<p>Miranda’s pen and brush travelled the world, bringing to life the quirky side of ordinary people–whether in the dark alleys of Mumbai or New York or the tight cluster of houses in Portugal’s Algarve. But his heart and spirit remained firmly rooted in Goa.<br /><br />“He was a natural humourist who enjoyed poking fun at people,” said long-time friend, contemporary, and writer Mario Cabral e Sa. Constançio de Miranda, Mario Miranda’s father, was posted in Daman as an administrator under the Portuguese regime in the early 1920s where the cartoonist was born, imbued with his mother’s striking good looks. Cabral e Sa recalls lavish banquets and buffets to write home about when Constançio Miranda played host. The Miranda Loutolim residence carries the Portuguese court of arms to this day.<br /><br />But Mario went far beyond being merely of “excellent Brahmin stock”. He loved life and people and never let go the chance of putting them down on paper in a fluid, finely detailed and distinctive style. Noses, he once said, was what struck him the most about people. But Miranda had no formal training in art. After a Senior Cambridge at St Joseph’s Boys’ High School in Bangalore and a BA in history from St Xavier’s, Mumbai, he seemed headed for a career in the IAS but detoured into freelance cartooning and sketching.<br /><br />They were tough days, Cabral e Sa says, but the optimistic and spirited Miranda came through, with some help from close friend Polycarpo Vaz who peddled his sketches to rich clients at five-star hotels. Miranda’s first break came with the “Illustrated Weekly of India” which launched him into full-time cartooning with the Times of India group for some years.<br /><br />Though the Ms Fonseca and Miss Nimbupani series gave Miranda some national recognition his sketches and cartoons on Goa are what really defined him as an artist.</p>.<p> “It’s unfortunate that Mario’s reputation as a cartoonist has denied him recognition as a great artist,” architect Gerard da Cunha, the publisher of Miranda’s omnibus – a compilation of over 8,000 of his sketches and drawings, had told Deccan Herald.<br /><br />Da Cunha in fact had to “beg and cajole” Miranda to source the drawings for the book that put the artist’s work in perspective. So many had been just recklessly given away. Critics have described Mario Miranda’s work as “visual diaries with an Eurasian influence”. One of them has called it “relaxed anthropology”. <br /><br />The self-deprecatory Mario Miranda I knew so well would have probably scoffed at it all. He had told this correspondent recently that he was doing fewer cartoons of late “because there’s not much humour left in the world”. In one of his more introspective moments he had said he regretted not having taken art more seriously so he could have become a serious artist. <br /><br />But the huge body of work he left behind is as much a sociological document as it is a lament for the Goa he loved but now is lost.</p>
<p>Miranda’s pen and brush travelled the world, bringing to life the quirky side of ordinary people–whether in the dark alleys of Mumbai or New York or the tight cluster of houses in Portugal’s Algarve. But his heart and spirit remained firmly rooted in Goa.<br /><br />“He was a natural humourist who enjoyed poking fun at people,” said long-time friend, contemporary, and writer Mario Cabral e Sa. Constançio de Miranda, Mario Miranda’s father, was posted in Daman as an administrator under the Portuguese regime in the early 1920s where the cartoonist was born, imbued with his mother’s striking good looks. Cabral e Sa recalls lavish banquets and buffets to write home about when Constançio Miranda played host. The Miranda Loutolim residence carries the Portuguese court of arms to this day.<br /><br />But Mario went far beyond being merely of “excellent Brahmin stock”. He loved life and people and never let go the chance of putting them down on paper in a fluid, finely detailed and distinctive style. Noses, he once said, was what struck him the most about people. But Miranda had no formal training in art. After a Senior Cambridge at St Joseph’s Boys’ High School in Bangalore and a BA in history from St Xavier’s, Mumbai, he seemed headed for a career in the IAS but detoured into freelance cartooning and sketching.<br /><br />They were tough days, Cabral e Sa says, but the optimistic and spirited Miranda came through, with some help from close friend Polycarpo Vaz who peddled his sketches to rich clients at five-star hotels. Miranda’s first break came with the “Illustrated Weekly of India” which launched him into full-time cartooning with the Times of India group for some years.<br /><br />Though the Ms Fonseca and Miss Nimbupani series gave Miranda some national recognition his sketches and cartoons on Goa are what really defined him as an artist.</p>.<p> “It’s unfortunate that Mario’s reputation as a cartoonist has denied him recognition as a great artist,” architect Gerard da Cunha, the publisher of Miranda’s omnibus – a compilation of over 8,000 of his sketches and drawings, had told Deccan Herald.<br /><br />Da Cunha in fact had to “beg and cajole” Miranda to source the drawings for the book that put the artist’s work in perspective. So many had been just recklessly given away. Critics have described Mario Miranda’s work as “visual diaries with an Eurasian influence”. One of them has called it “relaxed anthropology”. <br /><br />The self-deprecatory Mario Miranda I knew so well would have probably scoffed at it all. He had told this correspondent recently that he was doing fewer cartoons of late “because there’s not much humour left in the world”. In one of his more introspective moments he had said he regretted not having taken art more seriously so he could have become a serious artist. <br /><br />But the huge body of work he left behind is as much a sociological document as it is a lament for the Goa he loved but now is lost.</p>
