Parthasarathi 12

A faceless flautist presides over a procession of toy-horses and wheel-like discs, turning folk iconography into a quiet meditation on how music animates the inanimate and memory rides on rhythm. The composition locks into place through bold geometry—circles, panels, and curved necks—yet it never feels rigid; warm reds and ochres breathe against cool greens and blues, as if melody itself were shifting the temperature of the scene. By withholding the musician’s features, the artist universalizes the act of playing, suggesting that identity dissolves into sound while tradition, like a carousel, keeps revolving in luminous, patterned time.