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Twish Mukherjee

I'm a transdisciplinary mixed-media artist working at the confluence of digital film, design and writing.

 

I've made (i.e., written, directed and edited) 4 zero-to-small budget independent films, one of them being a 72 minute peer-funded feature. It has screened at BYOFF (Puri), Chandigarh Creative Cinema Circle, The Goa Project (2013), IndiEarth XChange Film Festival (Chennai) and a private film club in Pune.

 

When I started out, I wanted to be a writer. But soon, I discovered that writing a screenplay pays only if the film gets made. Eventually, I ended up as a video editor, specialised in fashion & lifestyle, cinematic wedding films, digital video commercials, corporate AVs etc.. I also directed hundreds of influencer videos & delivered video-first bespoke branded content between 2013 to 2018. Thereafter, I found myself obsessing over design, illustration, UI & UX. I've made social media & print creatives sometimes as a visualiser or a designer or a copywriter or all three at times. I find the user experience of certain apps very similar to cinema in how the right mix of visuals and sound effects makes a person feel. But all these 'artistic' pursuits comprise about half of my entire career. The other half is something I developed over the last 5-6 years the Creative Head of 3 companies (a brand solutions agency, a production house and a hyperlocal startup). I find myself at the intersection of strategy, communications, marketing where my approach to creatives is much more analytical and data-based. I don't come up with ideas anymore. I arrive at them. I like to think of myself as a Dot-Connector (it's a real word!).

 

Now that the whole jingbang about my professsional llife is covered, let me introduce you to my roommate: 'Whisky' Mukherjee. Oh, I also harbour a secret aspiration to be a polymath some day. 

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A bomb in a brain in a world ready to explode;

scraping sounds give goosebumps, as the bones fight for space

till every fulcrum breathes in peace, in the silence

of the storm that whispers forever, in a dialect of its own.

My crystal ship quivers in its wake, the humid corner of the world;

while moist palms dry the moist eyes of the sailor too young.

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