Paintings : An Artistic Expression of Human kind
I am Albert Ashok, a Painter, an Author and a Graphic Designer,
I teach painting at my studio cum residence, some time I go also to the houses of students . My students are all senior-- art college students. and people who wants to be an artist, and those who wants to have little time with drawing and painting. all are welcome in the name of art and culture. I believe 'WE CAN MAKE THIS WORLD A BETTER PLACE !'I exhibit my paintings at galleries of different states in INDIA.You can visit my blogs
http://newsfreedomofexpression.blogspot.com/
I LOVE TO HAVE PEOPLE AS FRIEND AND WORK FOR 'FREEDOM OF EXPRESSION ' ,
IMAGINE YOU WILL BE WITH ME ONEDAY
I LOVE TO HAVE PEOPLE AS FRIEND AND WORK FOR 'FREEDOM OF EXPRESSION ' ,
IMAGINE YOU WILL BE WITH ME ONEDAY
my books, paintings etc you may see at
http://www.myartprofile.com/code_a2z
I am involved with a writers and 'writers and artists' organization, you can visit them click the blue link
1
The paintings are for sale
2 color horse
3 Nature
4 love
5 Harvest Season
6 Idle Noon
7 Santal Women to the village Market
8 Kisto Prem
9 Haunted House
9 Seabeach
10 The Eye
11 The Fleeting Time
12 Bull in the Twilight Zone
13 The Killer
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
I am involved with a writers and 'writers and artists' organization, you can visit them click the blue link
1
The paintings are for sale
2 color horse
3 Nature
4 love
5 Harvest Season
6 Idle Noon
7 Santal Women to the village Market
8 Kisto Prem
9 Haunted House
9 Seabeach
10 The Eye
11 The Fleeting Time
12 Bull in the Twilight Zone
13 The Killer
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
My Life
My name is Albert Ashok. I am an Indian, Bengali is my mother tongue, I live in Kolkata, West Bengal. I call myself— ‘I am an artist’, yes! People also call me by the word ‘artist’! I feel proud and honoured!
From my early boyhood I cherished a dream to become a professional artist. Since then I fell prey for misfortune, my struggle for existence started against all sorts of odds and adverse current/ force. My parent did not like my inclination toward arts, because we were poor , illiterate and ignorant people, and then we used to live in Tripura , a backward state in Northeastern India, among illiterate class and tribal people, a hilly region and full of forest. I am talking about the year 1965 and onward.
So, far I can remember, my father had no enough income or money to feed us. Anyway I got in touch with Art and literature and started to spin a dream of becoming a famous arttist. Dream brings a great happiness in human mind! And Everyone loves dreaming. I wanted to shed labour and earn money to fill my stomach and buy things I like .I did not want to be a burden of my father. I ran away from my hometown in Tripura in search of food and shelter, I had no specific plan to arrive in Kolkata, but felt reaching in Kolkata could be good to me and settle.
In 1978, I left my parent, house, friends with tearfull eyes, without telling anybody. I am a simple, poor farmer’s son! No education! No provisions! Nothing! I reached In kolkata somehow! A quite unknown place! I had suffered so much inexplicable afflictions, hardship. I started my career as a domestic help boy, doing house errands and menial jobs. But I remained attached with my dream. As, only dream could have brought me happiness in dire stress and distress.
Today, I have come a long way to look back! From 1980 to 2007 is 27 years; It is a retrospection of my life! A time to check in how much life had offered me and how much I could have collected, and how much I offered this society and how much I received in exchange from its bowl.
The food, water, shelter and social security these were the elements which drove me from my cozy home, made me separated from my beloved parents, and brought me here, still, I am looking for them! When I am in distress, go on starvation feel insecure and helpless I remember my country men, the most of it are hapless have no security to feed themselves two square meal a day, far from literacy and clothing. It is India! I know south Asian countries and African countries are no better state than ours. But where is the problem? Do we have less resource than western countries? I don’t think so!
My name is Albert Ashok. I am an Indian, Bengali is my mother tongue, I live in Kolkata, West Bengal. I call myself— ‘I am an artist’, yes! People also call me by the word ‘artist’! I feel proud and honoured!
From my early boyhood I cherished a dream to become a professional artist. Since then I fell prey for misfortune, my struggle for existence started against all sorts of odds and adverse current/ force. My parent did not like my inclination toward arts, because we were poor , illiterate and ignorant people, and then we used to live in Tripura , a backward state in Northeastern India, among illiterate class and tribal people, a hilly region and full of forest. I am talking about the year 1965 and onward.
So, far I can remember, my father had no enough income or money to feed us. Anyway I got in touch with Art and literature and started to spin a dream of becoming a famous arttist. Dream brings a great happiness in human mind! And Everyone loves dreaming. I wanted to shed labour and earn money to fill my stomach and buy things I like .I did not want to be a burden of my father. I ran away from my hometown in Tripura in search of food and shelter, I had no specific plan to arrive in Kolkata, but felt reaching in Kolkata could be good to me and settle.
In 1978, I left my parent, house, friends with tearfull eyes, without telling anybody. I am a simple, poor farmer’s son! No education! No provisions! Nothing! I reached In kolkata somehow! A quite unknown place! I had suffered so much inexplicable afflictions, hardship. I started my career as a domestic help boy, doing house errands and menial jobs. But I remained attached with my dream. As, only dream could have brought me happiness in dire stress and distress.
Today, I have come a long way to look back! From 1980 to 2007 is 27 years; It is a retrospection of my life! A time to check in how much life had offered me and how much I could have collected, and how much I offered this society and how much I received in exchange from its bowl.
The food, water, shelter and social security these were the elements which drove me from my cozy home, made me separated from my beloved parents, and brought me here, still, I am looking for them! When I am in distress, go on starvation feel insecure and helpless I remember my country men, the most of it are hapless have no security to feed themselves two square meal a day, far from literacy and clothing. It is India! I know south Asian countries and African countries are no better state than ours. But where is the problem? Do we have less resource than western countries? I don’t think so!
Comments
'The days tread remains under water'
______________________________________
'The days tread remains under water' ______________________________________
Rather, be Miradidimoni and Doctor Satyajit to pronounce ‘Padma’ (D as th in Another) and Atma (T as th in Neuropathy)
Pallab is now married
…………………………. Dipankar
__________________________________
Guide to ‘Padma’, ‘Atma’: D as th in Another, T as th in Neuropathy
___________________________________
After then he peels off snake, having a revolver at waist, he catches yellow lizard and at that time trees loss tint undisclosed. Feeling the muscles’ span under the sleeves when it is meetings at porches of half-dried grasses the character chants hum at red signaled walky-talky. Prop in shape of pillar gets put next to room, for the logic of light and shade looms shadowy discourse in setting sun and the arrangement appears as the annual reward wrapped in glitter.
The tales of snake is deposit receipt at the government’s report. The printed preface chronicle, law is to be in force, blood and flesh concentrate in tolerance under the sleeves and in editing suit.
Capable duo, in the passage of the night, howls “No” to decision, before they conceive an embryo.
Bullets in taking place inside barrel, getting in and out come to know maturity means
success in shell of expiry
Pallab hisses onto the face for woman married to him making her a snake
Discussion for discursive slug: Miradidimoni literary means elder sister Mira and she is our teacher at primary morning level though not sister, fairly aunt. She used to take a class in the school opening days that did not have any definite discourse with text books but was for sense building and in routine it was ‘period for art’. Once she lost an umbrella and quite a month that unseen sunshade poured hit until that was given back by the cook engaged for the noon school run in the same house.
Mira Madam came back with Bengali (my mother tongue) syllabus in the first period in standard five, the final class of that school. My seat was thumbed at first row, few inches next to the desk she pilled on.
Miradidimoni did percussion for the word ‘ Padma’ pronounced in Bengali as ‘Paddo’/’Padda’( Pa as P in Post , D for th in The) to be ‘Lotus’ , however, written is letters for D and M in Bengali script together like gh mutually expel enough air in ‘Cough’.
She was particular that if anybody by mistake even sounds ‘dda’ ignoring ‘dma’ pretended (D as th …..M as it is, separately) would be sinner of the highest degree because of Sanskrit, the words of God, mentionably Hindu God, the Sanskritised resonance (in Sanskrit, every letter has its sound singly for Padma) be echoed, and she particulate it mingling a cup of communality referring names of some popular monks, while I assume the references her ideal make-believe.
Doctor Satyajit is a trained medical-hand. He is not sure of his sequences. He might be an excellent engineer. Satyajit is a human, my friend and somehow his love gets juxtaposed.
His pronounce of Atma (D as th in Another, T as th in Neuropathy) is too not in manner.
His name conversely either implicates ‘possessed honesty’ or honesty who has won : Satyajit or Sattajit or Satyajeet ?
Pallab is now married, he wants the pleasant world and he and his wife in his shape can not genesis a baby now and he wants a baby to adapt but is not instrumental in doing so. Pallab is a man of forest and his wife is not employed in his department but she is giving shelter to trees and animals, poisonous snakes.
His money otherwise is not in true accounts.
This depiction is not to be tried to involve with the details in main body directly. It is for a sub-conscious non-linear construct. The main-body is not understandable, treatable in one go or in several attempts in a frame. It would be allowed to contaminate in time it requires.
Conversationally all they are my people.
'The days tread remains under water'
______________________________________
'The days tread remains under water' ______________________________________
Rather, be Miradidimoni and Doctor Satyajit to pronounce ‘Padma’ (D as th in Another) and Atma (T as th in Neuropathy)
Pallab is now married
…………………………. Dipankar
__________________________________
Guide to ‘Padma’, ‘Atma’: D as th in Another, T as th in Neuropathy
___________________________________
After then he peels off snake, having a revolver at waist, he catches yellow lizard and at that time trees loss tint undisclosed. Feeling the muscles’ span under the sleeves when it is meetings at porches of half-dried grasses the character chants hum at red signaled walky-talky. Prop in shape of pillar gets put next to room, for the logic of light and shade looms shadowy discourse in setting sun and the arrangement appears as the annual reward wrapped in glitter.
The tales of snake is deposit receipt at the government’s report. The printed preface chronicle, law is to be in force, blood and flesh concentrate in tolerance under the sleeves and in editing suit.
Capable duo, in the passage of the night, howls “No” to decision, before they conceive an embryo.
Bullets in taking place inside barrel, getting in and out come to know maturity means
success in shell of expiry ...........
this page is more quiver, let allow me to drive to my page for the rest or the caracas
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