The Stone Hinge
Once upon a time there was a boy who worked tirelessly so his art could keep pace with his ever-wandering heart
Prasun Chaudhuri
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Published 17.01.21, 01:33 AM
The ground-floor studio in central Calcutta where I am meeting sculptor Chitta Dey is anyway very small. Moreover, it is cramped with sculptures, canvases, framed paintings, easels, paints and paintbrushes. The man himself is sitting at a drawing board with sketches strewn all over — amoeba, starfish, corals, snails, worms, snakes, birds, dinosaurs... “All these will eventually turn into sculptures on the hills,” explains Dey. He is 64 and bursting with a creative restlessness, which means a permanent state of dislocation. He is sometimes in Calcutta, sometimes in Bansitanr village near Purulia, at other times in transit to other places. These days he is busy saving rocks in Purulia’s Matha forest range from the stone-mining mafia. Not for no reason has it taken me months to track him down.