AT 63, Rameshwar Broota has the energy of a student and the skill of a master. Skill that can transform a blackened canvas into a network of fine lines that build up to monumental, meditative figures, so tangible they threaten to walk off. But the ability to conjure up hyper-real images, all with the humble blade, is just one facet of this Delhi-based painter.

Broota is a quiet one when it comes to his art. He’d be the last to talk about the success of his recent solo exhibition. What Broota does believe in, though, is taking time over his canvases—like three years for seven canvases.

‘‘Scraping away paint with a thin blade is a methodical process that takes time. I’ve never been one to hurry things,’’ says the artist, who also prefers taking the stairs at the National Gallery of Modern Art. It’s all part of the back-to-basics theory that forms the crux of his monochrome works. ‘‘The lure of colour has given way to the precision of line. My study of human bodies has led me to hold a magnifying glass to anatomy.’’

The works ranging from 6 to 12 ft have moved to New Delhi from Mumbai, where they were snapped up by collectors like gallery owner Shanti Chopra and diamond merchants Russel and Mona Mehta.

Broota’s signature style of working with a blade “only Bharat because it’s easily breakable” on painted canvas was discovered by accident. ‘‘I’d grown tired of the politically-driven Ape Series that I’d pursued till the 1980s, and was looking for a more universal expression.’’

On one such day in 1985, in his studio at the Triveni Kala Sangam—where he’s served as head of the art department since 1967—Broota paced up and down before the unfinished canvas, frustrated. ‘‘I was so fed up that I painted the entire canvas a dark green to block out all the images,’’ he says. The restless artist then began scraping with a palette knife, and within an hour discovered that he had etched an entire figure. Broota has honed that technique to a point where the slightest movement of blade over canvas becomes part of the composition.

8226; A Broota canvas can cost between Rs 10 to 40 lakh, depending on size

8226; He uses hundreds of blades to finish one work

8226; Before he tired of it, Broota was considered the capital’s best portrait artist

8226; Broota expects to shift from his Triveni Kala Sangam studio by March of this year

Though he’s deeply absorbed while working, Broota loves visits from Triveni’s art students. ‘‘They never disturb me, and when I’m taking a break, we exchange notes,’’ says the artist, who once excelled at formal portraiture. His painting of former president VV Giri still hangs in Parliament, though Broota’s favourites are of close friends and himself.

Eleven years ago, one such student, Vasundara Tiwari, came up to see him and decided to stay for good. Today, she smiles at the recollection. ‘‘I’d just finished a degree in literature in Kolkata. I wanted to paint, but the Delhi School of Art’s mechanical method didn’t appeal to me. I found Triveni a free and lively space, and it was here that we met,’’ she says of the friendship that blossomed into marriage. Now, Tiwari accompanies Broota on his trips, and besides working on her solo, the two are involved in cousin Shyamanand Jalan’s feature film Ishwar Mime Company, due out in February.

‘‘It’s art house cinema, and I’ve done most of the art direction,” says Broota, who’s experimented with body painting the performers of a mime company in the film. “It was a great way to get my batteries recharged.’’

Catch Broota’s work at Vadhera Art Gallery in New Delhi