It is that time of the year again—where the nights are getting longer than the days. It feels like the darkness is trying to engulf the light, marking the arrival of autumn, as the weather is transitioning from pouring rain to a cool breeze. The world celebrates this doorway to winter with pomp and show. This period is marked with festivals such as Durga Puja, Diwali, Samhain etc. We celebrate the triumph of light over darkness—of good over evil. The light here symbolizes fire—the element that purifies, transforms and protects. It promises us warmth and illumination to nurture us through the approaching long dark winter.

The world around us dresses up in the autumnal palette–the dried up brown leaves peppering the trees, the sunsets somehow seem brighter, the pumpkin takes the centre stage and the earthy tones of the post monsoon harvest, all symbolise the transition towards winter. What personally moves me is the high contrast in the palette - the bright oranges and reds against the dark browns and blacks create a compelling harmony. They remind me of the constant tug of war of light against dark and how both coexist and feed off of each other. Would we be able to go through the dark tunnel if we didn't hope for light at the end of it? Would the light be as profound if the dark didn't allow us to rest and give us the opportunity to crave the light?

This is the exact dichotomy that chiaroscuro (italian word for “light-dark”, chiaro meaning ‘bright’ and oscuro meaning ‘gloomy’) captures in art—a technique that makes use of the juxtaposition of light and shadow and produces a sense of depth and interplay of other elements in art, originally developed during the Renaissance which remained popular during the Baroque and the Romantic periods. One great example is The Calling Of Saint Matthew by Caravaggio (1599-1600). The theme of the painting is derived from the Gospel of Matthew, depicting Matthew the tax collector being called by Jesus, who is represented by the stark beam of light (representing awakening and enlightenment or the halo surrounding Jesus).

The autumn palette and our primary source of light—the sun, take me back to the first time I came across Surya Namaskar (sun salutation) by Sayed Haider Raza. The painting uses abstract symbolic shapes to convey the artist's message and has been masterfully rendered with colours depicting the different phases of the sun, with the Sun at the centre but in black, representing his most important recurring motifs of the Bindu. To Raza, “Black is the mother of all colours. It is the point from where all energy in the universe emanates as well as the point into which the energy converges”.

And lastly, a painting that gives me a cozy feeling is Pratima Visarjan (1915) by Gaganendranath Tagore, who was a part of the Bengal school. It shows the glowing pratima (idol) of Durga ma being taken for visarjan (immersion in water) and even from a distance where it's dark, the centre of the painting seems to emanate a frenzy—an energy from the crowd reaching the onlooker.

Here at Lore, this juxtaposition of light and dark has been explored in numerous ways. Amatarasu (Lore coaster), is inspired by the story of the Japanese goddess who represents the sun, purity and warmth. It is for those who want to imbibe the force of her spirit in their spaces and celebrate the source of life on earth. Cityscape (A6 print) in Lore is reminiscent of how magical a well-lit city looks against the backdrop of a pitch-black sky and the Infinite Journal of Lore is also emblematic of the interplay between dark and light.