Silence is more profound than sound,” says Mumbai-based photographer Pankaj Mistry, 49, on the sidelines of his show in New Delhi.

It’s a show where a Jogen Chowdhury rubs shoulders (read canvas) with an Atin Basak.

Nawaid Anjum

If a novel is in the making for as long as 25 years, it had better be one hell of a novel.

If you are an artist(e), you don’t have to go very far for healing: It lurks in the lilts of your melody, in the hues of your strokes, in the tilts and twirls of your steps.

The tiger’s head of China’s growth faces the world, but the snake tails of problems closer to the ground are ever present,” writes Jonathan Fenby in Tiger Head, Snake Tails, analysing the gigantic imb

It is hard not to be moved by Nibedita Sen’s magical explorations into the myriad moods of the sea that comes alive on the canvas in all its shapes and shades.

Somewhere in India By Choice, Delhi-based filmmaker Yasmin Kidwai’s new documentary, an expatriate, who has chosen India as her home, says: “Everyone has some kind of internal feelings of home and, f

The space for art in the capital continues to spread wider and wider with new galleries springing up everywhere.

Akbar Quadri and Azam Quadri, jointly known in theatre and film circles as Akbar-Azam, are the GenNext version of Bollywood’s popular brothers Abbas-Mustan, except that the latter duo are mostly seen

The hands of two wrestlers frozen in a near clasp, one (of the vanquished?) buried in sand, the other (of the victor?) nestled above it, amidst a carnival of soil and dust. The wrinkled hand on top, half-hidden, half-visible, tells you the wrestler isn’t young any more.