it still is relevant and makes sense because it was, whether you realize it or not, your reality too. (In saying this I am aware of the dire conditions of the migrant workers and healthcare workers, and those that were displaced from their families for several unavoidable reasons, I am aware of the losses many families might be feeling out there, and of our knowing someone who lost a friends family member to Corona – but I know my audience, those reading this are typically reading this on the latest iPhone, from a comfortable couch in an airconditioned house with an intention to probably begin planning the next trip to Bali or Italy (of all places) later this year hopefully, at the very least WE are alive and healthy). So this is for you, for us. From within our fluid prison – let’s be thankful it has color, and see it as a window if not a prison, given that we have so much to be thankful for and keep these pictures as a reminder that there was a time (presently) that we were trapped inside for a second, only to give us a break so that we may pause and contemplate on our blessings, and generate gratitude for the neverending work of those that risk their health for ours.  The color in this prison I draw is a result of their efforts and our good fortunes. 

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Anuj Madan is an Indian born (1979), American citizen, ex. Banker /consultant /MBA /monk/ University Associate Professor in S. Korea (lived in Seoul for 10 years) and most recently a photographer transitioned into an artist. He paints abstracts with acrylics and ink on canvases (4ftx4ft), paper (A2), board (large scale – up to 7 feet in length) and has a digital practice that has blossomed in Covidic times as he calls the present creative phase of his artistic career.