I'm always thinking about sitting under the sun

I spent the first fifteen years of my life growing up between Bombay and Los Angeles in two sun-drenched climates. The apartment complex I lived in in Bombay was on the north end of the city, by the beach. Almost every other street corner was (and is) adorned with a hibiscus bush; the flowers grew in shades of deep pinks, reds, and yellows. Their buds looked like sculpted dumpling wrappers, and when they bloomed, networks of floral veins lined their petals. In the home where I spent my summers in LA, my aunt grew bushes of hibiscus, rose, and jasmine under the California sun to offer to the gods during her husband's morning prayers.

My family moved to Toronto the year I turned 15. I lived there for eight years and spent every Canadian winter dreaming of the sun. Every night, I fell asleep visualizing the patterns of hibiscus petals, desperate for the motherly warmth of the coast.

A lot of what I create is about place, and this piece is no different. I wanted to depict how a place can live so clearly in the mind's eye despite the overwhelming renewal when you start a new life in an unfamiliar land—the connection you feel to your home upon being there and the even stronger connection you feel upon leaving.

Original is 20x24" in size and was created using oils on linen.