The Male Odyssey: Inward journey, outward quest
STORYTELLING enriches fine art—a belief that has guided me since I rekindled my passion for the visual. Not many works demonstrate this more clearly than Sanker Ganesh’s The Male Odyssey. His second solo exhibition cannot be fully appreciated without reading The Wanderer’s Journey: A Tale of Dust, Dream, and the Divine, a companion narrative included in the exhibition catalogue.
Upon reading The Wanderer’s Journey, I was struck by its parallels with Robert Pirsig’s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. Both works are inward journeys masked as outward quests. Each explores the tension between movement and stillness, and both arrive at a quiet, profound truth: that the deepest insights emerge not through mastery or control, but through surrender and presence.
In each narrative, the “hero” begins with a vague but powerful longing—for meaning, coherence, or self-understanding. Pirsig’s narrator embarks on a motorcycle journey with his son, yet the real terrain is psychological: a confrontation with his former self, “Phaedrus,” and a relentless pursuit of the elusive concept of Quality. Similarly, Sanker’s Wanderer moves through symbolic landscapes—haunted by echoes, seduced by comfort, and finally humbled by collapse—not to arrive at a fixed destination, but to undergo transformation.
Both stories challenge the myth of man-made freedom. Pirsig deconstructs the belief that rationality or technology alone can deliver fulfilment, proposing instead a balance between reason and intuition. Sanker’s Wanderer arrives at a parallel conclusion: that true liberty lies not in ego or system, but in nature, humility, and the acceptance of human limits.
There are key departures. Pirsig’s journey is analytical, framed by a structured inquiry. Sanker’s tale is lyrical and mythic, shaped by metaphor and archetype. Where Pirsig theorises, Sanker evokes (as an artist definitely should); where one dissects, the other dreams — superbly illustrated in his overall expressionist style and the concluding piece, “Now & the not yet”.
Ultimately, The Wanderer’s Journey and Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance affirm the same truth: the path to wisdom lies not in conquest, but in care, collapse, and the courage to listen to the inner mind and silence.
I reproduce below 12 paintings from The Male Odyssey, paired with excerpts from The Wanderer’s Journey. (More details of the paintings can be accessed by downloading the catalogue here.)
“In a time when the soil still whispered secrets and the stars hung closer to the earth, there lived a man known only as the wanderer. His journey began not with a destination, but with a longing, whispering of places unseen and truths yet uncovered.”
“The journey begin through the rugged lands and twisted paths, he chased the wild echoes—the fear of the unknown calling from the dark crevices of his heart. The echoes were not just sounds but shadows of doubt, beasts of memory clawing at his resolve. And yet, he moved forward, because he knew: the only way was through.”
“Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and the endless pursuit of meaning and place wore on his body. The road was both teacher and tormentor. He found comfort as camouflage, masking his pain beneath the temporary relief of small shelters, familiar songs, and warm res. But comfort, he knew, could seduce a man into stillness.”
“One night, weary and bruised, he arrived at the garden of reflection—a vast, open field veiled in soft white flowers. There, he collapsed into the grass and embraced rest. He listened to the wind weave through petals and the sound of his own breath slowing. It was in this sacred pause he realised: Rest is not retreat, but readiness.”
“In that stillness, he discovered the fragility of happiness, so delicate it clung like dew to the tips of petals, vanishing with the sun. He pondered his place in the world, the tightrope between despair and desire. It was here, for a moment, that he saw where being ends & dreaming begins.”
“On a lonesome bar table, he stumbled upon the captain’s handbook—a forgotten tome filled with cryptic guidance and strange maps. As he turned its brittle pages, he saw more than instructions: he saw metaphors for life itself. ‘To steer in unknown lands, one must read the sky, not the soil’.”
“He kept moving until he reached the summit of a sacred hill. The world unfolded below him like a tapestry. In that moment, the divine gesture called to him—a choice between exalting in pride or extending a hand to those still climbing. His ego swelled, resisting the urge to lift others, but the wind carried ancient voices, reminding him: the highest stance is that of humility.”
“But the body, unlike the spirit, has limits. On the seventh moon, he collapsed. His muscles gave way, and he fell face-first into the dust. Surrendering to soil, he whispered: ‘The body has taken too much.’ It was not death, but a forced rest—a surrender to the earth that made him.”
“From that sacred collapse, he felt the pull of something primal. Rising slowly, he felt in his veins the cry of ancestors: Rising from blood & soil. With every aching breath, he stood again, forged by fatigue, reborn through pain.”
“The journey transformed him. He had tasted ego, fear, silence, and song. He had known pain, beauty, and the necessity of pause. As he neared his homeland, his pace slowed. The trees greeted him like old friends. And there, among roots and memories, he understood: Man-made freedom is a myth—but nature offers a deeper liberty. He stood still, body upright, eyes clear. The stance was not of arrogance, but arrival. In the weight of stillness, he felt the presence of every step he’d taken, every soul he’d met, every version of himself shed along the way.”
“And when asked what he would do next, he smiled quietly and said: ‘Now & the not yet.’ Because the journey never ends.”
Portrait preference: I’ve always been drawn to Sanker’s portraiture—his bold, expressive strokes often evoke the emotional intensity of Van Gogh and the psychological depth of Munch. “Exhaustion” was a painting of Egon Schiele in the artist’s style. It’s wise to try to emulate the masters; to do is to understand.
Size matters: Sanker once shared that he dreams of working on massive canvases, inspired by Rothko’s immersive scale and philosophy. With his gestural style and preferred brush size, he feels most free when painting on surfaces measuring 7ft by 7ft or more. For smaller works, he adapts by switching to finer brushes, allowing his expression to remain fluid even on a reduced scale.
Male Odyssey by Sanker Ganesh is being held at Artas Galeri, Kota Damansara, from June 14 to 29, 2025.
