Good times in Mumbai

Well, as of now its 3:30am on Feb. 3rd, and I just got back from another night in Mumbai, this one being particularly fun.

And I'm still not back in Meherabad. Back from Thailand on January 23rd and still not back in Meherabad? Is that right? That can't be right. Holy s#&@ I think that's right.

I think I've finally stopped missing Thailand actually.
Lord knows it was difficult to come back from a place where every shop, restaurant, bus, and hotel is staffed by angelic beauties that truly know the meaning of service and relish in getting you exactly what you need, foresee your needs, guide you lovingly from point A to point B, and prepare you delightful and safe cheap street foods all with a smile on their face,

to a place where pot-bellied, pan-spewing lascivious men attempt to swindle you at any chance they get, and seem to have a preternatural ability to do the exact opposite of what you request in the utmost inconvenient way at just the time when you think they have understood exactly what you are asking for.

That being said, I am very happy to be in India, and there's no place I'd rather be. I think I'm feeling more settled than ever, and as March approaches, I'm already starting to feel anxious about returning to America.

Anyway, tonight was very interesting.

It started with the opening of Sheetal Gattani's (and yes, that is her piece to the right, not an orange square fool!) show at the gallery I work at, Chemould Prescott Road, which happened to be the 2nd anniversary of Chemould being in the new space at Prescott Road, a big move for a gallery that has inhabited Jehangir Gallery for almost 40 years, and done so much to make Jehangir Gallery what it is today, the most well-known and historic space for contemporary Indian artists to show in Mumbai.

On display was a huge painting (26 feet) by Jittesh Kallat as well, an artist second only to Anant Joshi in terms of being my favorite of our roster at Chemould (well, actually maybe second to Reena Kallat as well! Sorry Jittish!). The painting was hosted by Articulate Gallery downstairs from Chemould.

The painting had some wonderful things going on, but I must say that I find Jittish's sculpture so much more appealing, his painting having too much of that, I don't know what to call it, for lack of a better explanation, I guess I find a bit of that certain type of Indian gaudiness creeping in magically particular to Indian contemporary art and visual culture. Something about his treatment of the hair in particular has that certain type of aesthic sentiment that I just can't stand, something inexplicably recognizable as off, and as I said, particular to so much contemporary Indian art. Geez, that sounds bad, hope Jittish doesn't get a hold of this.
On the other hand, his sculpture is pretty much as good as it gets in contemporary art, so whatever, he can handle my critique, its not like its gonna stop him from being one of the hottest art stars of India, if not the world, as he is.

My night progressed from there to Bandra with a new friend I met at the opening, which by the way, still had an army of men with white gloves serving damn delicious hors d'oeuvres at full tilt, and the air was free of paint fumes (if you are confused, please reference my last blog about attending my last opening in Mumbai). Bandra is the epicenter of Bollywood in a way and all the vast amounts of young, or whatever aged people, that work in Bollywood. And it has a plethora of new and always updating shops, restaurants, etc. where these people go.

Well, we went to a place tonight that was really a treat. An open-mic poetry reading event at a place called Mumbai Cafe. I am running out of battery power as I write this, so I'll keep it short, but basically it was a treat to hear and see young Indians mixing it up in earnest and with sophistication.

Even more exciting was the friend I came with, a seriously OUT veteran of the Mumbai art/entertainment/you-name it scene and an accomplished poet. He basically took over the entire show as soon as we got there and went off with his poems on all kinds of things, Amitabh Bachan, the big-B himself, included.

Anyway, I'll catch up more later, I wanna get this thing posted. Much love from the big stink. I love this place. Mikey.