Nazish Chunara
“You’re going to arrest me for wearing shades?” The policewoman shakes her head slightly, and a strand of mouse-brown hair escapes the untidy bun at the nape of her neck. “Stop playing. You know why I’m here.”
Read MoreZayna drifts somewhere between Jeffeh and Miraaz. It’s taken hours to lose sight of Jeffeh, its mess of golden veins and arteries vivid in her rearview, then hazy, then gone.
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The pressure of "what am I painting and/or why?" can be crippling and I think we often forget that there's this whole tradition out there of believing in and appreciating the process of art-making for what it is. Can definitely be really liberating!
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