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This painting was born from a deeply personal moment during my stay in Calcutta with my Aunt. One afternoon, I visited the Missionaries of Charity, Mother Teresa’s home, where I was drawn to a small chapel. There, a handful of sisters knelt in quiet benediction before a carved wooden crucifix, their devotion palpable. Standing behind them, I prayed silently, feeling the weight of that sacred stillness. When I returned to my aunt’s apartment, I began to capture the scene using ink and watercolor, gently layering a wash of the tea I had been drinking onto the paper. As I worked, the haunting sound of the Muslim call to prayer echoed softly through the humid dusk, horns weaving through the streets of Calcutta. That convergence of faith, memory, and atmosphere imprinted itself on me, and it remains forever etched in this painting.
Watercolor and ink on paper, 18 x 24”
This painting was born from a deeply personal moment during my stay in Calcutta with my Aunt. One afternoon, I visited the Missionaries of Charity, Mother Teresa’s home, where I was drawn to a small chapel. There, a handful of sisters knelt in quiet benediction before a carved wooden crucifix, their devotion palpable. Standing behind them, I prayed silently, feeling the weight of that sacred stillness. When I returned to my aunt’s apartment, I began to capture the scene using ink and watercolor, gently layering a wash of the tea I had been drinking onto the paper. As I worked, the haunting sound of the Muslim call to prayer echoed softly through the humid dusk, horns weaving through the streets of Calcutta. That convergence of faith, memory, and atmosphere imprinted itself on me, and it remains forever etched in this painting.
Watercolor and ink on paper, 18 x 24”
This painting was born from a deeply personal moment during my stay in Calcutta with my Aunt. One afternoon, I visited the Missionaries of Charity, Mother Teresa’s home, where I was drawn to a small chapel. There, a handful of sisters knelt in quiet benediction before a carved wooden crucifix, their devotion palpable. Standing behind them, I prayed silently, feeling the weight of that sacred stillness. When I returned to my aunt’s apartment, I began to capture the scene using ink and watercolor, gently layering a wash of the tea I had been drinking onto the paper. As I worked, the haunting sound of the Muslim call to prayer echoed softly through the humid dusk, horns weaving through the streets of Calcutta. That convergence of faith, memory, and atmosphere imprinted itself on me, and it remains forever etched in this painting.
Watercolor and ink on paper, 18 x 24”