23 June 2011


Probably one month or so ago, an old friend rang to tell me that our mutual friend Pranavanta had died. It was not a great surprise to hear the news, as I had heard that he was ill quite a while ago.

Read Pranavanta's Obituary in the Sydney Morning Herald.

The surprising, or really not so surprising coincidence, was that very close to the time of his passing, I had the inspiration to show a friend the blog I wrote about Pranavanta and his art. It is lucky that I was able to take the photos I did and hopefully I have others somewhere. I do have a mission to visit and view the altar that is pictured in the newspaper article linked above and hopefully I can take some pictures.

After reading the obituary and another tribute to Pranavanta, a few memories appeared. I remembered when he showed me around his studio, explaining the principles and theory he used to compose some of his paintings. Suddenly, I could see the subtler realms of colour and the interplay of light he was talking about. His intention had created an opening for cosmic energy and pure otherworldly pastel hues were gently nudging his canvas.

I never did get round to asking if I could buy one of his paintings, as I imagined it would be thousands of dollars. Inscribed at the bottom of the picture that so captured my fancy, I think it says 1996-2003. Although not plainly a continuous effort, that represents nine years of dedication to capture a vision and must in some way mirror the evolution of his own consciousness during that period.

The ability of art and creation to reflect and embody consciousness is power, wonder and beauty. To that extent, all art is great, a miracle portion of Infinity as you will, but Pranavanta was an artist who reached for the Source and this makes his work not only great, but good.

Now I remember how we stood for half an hour or so in front of the landscape that was presently occupying him and amidst much discussion he blended paints and applied a single stroke or two of an entirely new colour. He was so casual, yet there was so much certainty and dedication in his effort. It takes a lifetime of practise and each and every lifetime is a practise.

In the front of my copy of his lauded book -may it find a publisher soon- he wrote to me, "...may your artistic revelations be fruitful ones...".


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