It seems like yesterday I was a young girl grew up with folk art around me watching my mother, aunts, and cousins putting henna on their hands in the summer heat of Rajasthan, India. More than an art form, the application of henna was a social event for the women in a family. I remember spending hours learning how to create the intricate designs on my own hands.
I was fascinated with the folk art of Mandana (floor temporary art). Watched my grandmother painting with wet white chalk or rice flour on red dried mud floor. There was no brush only one torn piece of fabric dipped in solution became the brush between her fingers and flowers , vines started to flow from her fingers. I watched from the window with out making any sound floor become alive with beautiful designs all in white. I try to capture her spirit in my art work.