In a village in the interiors of Gujarat this man’s family has followed the art of lacquer work on wood for many generations. Right from the making the thickness in castor oil, to the grinding and creation of earth colours, and finally applying it to wood to decorate anything from spoons, to furniture, to toys. His sons follow him, in what they feel is a dying art.
“Poverty is my art” He said ” for this art would not be kept alive if we were not poor”
Would that be true of any art ? Does wealth ultimately corrupt artistic endeavor ? Is the artist then confined to life long struggle to stay true to his art ?